#I don't care if you've just started or been doing it thirty years

[dollfacefantasy]

LITTLE BAMBI EYES ♡

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: how leon loves you so. his beautiful bride. he loves your sweet face and pretty eyes. he just can't understand why he loves to see both overcome with tears.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, blowjob, dacryphilia, daddy kink, age gap (20s, late 30s)

a/n: thank you to whoever requested this. i've been kinda missing daddy leon </3

kinktober slot: day 19 - dacryphilia

Sometimes you make Leon feel like a horrible person.

It's not anything you do or say. Nothing intentional on your part at all. Honestly, it's kind of just his default setting around you simply for the fact that you're wearing a ring on your finger that ties you to him for the rest of your life while also being over ten years younger than him.

You've told him over and over that it's not a big deal. This is the modern world, baby. He just has to get with the times. No one cares about the two of you, and even if they do, who gives a shit? You're a responsible adult, and the two of you love each other. That's all there is to it.

And while he tends to agree with your speeches in the moment, they don't completely erase the guilt from his subconscious. Though his feelings of unease would probably remain at that deeper level if not for days like today.

Today, Leon had arrived home from a mission. It had been a particularly long one, spanning almost a whole month. Nearly thirty days of waiting around and doing recon work, tasks that could've been done by those on a lower level of the government's hierarchy than him, before completing the objective. He was more than ready to come home to you. The longing to see your face again, to hear your voice, it was practically a physical ailment at this point.

The moment he came through the door you were there. You latched onto him and wouldn't let go. He had to drop his stuff by the entryway so he could scoop you up and carry you to the nearest chair in the living room.

He sits down with you in his lap, allowing you to smother him in kisses and fuss over how he looks so tired. But what makes him feel so awful, what causes the gnawing ache that festers in his chest in regards to your relationship is when he sees your eyes begin to grow misty.

It starts with watery eyes and then your voice cracks and you can barely get a word out before you're whimpering and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. You cry and cry about how you were so worried and you missed him so much and you never want him to leave you again.

The whole thing makes him feel guilty on a surface level. He never wants to make his pretty little wife cry. He doesn't want her going sick with worry because of him. But the other layer of this thing that truly makes him feel like something is wrong with him comes from the fact that your display of emotion gets him hard.

He tries with everything he has to stop it. He's not even sure what it really is about it that gets him going like this. In his mind, he tries to rationalize that he just finds it sweet that you miss him. It's just cute, it's not something he needs to agonize over. He doesn't really know, but also when the blood starts rushing South, he doesn't really care.

You sniffle and tighten your arms around his torso while he coos at you and rubs your back. He hushes you gently while adjusting in his seat to make sure you don't feel the swell of his bulge just yet. Sure, he's turned on by your tears, but that doesn't make him inconsiderate. He lets you get most of it out first before trying anything else.

"Shh, shh, shh. It's ok. I'm right here, baby. I made it home safe and sound like always," he murmurs against your hairline, "There's no reason to cry, I don't want you wasting any tears on me."

He swipes away those small droplets of water with his thumb before directing you to look up at him. Your expression makes him smile. Despite their sadness, your eyes gleam with so much love. Your lip wobbles with all the care that pumps through your beating heart.

"So emotional," he teases softly, "C'mon, sweetheart, gimme a kiss. Let me make it better."

Without hesitation, you lean in. He smirks against your lips, cupping your cheek and guiding you in the exchange. It's the opening he needs to make things seem natural. He can act like he's just so pent up from being away that a few kisses got him hot under the collar. Not that he popped a boner as soon as he saw tears pooling against your lash line.

It works. You scoot closer and feel the stiff length graze your thigh. It'd been a long time since you'd had him too. Feeling that familiar hardness against your soft flesh is all it takes for explicit ideas to begin blooming in your mind.

Before he knows it, you're on your knees between his legs. Your lips slide up and down his cock, gliding the shaft into your warm, wet mouth down to your throat. His head tilts back against the sagging cushion of his chair. He pets the crown of your head while you work, wordless appreciation for your efforts.

A deep sigh leaves him as your tongue traces along the veins. You get a groan out of him for flicking your tongue at the ridge. After a few more sucks, you pull off and stroke him instead. 

He hears a soft sniffle. His eyes snap down to you on the floor, and he realizes that you're still crying. A moan bubbles up in his throat. He tries to stifle it, but parts of it still break free.

"Hey, hey. What- what's wrong? You ok?" he chokes out, trying to sound normal and not like he's about to lose it.

You nod while looking up at him with those glossy eyes. Your hand doesn't stop pumping him as tears roll down your cheeks.

"I just missed you so much," you whimper.

Your knuckles graze your cheek. The duality of your cute, tear-streaked face next to your skilled hand jerking him off is nearly too much to take in.

"I'm right here," he says, trying to offer comfort, "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Yeah, but you don't get it. I just missed you," you cry again. Another few drops fall as you blink and your lip quivers.

In a way, Leon does understand. It's not that you're currently upset, it's just lingering feelings causing your emotions to act up a bit. He doesn't have a problem with it regardless of the cause though. Not if this is the result.

You go back in to suckle the tip. Your lips wrap around him in a little, perfect 'o.' It feels like you've come straight from heaven to do this for him. He doesn't think it can get any better until you look up at him. Seeing your eyes full of tears while you pleasure him is a whole other kind of sensation.

Hissing in ecstasy, he knows for certain now that he can't last that. He gently guides your mouth off before yanking you up into his lap.

"Can't have you crying like that, honey. Let daddy make it better," he mutters while tugging your shorts down and haphazardly working them off of you.

You help him out and shimmy your panties down too before lining his cock up at your entrance and sinking down. The whole month since you'd last taken it was worth it now. You bounce up and down, letting the familiar filling sensation seep in.

Cries pour from your lips openly, and his eyes roll back. His hands rest on your hips with a loose grip. The touch is present enough to offer the illusion that he's helping.

"Feels so good," you whimper.

"Does it, baby? Just what you were missing, huh?" he rasps.

You nod quickly as your body rises and falls. He feels you squeezing around him, your walls fluttering each time he splits you open.

Once he's calmed down a bit, he starts to rock his hips upwards against yours. He drives himself a little deeper inside you, nudging all the spots you weren't hitting before. You tilt forward and put your head back against his throat like you'd had it earlier.

"That's right. Keep crying for me," he grunts as he picks up his own pace a bit, "Let daddy hear how much you missed him."

Another sob tumbles from you as if prompted by the command. He holds you close and rubs your back like this is a normal method of soothing you. Tears leak out against his throat, trickling down to his collarbone. He can feel the warm liquid and the brush of your eyelashes on his sensitive skin.

"My good girl. Daddy's got you," he sighs.

He pounds up into you with a few more thrusts. The rock of his hips slides his pelvis against your clit, working you towards the end. You whimper and cling to him, arms wrap around his shoulders with the strength of a vise.

"So pretty when you're all weepy for me," he murmurs.

His hands tighten around your waist, actually keeping you in place now for him to thrust into. He grits his teeth. The sensation in the pit of his stomach lets him know he's close to the edge too.

"Fuck... you close, angel?" he asks.

You nod, still not lifting your head from the safety of his shoulder.

The response is good enough for him though. He can feel you clamping around him. Every stroke elicits a wet squelch from between your bodies. You're gushing for him, ready to explode. Tears pour from your eyes in a seemingly endless supply.

"Let me have it. Don't hold back," he directs in a strained tone while creeping to the high himself.

He thrusts in deep and slams you down on him before spilling his load inside you. The sensation brings you to your peak and rips another cry from you. You hiccup out a moan between the sobs. Your nails dig into his shoulders while your body shudders. Even though you'd only cum once, it feels like everything is overloaded.

His hips continue to move, fucking his release into you and working you through the waves of euphoria. 

"Fuck-" he hisses, "That's my girl. Fuck, you're my girl. My baby. So good for me."

His fucked out words hit your ears and get you feeling all loopy. Your head stays against his shoulder, content to rest there while he takes what he needs. A few more tears slide out against your silken skin.

Your body feels limp on top of his by the time you're both through it. He feels boneless too, sunken into his seat while catching his breath.

You're still crying a little bit. He can hear it right by his ear. To get more comfortable, he reaches down and pulls the lever that causes the chair to recline. It pushes you fully against his body and lets him hold you better. His fingers trace little circles on the small of your back while his other arm drapes across your shoulder blades.

"I missed you too, baby," he whispers with a small kiss to your head.

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘷. (𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺) 🍑

⤷ summary: austria. mclaren pr department can't read the room so shit officially hits the fan. at least y/n is getting paid for her troubles. lando thinks he can think his way out of this one 🤣

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"You want us to what?" Y/n asked incredulously.

There is no way. No. Fucking. Way.

"I know this may seem out of the blue, or even slightly unorthodox, however-" Michael started. Thirty-nine years old, head of the McLaren PR Department, her boss, and he thought this was only 'slightly' unorthodox. Right.

"I think we're a little past slightly, don't you think?" Lando muttered from the chair next to her. He wasn't looking at her directly anymore.

She had successfully ignored 127 messages, 53 phone calls, 3 emails, and a handful of indirect messages from Oscar, and he still didn't seem to get the hint. She shot him down once again when he tried to approach her before their meeting, after she had purposefully shown up as soon to the start time as possible to avoid him. Maybe that had been the final straw and he had understood she had no intention of speaking to him.

Lando's eyes met hers and Y/n swallowed down the guilt at his kicked puppy dog look. He was very good at looking pathetic, and she was starting to become skilled at ignoring it.

Not skilled enough.

"I'm well aware this is putting you both in a very precarious position, especially you Y/n considering your career," Michael continued, "but since you two have begun to interact on social media our numbers have nearly tripled. We've increased our social following across all platforms, we've increased engagement, Christ, we've even increased our merch sales. But if you two dated, a real, PR contract-based relationship, the results would be more than we could have hoped for at the start of the project."

"That was the point of hiring me," Y/n said sitting up. Yes, she was annoyed, but at this point who could blame her, "I knew my strategy of personalizing ourselves to the internet would work. I told you guys this would happen, and if we keep to it we could probably still reach these numbers you're looking for. What you're suggesting doesn't seem a bit far to you? A bit too risky?"

"Honestly, Y/n, the fact of the matter is this: we could increase what you've already started. If we go through with this project, we could see a skyrocket in our social media. This could do wonders for the team, especially given the results this season. No offense, Lando."

The Brit seemed to be dragged out of his thoughts at the comment and he simply shrugged and waved his hands impassively. Y/n intentionally ignored his disregard for the situation, because jumping across her seat and choking him would not solve any of her current problems- even if she really, really wanted to choke him.

"Do you understand what this can do to my career? This would look so unprofessional for me. The point of a PR relationship is that it doesn't really seem like a fake relationship. It would seriously decrease my options if or when I leave McLaren if it seems like I date my coworkers. You're basically condemning me to a life where I would never be hired again. I won't do it. I can't do this." Y/n said shakily, before standing up. It felt like she couldn't breathe, and it's not like she could turn to Lando for comfort in this because they weren't even friends. Not that he seemed all that bothered anyway. Lando seemed perfectly comfortable staring into space like the airhead he was.

Zak, who had been standing calmly in the corner of the room leaned toward her and squeezer her shoulder comfortingly. She had no doubt he knew how uncomfortable this situation must be for her. Unfortunately for her, he just didn't seem to care. Or at least not enough.

Michael sighed and stood up as well, walking around the desk he was sitting at so he was directly in front of her and Lando and sit on the desk itself.

"I hear your concerns Y/n, I really do, but you cannot truly expect that we wouldn't have some safety measures in place for your protection, can you? When I said this would be a contractual relationship, I meant it. There would be physical evidence that you were not violating any workplace policies, and were instead participating in a project that involved the relationship you would be a part of. We would provide any future employers with proof of this, given that they are willing to sign an NDA. You would not be left at risk in your future endeavors," Michael explained sympathetically. Y/n couldn't help but feel the insincerity of his words in comparison to his face.

They understood they were putting her in an uncomfortable position. They understood they were endangering her career no matter how many contracts she signed. And yet here they were, asking anyways.

"And if I just don't want to?" She asked and she heard Zak sigh from behind her. He took his hand off her shoulder.

Oh.

"Then I'm afraid we've reached a standstill here, haven't we?" Michael said. She inhaled sharply and looked down.

Oh. They were going to fire her. Of course.

"Are you serious?" Y/n finally turned to look at Lando. At some point in between when she had last looked at him and since she had begun to have her job dangled in front of her face he had stood up. He looked angry, not that he hadn't looked some variation of hurt, angry, and sad since he arrived.

"You can't seriously be threatening to fire her, right in front of me, over a project that no one in their right mind would agree to without any incentive. You do realize you haven't really offered her anything that would make her agree don't you? Do you do this to all of your employees or just the ones who carry nearly an entire department on their back?" Lando spit out angrily. He wasn't yelling, but he had sure as hell left the station of speaking calmly a while ago.

"Lando," Zak started through grit teeth, but Michael held up a hand.

"You're right Lando, I'm sorry, let me-"

"Why are you apologizing to me? I'm not the one whose job you were just threatening."

"You're right," Michael cleared his throat and returned back to his chair, "I'm sorry Y/n. Truly. I don't think we've approached the topic correctly at all. Let me start over. There is, of course, some incentive for you."

Y/n sighed, and looked over at Lando. Like usual, he was already looking at her. He was letting her take the reigns of the situation, he was letting her be in charge.

Because he respects you, a small part of her brain whispered and she closed her eyes and breathed in. She wasn't thinking about that anymore. She couldn't think about him anymore.

She sat down and stared at Michael. He could continue, but that didn't mean she would agree. Lando sat down as well, glaring at Zak over his shoulder until the older man walked away from behind Y/n's chair and back to the inconspicuous corner he had been in when they started.

"We had some extra money allotted in the budget," Michael started uncomfortably, pushing his glasses up his nose. His voice was wavering and uncertain, making his British accent even thicker. Y/n seemed to have an affinity for upsetting British men this week. Call it American reparations or whatever, but she was finding the prospect quite enjoyable.

"There would be a salary increase for you, should you choose to participate in the project." Michael stated, as he shifted some papers around on the desk. He uncapped a pen and wrote down a number on a piece of company branded legal pad paper. He folded the paper and slid it across the desk. Y/n, who had begun rubbing her temples irritatedly, closed her eyes as she sighed through her nose before reaching a hand out to look. Lando's hand slid in front of hers and grasped the paper before she could.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she looked at him incredulously as he unfolded the paper Michael had passed.

"Lando," Michael began and Lando cut the man off with a scoff. He crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash.

"You're asking the girl to put her career on the line and that's the amount that you offer?" Lando scoffed. Michael continued to try to speak but Lando held his hand up.

"Let's break this down properly before we make anymore stupid offers," Lando said, voice dripping the arrogance that typically bothered Y/n the most.

"You're asking her to stick out her neck for a PR project that may not work the way you're hoping, you'll be expecting her to keep performing her current work functions while also appearing at additional McLaren events as my partner. On top of all of that, you'll probably also want us to be making public appearances on days and times where she wouldn't be working at all anyway," Y/n thought briefly that this might be the most serious she had ever heard him sound.

"You also can't expect anyone to believe any of this if she doesn't also behave like we're dating in public, and expecting physical affection with someone she isn't actually dating is a lot to ask of someone who isn't a robot, if you weren't already aware," Lando stated patronizingly.

"And that's not even acknowledging the multiple hostile workplace environment policies you've broken in this meeting alone. I really hope you're not expecting her to sign a contract right now without a lawyer on top of that, considering that's illegal." Lando finished, staring at Michael with more anger she had ever seen him show.

"So maybe we should try a much bigger number," Lando said, leaning forward in his chair, "might I recommend doubling it?"

Why was he doing this. She hadn't even heard him out since their argument, ignoring any attempts at conversation, and now he was fighting tooth and nail in a room where no one else was defending her. Including the CEO of the company, who quite literally held his job in his hands.

Maybe that's just his charm. That he never thinks things through. That he doesn't think at all, whether it hurts someone else or himself in the process or not. It's just in his nature to fight first and ask questions later. She couldn't decide whether that was something she could handle or not.

Michael cleared his throat and wrote a number down quickly, handing it to Lando this time instead of her. Lando looked at the number and turned to look at her, nodding and handing the paper over.

Y/n fumbled with the paper slightly before opening it and exhaling sharply through her nose. Right in front of her eyes was a one, a five, and 5 whopping zeroes.

One and a half million dollars. Lando had just gotten her one and a half million dollars.

"This," Y/n started with a shaking voice, before clearing it with a harsh swallow. This was more money than she had ever seen before in her life.

"This is what you're offering me instead of my current salary?" She asked uncertainly. She was getting a headache from the tension of the furrow of her brows.

"No of course not," Lando started, never looking away from Michael.

"This is a bonus they're offering in addition to your current salary, right?" He narrowed his eyes at Michael. Michael nodded aggressively.

"Yes of course. This would be a bonus for participating in the project. You would be receiving your current salary as well for the work you were already participating in," Michael assured and his shoulders slumped in relief when Lando looked away to finally look at her.

"You don't have to make any decisions now," Lando began gently, eyes visibly softening, but Y/n could hardly hear him.

Half a million dollars would be more than enough to pay off her student loans. One and a half million dollars was more money than she even knew what to do with.

"I'll do it," She agreed.

One and a half million dollars, she reassured herself as Lando smiled at her softly. She smiled back. She was only doing this for the money; the one and a half million dollars.

Lando ignored the fluttering in his stomach as she smiled at him for the first time all day. He cheered internally. Who cared about money, this would be perfect. He would make sure to be perfect.

Lando would be the best fake boyfriend she could ever ask for, starting now.

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liked by mclaren, lilyzneimer, and 38,890 others

ynusername austria views hit different this time of year 🥴

19,208 comments

user1 you need a bark cause i can dog real loud

user2 so close op, but not quite!

user1 ... i'm too embarrassed to try again atp

user3 A SOFT LAUNCH?? ON THIS FINE TUESDAY EVENING??

user4 i HATE happy couples, they ruin my mood fr

user5 no deadass, like i hope y'all find out you're cousins

user4 she's dating a m*n i feel so sick

user5 the white men got her 🧎‍♀️

user6 you know who else is in austria 👀

user7 i want to tell you to be fr... but lowkey that does look like lando

user8 BE SO FR YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE HIS FACE

user9 i can't believe i'm lany/n truthing in god's year of 2023, but i am

user10 maybe lany/n is the friends we made along the way

user9 don't patronize me bitch iT'S RIGHT THEREEEEE

landonorris what book are you reading 🤨

ynusername stop acting like you know how to read

landnorris i didn't want to know anyways 😀👍

user11 damn girl they pay you to do this 😫 i don't even get vacation days

ynusername hi i'm saul goodman. did you know that you have rights? the constitution says you do. and so do i ☝️

user12 going on a date on a work trip, are we? 🫣

ynusername let's just call it an employee outing (;

user12 WAHT DOES THAT MEAN Y/N???

user13 OH MY GOD???

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liked by oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, and 40,103 others

mclaren lando norris p4? more likely than you think (ignore oscar, an intern let him out of his cage again) 😞

user14 he looks so happy, no one speak to me ever again

user15 it's that y/n effect

oscarpiastri quick question! WHAT THE FUCK.

oscarpiastri i am NOT an animal 😡 i don't need a cage

lilyzneimer DON'T YELL AT HER OSCAR 🫵 I'LL HAVE THE INTERN PUT YOU BACK.

mclaren yeah oscar 🤨 watch it

oscarpiastri this isn't a funny joke 😔 this isn't haha funny

user16 lando's best results after there are rumors they've started dating... hmmmm

user17 omg not y'all starting already

user16 what can i say the fanfics write themselves

user18 oscar fans can never catch a break, huh?

user19 i knew that last post was too good to be true

user20 @/oscarpiastri what happened to bribery??

oscarpiastri sorry guys, i pissed her off 😓

user21 ig since lando's off the shit list someone had to take his place

landonorris i got p4 for you admin 🤭

mclaren this is workplace harassment

landonorris ):

mclaren 🎻🤏 (it's the world's smallest violin playing the world's saddest song)

landonorris alright, fuck you ig

user23 lando flirting in the comments and then getting turned down in the most humiliating manner, what's new

landonorris ... it wasn't that humiliating

user23 🎻🤏

landonorris STOP OT NOW.

user24 i know y/n's boyfriend is reading these comments and weeping

user25 boy oh boy do i have news for you op

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liked by user26, landonorris, and 21,844 others

f1wags Various sources have reported seeing Y/n L/n, the current McLaren social media manager and McLaren F1 Driver Lando Norris together across Austria during the GP weekend, and celebrating after. Various kisses and intimate interactions were reported by our sources, including the ones pictured above. What do we think about this new workplace romance?

