#I hate it when people chew with their mouths open

[deadrlngers]

oc deep dive

i was tagged by @devilbrakers and @ruvviks thank you both soso much <3

tagging (no pressure): @marictheirins @mojaves @lucaanis @faarkas @kibellah @risingsh0t @pawnguild @baelavelaryon @ncytiri @tethrras @aezyrraesh and anyone else that would like to do this!!

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Abandonment. Her own mother left her when she was nothing but a child so it got ingrained into her system that something about her isn’t right or enough, or both, to make people stick around in the long run.

Forgetting or in general losing her memory. This is mainly a repercussion of what she went through with the relic and Johnny. Basically the idea of missing pieces and bits of her life terrifies her. That leads to the fear of losing her identity, losing herself basically. Who am i? Who was i before this? Am i still myself? etc etc

The ocean. She’s not exactly scared of water (she actually has no problem with swimming or pools for example) but very large bodies of water that she can’t see the end of unsettle her. Also needles don’t really make her feel...relaxed.

Do they have any pet peeves?

Vesper HATES being bossed around, she’s the one bossing around others and she likes to keep it that way lmao

Slow drivers make her road rage explode which is already hanging by a thin thread in a city like night city. Loud chewing/people who eat with their mouth open irk her, it might even make her too disgusted to keep on eating herself.

Being touched by strangers and people she doesn’t know well. Being lied to grinds her balls into dust, especially when the other person knows she’s aware of their lies but they keep on playing the part (this is basically Fenix, sorry).

People that are too passive and don’t take action and sit on the possibilities for too long; she hates waiting around and prefers action to inaction.

Dare i say rich people? But more in the sense of...she’s annoyed by very big displays of wealth. She grew up almost into poverty so she’s very prejudiced towards anyone that instead grew up wealthy (<her own brother for example AND step-siblings). When she hears people mindlessly talk about money Vesper is very quick to judge them as “out of touch with reality”.

What are three items you can find in their bedroom?

Cigarettes, empty packs included because she forgets to throw them away and sometimes she stores things inside the packs like lighters and other small objects (and forgets about them too...)

At least one gun near her nightstand, just to be safe.

Lots of polaroids, mostly taken by someone else and gifted to her. Some date back to her teenage years, some are with old friends no longer in her life, others see her and Fenix back when they first dated. She cares about one that portrays her and Daniel during a dinner most of all: since they grew up separated, that's the very first photo she has with her brother.

What do they notice first in a person?

Demeanor and...their ego, if it makes sense. If their self-esteem or sense of self-importance is sky high she will notice immediately (and already settle on disliking them). Vesper likes confidence, she’s attracted to it, but overdoing it breaks the spell.

Then their intentions–are they here to talk? Attack? Flirt? Ask questions? Basically she’s already scanning for hints that will tell her why they decided to approach her. Body language is a big one as well. Then eyes and smell, if they are close enough.

A beautiful, charming smile catches her eye immediately.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Physically: 9. She wasn’t called the iron maiden for nothing during her boxing days. She can take one hell of a hard beating and still stay on her feet. It doesn’t help that she gets very careless with it at times and she pushes her body to the limit even when she’s already bleeding and in pain (the infamous Akira vs Vesper fight during Hanako’s kidnapping is a good example; Akira is a special trained soldier and has very expensive cyberware that specifically focuses on enhancing their physical strength. Suffice to say Fenix was K.O after a few hits while Vesper stood her ground and even inflicted a few serious hits to Akira. They might be enemies but Akira developed a sense of respect for Vesper after that).

Mentally: 8. Composed, resolved, focused–she doesn’t give a fuck about what you will say to her, quite honestly. Good luck trying to get through her. Vesper is pretty confident, the most you might get out of her is a scoff or a mocking smirk. Bark like a dog you are below me moron type of deal. Plus she went through some Shit her whole life, she’s kind of used to it by now. Also she firmly believes that she needs to be the real strength to her loved ones, too many people look up to her and she can’t allow any weakness.

Emotionally: 4. She tries to hold it together, thinks she’s not showing how upset or hurt she is but it’s very visible on her face. Her main issue is rage–and her first emotional reaction–so she tends to lash out very quickly. She tries to keep in control with the people she loves (and often fails when pushed too far) but she’s a complete tornado with the rest of the world. It’s hard to break through her shell and she doesn’t allow many to get to the core, her heart. Giving someone that much power over her emotions is something that scares her. If hurt by a loved one she will feel that deeply and for a long time…and she isn’t very fair with the making up afterwards.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? (Or freeze or fawn?)

In a hostile situation it’s fight, no doubt. She doesn’t shy away from a fight and prefers a physical resolution to mediation.

In any other situation i think maybe freeze, start a verbal fight most likely. She’s not really the type to fawn. More than freeze she shuts down completely and grows this incredibly thick second skin that doesn’t break under any pressure or hit, she will simply go silent and unresponsive.

What animal represents them best?

This is a difficult one for me but i’m going with an otter! A bit uncommon maybe but otters are fairly peaceful animals, some more solitary, but they can be aggressive when necessary and some tend to be territorial which is exactly how i perceive Vesper. Not a danger if you don’t bother her, but show yourself as a threat and she can get very hostile. Also i read somewhere otters love to cuddle, idk if it’s true but it would fit. Also Fenix has her contact saved as otter girl and sends her photos of otters and says “you” so i’m picking them.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Intimidating. She’s 1.84m with wide shoulders and muscular arms, plus her expression (even when relaxed!) doesn’t look very friendly or approachable. Standoffish, stoic, distant, maybe a touch apathetic. Basically if you approach her you will feel like you are doing the mortal sin of bothering her and for that you will be sentenced to death. This idea can be quickly proved wrong, just please don’t bring to her stupid, time-wasting inquiries.

Interesting but reserved. And a presence that exudes safety also. If you are into the stoic type who doesn’t express much at first you will be naturally attracted to uncovering more of her.

Appearance wise people notice her physical presence, then the few scars on her face and the star tattoo right below her right eye. Also when she was younger she used to have gold fangs that naturally caught people’s eye. It’s not uncommon to see Vesper sporting a few bruises here and there so she’s either perceived as a troublemaker or the “too cool for me to approach” type. Depends on the stranger.

It’s very unlikely that she’d smile at a stranger but her smile would be described as beautiful. The little star tattoo makes the smile look all more warm when it reaches her eyes, the sensation is akin to looking at a twinkling star!!

Do they have any hobbies?

Partying (she’s surprisingly the right company you’d want to have fun with), dancing and specifically ballroom dance (latin mainly; bachata, cha cha cha etc etc), playing her bass guitar, listening to music, tinkering around with her motorbike and boxing. Even if she left that life behind her, Vesper still keeps exercising–both for its usefulness on her line of work and because it’s a great outlet for stress and anger.

Daniel is trying very hard to drag her into gaming, still a work in progress.

[benitsu69official]

2 sentence horror made by myself because I dont have reddit

as I eat lunch with my friends everything seemed perfect and nothing could ruin this moment

"hello" said my misophonia

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[yuujispinkhair]

Bad Boy - Good Toy

Sukuna is used to girls throwing themselves at him, begging him to dominate them. He never met any resistance. He never met any challenge. Until he meets you, and suddenly, the bad boy becomes nothing but a willing fucktoy.