9,450 comments

user26 IS THIS REAL???? IS THIS REALLLLLL??????

user27 THE PICTURES ARE THERE BUT I STILL DON'T BELIEVE IT

user28 they're so cute, it almost makes me forget that this is the most insane thing i'll see all year

user29 bro beat the norizz allegations

user30 THE KISS?? THE BEACH PICTURES??? THE DINNER HUG??? OH THEY'RE IN LOVE IN LOVE

user31 they grow up so fast

user32 he's not hot enough for her, next question!

user33 be so serious 🙄

mclaren zoo wee mama

user34 THIS IS WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF????

mclaren hubba hubba

user35 from the team account is diabolical

user36 and they say bullying isn't a love language

user37 she hated on him so hard he fell in love with her

landonorris damn right she did

user38 lando try not to be down bad challenge *impossible* *never seen before*

user39 oh i know the twitter users that have been getting hate for weeks for saying the truth are MADDDD

user40 they couldn't have been more obvious, we've been in denial

user41 the eyes chico, they never lie

user42 oh i know zak brown is throwing up over this pr nightmare

user43 right like i think people are forgetting she's an employee 💀

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liked by carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 77,954 others

landonorris post-p4 cooldown 🧡

25,001 comments

oscarpiastri what's all this then 🧍‍♂️

oscarpiastri i really love how you're so good about telling me things 😮‍💨

user44 someone free oscar from lany/n bro

user45 this was NOT on my 2024 bingo card

user46 i don't think anyone could have predicted lando having rizz

ynusername so true

landonorris HEY.

danielricciardo i wasn't familiar with your game lando

landonorris STOP HITTIG ON HER SHES MINE

danielricciardo damn lil bro no one is taking her from you

user47 "she's mine" down horrendous once again

user48 bro was born down horrendous i fear

carlossainz55 i can't believe you didn't tell me lando! congratulations

landonorris it was a secret you muppet 🙄 but thank you

maxverstappen1 you too make a great couple! congrats mate 🤝

ynusername this was the most max verstappen way you could have said this

maxverstappen1 still bullying me i see 😔

lilyzneimer CUTIE PATOOTIES <3 oh and hi lando

landonorris can't even be mad cause they are too damn cute 😫

lilyzneimer good answer!

bsfuser1 congratulations i guess (she was mine first) 🙄

landnorris thanks! (we can share)

bsfuser2 hurt her and i kill you!!! so cute together tho <3

landonorris you lot are fucking terrifying!! appreciate it (:

zbrownceo Congratulations you two! Can't imagine a better pair 🧡💪

landonorris Thanks Zak!!!

ynusername you gave cali kisses so i guess you're alright <3

landonorris as many kisses as my girls want

user49 MY GIRLS KMSSSS

user50 cat dad cat dad cat dad ‼️

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that's the end of act 1!!! part 2 coming shortly <3 i'm moving into college and starting classes so if updates slow down a bit just know i'm getting things out as quickly as i can ((: hope you enjoyed and feel free to leave your thoughts!!

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne @urfavsgf @sadsierra2 @96jnie @sltwins @poppyflower-22 @alliumiae @livelovesports @liberty-barnes @the-holy-trinity-l @iliwyss @awritingtree @redpool @elliotts1one @velentine @chaoticmessneutralplease @5sospenguinqueen @charizznorizz @2pagenumb @mxdi0 @cwiphswmwasohmm @tremendousstarlighttragedy @lnspipedrm @itseightbeats @tinycoffeeroom @woozarts @personwhoisther @a-beaverhausen @love-simon @annabellelee @ravisinghs-wife @chezmardybum @greantii @weekendlusting @monserelates @sapphiccloud @halleest @deamus-liv @gigigreens @morenofilm @laneyspaulding19 @lanireadss @dear-fifi @moldyshorts1997 @oliviarodrigostan13 @eugene-emt-roe @ilivbullyingjeongin @im-a-ghost666

[kurooangel]

ᯓ good girl ★

ft. gojo satoru!

content: smut. oral sex, unprotected sex. dad!gojo x babysitter!fem!reader. gojo is in his mid-thirties, reader in her early twenties. english isn't my first language!!

wc: 1.4k

── masterlist !!

you can't deny it: gojo is one of the hottest man you've ever seen. yes, he is your boss, a father, but nobody can blame you. he treats you so good, he is so nice to you, that of course you'd be confused. he is so tall and broad, sometimes he wears one of those shirts that clings to his muscular biceps just right.

"thank you for taking care of her tonight, darling." he caresses your cheek while you cheek that the transference is done. twenty thousand yen for taking his cute five years old daughter for five hours. "it's always a pleasure, sir." you smile at him as you lean into his touch, his big hand cupping your right cheek. he smiles you back and lowers his voice a bit, his tone now intimate. "it's late, wanna stay here?" of course you want to, how could you refuse? it was probably the best offer you've ever had. "I appreciate the offer, sir, but I don't want to disturb." you feign innocence and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. "you never disturb, sweetheart. you can stay. emma will love to see you here when she wakes up." his blue eyes following the movement of your hand and his thumb continues to move across your cheek. "then, sure, I guess I can stay, sir" you look at him with those foxy eyes of yours without knowing what your gaze does to him. "and please, call me satoru." he smirks to you. gojo's hand leaves your cheek and goes to the small of your back, making you walk next to him. "you already know where is the guests bedroom, so feel free to use it. my bedroom is next to it, so come if you have a nightmare." he playfully winks at you and you feel your knees weaker, but you chuckle a bit nervous. damn, of course you would go to his bedroom. he has been playing along with you every single time you've flirted with him a few weeks later after you started taking care of his daughter, emma. he always found your audacity amusing, but he wont lie, you are such an attractive girl and after all he is just a man. satoru noticed the way you played with your hair when you talked to him, your cute little shorts that hugged your curves perfectly fine, the way you smiled at him and the sweet tone of your voice, when you made him dinner — even if he just pays you to take care of his daughter—, when your hand touches slightly his biceps when you show him how grateful you are with him. "you can use the shower of my bathroom, feel free to use my clothes to sleep. I guess you'll be more comfortable." he smiles at you and opens the door of his bedroom, encouraging you to get in. satoru also goes inside and lays on his bed as you enter his private bathroom. it's pretty and big, quite elegant too. you undress yourself and then you start getting showered. it feels good taking it after a long day. even if his daughter is such a good kid, it's tired to play for five hours with such an energetic child.

a smirk appears on your face when you leave the shower and comb your hair. you didn't catch gojo's clean clothes, so you only had a versace's white bath towel to cover yourself. so that's exactly what you did. you left the bathroom, and satoru's gaze went to the bathroom's door when you opened it. he shifted slightly on his bed, eyes roaming over your body. he gets up and hand you one a clean shirt, but his other hand grabs your waist. "you do this on purpose, don't you?" he whispers. "do what?" you say, rubbing his chest with your hand. he doesn't answer, but kisses you like a starving man drinking water. his arms grip your waist and the shirt he was handing to you falls onto the floor as he claims your lips. "you're a damn tease." he growls against your lips and his sloppy kisses go down to your neck. "do you think I didn't realise how you're pussy craves me anytime you see me?" he groan against your throat, leaving open-mouthed kisses here and there. "you'd be a great mother for emma, do you want to give her a sibling? do you want me to fill you with my cum? you'd be the hottest mother ever, sweetheart." he whispers against your ear and bites your earlobe, his hands take of the towel that covers you, making it fall onto the floor next to the shirt, as he pulls slightly away to see your body. "you're fucking gorgeous." he growls. satoru's hands grab your thights, fingers digging into your still wet flesh as he makes you wrap your bare legs around his hips. wasting no time, he pins you against the mattress, your chest against his as he tries to steady his breathing.

"now I will give you what you've been asking for this whole time." his lips crushes against your neck, wet kisses all over your throat and he goes lower and lower, showering you with kisses. his mouth catches one of your breast in his mouth and starts sucking it roughly. his right hand go to your swollen clit and starts rubbing his thumb against it, drawing invisible circles. you moan and arch your back making him chuckle against your tit. "do you like it, sweetheart?" his whisper sends a shiver to your spine and you nod, but he stops his movement on your clit. "use your words, talk to daddy." he growls against your skin, gently biting your nipple. "y-yes, I love it, please keep going." your plea makes him even harder and he takes his shirt off and throws it anywhere, his attentions focused on you. you gasp when you see his bare chest, a hundred times even better than you imagined it. his abs sweaty as he follows your order, thumb drawing circles against your clit again making you dig your nails into his broad back. his mouth continues devouring your body when he finally pushes a finger in your wet pussy, your sticky walls clinging around him. "it's not enough, 'toru." you whine. he chuckles as he slips two fingers more inside you, touching that sweet spot of yours making you arch your back. "you're so tight and stil asking for more." he grumbles against your skin. he doesn't want to hurt you, but you make it so damn difficult. he thrust his fingers in you mercilessly as his head goes lower and he sucks your clit. you moan loudly and he gives you a glare. "don't be loud. we don't want to wake up emma." he mumbles against your core and he keeps playing with your clit in his mouth as his fingers fuck your tight cunt, making delicious sounds every time it goes in and out. "please, I'm ready. I want you inside before I come." your plea makes him groan and he answers with a low growl "so bossy, you damn brat." he leaves your pussy and both of his hands grab your hips as he aligns himself. he introduces just the tip, but when you look at him with those bambi lustful eyes, he can't contain himself more. he fills you with one thrust and he shuts you up claiming your lips wildly. your nails scratch his back and his hips move against you rougher. you feel your ecstasy coming and you grab his biceps. "fuck, you're taking me so good, so fucking good baby. c'mon, do you want daddy's milk? of course you do." he whispers and grabs your neck with his hand. your eyes go blank as he fills you just right and his length reaches that sweet spot of yours. you reach your ecstasy when you feel his cum inside you. "that's it, such a good girl you are, gorgeous." he removes his grip on your neck and leaves soft kisses all over your face as you try to catch your breath. a faint smile appears on your face, finally and at least for tonight, your boss this man is yours. and of course, it wouldn't be just for that night.

[tavina-writes]

I started writing yet another tag essay in the notes of a different post where OP posited that the reason established relationships that are rock solid or functional are hard to write and find in fiction because there's missing tension due to the lack of will they won't they, and how one way to solve this in a story is to make the characters insane about each other. (The post is here.)

And don't get me wrong! I like when characters are a little or a lot unhinged about each other! and I also like relationships that self destruct, tragedies that end badly, and all that jazz I enjoy these things a lot! They're good things!

But I'm thinking about relationship tension again and how like, okay yes sometimes we want our characters confess they're in love with each other and get together and sail off into a soft epilogue, etc. This too is love!

But I think fundamentally to deny the fact that two (or more) people can love each other deeply, be totally committed to each other, and yet still have difficulties and life problems to tackle together is an underexplored facet of romance. The mundane of this is where the real romance lies on our day to day as people, and I find this so...rarely? tackled in fiction?

Maybe this is because I'm ace, but I feel that there's a distinct? vibe to these sorts of mature and enduring romances where like, the love is there, the commitment is there, but we still have moments we need to work for it because that's life and we work for it because we find each other worth it.

What is more romantic than compromise with someone you care for deeply? What is more romantic than tackling problems together and trying to come to an agreement and sometimes not being able to but still having done your best and accepted the outcome anyway?

What is a long lasting relationship that isn't about give and take and growing together or coming apart? Aren't those stories interesting? How could any long lasting relationship where people are deeply in love with each other be boring when like, to BE in a relationship with someone for ten, twenty, thirty, sixty years and come out the other side of that saying 'you're the one, you're still the one, you've always been the one' is one of the most wild and rare type of relationships to have?

What sort of sacrifice and compromise and work it takes to build that sort of relationship, isn't that interesting? To persist despite moments of doubt and periods of despair and all the work it takes in mundanity? all the trials a relationship like that has to survive and has survived, isn't that still tension? isn't that still interesting?

Maybe it's just me that I find this more interesting than "will they? won't they?" Either they will or they won't but when I'm reading a romance they mostly will! But do they have what it takes to stay there? And if they do isn't that one of the most interesting things in the world to look at?

Isn't that also love?

[familyvideostevie]

october thirtieth

day thirty: james potter you find a photo of the two of you in james's pocket | established relationship, fluff | 1k

“James, have you seen my lipstick?”

No reply. You check your makeup bag one more time but can't find it.

“James!”

“What?”

His voice is muffled. You leave the bathroom and follow it, finding him standing in the closet frowning at his dress shirts. You press into his side, wrapping yourself around his bare torso. “Your face is going to stick like that if you're not careful.”

He drags his hand up and down between your shoulder blades. “I have to be the best-dressed bride of a vampire out there, darling. You know that.”

Silly, silly man. The event of the evening is Halloween-themed drinks at the popular bar on the high street. You had to book a table and everything and James has been looking forward to it all month.

He came up with your costumes: you, a dangerous and beautiful vampire, and him, your willing and handsome bride.

“Well, best of luck to you. Have you seen my lipstick? The red one?”

You need it to draw the punctures on his neck and lines of blood from the corners of your mouth. James pulls himself from your hold and selects a shirt, finally, buttoning it up halfway and messing with his hair in the mirror.

“I don't have it, darling,” he says.

You sigh. Easily distracted, this one. “I gave it to you the other night to hold.”

He snaps his fingers. “So you did. It must be in my jacket pocket.”

“Which one?” You swear James has more clothes than you.

“Which jacket or which pocket?”

“James.”

He winks at you, glasses flashing. “Brown jacket, not sure which pocket.”

You leave him to his fussing and find it hanging on the hook in the entryway.

The lipstick is not in the right pocket or the left. You hope he's not lost it because it's a great color and you really don't want to have to draw the blood on in purple, or something, but then you feel something lipstick-shaped in the breast pocket.

“Jackpot,” you mutter. You pull the tube from the pocket but out with it comes a piece of paper.

It's creased and wrinkled, as if it's been handled many times. You unfold it and —

Oh. You think you say that out loud.

It's you and James. A photo from ages ago. Years, actually. It's you two on the night you met. A party of Lily's, something she did often in those days to bring people together, and this one was a game night. You and James had been paired up for charades and you'd absolutely crushed the competition. You remember feeling like you could read each other's minds.

In the photo you're holding the trophy — a tiny, plastic thing Lily had bought at a discount store — and you're smiling so wide you can see all of your teeth. James has his arm slung around you and he's looking right at you instead of at the camera.

His expression shocks you. You've seen hundreds of photos of the two of you together where he's got this look on his face, the one that you know to be love. And in the photo you've just found, one of the first day you met, he's looking at you the same way. Like he's in love.

“Darling?” he calls. “Did you find it?” he wanders down the hall, fully dressed, and you turn to him.

“Yes,” you say, breathless. “James, why do you have this in your jacket?”

“Hm?” He slides his hand over your hip and leans in to look, face brightening when he see's what you've found. “Have you not seen this before? I suppose I've kept it in there since Lily gave it to me.”

You just stare at it.

“God, it's so obvious I was gone for you,” he sighs.

You turn your head so you're looking at him, so close you could count his eyelashes. “You were?”

“Darling, I was utterly ass over tit for you from the start. In love the second you opened your mouth.”

“Don't be silly, James.”

He looks offended. “No, it's true! I remember the whole thing. I was late and you'd been freed up from work at the last minute so we didn't have partners when Lily said to make teams. And you looked at me and said, 'You better be good at this, because I am.' And I said, 'I will win you this if it's the last thing I do.'”

“Which was a bit dramatic,” you mutter.

“And you didn't even tell me your name until we won.”

“That is how it went, I suppose. You really fancied me because I was a bit overcompetative?”

James snorts. “Come on, love, is that really so hard to believe?”

You look at the picture again. It isn't, considering you were similarly smitten that night, but it's still a bit like a fairy tale.

“No, I guess not.”

“I mean, who wouldn't fall in love with you at first sight?” James presses a kiss to your temple. “You're funny —” he kisses your brow “— sweet —” your nose “— lovely —” your cheek.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you say, shoving him off. “We need to finish getting ready, James, or we'll be late.”

He bares his neck for you. “Blood me up, baby.”

You laugh, slip the photo back into his jacket, and drag him back to the bathroom. “You're so weird.”

“And you looooove it.”

“You're the one who carries that photo round all the time!”

Just saying it makes your heart swell. It's a small thing in the grand scheme of your relationship. James shows you he loves you all the time — in his words, his actions. The way he looks at you. How he always buys your favorite flavor soda at the shop when he sees it. The way he knows how to wake you from a nap without startling you. His touch in a crowded room and his gaze when he senses you need something.

So, yeah, a photo in his jacket pocket is nothing, really. But he clearly looks at it often and thins about that first night.

You lean in and kiss him without warning. He makes a surprised noise but leans into it, hand cupping the back of your neck. Maybe it's alright if you're a little late.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

time to go home

Pairing: Mob!Andy Barber x female!reader

Summary: You thought you'd slipped out of his grasp but you should have known better than to underestimate Andy Barber.

Warnings: petnames (honey), dark!Andy, threats of violence, controlling behaviour. This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Author's note: It's rare I go a bit dark but this was very fun to write and I am not above writing more (word count: 659)

"You look beautiful, honey."

Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice. The deep baritone causes goosebumps to rise across your skin and a shiver to run down your spine.

You had been so careful. You changed your name. You moved state. You waited. You waited years before letting yourself live again. Before letting yourself believe you were safe, that he would never find you.

You'd been wrong.

His name is nothing but a whisper on your lips as you urge yourself not to cry.

You hear the door shut softly the lock clicking into place as your heart sinks.

"I told you I'd find you."

His voice is closer now and you know better than to turn around. You can feel your muscles tensing with every painful second that passes as you wait for him to come closer to you.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. In thirty minutes you were supposed to be walking down the aisle to start the rest of your life with the man you loved.

"You don't love him, honey. Not like you love me."

You spin around on instinct, forgetting exactly who you are dealing with as you prepare to give him a piece of your mind.

"How dare-"

He cuts you off with a laugh and a tight grip on your jaw.

"How dare I?" he laughs, but there's no humour there. Pulling you closer until you're against his chest, wincing as his fingers dig into your cheeks. "How dare you, honey. I've got to say you didn't make it easy. How long has it been exactly?"

You don't answer. Putting all your energy into keeping your tears at bay as you look into the cold eyes of the man you once loved, the man you now feared.

If you had known what Andy was, you would have never let yourself fall into his trap. But, hindsight was a wonderful thing.

Andy was charming, doting, protective and handsome. He was everything a girl dreamed of. He treated you like a queen, you wanted for nothing.

But there were two sides to every coin.

For as charming as Andy was he was just as manipulative. For as doting, he could be just as cold and indifferent. For as protective, he was even more possessive.

You knew Andy was a powerful man from the moment you met him but you had no idea just how much power and influence he possessed.

He made you dependent on him, had you let go from your job, and cut off from your family and friends. You became isolated. He was your only source of comfort and he never let you forget it.

"That's not what love is, Andy," you whisper, no longer able to keep your tears at bay.

The dark look in his eye should scare you but you've seen it enough times. Accustomed to what it means and you know you're not getting out of this this time.

"Just please don't hurt him," you whimper. Thinking about your fiance waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

Andy shushes you gently, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks, "Oh honey, you're really not in a position to be making demands."

Your eyes widen as a sob tears out of your throat.

Sighing, Andy rolls his eyes at your tears, clearly bored by your attachment to a man who isn't him.

"Fine, I'll let him live," Andy concedes, one hand slipping down to wrap around your throat.

You choke on a sob as his hand tightens enough to convey his next warning.

"But if you ever try and leave me again, I will put a bullet between the eyes of everyone you care about. Do you understand?"

You nod weakly, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Good girl," he purrs, placing a soft kiss against your lips and sealing your fate, "let's go home."

This was fun!! I wouldn't mind writing more if any one has any thoughts... thank you for reading, as always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ✨💜

[heavyhitterheaux]

Not So Humble Beginnings

Love You a Little Bit Series

Synopsis: Jack is captivated by a new country singer out of Nashville when he goes to one of her shows reluctantly. When the two of you meet, Jack finds out about your hesitations on getting to know him and tries to do his best in order to change your mind.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Country Singer!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Jack sighed in frustration as he, Urban, and Clay finally got settled in their seats on the balcony of the venue to see some singer that Urban had been obsessed with lately and apparently he learned on the way over here that Clay was infatuated with her too. He didn't even know her name, but everyone had insisted that he get some fresh air and get out of the studio at least for a few hours despite his protests. He was quickly pulled out of his thoughts by Clay talking to him.

“Will you get that look off your face? You can relax for a few hours.”

“You and Urban wanted to come, not me. I have a deadline to meet and I seem to be the only one that cares.”

“Will your ass stop being so fucking dramatic? You might end up liking her music.” Urban added as he took a long sip of the Coke that he had gotten before walking upstairs to the balcony area.

“Who is performing anyway?” Jack asked as he rolled his eyes since he knew that there was no possible way that he could escape.

“Her name is Y/N Y/M/N, she's gotten really popular over the last year. You've probably heard one of her songs but didn't know it was her.” Clay answered as he noticed that the venue was starting to fill up.

Jack simply shrugged in response because the name didn't sound familiar to him and pulled out his phone to pass the time in the hopes that you would be coming on stage soon.

About thirty more minutes passed when the lights began to dim and cheers were erupting across the entire venue. Jack was taken aback when he noticed that Clay and Urban had joined in and simply shook his head at them. Smoke was lining the stage before you appeared and the screams got even louder.

“Nashville, it's been a while, but I promised that I would be back for you. How are we doing tonight?”

Once Jack had seen you for the first time, his eyes went wide and went even wider when you opened your mouth and began to sing.

“You got that

90 proof love when the bar shuts down

2am you're just drunk On the town

Got that lonely kickin in

Jack D got you lookin for a rewind

One more last time

Like the last time

Hittin up my phone

Sayin swearing that you miss me

You ain't been the same

Ever since you ain't with me

But I know You ain't here in the name of love

You're just here in the name of whiskey”

And you could play the guitar along with the piano.

The entire time that you performed, Jack was mesmerized and made it his mission to find everything out about you that he possibly could once the show was over. What he didn't expect was when you were singing your last song, “Buckle Bunny”, a person that he assumed was on your team came up to him on the balcony.

“Mr. Harlow, I'm Carmen, Ms. Y/L/N's assistant, Ms. Y/L/N is requesting that you meet her backstage once the show is over.” She politely said to him.

“Yeah, sure thing.” Jack answered nonchalantly, but nevertheless he was excited.

Once you got off the stage, Carmen handed you a water bottle that you took a generous swig from before she was eyeing you as she led the two of you down the hallway leading to your dressing room.

“What, you weirdo?” You asked her as she then took your guitar from you as the two of you were now in front of your dressing room door.

“You won't believe who came tonight!!” Carmen basically yelled at you, but then she got quiet and you were waiting for her to go on.

“Are you going to tell me or just stand there smiling?”

“JACK HARLOW!” Carmen exclaimed excitedly, but you just continued to look at her which immediately made her get a confused look on her face.

“Don't you like his music? I invited him backstage when the show was over so that the two of you could talk.”

“YOU WHAT!?” You replied while looking at her in disbelief.

“I found out where he was sitting and told him to come backstage! What's the problem? Having a connection like that could be huge for you.”

You took a deep sigh before responding to her and had to realize that she couldn't have known your dislike for him since you had never told her.

“He was rude to my best friend Rory and ever since then I was never able to look at him the same. She has a vendetta against him and since we're basically the same person, so do I.”

Your next thoughts were interrupted by security bringing Jack back along with two other people and Carmen quickly pinched you to tell you to fix your face.

Before Jack could say anything to you, one of the people who he was with quickly stepped in front of him and you learned that his name was Urban who come to find out was Jack's best friend and he simply told you how much he loved your music. While the other person who introduced himself you learned was Clay and Jack's younger brother. The resemblance was undeniable and soon it was Jack's turn.

“It's nice to meet you and I love your voice.” Was all he said before bringing you into a hug which you gladly accepted.

“Thank you so much and thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.” You replied when the two of you finally broke apart.

“These two said I could use a break from being in the studio all day so the credit goes to them for bringing me.”

“I'm happy that I was able to distract you for a little while. Do you usually record in Nashville?” You asked to make friendly conversation.

“As of lately. I've been spending a lot of my time here and back home in Louisville.”

“Oh, that's right. I forgot that's where you're from.”

“So you’re a fan I take it?”

By this time, Carmen had walked off and she said for you to fix your face, but not to lie to the man.

“At one point I was.” You answered being completely honest. By this time, everyone else was deep in their own conversations and no one was really paying the two of you any attention.

“Wait? What changed?” Jack asked while laughing because he thought you were joking with him.

“My best friend met you and you weren't the nicest towards her so seeing as me and her are the same person, that's what started it.”

Jack looked at you confused and didn't quite know what to say next as you were literally just staring at him with a tight lipped smile. He didn't get a chance to respond as Carmen interrupted making all of your attention go to her.

“Hey, more people are asking for you.”

“Okay. Jack, it was nice meeting you. If you're going to be around Nashville for a while maybe we'll run into each other.”

“Uh yeah, nice meeting you too.”

Jack didn't know how to feel about the conversation that had just taken place and he was at a loss as you walked away from him and was laughing at something Carmen had whispered to you. First thinking that you were joking and then confirming that you weren't by your continued explanation made a pit grow in the bottom of his stomach. He had quickly become a fan during your show and seeing you perform, but it was clear that you didn't want anything to do with him despite how polite you had been. He was pulled out of his thoughts by Urban telling him that he and Clay wanted to go to a restaurant down the street from the venue and Jack quickly agreed with the thought of you now being pushed to the back of his mind.

A few days later, Jack was back in the studio when he decided to take a breather and was making his way to the front of the building to exit it in order to get some fresh air. You had been on his mind heavily and he simply wanted to get another opportunity to speak with you in the hopes that the two of you could reconcile and start fresh without the incident concerning your best friend hanging over his head. He knew that he wasn't a mean or a rude person so this had truly been bothering him and he hated the fact that now that was your perception of him. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going as he was looking down at his phone and mistakenly bumped into someone.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” He heard a small voice say, and fate must have been on his side because when he looked down, he was staring at you.

“Y/N, uh hey. It's not your fault. I wasn't watching where I was going. You record here too?” He asked, trying to make conversation, but all you did was give him that same tight lipped smile.

“Yes, I always have since I started recording my music. I'm always in studio B. For some reason all the other ones don't do it the same for me.” You politely answered as you typed on your phone quickly to let Carmen know where you were. Of course you were late once again and she was currently yelling at you through a series of text messages.

It was quiet for a few seconds before Jack spoke up again, coming to the conclusion that he probably wasn't going to get very far with you. At least not today. This conversation felt like pulling teeth and last time he checked he wasn't a dentist.

“Well, I don't want to keep you, so….”

Jack didn't even get a chance to finish his sentence before you immediately cut him off.

“See you around.” You quickly answered as you made your way down the hallway. Jack simply sighed as he watched you walk away, but at least he knew now where he could find you multiple days out of the week.

After that night at your show, Jack found out as much as he could about you which had him staying up at least until two that morning. He found out that you were an independent artist that was born in Louisville, grew up in Nashville and was now residing there. You were two years older than him and he found out that you were a pisces like he was. You had released a few EP's and had also released your album Buckle Bunny which had been at number one on the charts for weeks.

Once Jack made it back in the studio, all eyes were on him as he sat down and Clay asked him if he was ready to start back up again.

“I just ran into Y/N. Literally. Like I almost knocked her over.”

“Wait! She's here!?” Clay excitedly asked because he definitely wanted to work on a song with you if the opportunity presented itself.

“She's always in studio B apparently since that's her favorite one she told me and I've come to the conclusion that she also hates me.”

“Wait, what? How do you figure that?” Urban asked as he looked at him confused.

“Apparently I was rude to her friend when her friend had met me before even though I never remember being rude to any fan, but that's what did it. And now she and her best friend have a vendetta against me.”

“Oh.”

“I asked, so you must be a fan, then? Since she knew I was from Louisville and she then proceeded to say that she used to be and that had obviously taken me by surprise and then she goes and tells me why. I legit thought she was joking at first.”

“Damn. Jack messed things up before anything really got started.”

“She simply keeps things short and sweet. I want to fix this with her so hopefully she gives me the opportunity to do that.”

“Hmm, from the way that these two interactions went, I highly doubt it.”

The studio session came and went as Jack didn't stay for much longer since he knew that he was going to be back early the next morning. As he was laying down and drifting off to sleep, the wheels in Jack’s head started turning as he was trying to think of a way to ease the tension between the two of you. After about thirty minutes of trying to come up with an idea, it finally came to him.

The other night he had watched an interview of you that he had come across while scrolling through Instagram and you said that your favorite flowers happened to be sunflowers and roses and you liked how they looked when they ended up being combined together. Starting tomorrow he was going to leave a bouquet of flowers for you in the studio and write a note attached to it hoping that you would see it.

Meanwhile it was three in the morning and you were wide awake while on facetime with your best friend Rory who had just gotten back from New York and you had yet to tell her what happened between you and Jack. It had now been a few days and you figured that now was a good time to tell her.

“RoRo.”

“Oh goodness. You only use that tone when it's something serious so go ahead and spit it out.”

“Guess who came to one of my shows a few weeks ago?”

“Ohh was it Method Man!? He is GORGEOUS.”

“Rory, he has CHILDREN as old as you.” You exclaimed while rolling your eyes, but she just shrugged.

“I'm just trying to find where the point is in your statement… oh, that's right. There isn't one.” She answered as you saw her starting to unpack her suitcases. She always did right after she got back from a trip and you told her that she was a psychopath for doing it.

“You are so damn annoying, but it was your favorite rapper.”

“Me and Cardi got beef. We not talking right now. Have you seen those ticket prices for her tour? I'll be in the parking lot.”

“NOT HER!”

“Then who!?”

“Jack Harlow.”

Rory's entire expression changed as she rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth at your response.

“Don't nobody care about his big headed ass anymore.”

“He came backstage and I met him and we can thank Carmen for that one. Completely caught me off guard.”

“Hmm…. I hope he wasn't rude to you. And why would she set you up like that!?”

“And I told him about his little run in with you and how I used to be a fan until that happened.”

“Girl no the FUCK you didn't…” Rory exclaimed while pausing to look at you from unpacking.

“I think he thought that I was joking with him at first, but he changed his tune quickly after that.”

“I cannot believe you told him that to his face.”

“Well what else was I supposed to do? Lie? It's not like I was mean about it.” You asked and she was still looking at you dumbfounded.

“Well no, but a connection like that would do you some good in the music industry. You're just starting out and the last thing that you need to be doing is making enemies.”

“Umm, excuse me ma'am? Whose side are you on?” You asked while munching on your sour patch kids.

“Always yours! Don't be stupid but I don't know, maybe you should give him a chance.”

“What the? What the hell have you done with my best friend? Any other time he's brought up, you're ready to burn him at the stake!”

“I'm still here! But I mean truth be told that was so long ago. I do still have a vendetta against him, but to be honest it wasn't totally his fault. Soooo, you could probably let him off the hook.”

“Rory…… I basically just told this man to fuck off and now you're trying to tell me it was a misunderstanding!?”

“I… well…. It wasn't really him, but more so who he was with. His manager, Neelam.”

“RORY WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THE ENTIRE STORY!?!? NOT YOU MAKING ME HATE THIS MAN ALL FOR IT NOT TO BE HIS FAULT!”

“I'M SORRY! MAYBE YOU TWO CAN START FRESH!”

“Fuck! Rory! Now he probably thinks I hate him!”

“We can fix this!”

“No, Ro. You are staying as far away from this situation as possible. We do record at the same studio so maybe I'll run into him again.”

“Ask him out on a date!”

“WHAT!? NO! I don't even know if he likes me like that and he probably doesn't, considering how I interacted with him.”

“You never know though. I think you should go for it.”

“It seems like every time I listen to you, I find myself in a bigger mess than before.”

“I'm getting better!”

All you did was give her the side eye as you continued to eat your sour patch kids.

Over the course of the next few weeks, every single Friday, there would be a bouquet of flowers waiting for you at the studio before you would start your session and you had no idea where they had been coming from or who had placed them there.

Obviously they knew you well since it was always a combination of your favorite flowers which were sunflowers and roses. Carmen came to the conclusion that you had a secret admirer and you just shook your head at her, but you definitely wanted to know who this person was. Surprisingly you hadn't crossed paths with Jack even though you had been hoping that you would. But you figured that when the time was right, it would happen. You wanted to make amends and hopefully get to know him, if he still wanted to that is.

It was close to four in the morning and everyone had already left when you found yourself gathering all your belongings so that you could head home. Once you made sure that you had everything, including your newest bouquet of flowers, you started walking towards the front of the building.

Once in the parking lot, you realized that your car was parked next to Jack’s, as he was leaning on it and typing quickly on his phone. You walked up to him and waited for him to notice you. When he didn't, you simply tapped him on the arm.

“Hey. Haven't seen you for a while.”

“Oh, hey. Yeah, it's been a minute. I've been doing some appearances here and there between being here so I guess we've been missing each other.” Jack said as he now gave you his full attention and placed his phone in his pocket.

“You usually leave this late?” He asked and you immediately shook your head no.

“No, but I had a few more things that I wanted to work on before I left so I stayed a little while longer. I could ask you the same thing.”

“I couldn't sleep, so I came for about two hours. I'm about to head out now.” Jack answered as he was looking at you holding the bouquet of flowers and hoping that you would mention the notes that he had been leaving for you.

“Um, I'm not tired and there's a 24 hour diner not too far away from here. Want to get breakfast with me?” You asked as you looked up at him hopefully.

Meanwhile Jack's heart rate had increased and he couldn't believe what was happening.

“I just feel like I didn't really give us a chance to be friends and I want to change that and get to know you for myself. If you want to, of course.” You added as Jack still hadn't said anything.

He simply unlocked his car and opened the passenger side door for you.

“Clay and Urban are going to be so jealous.” He said before laughing and helping you into his Jeep as you smiled at him.

[flagellant]

Why can't you people be normal about slurs for 2 seconds

Just because YOU reclaimed and identify with something doesn't mean everyone else does. No one cares about you IDing as a queer or dyke or fag or whatever, people just don't want strangers to randomly assign them words that have historically been used as slurs.

Like, do you understand that people have had this word used against them by bigots? Do you understand that maybe, it's tasteless to get upset at people for having trauma regarding a word? Are you able to comprehend that maybe insisting people be okay with being called a word that means odd, spoiled, ruined or weird is not a good look?

I'm autistic and have a severe learning disability. I'm totally fine when people use the word retard, I call myself a retard, I don't care. But I'm sure as fuck not going to walk up to a bunch of other autistic people I barely know and go "lmao what is up my fellow tards!!!"

I'm not trying to start shit, I'm legitimately trying to understand why you find it appropriate to make fun of people, often victims of abuse or hate crimes, for being triggered by a word.

"I'm legitimately trying to understand why you find it appropriate to make fun of people, often victims of abuse or hate crimes, for being triggered by a word."

Gay is a slur. Lesbian is a slur. Homosexual is a slur. Every single word we have ever had has always either had its roots in cruelty and oppression or has been used against us by our oppressors. There is no term that is pure and clean and innocent and has never hurt anyone's feelings.

Let's disregard fag for now. That one's still in the process of reclamation, I'll admit. Let's just talk about queer. Queer has been the academic term for non-cisgender and non-heterosexual history for half a century now. Queer theory has been around for thirty years. Queer was the word which we shouted as a radical inditement of our treatment by our oppressors: "We're here, we're queer, get over it" and "Not gay as in happy but queer as in fuck you" should both sound familiar to you.

And now it's 2012 or so and queer is known as the most inclusive term we have. It's less unwieldy than LGBTQIAAP+. It's not based in a necessity of defining yourself through your oppression like MOGAI. It's, important, a deeply private word. Not in the sense that it is used privately, but rather than it grants its user privacy. If you're queer, everyone instantly knows you're a part of the community, but you aren't being forced to out yourself or give more details about your personal life and identity than you want. It was always a word about identity.

TERFs hate this. TERFs hate this so much, because it's inclusive of people they hate, like asexual people, trans women, and other freaks of nature who society needs to put down like dogs. Queer means TERFs can't as easily define you as the Bad Other. Queer means TERFs will be recognized more easily as bigoted towards the larger queer communities. So, obviously, they do what anyone would, and decide to take advantage of the language of social justice warriors of the time and attack impressionable young kids from 13-16.

The average 13-16 year old doesn't exactly have much experience in real-life queer spaces. They don't get to go to rallies or protests, they don't stay at community centers, their lives are insular and based entirely online. Their understanding of social politics is inherently rooted in the importance of posting in the right language. Their activism is one which tweets correctly. So TERFs slid into their inboxes and went "Hey, just so you know, queer is actually a slur used to oppress people and it's problematic to use since some people have been called it".

And this works, because of course it does, and now I have people like you in my inbox bitching and whining about how queer is a slur and how you've been called queer once or twice in your life. To this I say: My apologies, but fucking suck it up and reclaim it. I don't care about traumatic events you have with queer. It has been reclaimed by the greater community and was done so long before you were born if you aren't literally 50, and more importantly, by giving queer validation as a slur, you actively give our oppressors that power over you. I'm not going to let my oppressors know that if they say an identifier for us meanly enough then we'll stop identifying as that word. I'm not giving the power to silence and repress who we are to people who would use it.

Anon, I respect you enough to say that people who consider my identity as a slur should get punched in the face, because alt-right fash cunts, pig cops, evangelical christians, TERFs, and hyperconservative political lobbyists all consider my identity as a slur. Why should I treat you any different to them? What about your specific treatment of queer as a slur ends up with a meaningfully different result? The neonazis on kiwifarms won't care why you're telling me to shut the fuck up about queer. They don't give a shit about why you're saying this. What they give a shit about is if it works and if calling people queer will get them to shut up and curl up in a little ball and admit defeat and hand them slurs on a silver platter. And I'm not about to live that sort of life, so either get with the program or fuck off.

[lowkeyremi]

Dating the teacher P2 plsssss <3 (if you want to do a part 2)

I was actually thinking about doing part 2 I just wasn't sure when, thanks for prompting me to do it :)) also sorry this took me so long, my motivation is still slowly coming back, which also explains why this is so short

"Mom I swear the hot cocoa's good! Just try it!!!" Denki tries for the 5th time? You think it's the 5th, you started tuning him out because you're nervous.

It's christmas break for Denki, and you decided that it's finally the time for him to meet your boyfriend... his teacher.

"I'm good hon, I promise." You offer him a smile and he returns it.

"Okay! Anyway, I'm excited to meet your boyfriend. He's nice right? If he isn't I don't think we'll get along. You deserve to be happy after being alone for fifteen years." Denki's been chatting your ear off about Shota for the past two days (since he got back home). He doesn't know it's Shota though.

Denki made one of those ugly sweaters for him, so he could match you and your son. He wants to be a "happy family" his words not yours, you thought the two of you were a happy family, but Denki had said, "we're happy but not complete! Do you know what I mean? I don't know just ignore me." His words repeated in you're head for awhile.

It's true that you're happy.. but are you complete?

You're pulled out of your thoughts when the door bell rings. You can feel your stomach drop, "I'll go get it!" Denki runs to the door, you spring up off the couch and follow after him. He opens the door, "Good evening, Denki."

"Mr. Aizawa?!" Denki yells in surprise. His body twists to look at you.

"Are you sleeping with him to get me good grades?" Denki asks, and you open your mouth in shock.

"Denki! What the hell are you talking about? You get good grades because of your effort!" Aizawa quirks a brow at Denki's question.

"I'm so sorry Shota, come in." Your child is still in slight shock at the fact that you're dating his teacher.. teacher!!!!

------

The first couple of minutes are awkward. Shota's sitting next to you on the couch and Denki's sitting on the single seater furthest away from the couch. He doesn't say a word while the movie's playing. Obviously he's not too interested in it, he must be thinking you presume.

Shota rubs his large, warm hand up and down your thigh, an attempt to comfort you. "He'll come around, don't work yourself up over it." He whispers into your ear. You really wanted to cry, in your mind you'd hope everything would go well but with the way your son is distancing himself from you... must mean he doesn't approve, right?