There is now a Part 02

Pairing: Sub!Sukuna x Dom!Reader (female) Genre: smut, College AU Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, degradation, humiliation, edging, exhibitionism, voyeurism, smoking, mentions of drugs, sharing chewing gum, facesitting, squirting, abs-riding, overstimulation, Sukuna cums untouched, piss (Reader pees on Sukuna to humiliate him, and he likes it). Reader calls Sukuna slut, fucktoy and fuckdoll. Unhealthy relationship dynamics. Reader and Sukuna don't talk about limits or safe words. Sukuna is ok with everything Reader does to him, but please be aware that this isn't the way a sub/dom relationship is supposed to be in real life. I just wanted things to be a bit fucked up in this story ;) Divider @/benkeibear

Sukuna is bored. So fucking bored. Bored with college in general, bored of the parties that are always the same, bored of the drugs that don't give him the kick he craves anymore. Even sex is boring nowadays. He sighs as his gaze brushes over the girl kneeling between his spread legs. He didn't bother asking for her name. He thinks she might be in his history course. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

He doesn't even bother to hide from view, letting her suck him off in the back of the dimly lit living room on some ratty couch, while a few meters away, people are dancing and drinking and singing along to songs that Sukuna hates. She is eager, bopping her mouth on his dick enthusiastically, humming around him, and hollowing her cheeks like a champ. But he feels nothing at all. He isn't even sure he can cum tonight. It's like he is numb to everything. The nameless girl moans around his dick, and Sukuna grabs his phone to send his brother a message.

Where are you, brat? I want to leave.

He doesn't get a reply and instead checks his group chats and e-mails while the girl between his legs slurps loudly on his tip. Sukuna huffs in annoyance and lets his bored gaze travel through the room. It lands on a girl in a red t-shirt who is looking in his direction. You are sipping your drink casually while you unashamedly watch him getting his dick sucked.

It makes him grin broadly. Finally, a little bit of entertainment. Maybe he will manage to cum just to give that little voyeur a good show. And afterward, he can take you to one of the bedrooms and fuck you. Or maybe do it right here on that couch, too.

He winks at you. A smile spreads over your face, but it's not the smile Sukuna usually sees on the faces of the girls he plans to fuck. It's the kind of smile he sees in the mirror. A smile that means trouble. His cock twitches, and he groans softly.

He doesn't break eye contact, and neither do you. Sukuna raises an eyebrow challengingly, smirking at you, daring you to come over while he gets his dick sucked. His stomach flips when you really start walking towards him.

Sukuna's pulse accelerates when you stop right next to him. You let your gaze travel from his face down to his cock, watching it bop in and out of that other girl's mouth. You chuckle. It's not a nice sound.

"Aww, do you have problems cumming, Sukuna? Is your dick not working?"

For a stunned second, Sukuna just blinks at you, mouth hanging open. The resident bad boy rendered speechless for the first time in his life. And then he throws his head back and laughs, and simultaneously, he feels his balls tighten.

"If you get on all fours, I will show you just how good my dick works, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms in front of your breasts, looking at him with a bored and unimpressed expression.

"What makes you think I would let you get anywhere near me with that dick of yours. I don't want dirty, good-for-nothing sluts like you."

"What did you just call me?"

But his response lacks the bite. Instead, he sounds breathless, and his hand tightens on the couch as his cock twitches in the other girl's mouth. Fuck, it feels so good all of a sudden.

You smile that dangerous smile again and lean closer, your flowery perfume filling Sukuna's nose, and you repeat your words to him, slowly, overly accentuated as if he is stupid,

"Dirty. Good-for-nothing. Slut."

A raw groan spills from Sukuna's throat, and his hips buck off the couch, making the girl between his legs choke on his cock, as he nuts so hard into her mouth that she's spluttering his cum everywhere.

He stares wide-eyed at your smug face as the gears in his mind shift at lightspeed. What the fuck just happened?

The girl between his legs climbs onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, and tries to kiss him, but Sukuna turns his face to the side, looking at you instead,

"Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?"

"Why? Enjoyed it too much, and now you are scared of how your body betrayed you, little slut?"

You laugh and turn around, walking away while you lift a hand in a mocking little wave, and Sukuna stares after you with his mind whirling and his cock still throbbing.

He wakes up the next morning with a strange feeling in his gut. Something is different.

And after a moment, he realizes what it is when the memories from last night come back, and his eyes widen, and a whispered curse falls from his lips. The encounter with you replays in his mind just like it did countless times before he managed to fall asleep last night. Your cruel smile and the sadistic glint in your eyes. The way his body reacted to it.