"I hope so, I really want him to like you, Sho." Those comforting arms of his wrap around you. Shota Aizawa is the world's best cuddler, and anyone who disagrees can fight you.

"Mom."

Those nerves which just settled jumped sky high once again, "yes, baby?"

"I'm uh- happy for you. Hope you didn't get the wrong idea. I was just kinda shocked y'know. Like, Aizawa sensei of all people.." he trails off not finishing that sentence.

"I can assure you Denki, that I treat your mother well. Just as I take care of all my students. I'm sure you must think I'd be the last person to be domestic." Shota's voice is smooth as always and you calm down a little bit. Nervous breath slows into something somewhat normal.

"That's exactly what I was thinking! You're always in that sleeping bag and stuff. And you're mean sometimes!" Denki whines slightly and you take the opportunity to slip into the kitchen.

You'll let them talk, man to man... or man to boy? You'll never accept time aging up your baby boy.

The kitchen smells delightful, it's just cold enough for chicken noodle soup, so that's what you've decided to make. It's a recipe passed down in your family but you like to add your own little twist which makes it special.

If anything goes with chicken noodle soup it's grilled cheese. The cheese melts perfectly with the bread while it's cooking on your greased griddle. It's only been about thirty minutes since you escaped the living room and you hear Shota and Denki laughing together.

That weight on your shoulders has suddenly been lifted and relief settles in. Thank God, you were scared things would go south.

"Mom, you have to keep him. He told me he took you sky-diving for your birthday! I would have never expected him to go sky-diving but he went because you wanted to." A big smile cracks on your face when you see that glimmering shine in Denki's eyes.

"Hey Mr. Aizawa does that mean I can call you Shota outside of school?!"

"Shota, dad, whatever fits the bill, kid." Shota wraps his arms around your waist and places his chin on your shoulder. (i think i have an obsession with men hugging you from behind)

"That smells so good, pretty mama." He breathes out evenly. Your own breath hitches at the new nickname.

But of course your ever loving son ruins the moment, "ewwwwww disgusting! Can you flirt when I'm not right here?! I might barf in my chicken noodle soup."

Somehow you and Shota roll your eyes in sync and Denki snorts.

"I love you mom and dad." He says softly.

That fucking does it, the tears spill. Happy ones at that. Your son has accepted Shota into his life. You expected it'd at least be a few months, maybe years before he'd start calling him dad, but you figure with no father figure in his life, having one right now must mean the world to him.

"I love you too my sweet little boy." Shota wipes those tears with his big scarred hand.

"I'm actually not little I'm about sixteen years old." He argues.

"You've still got a few months until you're sixteen."

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 18 🍒

"I Wanted It To Be You"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 7,467

Summary: Moving on from Joel, your life takes many unexpected courses: college, marriage.. yet you keep wondering What If..?

(Warnings contain spoilers, so please check beneath the cut if you're curious)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (the difference is 17 years, and there are a few time skips throughout this chapter), starts in late 2003 and ends in 2023, Angst Angst Angst, brief mention of jailtime, breakup, parental issues, heavy on the mom guilt, underage drinking, dry humping, anonymous drunk sex (never ever do this, folks), vomit, reader going through a slutty era after getting her heart broken (just like Joel in Chapter 14), allusions to smut, time skips (labeled), panic attack, mention of drugs and alcohol, rough sex, creampie, surprise pregnancy, infidelity, lil bit of a makeout sesh with Tommy, semi-public sex, pussy pronouns, light degradation, Ellie is Joel's daughter, mention of cyberstalking (not as serious as it sounds), mention of reader having a therapist, Joel and Tess are married. If I left anything out, please LMK!

Author's Note: this took forever to write because the more I edited the more I wanted to add. And I know this chapter has quite a few time skips, I just wanted to highlight the important parts as much as I could. ALSO: I apologize for the unrealistically speedy law process at the beginning. I have no idea how that situation would pan out, but it would almost definitely drag out for months if not years.

So much angst here, but now the reader is all grown up! I wanted to add the convo with Sarah but this chapter was already getting so long, and I think it'll fit better in the next installment anyway.

Series Masterlist

"I would've said yes."

You've lost count of how many voicemails you leave Joel, who's been ignoring your calls, but this is the only time you say it, that you admit your love could have gone a different way if you'd just gotten back to that hotel room together.

You replay that night over and over in your head, but with different endings. In a perfect world, your father would never have even been there in the first place. In a separate, less perfect world, you would not have called out to him, just ignored him the way he ignored you. Then you'd have some peace of mind, and you'd belong with the man you love.

Each time you call Joel, you expect to hear his gruff voice on the other end of the line. And soon enough the ringing stops and goes straight to voicemail, where you leave him the words of your bleeding, broken heart:

"I would've said yes."

You haven't taken the ring out of its box, worried you'll jinx whatever luck you have left. Joel is supposed to kneel, take your hand in his, and place the ring on your finger. You've never envisioned what getting engaged would look like, but it definitely bears some semblance to tradition.

When Chris refused to press charges, the law stepped in and did it for him. Thirty days in the Bexar County Jail is what they sentenced Joel. That was why you couldn't reach him, why you felt like you were hitting a brick wall. It's a relief when you're finally able to speak to him.

"I'm so sorry," you cry to him over the phone, his voice like a warm and soothing balm. You imagine yourself curling into his embrace, allowing his arms to enfold you, make you small and safe, hidden from the dangers and ugliness of the world.

"You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for," he grunts.

"I love you." You sound pitiful over the phone but you don't care. "Joel, let me come see you and we can work it out. Please."

He sighs. "I got somethin' I need to tell you. Might change your mind how ya feel about me."

"What?" you ask quickly, your young mind scrambling to imagine what he could say, as if to fortify your already shattered heart. Your stomach sinks, nausea threatening to make the bile rise in your throat. "Joel, what is it?"

He's quiet for awhile and when he speaks it's monotone. "I've been seein' someone else."

It sounds like he's speaking a foreign language. You shake your head, looking at your wall calendar. It's only December. You last saw him in late September. The biblical manger scene on the church calendar your mom put on the fridge is an evil harbinger of time now lost.

"Who?" you ask, dreading the answer.

"Doesn't matter," he says gruffly, sounding uncomfortable.

"Tell me who," you insist.

With a deep sigh he relents. "Hailey."

Again, it's like hearing a foreign language. "Hailey? The girl I worked with? The one who went to Sarah's party? That Hailey?"

"Yeah."

"How.. how did this happen?"

"Ran into her at a bar my first night out of jail. I was lonely and she was.. she was there for me."

"What do you mean? Did you-" you take a moment to breathe, try not to let your emotions take over.

"I slept with her. That's all it is between us, just fuckin'."

It's like a punch in the gut. No, worse. It's a blade plunging into your heart over and over.

In a blur of upset and disappointment, you utter the words of anyone who's ever had a broken heart: "How could you do this to me?"

There's no answer for it from his side. His refusal to go into detail feels like he's hiding his fling with Hailey on purpose, withholding part of his new life to you, but you never stop to think he might be saving you from the pain he knows is due.

You cry after hanging up on him. You cry more than you did when he left you in San Antonio. You cry until you can no longer see because your eyes are puffy, nearly tiny slits that still somehow shed tears when you think of Joel with your ex-friend.

Once the sadness has been cried out, there remains only rage, simmering and profound. With small, practiced movements, you take the engagement ring in its box and mail it to Joel's address. No note, and no explanation needed.

"You're not yourself," your mom mentions one night when you push your plate away, your dinner barely touched.

"Not hungry," you mumble.

She sighs in exasperation. "I don't know what to do with you. You won't talk to me." She pushes her own plate away and downs the rest of her cheap wine. "You come home from God-knows-where, with a damn bruise on your face."

You touch your cheek where your father had accidentally knocked you backwards, wishing it was the only physical pain you endured from that night.

"..you don't bother with the chores anymore, you lock yourself away in your room, probably not even studying. Do you even attend classes anymore? Do you even care about your future?" she continues.

"No," you say quite simply.

"No??"

You shake your head and shrug, as if answering something as easy as 'do you want to watch a movie later?'

"I don't. Give. A shit."

Anita scoffs, refilling her glass. "Great. That's just great. Maybe I'll drink this entire bottle and give myself alcohol poisoning. Then I wouldn't have to deal with your shitty attitude anymore."

The scrape of your chair as you push away from the table is as loud as nails on a chalkboard. "You want me to talk? I'll talk." You lean forward, relishing this moment where your mom looks scared as shit.

"I said I was in College Station, but I lied. I was fucking Joel every weekend I was away. We met up in hotel rooms and fucked each other's brains out. And the best part of it all was that he loved me," your voice breaks but you're wickedly delighted by the look of shock and disgust on your mother's face.

You're on a tirade now that can't be stopped. "Two months ago I found Dad in San Antonio. I did," you nod, a psychotic kind of laughter breaking from you when she gawks. "And do you know what? He's forgotten all about us. He has a new family, new kids, new young wife. And he doesn't give a shit about you or me. He never really has, has he?" You realize you're standing, towering over her as you spit out all the venom she's ever poured into you right back at her.

"Now.. how does it feel to have the truth shoved in your face? To be deprived of the fantasy world you wanted so badly to live in, cushioned by your idiotic pretenses? Because I'll bet you could've gone your whole life not knowing, staying innocent. Well, Mother Dearest, fuck you."

Without a word you pack your things, your body moving way ahead of your brain, stuffing every necessary item into a couple of bags before you leave her house, with the intention to never return again.

Summer 2004 Louisiana

Staying with friends in a shitty apartment, you finish the rest of the semester before transferring to another school. Three schools in one year probably isn't a very good look on your transcript, but it's the first choice you make that is truly your own. Working two jobs over the summer you finally have the money you need to survive as you begin a new chapter in Louisiana.

You do everything in your power to get over Joel. The first step was deleting his number from your phone, even though you've already memorized it by heart. To be safe, you also delete Tommy's number, and Sarah's. It feels final, and a small part of you wishes they could get a notification informing them you no longer consider them important enough to keep, even as data.

It still stings when you think of Joel with Hailey. She's older, more experienced, and can probably do whatever he wants without being asked. After you've deleted the Millers from your contact list, you hover over Hailey's name, pressing it and, in a moment of antagonism, send her a text. I thought you were my friend, Turns out you're just a fucking slut Then you delete and block her number.

Dating other guys doesn't come very easy. It's as if they can smell the heartbreak on you, sense your loneliness and unease, the untempered anger simmering below the surface of your smile. You're a walking red flag and you know it, but that doesn't stop you.

You grind on a guy at a club after he buys you a few appletinis. Never mind that he's twenty five and trying to get you drunk so you'll fuck him. With your twenty-dollar Charlotte Russe dress hiked up as you drag your sopping panties over his clothed hardness, he sucks the apple flavor off your tongue, one hand gripping your hips while the other slips inside your underwear to rub your clit and you come for the first time in months. So loud, in fact, that you're caught and promptly kicked out of the club. When your partner (you never remember his name) asks to continue at his place, you decline, already walking to the next bar.

Once the high wears off, you are consumed with guilt as you think of Joel. What would he say if he found out? Would he even care? Maybe he's fucking Hailey right now.

And it hits you that it's already been a year since you first slept with him.

You pause in the middle of the street, coming back to earth when a car honks at you, cursing at you to hurry up and fucking move dumb bitch!

Walking on, you can't get the memory of the feel of Joel out of your head: the way his tongue licked into your mouth, fingers traveling down to play between your folds, telling you he needed you nice and wet before he fucked you, those thick fingers slipping in and playing you like a well tuned instrument, his lips gliding over your throat, resting just above your pulse point, then finding their way down the slope of your breasts, taking each nipple between his lips, his beard rasping against your skin.

You try to force the thought away, but it returns manifold. His mouth, the stiffened warmth of his tongue lapping at your cunt, drinking up every fucking drop and telling you you taste so sweet. He doesn't stop until you come more than once, finally fitting himself inside you, teasing you with the first few inches. Sure you can handle the rest, babygirl? before sliding in in one smooth thrust, joining you body and soul, moving against you just how you need.

You cover your face with your hands and wander into an alley, overcome with despair at the loss of your love, the loss of what innocence you thought you had. Both of those things given to someone who only saw fit to fuck you as he wished and discard when he couldn't handle the reality of your personal life.

"Are you okay?" a voice asks, approaching softly from behind. You turn and see a man, another college student like yourself, dressed in jeans and a striped button down. His features blur together until all you hear is his soft Southern accent and all you smell is his Curve cologne. The next thing you know you're kissing him, begging him to touch you, fuck you, and then he's spinning you to face the wall, dress hiked up, panties pulled down. Your arms support you against the wall as he pushes into you from behind and all you think about is him fucking the pain away, pumping into you hard and fast. He's nowhere near as big as Joel, but you've been so touch starved that the sounds coming out of your mouth are shameless.

Without warning you vomit, splashing your shoes and the wall in front of you with appletini puke, and the guy pulls out immediately, getting away from you as fast as he can, tucking himself back into his jeans.

You rest your forehead against the cool brick wall, spitting out the sour taste in your mouth as tears weep freely from your eyes.

September 2004

At the start of sophomore year you're the only one who doesn't have family come down to help move in, to visit with and take silly, memorable photos with. Nobody comes to your dorm and helps you decorate and put your belongings away. By the time your assigned roommate comes with her parents and little brother you're already set up, fresh sheets on your twin bed, your side already claimed.

You're reading when she comes in, a young girl, freshman, with hope in her eyes, excited to meet you, looking forward to her new life away from Montana or Missouri or wherever she says she's from. You're barely listening.

Who you do notice is her dad: mid-forties, slight beer belly, wearing a polo shirt and cargo pants with brand new New Balance shoes. You make eye contact immediately before he shifts his gaze away. His daughter, your new roommate Jessica, starts to unpack, asking you questions about the classes, what student groups to join. You offer what advice you can, stretching out on your bed in your tank top and running shorts. Her dad's eyes roam over your curves when his wife and kids aren't looking, and you unabashedly flirt back, making sure your shorts ride up, pulling down your tank just a little to expose more cleavage.

Once they leave for a quick tour around the campus you're back to your reading.

Jessica's dad comes back. Alone.

"I think I forgot my wallet in here," he says, giving a forced look of timidity as he checks his pockets.

"You didn't," you smirk, putting your book down and sitting up. "But you can stay if you want.."

He doesn't make an excuse about his family and you wouldn't care if they walked in anyway. Once the door is locked his hands are on your body, grabbing your ass while your hand goes down his pants. You tell him exactly what will make you come, and he does it so willingly it almost touches your heart.

Later as he's leaving and you're trying to get his cum off your bedsheets, he's asking you not to say anything to his daughter, as if you'd proudly exclaim that you fucked him, having barely remembered his name.

You're learning that a lot of men are the same at their very core.

You're a fantasy for the older ones, a college coed with daddy issues and an IUD. Having already been with an older man, you know just what they like, and when you give it you live for the way their eyes light up, and a little of their youth comes back to them for a moment.

It's almost pitiful how easy you figure out the opposite sex. Once you know what they want it's easy to become that, to dress how they want, to feign interest in the things they like, even to keep your thoughts to yourself. You learn to live inside your head, which until now has been the hardest thing to do.

But it's necessary when you're holding onto the headboard of some frat guy's bed while fake moaning as he's holding your hips, going as fast as he can because that's what they do in porn. Each and every guy has a Scarface poster above the bed, or Playboy centerfolds taped to the walls, neon lava lamps on the nightstand along with CDs by Kanye West, Franz Ferdinand, or Velvet Revolver. Your thoughts are elsewhere as you give halfhearted head.

You learn to feel nothing, not even pleasure, because they certainly can't tell that you fake every sigh and gasp.

But the older men, the professors, TA's, even men you meet off campus at the bars in town.. they are what interest you. It's not common for you to find yourself bent over a desk during your professor's office hours, or with your panties around your ankles when a one-on-one study session turns to something else.

You fuck men who remind you of Joel because you can't fuck Joel. It's his hands on you instead of theirs, his breath hot on your ear.. but no one else can fill the part of you that Joel hollowed out for himself when he made you his on a hot Texas summer night.

Though you think about him every day, soon enough, you start to wonder whether he was ever even real, or just someone you made up.

March 2006

Spring Break finds you at a beach house on the coast. The friends you came with are nowhere to be found, and you're pretty sure your drink is laced with something. The music is so loud that you hurry out into the night, seeking solace before the roaring waters of the gulf, black water topped with silver waves. Their rushing sound is soothing, yet you sink to your knees because your world is too heavy.

"I'm dying," you whisper to yourself, crying. Your chest feels tight. It's so hard to breathe, and it feels like your heart will explode.

Only one person on the entire planet comes to mind, and after all this time you still remember his number. You dial it, fingers savoring the press of each button on your phone. How many times have you called Joel and hung up before he could answer? There have been a couple of times when you dialed him while having sex, not sure if he ever picked up, hoping that he heard you moving on and moving away from him. That'll show him.

But you can't even breathe to talk to him. And what if he doesn't answer? What if he's changed his number?

You leave all his numbers entered on the screen but you don't hit the call button. Not yet. You have to think of something to say. Tell him you love him before your body rejects the air it's trying so desperately to claim into your lungs.

"Hey, are you all right?" a gentle voice asks behind you, and a hand is on your shoulder.

You flashback to that night in the alley, the guy who took advantage of you, but this time it doesn't go that way.

A man with soulful eyes and a kind smile kneels next to you, his hand remaining on your shoulder. "I think you're having a panic attack. Can I help you with that?" His voice is as kind and gentle as he looks, and you nod.

"Can you breathe for me? Like this." He inhales deeply and slowly, and when you try it it feels so foreign but you manage it.

"There you go," he says quietly. "Now breathe out.."

Soon he has your breathing back to normal, and you don't have to force your body to do what it naturally does.

"Tell me five things you can see," he continues.

A shaky breath in. Hey, at least it's a breath. "Um.. the water.. the sand.. the moon.. you.."

That's when you get your first good look at him, beyond the smile that works its warmth into your heart, and the eyes that search yours, exuding humanity that you haven't experienced in a long time. He's really cute. You can't deny that your heart skips a couple of beats.

"One more thing?" he says, his voice soft.

You snap back to reality. "Uh.. a ship.. out there in the distance?"

He glances behind him at the water, seeing the great big liner, possibly a cruise ship, on the inky horizon, and takes a seat next to you. "How are you feeling now?" he asks.

"Good.. I think. Better." You nod. "Thank you."

"May I?" he lifts your hand from your lap and turns the palm up, his fingers poised above your pulse point. You nod again.

He presses his touch to your wrist, and you watch his eyes calculating, his lips silently moving while counting. Despite everything you've been through the past two years, this is the most intimate thing you've felt.

"Your pulse is normal." He gently places your hand back on your lap. "Do you want to go back to the party or do you want to stay out here a little longer? If you want to go back," he adds, "I'll be with you, make sure you're okay."

You opt to stay on the beach, embracing the quiet for a little longer. This is the first time a man has had you alone and hasn't tried to fuck you. It's nice, for once.

Towards the end of the night he leads you back to the party house, guiding you through the throng of people there, the air rife with alcohol and the pungent aroma of weed. You're holding his hand, you realize as you walk together. He's your lifeline in this very moment. You grab your jacket and purse from one of the bedrooms, passing by couples making out, some slipping into rooms to do much more than kissing. To think you could have easily ended up there with a random guy makes your skin crawl.

"What was your name again?" you shout to him over the music.

"Justin!"

"Dustin?"

"Justin!"

You both laugh. You tell him your name and of course he mishears you.

He drives you to the small motel room you're sharing with your friends who are inevitably crashing at the beach house, too drugged or drunk or fucked to return for the night.

Justin smiles at you as the engine idles. "Is it okay if I ask you out?"

You exchange numbers, your heart thrumming with a pleasant nervousness. You haven't had a boyfriend since..

..not since Joel.

Don't think about him.

"You can reach out to me if you ever just feel like talking," he says. "I'm here."

So you do, and after a week of texting and a couple of late night calls and getting to know each other, you go for a date for the first time in three years.

Justin picks you up in a Honda Civic, and as you get comfy in the passenger seat you breathe in the scent of the black ice air freshener and his spearmint gum. The radio blasts Smashing Pumpkins at a level you know is too much but it only adds to the excitement of the evening.

He's a year older than you, native to Louisiana, and on leave from the Army.

Living just a half hour from your campus, you start to spend much of your time together. Movie dates, dinner dates, and dates where you just drive around, talking about nothing and everything.

You only sleep with him three months into your relationship, desiring to take things slow for once, to know him better than you have ever known anyone.

It's nice. It's like what you see in the movies, two people wrapped up in each other, soft, no words needed. For once your head isn't forced down into the pillow, or your pussy spit on. For once it's just normal, and normal feels so good.

June 2008 New Orleans, LA

Bourbon Street is alive, electric, no matter that it's a Sunday night. People will drift into work tomorrow still drunk on Zombies and Hurricanes. The entire street reeks of piss, but people either don't care or have been here long enough that it no longer harasses their senses. But more often than not, people are having too much of a good time to care.

You're behind the bar at little hole-in-the-wall place, slinging daiquiris and kamikaze shots when you hear a familiar voice and a tap on your shoulder. "Hey there, Cherry."

You turn and your eyes go wide. "Tommy!" You reach over the bar to hug him, nearly spilling a beer on him in the process. "It's been ages! How are you?

He looks older, more mature, even though it's only been five years since you last saw him: he's letting his facial hair grow, but his eyes still sparkle with mirth and kindness. "It's good to see you, girl." He's no longer with Sofia, their romance having ended a few years before, on friendly terms or so your cousin claimed. You always blamed yourself for the demise of their relationship, believing that your breakup with Joel cast a shadow over her own connection with Tommy.

"What are you doing here?" you ask.

"We're good, just here in town, expanding the business."

"We?" Your hands start to shake, and you put away the bottle of gin you have your grasp on. Your heart starts to pound before the next words even leave his mouth.

"Yeah, me and Joel are lettin' off a little steam, wanted to toss back a few before we go back to the hotel."

You feel his eyes on you before you're even aware that he's here. Looking up, at a small table near the entrance, is Joel Miller. Your heart stops, and you don't know how it is you're still alive. He looks you up and down, appraising every feature and detail about you, and you wonder if you've changed in five years or not. You wonder if he still loves or hates you.

"...and we thought this was that bar where girls dance and pour tequila down guys' throats, but this is just as good 'cause you're here."

Tommy manages to snap you out of your trance. "Oh.. you mean Coyote Ugly.."

"Yeah, they opened one in Austin a couple years back but this one ain't never wanna go nowhere," he motions back with his head to Joel.

You return your gaze to the older brother but he's no longer looking at you, his glance dotting along the crowd, following a younger woman as she saunters up to him, smiling, flirting. Your stomach turns and you force a smile at Tommy.

"Whatever you want is on me."

Tommy's smile and laughter is infectious. "You sure about that, Cherry?"

"I'm sure," you say, pouring out a shot for yourself. "You know, nobody's called me that in a long time."

"What's that?" he catches a bright sparkle on your left hand, and quickly takes it within his own. "Cherry, you didn't tell me you were engaged!"

Joel must have one ear straining to listen because Tommy's outburst got his attention right away and he swivels his head to look at you.

"Yeah.. he's a nice guy." That's how you describe Justin to everyone: he's a nice guy. He'd proposed last year after your one year dating anniversary. "He's in the Army, they're shipping him out a week after our wedding. And I'm going with him."

"He's a good guy if he's an Army man," Tommy approves, just as Joel approaches, the woman he was talking to now gone. "So? Are we invited to the weddin'?"

You can't tell if he's teasing or not, and Joel's poker face gives zero indication as well. "I already sent out save-the-dates, but if you'd like to come I won't object. The more the merrier." For the first time you see Joel up close and your heart stutters, an irregular beat that you'd gotten used to in the aftermath of your disastrous breakup.

He's still so fucking handsome: the dark brown of his hair fading to what you can already see as gray, with gray patches in his beard. There are more lines around his eyes. There's still that jolt of electricity when your gazes meet.

"You happy?" he asks, his countenance giving nothing away of his true feelings, so it's difficult to gage whether he's legitimately asking, or simply being nice.

"I'm happy." But it sounds forced, like taking the pliers to your own mouth to fix your own abscess.

Joel only nods as you pour a couple whiskeys for them. "To Cherry getting married!" Tommy beams his salute and the three of you down the shots quickly.

It's sometime after your shift, and you're in the parking lot with Tommy, his arms around you as he presses you to the side of his truck. Or maybe it's Joel's truck. You don't know and you don't care, all you want is to feel something again. The nearness of Joel all night has rewired your brain, and as Tommy deepens the kiss, you're disappointed that it's not Joel's taste, not Joel's scent that surrounds you. Luckily he's not a bad kisser, and his hands roam everywhere you want them to be.

Better the wrong Miller than no Miller at all, your whiskey-soaked brain tells you.

"Always thought you were pretty," he whispers, hands palming your breasts over your shirt. "But you were Joel's from the moment he set eyes on ya, told me so himself. Leave that one alone, she ain't for you.'"

"He didn't want me enough.." your voice cracks as tears spill effortlessly down your cheeks.

"Don't cry," he says gently. "I don't got any tissues with me." He uses his thumb to wipe away your tears. "Still want me to give you a ride home?"

You nod, telling him you need to make a quick trip to the ladies' room to fix your makeup, and in the narrow hallway where the restrooms are hidden from the rest of the bar, you run into Joel.

"Sorry," you mumble, trying to get around him, but he puts his large hand on your shoulder to stop you.

"You gonna take my brother home and fuck him? Then marry some Army jackass?" he says as in disbelief.

You put your guard up, tougher now than you were five years ago. "What I do is my business. By the way, how's Hailey?"

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb." You push past him and start for the women's room to fix your makeup when Joel stops you again.

"You ain't gonna fuck my brother tonight, or any other night, babygirl," he utters.

There's a fire lit under you now. "Oh? What are you, the Morality Police? Fuck off."

"Fuck me," he says. "You know you want to. You're probably wet from Tommy, and I appreciate his gettin' ya ready for me, but I notice the subtler signs: your eyes are glistenin', you've been lickin' your lips every time you look at me, and you probably haven't noticed, but your nipples are pokin' right through your shirt. I bet they're just beggin' for attention, huh?"

He says all this while just standing in front of you, not crowding you like any other guy would. And you realize he's not even trying to rile you up. He's giving you a choice.

"What makes you think I want you? I have a good man who loves me. He's all I need."

"Needs and wants are different, babygirl. Once you're married you're stuck with him til' death. Hope you realize that."

"I'm aware." But it's already hit you: you'll be with Nice Justin for the rest of your life. You'll be a Nice Wife and maintain a Nice Home for the inevitable Nice Kids you'll have. You hate Joel for putting this thought in your head.

"He fuck you like I did?" he asks in an intimate tone.

You shake your head, already pulling him into the restroom with you. "Joel, no one's ever fucked me like you did."

Your body delights in the quick, sweet reunion with him. It's as if time has never separated you, as if both your hearts are whole again. His mouth greedily devours your kisses. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, the latter a bad habit. You're shoved into one of the stalls, fumbling with the lock while Joel's hands find their way across your body, one under your shirt, palming your breast, the other going into your jeans, expertly finding your soaked panties, crooking his fingers into your cunt.

Your back is pressed against his broad chest, his cock already hard inside his jeans, rubbing furiously against your lower back until he bends you forward to press against your ass, finally pulling your jeans and panties down in one go.

Too much time has passed for you to be gentle or even careful. He presses you to the stall door, nothing but heat and raw need between you. Words not needed, your only communication grunts and whispered curses that echo against the tiles of the cramped space.

"You ain't takin' no slow and gentle with me, sugar. i ain't got the patience for that right now." He nudges against you and it's a wonder you don't burn up with all the fire that inflames you. After so long it's a labor of love to fit him again, but as his fingers add pressure to your clit you get wetter, opening for him as easily as you did years ago.

"There she is," he says. "Been waitin' for me, been needin' a real man to fill ya up, ain't ya, babygirl?" he huffs in your ear, breath warm against your skin. "Answer me, baby."

"Yes.." your voice comes out in a hiss, your brain only thinking about his cock, the way it stuffs you, the only thing that completes you.

"That's what I thought. These lil' college boys don't know what to do with such a tight, pretty pussy. And neither does your fiance." He hikes one of your legs up, tucking your knee under his arm, keeping you nice and open, watching himself slide in and out of your weeping slit, slamming himself against you as he sinks his thumb into your puckered asshole, eliciting an all-but muffled gasp from you. "I know you called me just so I could listen to them fuckin' ya.. I know you never came with them, not once. This pussy is mine, has been from the very start."

You're no longer a virginal high school grad, and he takes what he wants from you, giving you what he knows you need.

The door opens but he doesn't stop, just quiets his own noises and clamps his hand over your mouth to squelch your sounds. The stall door jiggles and you put your hand over it until the person grumbles and walks away, muttering about having to piss. When they're gone Joel pumps into you relentlessly, chasing his pleasure and yours. He knows by now what will make you come, which combination of touches and kisses make your knees weak and your clit stand at attention.

"Fucking come for me, you little slut," he whispers, his tone almost loving if you didn't know better, and when you let go the pleasure is almost painful. Years of need and pent-up longing are released as your cunt squeezes around his rigid cock, milking him, smiling when you feel the warm spurt of his come as he presses deep at your cervix.

"That's my girl," he says proudly, your come spilling out already, lining his dick with a mix of both of you. "She's wrecked, split wide open like she's meant to be.. gonna send you back to your man drippin' with my come, used up like a good lil' whore."

His words add a sweet sting to the pleasure that has yet to ebb, resounding through your veins like thunder that takes its time in rolling away from the storm. Whore.. well, he's not wrong.

When your heavy breathing has subsided, you feel him start to slip out of you and you put your hand back on his thigh, a silent gesture to hold off.

"Missed you.. needed you," you mutter, tears of joy and relief and heartache brim in your eyes, until you allow the pleasure of the moment to take over without thought or feeling.

"I know.." he says softly, slipping out of you, careful as you're still sensitive.

That could have been the end. You could have gone your separate ways, but you're drawn to each other, and that doesn't go away easily. When you emerge from the rear entrance of the bar, Tommy looks up, and you can tell he expected that you'd end up with Joel instead. He simply nods as you pass him, walking with Joel to the tiny apartment you share with Justin, who's out of town visiting family. And as you and Joel spend the rest of the night locked in each other's embrace, you realize you don't care if he walks in on you, kicks you out, breaks off the engagement. You're with Joel and nothing else matters.

By dawn you wake up to find that he's gone, leaving only the scent of him on the pillow next to you. No note, no explanation, no goodbye. And once again you're sure you only dreamed up Joel Miller, used him as a mental escape for the life you were tying yourself down to.

It's very atypical for you to forgo a period, even at your most stressed, you can count on seeing that bright red stain on the toilet paper around the middle of every month. And when, by mid-July, you haven't even spotted, the first thing you do is take a pregnancy test.

All the men before have been careful, or you've been fortunate enough not to have a scare. But when you finally force yourself to look at the the little blue plus sign developing on the test strip, you realize this is no scare.

You're pregnant with Joel's baby.

The wedding takes place as expected, and your heart sinks when you walk down the aisle, seeing the joy on Justin's face. You've told him the baby is his, and he doesn't doubt it for a moment, that's how much he loves you. But for a fleeting moment you want so bad for it to be Joel at the altar instead.

The ceremony goes by in a blur, as everyone warned you it would. Group pictures are taken, the videographer is capturing the moments that photos alone can't encapsulate.

"Over here, honey!" photographer gets your attention. You barely hear him as you watch a figure walking out, one of the last guests to leave the church. From behind he looks like Joel, but you can't quite tell, and when your eyes fully focus, he's gone, and your own vision can't be trusted.

Tommy gave his regrets that he couldn't attend, and Joel simply never RSVP'd. But in your heart you know it was him, you know he had to come and see for himself that you're moving on, growing up and growing away from him. The only tether you have to him is the baby growing in your belly.

"Front and center, Mrs. Williams," Justin smirks, giving your cheek a soft kiss. "One more picture then we're onto the reception."

March 2009

Your daughter is born in the springtime, a loud and howling child from the moment she leaves you. The only time she's quiet is when she's in your arms.

"We need to decide on a name," Justin says, a little miffed that his daughter cries when he holds her despite his best efforts to soothe her.

"I told you, I like Ophelia," you say, gathering her into your arms to feed her.

"It's such a prissy name. And I can already tell she's not gonna be prissy."

"Then what do you suggest?" you ask tiredly. He doesn't seem to understand you've gone through labor for twenty four hours, only thinking of himself.

"Eleanor, after my mother."

You groan. "I always hated that name."

"Please, babe. It'll make her so happy to have her granddaughter as her namesake."

"Fine. Fine. But her middle name is Ophelia."

"Deal." Justin smiles as he fills out the paperwork.

"Eleanor.." you tell your baby. "But I'm going to call you Ellie."

Your mother once told you that when you become a parent, your life is not your own anymore. She said it as a kind of warning, a prophecy yet to be fulfilled when you were just a pre-teen, rolling your eyes at her warning you away from all kinds of danger.

You never expected she'd be right. Every waking moment holds more weight than ever before. Ellie is completely dependent on you, even as she grows and becomes more independent. It's you she looks to for validation when she does something right, and you she looks to when she knows she's in trouble.

She's smart as a whip, quick with a comeback and well versed in anything she can get her hands on. She excels in sports too-- individually, at first. As she gets older you notice a little bit of a mean streak in her. While she craves friends and wants to be part of a team, she has trouble making connections sometimes.

You have to wonder if part of that comes from Joel, his stubbornness and his lone wolf tendencies. Has he unknowingly passed down the most insecure parts of himself to his daughter? Sorry, his secondborn daughter?

Now there's literal proof of Joel Miller as a person, in human form, and she's trudging upstairs with her field hockey equipment and slamming her bedroom door.

Between the years of 2004 and 2008 you could almost convince yourself that he didn't exist, that he was a figment of your runaway imagination, born of a father complex and attachment issues. You work on yourself in therapy, feeling small as you divulge the innermost secrets of your heart and the intrusive thoughts, even going so far as to reveal that you've looked for Joel on social media, now that everyone has a profile.

Born of an intrusive thought, you type his name into the search bar on Facebook. Getting quite a few findings of those with the same name, you narrow the search. Joel Miller, Austin Texas His company logo comes up as its own page, and you notice it's changed, probably Tommy's idea as Joel never liked change.

Searching further you find his picture. There it is: Joel Miller, Boston Massachusetts

Huh?

You click on his profile while your heart thumps strongly within your ribcage. You wish you could let it out, set it free.

There he is, looking older than the last time you saw him, the grey more prominent in his hair, looking serious in his selfie. Even though it's just a selfie, a random moment in time, you can't help blushing, as if he's looking at you through the screen, appraising your own measure of aging. You wonder what you were doing that exact moment he took the picture.

But your hunger for knowledge needs to be fed, and scrolling down you swear you misread it at first.

Relationship status: Married

There's a roaring in your ears as your mouse hovers over the name next to those words: Tess Servopoulos

From there you check out her profile, see that she's from Detroit, five years younger than Joel. While his profile pic is only of himself, hers shows them together, on a hiking trail somewhere, Joel's arms around her from behind.

You slam the laptop shut, your blood buzzing in your veins. You feel distractingly alive, the heartache spreading through every muscle and nerve ending. Your past is brought to full fucking focus.

Against your better judgment you open the screen again and search through Tess's photos, specifically the ones of Joel. Most of the comments are from a couple of guys named Bill and Frank, who after some digging you come to find are married, and friends with Joel and Tess. You hit the jackpot when you find a video she uploaded, a fifteen-second clip of Joel holding a baby. Your heart stops when you realize the baby isn't his but Sarah's, and he's now a grandfather.

It feels like you're spying on them. You know so much about them by now, and the one glaring omission is children. They don't seem to have any.

Going back to Joel's profile, you hover the mouse dangerously over the Add Friend button. When you click it, it's the strongest rush you've felt in ages.

Weeks later, he hasn't accepted it. The sparkle of your anticipation is dulled, and with a heavy heart you click to cancel the request.

A couple years down the road you get a notification from Facebook Messenger while you're watching Narcos.

Message Request. Sarah Miller Hey! It's been forever! How are you?

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

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[yndrgrl]

Could u do a aizawa fic pls

you found a new job under yandere! aizawa as a nanny for his cute kid

age gap. quirkless! au. soft! yandere. dom! aizawa

warning: nsfw, stalking, smacking/slapping, slight coercion??, punishment, daddy kink, sir kink, creampie

a/n: yayyy, first request 🥳 idk if you wanted a fluff or spicy fanfic... so i chose spicy haha. also sorry for taking so long, i just started a new job :0

---

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed. your first year of college just came to a close, & now you had too much free time while the money in your bank account was slowly declining. even if you saved as much as possible, you'd still end up spending all of your money then you'd have to dip into your savings account-- something that you didn't want to do.

so that began your search for a job. you used websites, applied in-person. you thought your resume was solid enough to land a job by now. but no. even though they claimed they were desperately hiring, they never hired you. some had the curtesy to at least let you know that they weren't going to go with you; the rest completely ghosted you. from receptionist to substitute teacher to bank teller, they all rejected you.

it was extremely frustrating to go through the interviewing process then you were ultimately rejected. it was as if someone had it out for you.

that chance encounter happened while you were on the phone with your best friend. you sat at a small round table in a cafe you frequent often.

"i just don't get it, jirou!" you exasperated, taking a sip from your drink. you let out a heavy sigh. with how much effort you've put into finding a new job, you should've been paid.

"i'm sure momo's dad has a job for you," the girl on the other line tried to assure. she was on her daily jog, so she was slightly out of breath as she spoke.

with your face propped in your hand, you responded, "we already tried. all the available positions are for people with like, actual degrees or something. besides, we're not close enough for her to make a whole new job for me."

"i'm sure a job will fall right into your lap," jirou said, rustles of clothes being picked up in the phone microphone. in some sort of messed-up irony, she was getting ready for work. the universe just loved toying with you.

you took a breath in to exclaim how much you needed the money, needed a job, when a man pulled out the chair across from your table. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to be rude & eavesdrop," he began, catching your attention.

"sorry jirou, i'll call you back in just a sec," you whispered, then you hung up. "um, sorry, can i help you?" you took mental note of his appearance-- you know, just in case something happens in this very public, very populated cafe.

just by looks, you'd assume he was in his early thirties. his jet black hair was tied into a bun, stray strands framing his face. there were bags under his eyes-- along with a noticeable scar under his left one. though his disheveled appearance, he took care of himself; his stubble was even & maintained. his shirt was tight around his arms & his chest, & you could faintly make out the shape of his muscles. & god, were they big. he was alluring, with that slight smirk of his.

he would've intimidated you, maybe even set off red flags if he didn't have a toddler bouncing on his leg, tugging his hair out of its bun. she bubbled words & strung together incoherent sentences in beg of attention of her dad.

"i apologize again, i really didn't mean to eavesdrop," he repeated. "it's just i couldn't help but overhear you were looking for a job?"

"yes!" you exclaimed, clearing your throat with an embarrassed blush on your face. "i am looking for a job."

"are you interested in being a live-in nanny for my little girl?"

it was a chance encounter, you truly believed.

the job & its perks were almost too perfect, but you're not complaining. you got to move into the basement of his suburban home for free, he would cook you breakfast & make sure the fridge & cabinets were well-stocked. for nearly $25 an hour, you were living the dream.

eri, his -adoptive- daughter, was an absolute gem as well. she was a cheery toddler who loves life. she's not a picky eater, she loves picking out her own outfits, & if you turned off her show, she would pout for a little bit then bounce back for the next activity. never once has she screamed & shouted. she would cling onto her father almost all the time when he was home.

speaking of her father, you learned his name was shota aizawa, so, naturally, you call him mr. aizawa or sir. he would constantly ask you would other things you wanted, not needed. he would take you shopping, calling it a bonus. your living area was decorated, & you didn't even have to pay a dime! there were times where you felt more like a sugar baby than a nanny, in all honesty.

not that you minded. one look at him & you could already feel your heart beat quicken. maybe it was your daddy issues that just scream when you choose a guy you're into, but he was exactly your type. he's protective, yet soft. strong, yet humble.

you thought you hid your crush on him quite well, treating him as though he were any other person. sometimes you felt like he knew you were so utterly attracted to him.

"y/n," he called out, drawing you out of thought.

"u-uh yes sir?" you replied. you were dressed down still as it was the morning. he just finished breakfast & eri was fast asleep, bound to wake up at any moment. it was just the two of you.