He is so used to everyone cowering before him. So used to everyone submitting to him so willingly. All those countless girls throwing themselves at him, begging him to please let them suck his dick, obeying his every command, asking him if they can please call him daddy during fucking.

He never met any resistance. He never met any challenge. One look from him and the girls were practically on their backs with their legs spread like some animal in heat.

No one ever talked to him the way you did. Or looked at him that way. As if he is worthless trash in your eyes. Your words resonate in his brain. "You dirty, good-for-nothing slut."

Fuck! It turns him on. It makes him achingly hard even now. He turns onto his back and shoves a hand into his pants. He jerks off so furiously that his wrist hurts, making a huge mess all over himself when he cums to the thought of you calling him a useless brat.

Sukuna isn't the same man he was 24 hours ago.

He totally doesn't look for you on campus on Monday morning. It is totally a coincidence that he slides up to you when you pull out a package of strawberry bubble gum from the vending machine. It's definitely not like he followed you around like a puppy for a whole hour until he finally got his shit together and decided to approach you.

"Strawberry flavor, huh? Wouldn't have thought that a foul person like you would pick such a sweet flavor."

You eye him lazily, eyes never leaving his as you tear open the packaging and put one of the pastel pink bubble gums into your mouth before you grace him with a reply.

"Oh, shut up. An attitude like that doesn't fit a pretty boy like you. Learn to behave, and then we can talk again."

Sukuna feels his lips lift in his trademark smirk as that weird, exhilarating sensation fills his veins again. He is enjoying himself far too much. He braces himself against the vending machine, his large hands on both sides of your face, caging you in, towering over you, while he smirks down at you.

But you don't seem intimidated at all by his height and muscular figure and the tattoos on his face. Instead, you smile at him and cock your head to the side, eyeing him expectantly as if you are waiting for him to do something.

He leans down, bringing his face closer to yours.

"Can I have a gum too? Please? See, I can behave very well."

His voice has dropped to his usual flirty, seductive tone, which he always uses on girls. The tone that always drives them crazy and makes them drop their panties faster than they can say his name.

You flutter your lashes exaggeratedly at him, smiling a sickeningly fake angelic smile as you open your mouth and pull out your gum.

"Ok, you can have one since you asked so politely. Open up, slut."

He laughs when you push the used gum to his lips, but Sukuna isn't one to back down, so he grabs your small hand, wraps his tattooed hand around your wrist, and opens his mouth. He licks your fingers, lets his tongue-piercing glide over your fingertips, and sucks the used bubble gum into his mouth.

You gaze deeply into his eyes, looking amused.

"You didn't even say thank you, Sukuna. You are still such a useless and rude brat."

You turn on your heel and leave him standing there like some rejected loser, and he chews the gum that tastes like strawberry and your spit and feels his cock twitch against his sweatpants.

Sukuna sees you again on Saturday at another party. Two girls danced with him and asked him if he wanted to fuck them both upstairs in one of the bedrooms, but he turned them down, not even able to grasp why.

Until he walks into the kitchen and sees you. And suddenly, things fall into place.

Why bother with those random girls when the one he really wants is you? You are the only one who poses a challenge. The only one who makes his skin tingle with excitement. The only one who makes him feel like he is still alive and not some fucking ghost.

He leans against the fridge and watches you while he lights a cigarette. He smokes it in silence, just smirking at you and hoping you will come over and call him a slut again. Or any other degrading name you can think of. Sukuna isn't picky.

You walk over to him, a few drags into his cigarette, and stop in front of him, so close that he can smell your sweet perfume again. And you smile that smile that isn't sweet at all as you reach up and take the cigarette from Sukuna's lips. Your eyes never leave his as you bring his half-smoked cigarette to your mouth, wrapping your lips with the red lipstick around the filter right where Sukuna's lips were a moment ago, and the sight is so sexy to him that Sukuna has to bite his lip not to moan.