"are you okay?" he asked. aizawa awaited for your answer while he plated your breakfast. he always insisted so you learned to let him.

as he walked towards you with your plate, you answered, "yeah, i'm okay."

he set down the plate in front of you from behind. aizawa bent over so his head was leveled with yours. both of his arms encased you, & if it weren't for the back of your chair, you would've been pressed against his chest. "are you sure?" he whispered into your ear. "i'm hear to listen, if you'd let me."

you turned your head to look at him because, somewhere in your strange logic, you thought it would've reduced the tension & made you less embarrassed. it did the opposite.

the tips of your noses touched, his lips only a few centimeters from yours. with half-lidded eyes, the way he looked at you made you quiver. you tried to create space between the two of you, only for your head to meet his arm. centimeters turned to an inch of space. "i-i am okay," you repeated.

"aw, don't lie to me," he said in teasing voice, but you could've been imagining it. "i know it's been hard, tell me about it~" you never would've thought he would have this amount of confidence-- mainly because, if he did, he should've been bringing home loads of women.

"i-i, it's just, um," you stumbled over your words. he had a smirk, amused. his eyes glanced down to your glossy, shaky lips, then back into your doe eyes, just waiting.

"daddy," eri called from the top of the staircase.

"y/n," he whispered.

"y-yes, mr. a-aizawa?"

"eat your food before it gets cold." & with that, he pulled away from you, sauntering upstairs to grab eri. left stunned, you picked at your food.

oh, how you loved telling your friends about how hot your boss is.

after that incident, you had to tell all your friends about it, so, during your guys' weekly, weekend, late night group facetime.

"oh, my god!" uraraka squealed. "you HAVE to tell us more."

"yeah, that's literally so hot," jirou laughed. "see! you found a perfect job."

you had your phone propped against some random bottle as you snuck into the kitchen to fix yourself something to eat. another thing about eri is that, once she's asleep, nothing is waking that girl up. as for aizawa, he's usually up doing something else-- which explains the bags under his eyes & his scheduled naps.

while you dumped your noodles into a pot of boiling water, you said into your phone, "i'm not even exaggerating, it was the hottest thing to ever happen to me."

giggles erupted from your phone. "well, to be fair, you haven't had much luck with guys in the past," mina stated. it was true. while you were in high school -& this past year of college- you really didn't connect with any guys.

"maybe the problem was that they were all her age," joked jirou. hysterical laughter followed after. you were bent over, trying to catch your breath.

"that's not true! i could go for guys our age," you tried to defend yourself.

"okay, let's name every single one of your crushes ever," tsu said, her camera angle only showing her eyes.

all the other girls started to spit out whoever they could think of.

"remember keigo? he was like, 2 years older than us," momo said.

"that's not even that bad," you rolled your eyes, stirring your noodles & adding the seasoning packet.

"oh yeah?" jirou challenged, "what about shoto-"

"he's our age!" you cut her off to save yourself the embarrassment. "besides i didn't even like him."

"yeah cuz you liked his DAD," jirou finished, to which even more bowls of laughter erupted. okay, maybe you did have a thing for older guys.

"oh wow, y/n, i didn't know you had a thing for older guys," a voice spoke from behind you. you jumped, letting out a yelp.

your phone blasted all of your friends' laughter until you grabbed your phone & hung up. "o-oh hey, sir," you stuttered out. you hid your phone behind your back as if you were caught doing something wrong. you felt your phone vibrate, your friends begging to be on call again. "how much did you hear?"

"not much," shrugged aizawa as he grabbed a glass cup from the cabinet above you. that's when you realized how warm he was, how flushed his face was, how messy his hair fell. that's when you realized he was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants & a small towel around his neck.

"wh-what are you doing up," you coughed, taking in his physic-- just for a second, of course. veins protruded up his muscular biceps down his forearms. his pecs were in front of your face. they were well-toned. his washboard abs rose with every breath he took. you let yourself quickly -& ever so sneakily- glance downward. smaller veins & a trail of black hair were like arrows, pointing down his sweatpants. you gulped. was it normal to have a bulge that big-

"you know, it's rude to stare, y/n," aizawa whispered in your ear before pulling away. he walked toward the fridge that had a water dispenser attached to the freezer door. "i just need a cup of water after my workout," he answered in his regular voice to her question.

"oh, nice, nice," you said. a tense, awkward silence followed afterwards. "i-i'm sorry, i didnt mean to," you swallowed, "stare."

"right, i'm sure." & with that said, he left upstairs to get ready for bed.

aizawa loved teasing cute, little you. how could he not? your reactions were simply priceless. your face would get pink while you tried desperately to hide your embarrassment. your skittish eyes darted around the room just to avoid eye contact.

you weren't going to speak up because he knew that you "secretly" loved it. you'd probably make some lame excuse to defend yourself. you'd say, "well i'll let it slide just this once because i really need this job." which was the truth, it just wasn't the entire truth. aizawa knew though. he knew how much you craved his closeness.

he loves teasing you, but he's not a monster.

that's why he whispers in your ear, caging you between him & some other surface. he fed into your fantasies while fueling his own.

he thinks about you. all the time. more than you'll ever know.

what you believed to be a chance encounter was -in fact- a calculated, perfectly-executed plan concocted by aizawa. you might've never noticed him until he introduced himself, but you're so eye catching; it was only natural for him to notice you.

at first, he cursed himself to the moon & back for being attracted to someone ten years younger than him. you're only twenty-three, why is he so charmed by you?

determined to find a fault in your character, he learned your daily routine, find your social handles, grasping at anything. he was expecting to find out that maybe you're so much of an alcoholic that you practically live at a bar or that you have eighteen children with twelve different guys. but no, he found nothing terrible about you.

all of your habits he found adorable-- especially the face you make when you're frustrated. he would watch from afar as you grunted & groaned at your laptop screen. the day at the cafe he figured out why you were so upset lately.

that's why he offered you the job, out of the kindness of his heart. no other reason.

he just wanted to make sure that you stay happy & safe, which is why he installed secret cameras in the basement before you moved in.

he loved to tease you. he loved to rile you up.

he'd tease you so badly that you -at the dead of night- spread you legs wide towards the camera & play with yourself with your fingers, moaning desperately for him. all while aizawa watched you.

tonight was different though because, with the money he gave you, you bought yourself something new. tonight, you had a bright pink vibrator stimulate your clit while your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. aizawa was offended, in all honesty. it was almost like you were mocking him.

he could do better than some toy. you should've known that. he was angry, aroused, & ready to make his move.

you were unsuspecting. usually you were hyper-aware of your surroundings when you masterbated, scared of getting caught. however, this was your first time using a vibrator, & god, it felt so good. you've never experienced anything like it before. blood rushed to your ears as you could only listen to the vibrations & your choked-back moans.

aizawa crept down the stairs, into your basement. the floorboards would creak as a warning, but they fell on deaf ears. he opened the door to the basement, sneaking in. the only light that was on was a dimly lit lamp from your room. "ngh, ah." he heard your muffled moans, & his cock twitched in anticipation.

he bursted through the door, making you jump back & pull the closest thing over the bottom half of yourself. "s-sir! i-is something wrong?" you asked in a high-pitched voice as you tried to calm yourself down.

he gave you a glare, & you felt like you were in trouble, preparing for some sort of punishment. even though you didn't do anything wrong, it was him who barged in. "what. the fuck. do you think you're doing?" he seethed, closing the bedroom door. you were exposed, your juices so clearly staining your sheets.

"wh-what are you talking about-"

"don't give me that, y/n. you've been such a bad girl," he growled. aizawa stalked closer towards you as you gulped.

"n-no i haven't, i don't know what you mean, sir," you managed to say, watching him walk to the side of your bed.

"what were you doing then, hm?" he questioned with a mocking smirk. "tell me. i'd hate to do something brash over a misunderstanding."

"i-i was just laying down," you lied. he was standing at the edge of your bed, & you turned towards him. your gaze was met with his aching bulge, & you gushed all over your bed once more. you tried covering up the squelching with a yawn. "i-i'm kinda tired, you know." you were still staring at his crotch, licking your lips subconsciously.

suddenly, his hand shot to your face, his palm covering your mouth while his thumb & middle finger dug into your cheeks. "don't lie to me~ you were touching yourself, weren't you? using a dirty toy while you thought about me, hm?" you tried shaking your head but he grasped harder, making you still. "i said, don't fuckin' lie to me." he made you nod your head yes while you look up into his lusted eyes.

"you're such a bad girl, & you should know that i don't tolerate any kind of bad behavior," he informed, his gaze never breaking away from yours. "i'm going to sit down, & you're going to lay belly-down on my lap, alright, baby?"

you shook your head no once again, embarrassed. you knew that, the moment you would do that, he would catch you. after all, from the waist down, you had no clothing. "no?" he repeated in an almost sing-songy voice. "no?"

it happened so fast. one minute you were disobeying him, the next you were on his lap, just as he wanted. the baggy crop top rode up the arch of your back, & now you were practically naked -ass up- on your boss' lap. you buried your face into your messy duvet. you felt your core leak onto your inner thighs, hoping aizawa didn't notice your arousal. he did though; he loved it.

his fingers stroked your pussy as he slurred, "what a naughty girl, gettin' wet for me. y'know how much older i am, don't ya?"

you nodded your head, dripping onto his fingers.

"& ya still want me?"

you nodded, this time with a small squeak. he pulled your head back with his other hand entangled in your hair. "what was that, baby?"

"y-yes," you whispered out, hyperfixated on his fingers that teased you.

"yes what?"

"yes, i-i want you, sir," you moaned out. his middle finger ghosted over your clit, & you jolted closer to him for more friction.

"aww, you're so cute," he purred as he let go of your hair, allowing you to fall back into your bed. "it's a shame that you were so impatient though," he said with faux pity, "i have to punish you."

"no, please," you whined. "that's not fair!"

"not fair? oh darling, you brought this on yourself," he laughed. aizawa drew his hand away from your aching pussy, much to your dismay. the hand came back down, thrashing your ass cheek. you let out a muffled scream into your blanket as you were pushed forward with his force.

"what's wrong, y/n? can't handle a bit of spanking?"

"n-no! i-i want you... i-inside of me," you stuttered out with a red-tinted cheeks.

"aww, do you?"

you nodded eagerly. he, in response, growled lowly, "you're going to learn your lesson. i don't want to hear anymore whining. you're going to be my good girl, & take it, right?"

you just nodded again.

smack!

"i said, you're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"y-yes, sir!"

smack!

you let out a moan, looking back at him with teary eyes. you wanted an explanation why he spanked you again. you did everything right, didn't you? you were a good girl.

"you didn't apologize."

"i-i'm s-so sorry, daddy," you gasped out, then tried to explain why you called him that. "i-i didn't-"

smack!

"you're going to keep calling me that, right?"

"y-yes, daddy." your ass stung bright red, & you felt the tingling sensation as the blood rushed to your asscheeks. aizawa let his hand graze over you, squeezing you ever so slightly.

"sit up, & look at me, y/n," he commanded in a softer tone than before. mindlessly & eagerly, you sat up onto his lap. one hand gripped on your hip while the other was placed behind your back. you wrapped your arms around his neck to stay sitting up. he leaned in for a kiss, lips pressed against your plush ones. with the hand behind your back, he glided his nails over your back.

his tongue slid over your bottom lip before invading your mouth. you let out a moan as he kissed you. he was the one to pull away, you unconsciously leaned into him for another kiss. you were snapped out of your lust when he dove into your neck, nipping & kissing all over. between hickeys, he whispered, "see? good girls get a reward."

you just let out breathless moans. your arms were still around his neck while he lowered you onto the bed. "baby, i don't ever wanna punish you again," aizawa lied, slipping your crop top over your head before throwing it on the floor. he took of his shirt, chuckling when he saw how pink your ears got. "you know why i had to punish you though, don't you?"

"y-yes, i do, d-daddy," you stuttered out. it was hard to focus while he dragged his tongue over your body. he bit your collarbone, sucked on your tits, kissed down your torso. it was all so distracting.

"why did i have to punish you, y/n?"

"because i-i was p-playing with myself without y-your permission," you told him, sighs in between every word. you don't know how or when your legs were over his shoulders, & you didn't notice until he spoke.

every annunciation blew warm air to your throbbing heat. "such a smart girl, y/n~" he praised, his onyx eyes locking with your doe eyes. you didn't have to say anything, he could tell by your facial expressions how badly you needed him. he kitten-licked your pussy; it was so little, yet you couldn't help but squeak in delight.

"oh, my god," you moaned out, throwing your head back as he began to lap your juices. he groaned as his tongue flicked your clit.

"you taste so fuckin' good, baby," he uttered, diving back for more.

"thank you, daddy," you said, you didn't even know if he still wanted to punish you, but there was a chance that he did, & you didn't want this to stop.

"good girl."

he stimulated your clit with his tongue while three fingers pumped in & out of your hole. he pulled away from your pussy for a second, demanding, "look at me when you cum, got it?"

"yes d-daddy!" you yelled out, self-restraint turning into the opposite. a pressure built inside your core, threatening to pop at any second. you looked down, tears of pleasure & neediness rolling down your pink cheeks. "i-i'm gonna cum. please keep going, i'm gonna cum!" you let out a string of pleads & moans as you came all over aizawa's face.

he stood up, slipping off his pants & boxers. he kicked them away as he towered over you. he was standing on the edge of the bed while you lied with your legs spread. "you want me, y/n? you really want me?" he asked because if you wanted him to stop, he would. if you wanted him to do anything, he'd do it.

"i really want you," you said as sincerely as someone who just climaxed could say anything. "i-i just don't want this to be a one-time thing," you admitted.

he laughed, lining his cock with your entrance as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. "trust me, baby. this is not a one-time thing, i'm so addicted to you, y/n. you don't even know." he finished his short-lived speech by shoving his girthy dick into your cunt, & you remembered just how dominate aizawa was. you let out a scream due to the pain, unexpectedness, & utter pleasure you got all in a single moment.

his thrusts were soft & slow at first. you could feel every inch leave then plunge back into your weeping hole. "d-d-daddy, you're so big," you moaned while you wrapped your arms around his neck.

his pace picked up, hips jerking against you. your tits jiggled with every thrust, claps every time he went back inside you. he abused your sensitive g-spot, ramming himself in & out of you. your hands unraveled themselves around his neck, your nails digging into his muscular back. you let out babbles how you couldn't take it, how you were going stupid, & how you were going to cum. he groaned in response, "if you're saying anything other than daddy or more, shut your fuckin' mouth & take it like a good girl."

"n-ngh, ahhh, yesss daddy," you slurred, eyes rolling to the back of your head. you wanted him to slow down so you could think again, but you liked being mindless, you liked how you didn't have the energy or will power to think about anything in this fucked-up world. all that mattered in that moment was you, aizawa, & how good the two of you felt.

"you're so fuckin' beautiful, baby," he groaned, he couldn't help but compliment you. how could he not? you looked even better pinned under him than he imagined. "so tight for me."

"please let c-cum with me, daddy," you begged. he didn't respond for a second, & you started to doubt yourself.

"wh-where," he groaned out, thrusts becoming rough & sloppy.

"what?"

he was losing composure. "where do you want me to cum?"

"inside," you answered quickly, wrapping your legs around his waist. you felt like you were in control now. "i-i want you inside of me when i cum all over your cock, d-daddy~"

"y/n. don't say stupid shit," he warned, knowing damn well he'd fold in an instant. you kept moaning with every thrust, begging for him to cum.

"p-please~ daddy, i deserve it. i-i've been a good girl," you whimpered. you jutted your bottom lip in a pout & tried to give your best puppy-dog eyes. every thrust he could see you twitch in pleasure, your expression couldn't hide how much you were enjoying this.

"fuckin' brat," he scowled. he watched you as you figured out how much power you truly have over him. he couldn't blame you for extorting it because that's what he did to you. at the end of the day though, you won.

he became sloppy & fast. his cock twitched inside of you when he saw your slutty expression-- tongue hanging out of your mouth, cheeks red, tears running down your face, eyes begging. & it was all because of him, how he fucked you. he was the cause of such a beautiful thing. finally, with a single thrust, he buried himself deep within you, cumming.

whiteness painted your insides while you came around him, clenching his twitching prick. "a-aizawa!" you screamed out in pure ecstasy.

deep breathes, panting, & sighs of content followed afterwards. he slipped out of your gaping hole, his sperm leaking out of your pussy. he climbed into your bed, coddling you. you were still shaky, senses heighten. you placed your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow.

he pulled the covers over the two of you. aizawa said while massaging your scalp, "you okay, baby?"

"mhm," you hummed, "i-i just never been fucked like that before."

he laughed, then kissed the top of your head. "i promise that this won't be the last time, y/n. i'm all yours." though he didn't say it, he was thinking, besides, guys your age won't know what to do with a bad girl like you.

[kentocalls]

umemiya hajime | captain an idea that wouldn't leave my head. vauge military!au, sfw.

it's no secret captain umemiya trains solo into the late hours of the night. why you thought he'd not be here is beyond reason. or maybe the pain medication. you're favoring your injured knee as you steady yourself, admiring your captain as he moves so effortlessly.

he's a close combat specialist, skill second to none.  joined the cause so young it makes you embarrassed to be just two years shy from his age. he's such a decorated thirty something captain and somehow you managed to level your skills to be recruited to his team.

vice captain hiragi  had warned you, captain umemiya does not take injuries lightly, don't do something reckless. the vice captain would always let you sneak off and start training after injury early. granted, he'd stick you on desk duty for a whole month as punishment but he never stopped you from working out.

in your spacing out, umemiya notices your lingering form near an incline bench press. with 55lbs loaded. he normally, wouldn't care if subordinates train late; understands the need to work off tension, especially  after an extensive extermination job. but you? the one his eyes undeniable glue to?

"what are you doing out of bed? shouldn't you be icing that knee and resting?" his voice stern, not the usual playful tone he keeps during daylight. putting away his training blade as he approaches you, body gracefully light despite the weight of his presence.

"some light, rehabilitation?" you smile, soft and sweet. that usually works on vice captain hiragi. 

"rehabilitation, already? not sure the doc put that in your chart for another 3-4 weeks."  he watches closely, looking for any evidence of discomfort, knowing full well your left knee hasn't been the same for a few weeks. and the last extermination job had you taking a nasty fall. no amount of stretching, massage or light runs are going to aide the recovery. 

captain umemiya reviewed your charts personally, the best thing to do is rest. you gotta go slow, take a break. all things hiragi told him you hate doing.  she's restless if she's not helpful, reckless if she has something to protect. and you did protect him after all. that nasty fall was his fault. what kind of captain is he?

you stumble when attempting to sit up from the bench press. the captain's eyebrows furrow, "really shouldn't be doing any of that."

"and what about you? thought it was lights out for everyone on base, captain." stay formal, it's so easy to slip and act like you're friends. captain umemiya has that charm about him, none of the military formality seems to last.

he puts his hands up, offering a grin and "touche."

"couldn't sleep so i thought i'd get extra taining in. don't think i'll be getting any rest tonight though."

"too much paperwork again?" concern etched on your face, you don't like when the captain stresses. especially on paperwork, you've been lucky enough to catch a sight of his pretty face wearing glasses, staring into 12pt font forms with a glare so deadly, it sends shivers down your back now. 

he exhales, looking you up and down, "again, you should be in bed, solider."

"what's on your mind captain?" 

the last extermination, the fact that he wasn't fast enough, he has to travel to HQ to report on the damage. and you. he'll be gone for seven days and knows your mandatory best rest won't happen.  he doesn't trust you to actually rest, without him to supervise you're going to push back into training and risk a worse injury. 

he already feels guilty for dragging you into the fight, your platoon was supposed to keep guard of the rear, not provide additional support. but the extermination priority escalated and you were the closet solider with the strongest rank. 

the attack, you tripping and being pelted with debris....well, it isn't a sight his mind seems to let go. 

"hey...this isn't your fault, captain." you point at your knee. "it's been creaking like an old rocking chair for weeks. it was going to flare up, i was bound to trip."

"i should've moved faster. you got hit and i couldn't do anything ot prevent it. i should've seen it coming." he wears guilt like an expensive, delicate coat. too careful to place it anywhere but on his own shoulders.

you see now why vice captain hiragi told you to be careful. it wasn't for your sake really, it's for your captain that dotes on everyone in the platoon. 

"we can't control the world captain. you used you best judgement in that moment, we completed the extermination and prevented damage to the city. please, this injury is not your fault. don't put that on yourself."

you see his jaw clench, frustration and exhaustion bleeding into his face. "but it is," his voice firmer, "i know when priorities escalate to wait for reinforcement, i lost my cool and we both...as was captain, it was my responsibility to protect you."

"we worked as a great team captain. we won."

but sweet, doting captain huffs and defaults. why is he having such a hard time brushing this off? you've had worse injuries and vice captain hiragi has never looked like this...almost ... sad.

he almost returns to his normal self, that soft gaze, eyes on your knee, "won't change the fact this happened on my watch..."

"no, the fault is actually mine, captain?" voice firm, a bit annoyed, why does he look at you like that?  "i could've been faster and better aware of my surroundings. i should've taken the first yers up on practicing."

"it's not your fault, you did your best and that's all i asked for. but--"

"if you say its your fault one more time captain, i will" you look for the most menacing object you can reach for, "throw this medicine ball at you." it's an empty threat, he'd probably dodge it easily.

he laughs, finally.  but that pit at the bottom of your stomach doesn't go away. it's been there for months. the way captain umemiya's eyes look at you... you've tried to deny it but it's different. you don't know if it's your adoration of him, the way he's completed so many successful exterminations, captured back land from the invaded monsters. he's so...different.

you shouldn't think of him like that. the way his lips are probably not the softest but against your own, maybe--

"if you push yourself too hard you'll run the risk of aggravating your knee. it'll take even longer to have you back on the field, i don't want that solider."  solider. he's putting distance between you two, isn't he? yeah, you definitely shouldn't think of him like that. 

you're genuinely sad as he removes and restocks the weight plates from the bench press. it's not fair how cute you look to umemiya, so he busies himself with cleaning up, anything to avoid looking at your face. he can play off his protective nature as looking out for the team and you, professionally. that this is for your benefit. has nothing to do with the overwhelming concern that is totally normal for a captain to have. "you gotta trust me on this one, its for your own good."

and yet, you always have your eyes on him, so keen about the tension he's holding, the way you know his eyes trail back to your bandaged knee with guilt. "captain?"

his beautiful velvet sleepy blue eyes meet yours, "hmm?"

"it's really....bothering you a lot? what happened?"

umemiya nods, hesitant to share the depths of guilt and dread he's stuffed down. seeing you fall and not get up, your teary face in the emergency medic facility... if he was strong enough, fast enough, smart enough....

your still unbalanced as you walk over ot him, the need to pull him out of his spiral stronger than remembering you're not friends nad he's your captain. don't touch him, don't speak informally. 

"i don't  blame you for this. nor does the platoon, nor HQ. and you got me outta there quick, you even yelled at a charge nurse to get me pain meds and held my hand when they moved the ligaments back into place. you were by my side the whole time, even though i know you hate hospitals. which makes you the absolute best captain, okay?  so thank you, i mean it. i'd follow you into any extermination captain umemiya."

your words of gratitude and loyalty lift some of the emotional baggage, his eyes searching yours, how do you have so much compassion, care and consideration for him? why? your willingness to stand with him after he got you hurt? 

and maybe he hasn't imagined your lingering glances, maybe the way your breath hitches when he's close isn't out of fear...maybe the way your eyes dart to his lips at the most inappropriate moments aren't in his head.  

"and you'll stay by my side, even after all this?" what is he saying, he's your captain!

your smile is that big goofy one you gave him the first day he met you, infectious. as you literally move to his side, he finds himself loosening the cage around his heart "lead the way captain!"

finally, you get to see captain umemiya's  pretty pretty grin, "oh no, that contagious smile." he chuckles.

"we're all gonna get infected! evacuate the base."  playful, silly, light.

"infect us all, hiragi deserves needs the positivity." 

you mock salute, "aye aye captain!" moving a bit too quickly and off balance. like umemiya  isn't going to point out how uneven your hips are, your gait is far more telling of the pain that your face tries to hide.  "get to bed."

"i will later, captain, promise."

"am i gonna have to throw you over my shoulder and haul your cute butt into bed?" what is he saying, why is he being so friendly.

you roll your eyes at him. HIM, your captain. oh you don't believe him do you? he starts to walk toward you. "could always carry you bridal style, make sure everyone see's me do it too. make a lesson for the whole platoon"

"i can walk back to the room just fine, captain." you are NOT blushing. maybe, it's the late hour, maybe it's all the feelings he's been hiding for weeks.

"oh i know," he's walking closer, "but i'd be doing you a disservice by not properly escorting you back to your room right? what kind of captain would i be then?"

"you don't have to carry me...holding my hand is enough." that. oh, isn't that a bit too...initiate? too close? he didn't expect you to suggest something so innocent and somehow more personal. 

ah, crap, you messed it up didn't you? the playful banter, you're not the best at reading things and your own feelings for captain umemiya have never been hidden well according to your platoon member suo. shit, you always do this, going one step too far ahead. captain umemiya is a sweet guy, talented, friendly, playful. h-

you both speak at the same time 

"sorry, i didn't--"

"sorry that...made me nervous."  he's scratching the back of his head, the tips of his ears dusty red.

huh? THE captain umemiya hajime  being nervous to hold your hand? you tilt your head in confusion. but he's...held in such high regard. shaken so many hands, held so many peoples hands... he takes out monsters for a living and somehow is nervous to...hold you hand? your brain does not understand how that is even mildly scary to him. 

umemiya watches your face, gosh you're so easy to read. he's always liked that about you. despite being a highly lauded military situation, you don't hide your confusion. "yeah, i know, the great captain umemiya hajime can exterminate a whole 20ft beast by himself but holding a cute girl's hand? scary."

what cute girl? what's he talking about? "you need, practice? i can help you practice. then you'll be ready to hold that cute girls hand." you reply so earnestly. if you can help him in anyway, you're going to do it. 

his eyes widen at your offer,  did you not catch the hint that the cute girl is you?  do you not realize, you're the only girl in the room? "you wanna practice, hand-holding?"  his tone is half bemused.

you hold your hand out, wiggling the fingers, "take it, practiceee, my hands are extra soft." what are you doing, what are you doing, be still your beating heart because clearly you've lost your god damn mind.

your hand is small as fuck compared to his, umemiya eyes the outstretched hand with consideration. he's actually going to do this, with you?  

he's held so many hands in his life, and yet none jolt through him like this. like you're plugged into a 14V battery. 

"see, nothing to be nervous about." you give his hand a light squeeze. "that cute girl is gonna be so swooning over you in no time captain!"

you're the cute girl stupid, he wants to say. totally convinced lieutenant tsubaki was right, he's going to have to spell out his feelings in a letter, email, text and phone call for you to understand. he's doesn't inject himself training plans or doctors appointments for everyone.

he's suddenly aware of the calloused palm and fingertips from years of handling assault rifles, and electric blades. your skin feels so delicate, smooth, unharmed. the way your fingers intertwine with his look pretty. 

"feels nice, yeah?"

"i guess." he squeezes. "your hands are way softer than i thought they'd be."

"of course, tsubaki told me to take care of them now, otherwise they'll be like kaji."

umemiya chuckles at that, knows exactly what you're talking about "yeah, his are as rough as sandpaper, aren't they?"

"they are captain, they are. despite all my attempts to get him to use lotion too. he rather suffer with dry hands." 

"you tired to get him to use lotin? i admire your spirit." so you are entirely reckless like hiragi told him. kaji is someone most avoid and approach with extreme caution.

"well once i knew how dry they were," you move a hand to your cheek, "gosh i can still feel his hand, it was like getting hit with a sharp rock, i thought my skin would bleed. but once i knew, i had to intervene." 

his frown is instant, his brain is stuck on the fact that at some point, kaji's hand has made contact with your face. and it was not friendly.  "your hands are kinda rough too..."

you pull his hand up, examining the rough rigids with your own delicate fingers. you keep your nails neat and short, it seems umemiya does too. you're tracing each of his fingers when he barely whispers,  "yeah...occupational hazard and all..." 

you smile up at him, "i can bring you my favorite hand cream. it shouldn't be too hard to heal these", you still trace your fingers softly over the palm of his hand, "definitely not as bad as kaji"

umemiya's heart is running a marathon, he's trying to stop the shivers running down his spine. you're looking so tenderly at his hand, in such awe and care. he should end this, he's your captain, you report up to him. and yet, he doesn't want your touch to stop. 

"yeah? think it's possible for this old things?"

"not old captain"

"fine, well seasoned," you click your tongue at that, he corrects himself with a, "aged like fine wine."

"not even seasoned."

"what? am i still in the pinnacle of my youth?"

"maybe."

"okay, then what's that make you? a toddler?"

"hey!" you push his hand back. 

"just an observation. you look like you're barely able to walk." 

you're feeling playful, "oh and somehow i was recruited by the great captain umemiya hajime for his super duepr elite extermination team. a job many have applied for an failed."

"well i know you'd be competent and reliable. maybe i have a soft spot for toddlers."

he's making you pout with that, you should be happy he's back to that normal, playful side. but you don't like being teased, you don't like how much his laughter makes your heart dance.

"what? don't like being called a toddler? how about little one or baby girl then?"

he..what? oh, maybe he doesn't know. he started his military career pretty young and all, you've never heard about him dating before you joined either, it's only natural you help and correct your captain.  "that's a team of endearment captain, call that cute girl whose hand you wanna hold that."

god you're so frustrating. umemiya could convince platoom member sugishita and sakura to form a beach vollyball duo before he gets who the cute girl is through your head. 

"i'm just teasing."

"oh, were you baby boy?" there! ha! you...you just called your CAPTAIN baby boy. abort abort abort. clearly the pain medication is on overdrive (it's not you forgot to take it) and your feelings of him are not being contained.

he chokes on air, what .....he uses your laugh as a cover while he tries to reclaim his composure, despite his own cheeks burning.

it is amusing to see him flustered.  he's almost boyish now in a way you haven't gotten to see before. it makes you want to steal this moment, keep it all for yourself.  all because of a teeny tiny baby boy remark.  oh god, is he going to say you acted out in subordination and force you on desk duty? 

but it's funny right, it was a joke right? 

you can, joke with your captain?

he runs a hand through his hair, messing up his bangs. "you're enjoying this a bit too much aren't you."

"its a rare sight, you can't blame me if i want it all for myself." can you STOP talking.

the fuck are you trying to give him a heart attack for? you can't say things like that so readily. you wanna be the only one to see him like this? flustered and embarrassed and... "well consider yourself lucky."

"oh, i am so blessed." stop, right now, you need to stop talking.

he laughs, two can play this game. he takes a step closer, bodies nearly touching, brings your hand to his chest, placing it over his heart. the thin material of his shirt does little to hide the rapid beating underneath. "feel that?"

is that...you push against his chest, is that normal? oh my god he looks red in the face too, "...captain are you...are you okay do you need water?" you know he's known to overexert himself. holy crap is he in pain?

"hmm...i think its something serious." oh shit, and you missed all the signs! you gasp in alarm, eyes looking up at him with worry he knows he was someone good and kind in his past life. to have you care for him so easily. 

he leans in close, whispering "i think you make me a little nervous."

"me?"

umemiya nods, eyes on you, bringing his free hand to rest at your him, touch firm, careful. when did he get so close? you can feel the wall behind you scrapping your elbows, when did you back into this?

"you make oh so nervous cute girl."

"captain umemiya..." his name rolls off your tongue like silk. he claims the distance between you two, body pressing against yours, one moving to wrap around your wasit, breath warm against your ear "call me hajime."

anyone can walk in. anyone can see this and..."captain umemiya hajime."

he shakes his head, "no, just my name."

the look he has is so intense, "captain hajime"

he shivers at the sound of his name dripping from your lips, voice honey sweet and soft.  "yeah, like that. just drop the captain, say it again." 

you're blushing, your captain! your crush! the one you've admired for years, here, like this, burning desire in his eyes, for you. it can't be, can it?

ever observant, umemiya picks up the nervousness, one of his hands wanders up to your cheek, gently caressing it with his thumb, "just a name, nothing to be nervous about."  

god, you're the cutest fucking thing. doe-eyed and blush cascading down your cheeks and neck. his eyes meet yours with "say it. my name."

umemiya inhales so sharply,  he's leaning so close to you, waiting, eager, "hajime"

trapped, happily, between the wall and his broad frame, he leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed. "again" he whispers, voice thick with need.

you swallow hard and whisper "hajime."

he leans forward, captures your lips in his, urgent, commanding, needy.

surprise hits you because if this is dream, never let it end. you've wanted him so bad and this, please let this be real. a tiny whimper before his demanding lips pull you back to this moment, back to him.  you relax into the kiss. it has him moving your against your mouth with even more intensity. has he always been this passionate about you?

umemiya presses into you harder, pushing you further against the wall, hands roaming over your body, hungry. and you're equally starved for him, pulling him in, crowding into his space. 

a hand in his messy hair, you swear he's growling, fuck, more more more. umemiya, caught in the moment, moves one hand around the back of your thigh and lifts -- you flinch and let out a gasp of pain. 

FUCK, that's your left leg right? 

umemiya breaks the kiss, "sorry, are you okay, did i make it worse?"

this man is too beautiful and you need to breathe, you push at him with no effort, he loosens his grip and moves back. "i couldn't... tell..."

"i'm so sorry, i got carried away. i didn't mean to hurt--"

"hurt for just a second, nothing...nothing serious." with smile you're dispelling all his worry, all his tension. the late hour catching up with both of you now. 

reality settling back, the fire gone. you're in the training room, door wide open.  "let me walk you back, yeah?"

he's scratching the back of his neck, doesn't want this to end but, shit, he's unsure. his position, his presence, what if it's all in his head, but your hand on his face, thumb on his lips and eyes looking up at him like that

"you'll hold my hand?" but you make no motion to move away from him, pull him back into you, lips finding his again.

yeah, it's not in his head.

[ivystoryweaver]

Jingle Bells

Summary: Santiago is a flirty cute dork and you can’t stop me

Pairing: Santiago Garcia from Triple Frontier x gn!reader

Word Count: 800

Content: fluff, mentions of Christmas songs (but story doesn’t indicate what Santiago or reader celebrate, if anything), not beta’d

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"That'll be $73.07," you mumble to your customer, waiting as she runs her credit card through the machine before handing her a receipt.

Twelve hours on the cash wrap at work, scanning grocery item after item, dealing with faulty coupons, the holiday rush and fussy customers. Your feet are sore and you're dying to get off your shift in thirty minutes.

You picked up back-to-back shifts to pay for a plumbing bill your landlord refused to cover.

"Plumbing is the responsibility of the tenant," he groused at you last week. "Read your lease."

Without even a glance, your hand reaches to scan the next customer's items.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Happy holidays," a soothing tenor voice greets you.

"Happy holida - " You trip over your monotonous reply when your eyes meet the most beautiful man you've ever seen in person.

Sparkling brown eyes dance underneath thick eyebrows, arched in playful curiosity. A sprinkling of gray dusts his dark curly hair.

"Hi," he greets you, chomping playfully on his gum, which draws attention to the curve of luscious, full lips and the sexy stubble on his chin.

"Good afternoon," you manage, reminding yourself to continue scanning his groceries.

"Afternoon?" He shoots back, nodding toward the darkened windows at the front of the store. "It's 9:15."

"Oh. Right," you sheepishly chuckle.

"Long day?" the handsome man genuinely questions.

Your first instinct is to shrug him off with the run-of-the-mill small talk that comes as naturally as breathing to you, as a cashier.

But something happens - a contradiction that has your heart tripping over itself.

His eyebrows shift curiously, like a puppy, while, at the same time, a smug smirk curls the corner of that mouth.

"Uhh, yes," you admit, pausing, "the longest."

"I'm sorry," he sincerely returns, reaching to swipe his next grocery item for you. "Must be busy this time of year."

"Oh, god...sorry," you stammer, reaching to finish up his order.

"'S okay," he shrugs one shoulder. "You gonna be able to get out of here soon?"

"Not soon enough," you joke. "If I hear 'Jingle Bells' one more time, I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Hmm," he nods and then he sings, "Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleeeiigghh..."

"Nooo, please stop," you find yourself laughing. Out loud. When was the last time you laughed?

"Are you sure? Because I do all the hits. Siiiilent niiiight - "

"Oh my god," you giggle, "you have a terrible voice."

He pretends to be offended, "Is this how you treat all your customers?" The corners of his warm brown eyes crinkle with amusement, letting you know he's still teasing. "Because if you smile at everybody like that, you must be the best cashier in this place."

"Could you hurry it up?" A grouchy customer behind this gorgeous man interjects, almost bouncing on her toes.

And just like that, you're deflated. This is why you don't waste your time caring. No point, no time to truly connect. Everyone is in such a damn hurry, especially this time of year.

"Sorry," you mumble, flustered as you start to bag the man's groceries.

"Hi, I'm Santiago," he greets the grinch behind him. "And this is... " he glances back at you, reading off your name tag. "Been a long day. Just trying make 'em smile. I'll get out of your way."

He flashes a stunning, yet disarming smile and the woman falters.

"Oh. I-it's okay."

"Thanks," he nods, shifting his attention back to you.

You give him the total. “Hang in there,” he winks. “Bet this place would fall apart without you.”

He leaves you stupefied, but smiling.

You can’t even remember the last time someone showed kindness and warmth to you, a simple cashier - let alone made you laugh.

The remaining 27 minutes of your shift feel a little lighter.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

One week later…

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Dashing through the snoooowww…”

Your eyes snap up to find Mr. Handsome next in your checkout line.

“This is gonna get awkward if you don’t remember me.” His dark eyebrows shoot up questioningly.

“Santiago…right?” Your cheeks feel warm as he flashes you that smile.

“Guilty,” he chuckles. “I really am dying to see what happens when ‘Jingle Bells’ pushes you over the edge.”

“Don’t try me,” you laugh, scanning his grocery items. "Nobody wants me to lose control in here."

"Maybe somewhere else then," he cooly suggests, with the cutest eyebrow wiggle. "Maybe a restaurant? Or a bar? We could grab a drink when you get off?"

Your mouth drops open. "That...was..."

"Pretty smooth, right?" He grins. "Yeah, I've found that singing off key holiday songs is the way to go."

You laugh for about the twentieth time since you met Santiago.

And you go for that drink.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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[usedtobecooler]

smutty stocking stuffers day one - mr quinn x babysitter!reader

Pairing | Mr. Quinn x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), age gap (early twenties/mid thirties), unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, riding, drooling, breeding kink, bulge kink, glasses kink, and a dumb little fluffy moment at the end.

Word Count | 2.2k

A/N | seeing joe dressed as a literal teacher in his silly glasses did things to me and it resulted in this because i'm a slut!!! happy day one!

Mr. Quinn throws himself down onto the sofa next to you, huffing out a big sigh. He's disheveled, shirt untucked from his pants and rumpled up, dress trousers crinkled where they'd bunched up around his thighs as he sat. Bags under his eyes hidden by his thick rimmed glasses, curly hair as unruly as ever.

"Long day?" You question quietly, pulling your legs up under yourself, elbow propped up on the back of the sofa, hand resting on the side of your neck comfortably. You can't help but think that even like this, tired and worn out, Mr. Quinn is still the most beautiful man you'd ever laid eyes on.

"You have no idea." Joe groans, pushing up his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes until he's seeing stars, letting his glasses slip back down once he's satisfied, "How were the boys for you? Good, I hope?"

"Henry was a bit sad at bedtime so I popped on his little Superman nightlight," You explain and Joe winces, knowing Henry only ever had his nightlight on when he'd had a hard day and missed dad, "Tommy was fine, said he wanted a chocolate bar at bedtime 'cause mummy's babysitter usually allows it, but he wasn't fooling me."

Joe laughs at that, his smile reaching his eyes and it makes your heart flutter, because that didn't happen often. When he was genuinely happy, he was ethereal, like a completely different person.

"So... I know you said you don't do Christmas presents but," You start, and Joe scrunches his nose up at you, getting ready to protest, "shut up, don't say anything. You've been so good to me this year, Mr. Quinn, you've paid me far too much, always left food for me, even let me stay over when it's been harsh weather and I've been too frightened to drive home. So, there's a gift under the tree for you. You don't have to open it til Christmas, but it's just a token of my appreciation for you."

Joe slaps a hand down on your thigh and rubs it a little, a soft gesture he'd done a million times before when you'd gone out of your way to do something you didn't necessarily need to, unaware of how much it made your heart skip and your mouth run dry. He huffs out a little sigh, "I didn't get you anything, darling. This was very unexpected, thank you."

You lock eyes unexpectedly, and your breath hitches. You realised your relationship was odd for a babysitter and parent, you were close - comfortable. Always respectful, a boundary had never been crossed.

But. Joe had heavy eyes, like he was tired and wound up and like he needed... relief. You wonder when the last time was that he'd ever been pleasured by anything other than his own right hand. Hell, you're not sure he even had dealings with his hand. He was a busy man, no time for anything but work and his kids, surely he was overdue some much needed relaxation.

In your daze you hadn't noticed Joe's hand rising higher, sitting snug in the crease of your thigh where your belly met it, comfortable there in the heat, still not pushing any further than that. Joe's hand was a flame and you were alight.

You don't know who closes the gap first but you don't care, Joe's lips slotting with yours like they're meant to be there. The scruff of his beard tickles your top lip and your chin, tinged slightly with the faint smell of leftover cigarette smoke. It's intoxicating, enough to have you lunging forward and crowding into his space, pushing against him until he's knocked back against the sofa arm and you're mounting him.

You rock your hips down into Joe's, only the thin fabric of your panties and his pants separating your skin. You silently thank yourself for wearing a plaid skirt with knee high socks on this particular day, you never usually dressed up so well for babysitting, but you'd had some spare time in the morning to doll yourself up.

"Tell me what you need, Mr. Quinn, I can be so good for you, please," You beg in between kisses, rucking up his silly little sweater and his crumpled shirt so you can feel at his soft belly, trace your fingers down his happy trail to the waistband of his slacks, until he's moaning against your mouth, gripping at your hips.

"Pretty girl, what're you doing to me," Joe's voice is deep, gruff with want and it makes your cunt quiver, "need to feel that pretty pussy, please?"

And who were you to refuse such a pretty man such a simple request? You would usually draw this out, expect to be touched and taken care of beforehand, but Joe's sleepy eyes filling with lust for you, mixed with his little begs were enough. All the other parts could wait for another time, if you ever got another time.

"I've thought about this for so long," Joe gasps, eyes going wide as your fingers dance along the hem of his pants, working the button and zip with ease as if you'd done it a thousand times before, "what would a darling girl like you want with a man like me, hmm?"

Joe emphasizes his question by tugging at your chin with his thumb and forefinger, pad of his thumb grazing your kiss swollen, plump lips, and you can't help yourself. The tip of your tongue slithers out, engulfing his thumb with the wet heat of your mouth. Joe groans, presses down on your tongue until you're gagging. It's filthy, the way he keeps the pressure until you're drooling from the edges of your lips, keening into him.

You let his thumb slip from your mouth, a string of spit connecting them as you pull away, making hasty work of ridding him of his clothing. He tilts his hips up to allow you to slide the offending material down his thighs, leaving them bunched just below his ass. You had no patience; you couldn't wait any longer.

His cock slaps up against his belly, and the sight before you is enough to make your mouth water. He's uncut and thick, alluringly so, and you should've known if his fingers were anything to go by, you'd caught yourself lingering before, on how big his silver rings were, how his hand would engulf a glass. Your cunt quivers, knowing he's going to be a stretch.

You grasp a hold of his cock with your nimble fingers, sliding the foreskin down until the shiny, pink mushroom head is exposed, a blurt of precum dribbling from the slit. It's so pretty, so fitting to Joe and the rest of his body, it clouds your brain.

You slip the head between your slick folds and bask in the way that Joe watches your bodies connect in awe, brown eyes glassy behind the thick rim of his glasses. He's watching your cunt catch on the head of his cock whilst you watch him staring, until you're sinking down on the length in one fell swoop, causing Joe to squeeze his eyes shut and choke off a moan.

"Young thing like you always this wet?" Joe groans, fingertips digging into your hips as you rock back and forth, using his pubic bone as friction on your clit, making you gasp and shudder as you struggle to adjust to his size, "God, darling, never thought I'd get to see you like this."

You moan quietly at Joe's words, throwing your head back as you use your knees for leverage and start bouncing up and down, slowly and barely even letting a few inches slip out, torturing him, almost, "Didn't think you, fuck, wanted me, Mr. Quinn. I was basically throwing myself at you."

Joe's hands leave your hips to roam up your loose sweater, grasping at every soft line of your body, gentle fingertips running along your belly and pressing down until you're gasping for air, "You feel me there, darling?" He makes a point of pressing down again, until you're crying out and your hips stutter, "Deep, right? You take me so well, such a good little thing."

Of course you can feel him, he's so deep you feel like he's in your throat, so thick your walls can't help but clamp down on him, your whole body hot with a prickly heat, "You're s-so big, can feel you everywhere," you cry, bounces becoming increasingly quicker, Joe's hands rising up further to cup at your tits through the thin material of your bralette, thumbing over your hard nipples, making you gasp.

"You want me to come in you, pretty girl? Would you like that?" Joe's voice is almost cruel, and you nod your head fervently, needing to be filled with his release, you want to feel him leaking out of you, you need it, "Fill you with my come and put a baby in your belly, yeah?"

You cry out, hands grasping at Joe's sweater and tugging, your eyes connecting with his own, blown out underneath the thick rims of his glasses, "You can't - can't say that, Mr. Quinn," You moan, the coil in your belly suddenly tightening unexpectedly, the spongey spot inside of you constantly being assaulted as you ride him, "Please, please. Need it, please."

"Gonna pump you full of my come and make you a mummy, yeah? You'd like it, I know you would," Joe's grin is salacious, he knows what he's doing and you can hardly stand it, your mouth opening in a silent moan, overwhelmed by Joe's dirty words and the filthy sounds coming from your cunt sucking him in, your sweaty skin clapping and echoing into the otherwise quiet room.

"Joe, please, I-" You barely get the words out before the coil in your gut is snapping and you're coming with a loud cry, walls spasming around Joe's thick cock as your vision turns white, your ears ringing. It's earth shattering, the way it just keeps coming, your body going limp under his touch.

"Good girl, that's a good fucking girl," Joe's voice wavers, his arm snaking around your back to hold you there as he pistons his hips up from below you, allowing you to go floppy so he can use you how he likes, fucking you so hard you're wailing, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

He comes with a gruff grunt, cock pulsing and filling your aching walls with his load, one hand digging into your thigh and the other gripping at your back so tight you know he's going to leave bruises. You can't find it in you to care, you hope he leaves his marks behind, as a solid reminder he was ever there to begin with.

You lay on top of him in stunned silence, the only noises being both of your panting breaths as they begin to level out, Joe's spent cock slipping out of you unexpectedly and making you hiss. You're not sure when Joe's grip on your back turns into a soothing rubbing motion, but you keen into the touch, like a cat getting stroked.

"That was... maybe a mistake," Joe's quiet voice startles you, and you can't help the sinking feeling in your chest, but you might've expected this to happen, "I took advantage of you there a little, darling. I'm sorry."

"You didn't," You speak abruptly, looking up at him through hazy eyes, unable to stop the clenching in your chest when you notice how soft and relaxed he looks despite his words, "You didn't take advantage of me, Mr. Quinn. I wanted this to happen, I wouldn't of let it if I didn't."

"I think we're well past Mr. Quinn now, sweetheart," Joe tries at a joke, scrunching his nose up cutely, the bottom rim of his glasses digging into his cheeks. You laugh anyway, an embarrassed flush taking over your features, "And, uh about the... baby stuff-"

"I have an IUD, Joe," You interject before he can even finish his sentence, and you have to bite back a smirk at the way his body sags under your weight with relief, "don't worry about it. But I liked the dirty talk, it was nice."

"'Nice'," Joe bristles, grinning up at the ceiling, "Are you free next Saturday?"

You look at him, puzzled, "Joe, I don't babysit for you on Saturdays."

Joe laughs, "Think it'll have to be my mum for this one, seeing as my babysitter is busy, she's going on a date, you know?"

Your eyes widen momentarily before you regain composure and join in on the little bit of banter, "Really? Is she? Who's she going on a date with, is she going anywhere nice?"

"Ach, nobody really, just some worn out school teacher who's a bit of a loser," Joe looks down at you, wiggling his brows and eliciting a gentle giggle from you in return, "I was thinking SoHo, there's this really nice restaurant that does the most incredible beignets."

"Oof, already talking about deserts? A man after my own heart," You fawn, unable to wipe the stupid grin off of your face, "I think she'll really enjoy that."

"Good, that's what I hoped for. I'm kind of wanting her to stick around."

(the biggest of thank yous to @munsonquinns & @chainsawmunson for being my biggest cheerleaders and spurring me on to write and post this 🖤)

[astarions-leaking-bloodbag]

small smut oneshot

word count: 1,329

gender neutral language. astarion and reader. fingering and penetration.

Astarion had been at it for a few minutes now. It couldn't be more than thirty, but it was definitely more than ten. The slow, teasing drag of his fingers deep in your core sets every nerve ending alight. The pleasure is intense now, but his teasing pace isn't nearly enough to push you over the edge yet, “Please!” You whimper as you arch back against him. You can feel his girthy length nestled between your lower back and his lower abdomen as it twitches at each breathy whine that leaves your lips.

 

“Not yet, my sweet pet. I'm not done playing with you,” Astarion growls lowly in your ear. His fingers find the spot in you that makes stars spark around your vision and a heavy wave of heated pleasure starts in your core and tingles throughout your body. He chuckles as he drags his sharp fangs across your neck before sucking a delicate bruise over your carotid artery, “Truly one of the most exquisite instruments I've learned to play,”

 

“You don't- fuck!” You bite your lip as the fingers of his unoccupied hand finds their way to your sensitive nipple, gently rolling the hardened bud between his thumb and index finger. His other hand gently picks up its pace in you, middle and ring fingers gently thrusting in and out of your core and making your body tense with delicious pleasure. Just a few more thrusts of his fingers and-

 

“Hmmm,” Astarion's mouth is at your ear again as he takes his fingers out of you and listens to your whining protest, “You were so close, weren't you?” You've been together for years now, it was a statement more than a question. He knows you. And you know him.

 

“Yes.” You breathe. Gods, you were hot. Your sweat slicks your skin and a drop trickles down your forehead. You let your head drop back against his shoulder, his cool skin against your heated flesh feels nice. His lips press against your neck again, tiny pecks sending shivers down your spine as he once again lets your body cool down and step away from the cliff of pure bliss.

 

“Gods, look at you!” He purrs, hands wandering your body now, “Desperate for release, you're practically shaking!” Goosebumps follow after his fingers and a laugh leaves you as he gingerly drags his nails down your ticklish sides and his hands come to rest low on your stomach. He cranes his neck to kiss your lips, tongue gently flicking against yours as it deepens quickly. His hand dips lower to tease you, touching everywhere but where you need it most.

 

“Please, love. Please, I need you. Anything. Fingers, mouth, dick. I don't care, I just need you!” You can't take it anymore. You need him one way or another. You need release like you need to breathe. You open your eyes and find him already staring back with that near trademark smirk of his. 

 

“Alright, pet. Sit up,” You don't hesitate to obey, “Good. Now, on your hands and knees, Darling.” As you do as you're told you hear a soft hiss behind you and look over your shoulder to find Astarion gently stroking himself at the sight of you. Heat spreads across your cheeks as he bites his lip in pleasure. He isn't like that for long and in a short moment he's kneeling behind you, gently teasing the head of his cock in your entrance. A shiver of pleasure runs through you and you moan softly as he gently presses the tip in and pulls it back out, voicing his own pleasure in a soft groan.

 

“Enough teasing!” You thrust your hips backward as he pushes the tip of his cock back into you. Astarion makes a pleasured surprised sound behind you as you force him deeper into your core. Both of you groan as he pushes deeper, hands gripping your hips and pulling you backward onto his cock. You clench around him as his thighs touch the back of yours.

 

Astarion pulls back to push back in, moaning as your walls contract and release around him. You pant quietly as he repeats his actions, slowly thrusting in and out of you. You grip the sheets as warmth pools in your lower abdomen and inner thighs, you won't last much longer from his relentless teasing and edging from before. Astarion leans over you and kisses your shoulders as one arm snakes around you, going across your chest to hold your shoulder as he thrusts into you, “You're getting close again. I can feel it,” He sounds proud of himself, “I can tell how close you are with the way you clench around me,” He gently drags his fangs against your shoulder, making you shiver, “I can hear it, too. With the way your heart beat speeds up. You're almost there, aren't you, love?” He purrs against your shoulder. Astarion twitches inside of you as his hips push in and out of you faster. He won't last long himself, getting off easily from fingering you and edging you. He's told you time and time again how much he enjoys your noises.

 

“Yes,” You arch your back as he continues to thrust and moan in your ear. The faster he goes the closer you get, “Yes!” You moan loudly as you shift your weight on the bed and the head of his cock pushes against the bundle of nerves inside of your body, “Gods yes! Don't move!” Pleasure blurs your vision as he presses against it again and again. Your arms threaten to give out and he adjusts his grip on you to steady you. Each thrust sends hot tingles through your core that spread throughout your body until your arms cave and you both fall forward. Astarion is quick at readjusting and keeps going, spreading your legs with his to fit better as he thrusts deeper into you. You bury your face into the mattress and moan as the pressure in you builds.

 

“Ngh!” Astarion moans as his thrusts quicken, “You're beautiful, truly- nmh~ truly stunning like this!” You glance over your shoulder to see Astarion watching as he moves in and out of you. A few years ago, you would have felt Astarion using the illithid connection to show you his point of view. The memory of seeing yourself being fucked by him through his eyes sends a pang of pleasure straight to your core and sets a fire that slowly starts to spread.

 

“Astarion!” You whine, gripping the sheets under you again. You can feel your orgasm building as rapidly as he's thrusting. His movement is choppier as he nears his own release.

 

“Yes, love. Yes, you can go. Let go!” Astarion grunts and moans behind you, panting as his own pleasure comes to a peak. Feeling him start to lose himself sends you tumbling over the edge. Your core is set alight as you cum on his cock, clenching around him as your body quakes with pleasure. Your release is powerful, intense enough to blur your vision as your eyes water from it. You cry in ecstasy as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Astarion spills into you with a loud moan, his hips slapping against yours as his cock throbs and twitches with every hot spurt of cum. He fucks into you until your both boneless and panting. He collapses on top of you, cock still nestled inside of you as it slowly softens, “You are perfect,” Astarion pants as he gathers enough strength to pull out of you and lay beside you, “Every time.” He wraps his arms around you and pulls your boneless body against him.

 

“I love you,” You murmur as you catch your breath. Your heart is still pounding in your ears from your orgasm.

 

“And I love you,” Astarion nibbles your shoulder before kissing it as exhaustion claims both of you. You'll both worry about the mess later.

[walkingstackofbooks]

Doctor Bashir I Presume AU where Julian transitioned during the Academy but never told his parents: (This totally got out of hand I'm sorryyyy 😅)

"What did you do to your lovely hair?" - Amsha's first reaction to seeing him in Sisko's office (He always wore a wig to visit them. This is exactly why.)

"You must be very proud of your son." "Our... son?"

Richard and Amsha trying to hide how unimpressed they are because they know it's socially unacceptable to be transphobic

(Not that they'd call themselves transphobic, of course. They have trans friends! But with Jules, well, it's different, isn't it? With all that they spent on her enhancements, there's no way her DNA would have been left with any... imperfections. And when it comes down to it, their her parents - they know her better than she knows herself.)

Amsha complaining at dinner how Julian hadn't prepared them for the shock of seeing him. "How could you do this to us? We were so embarrassed in front of your Captain."

(As if it wasn't them in the first place who had showed up totally unannounced 🙃🙄)

Richard saying that if Julian had told them he'd been having these feelings from the beginning, they might have been able to get help for him before he ruined his body.

Richard (angrily): "You've got some nerve, asking us to be careful with this Zimmerman chap! With the sort of risks you've been taking? Don't you realise how easily you could have been found out, all for some unnecessary surgery?" Julian (painfully restrained): "I don't expect you to understand, father, but it was necessary for me." Amsha (sadly): "Your father's just looking out for you, Jules. Try to understand that."

Misunderstandings abound when talking to Miles*, but eventually it's cleared up that Julian's parents are shit.

Cue a lot of anger (and a lot more anger than Julian thought anyone would feel. Because, you know, when you grow up knowing that your parents aren't the most accepting people, you figure that's just what some parents are like, rather than assuming yours are among the most outliers of outliers...)

Miles tells Julian he should talk to Sisko and get his parents kicked off the station. Julian's like, "That's a nice idea, but the captain can't just do that unless he's got a good reason" and Miles is like "You do know that persistently misgendering someone is literally a Federation hate crime, right?"

The Bashirs of course deny any wrongdoing. Richard gets angry, claiming "it's a family matter". Amsha starts crying about how unfair it all is.

"You have to understand, Captain -- she's been our daughter for over thirty years. We know Jules is angry with us but please, she knows that we love her really. If you could just let us talk to her--"

Sisko is fuming. "I might believe you cared if you had made any attempt to get Julian's gender right." "You don't know what it's like!" Amsha protests. "This is all so sudden!" "I know exactly what it's like!" Ben snaps back. "And I'll tell you, I didn't for a second consider telling Jake that I didn't believe him, or that he must be mistaken, or that he needed to be patient with my mistakes. In fact, I made sure as hell that I didn't make mistakes. There's no case here, as far as I'm concerned. You're both confined to quarters until the next shuttle arrives."

So I guess in the aftermath of all that, Julian's enhancements never get revealed. Even if the Bashirs were to make an apology, Miles would shut the hologram down, now he knows what Julian's parents are like.

But I think they probably feel too betrayed to try and make an apology, even a bad one.

So yeah, they're forced off the station and Julina actually gets, like, support and stuff from his friends!

Also, for like, a month afterwards, all of Molly and Yoshi's bedtime stories have trans main characters because Miles is low-key anxious about them ever starting to feel like Julian had about it not being okay.

(Keiko catches onto this and just happens to invite Julian around one night when it's storytime. Molly gets Julian to read her book. It's cute.)

(Afterwards, he enthuses about how he wishes he'd had books like that when he was a kid. And that's... sad.)

About two months later, when enough time has passed that Jadzia can pretend this isn't about Julian (although it totally is), Jadzia gets Quark and Jake involved in digging up some Earth history and holding a stationwide Pride celebration. (Julian appreciates both the gesture and the pretense.)

Garak makes some huffy comment to Julian about how "of course the Federation would have a whole festival devoted to degeneracy". Julian rolls his eyes and is about to take the bait, when he suddenly realises, "Wait, didn't Dukat once accuse you of being a degenerate?" "Wholly unsubstantiated claims, my dear Doctor." "Of course," Julian agrees sagely. "Although," he adds, a grin dancing across his lips, "if you ever find yourself wanting to substantiate them, Mister Garak..."

*The Misunderstandings:

"No offense, Julian, but you look wrecked. Is everything okay?"

Not meeting Miles' eyes, Julian takes a breath, as if to compose himself. "Let's just say that my parents are not exactly taking the news that I'm trans well."

In the moment, Miles chooses the wrong part of the sentence to focus on. "Wait, you're trans?"

Julian shrugs unhappily, a flash of anxiety passing over his face. "That doesn't... change how you feel about me, does it?" he asks hesitantly.

"'Course not!" replies Miles. "It's a bit of a surprise, I'll give you that, but-- No, sorry, I mean: what pronouns do you want me to use? Do you want to go by a different name?"

Before Julian can respond, Miles has another thought. "And what do you mean, your parents aren't taking this well? You're their son! -- Sorry, daughter-- offspring-- their child, I mean--"

"Hold up, Chief," Julian says, shaking his head in bemusement. "I'm still Julian. I'm very much a man. My parents just didn't know that until... yesterday."

"You never told them?"

"No."

"For how long?"

"Twelve years, if you're counting from when I first came out. More like twenty if you go from when I first knew."

"Jesus." Miles runs a hand through his hair. "Well, at least that explains why they're mad. That's an awfully big thing to hide from your own parents, Julian."

Julian grimaces. "I know," he replies, looking down. "It wasn't exactly brave, I guess but... I don't know. It was easier to cope with being misgendered because they didn't know, than being misgendered on purpose, you know?"

Being misgendered on purpose? This is such a bizarre statement, so at odds with what Miles knows of the world, that it takes him a minute to try and wrap his head around it.

"I'm lost, I'm afraid," he says eventually. "I can't, um-- Julian, what happened when you told your parents?"