You take a deep drag, and your eyes close for a moment as the nicotine fills your senses before they open again to gaze up at Sukuna through your long lashes, grinning as you slowly blow the smoke right into Sukuna's face.

He laughs, pushing himself off the fridge, stepping closer to you, so close that his hips brush against you,

"You know what that means, right princess? Blowing smoke in someone's face?"

"Who doesn't know that?"

You roll your eyes and look at him as if he is stupid, and he can't help but place his large hands on your waist and drawl in his best bedroom voice,

"So, you admit you want to fuck me?"

You smirk back at him as you push his hands off your waist, sounding dismissive when you shrug and say,

"You have a pretty face and a good body. And I am horny right now. So why not? And you are probably a good fuck, with all that practice you had."

"What makes you so sure I want to fuck you?"

"Oh, don't be silly. You won't say no. A slut like you never does. Everyone knows you are easy."

Sukuna doesn't bother telling you that he just turned down two hot chicks half an hour ago. He lets you grab his hand and pull him along, and he follows you with a broad smirk on his tattooed face.

His cock is already pressing against his jeans when his crotch brushes over your ass when you pull him up the stairs. His mind is hazy, thoughts clouded over by lust, finally feeling that sweet, exciting buzzing again that he missed so much.

You pull him into one of the bedrooms, yank off his t-shirt, and push him onto the bed. Or you try to. You push against his broad chest, not able to move him an inch, but he plays along and lets himself fall onto the bed, looking up at you with heavy-lidded maroon eyes and his throbbing erection leaking pre-cum into his pants like some pathetic little virgin before his first fuck.

Sukuna licks his lips when he watches you reach under your skirt and take off your panties. That's the only thing you take off before you join him on the bed, straddling his thighs, making him smirk at you like the devil that he is,

"So eager to get my cock inside you that you can't even be bothered to get naked, princess?"

"Shut up, slut. Good boys don't talk unless I allow it."

Your little hands are on his belt, opening it, unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling down the zipper, making Sukuna's hips twitch when your hand rubs over his boxer-clad erection. He knows he is acting pathetic right now, cock so eager, already staining the fabric of his boxer briefs with a ridiculously huge amount of pre-cum. But fuck it, he is finally turned on again, finally excited to fuck again after all those months of feeling bored.

He pushes his hard cock against your hand, but you pull away again, smiling that devilish smile at him as you crawl on top of him.

Sukuna laughs breathlessly when you hover above his face, letting him know what you want from him. His large hands reach out to run slowly up the back of your thighs before they cup your ass cheeks, and he pulls you down onto his face.

He groans when your hot wet pussy settles on his tattooed face. Fuck, he always heard his brother go on and on about how hot he finds it when a girl sits on his face with a skirt and no panties. Sukuna had never found it so fascinating until now. Until it is you, and you tell him in that emotionless voice,

"Get to work, my little slut. If you make me squirt, you will get a reward."

He turns his face and moans against your inner thigh, leaving a kiss there,

"And what will my reward be?"

"I'll allow you to cum."

Allow him to cum?

Fuck. The words alone make Sukuna throb in his boxer briefs, another pearl of pre-cum leaking out of him.

"Then stop acting like a squeamish virgin and sit on my face for real."

"I told you to shut up, brat."

"Then shut me up with your pussy."

Sukuna grabs your ass cheeks tightly and pulls you down further, making you sit on his face for real. He isn't just a good fuck. He is the best fuck, and he will prove it to you!

He sucks your little swollen clit into his mouth and laughs when you gasp loudly. You grab his hair, tugging on it, making him groan as the slightly painful sensation goes directly to his throbbing cock. And he spoils your pussy like the slut that he is. Teases your clit with the stiff tip of his tongue and pushes the metal ball of his tongue piercing under the hood of your clit until you tremble and moan loudly.

He gets really into it, fucks you with his tongue and sucks savagely on your clit, eats you so good that it only takes a few minutes until you let out a high-pitched squeal and buck wildly against his face.

Hot, sticky liquid gushes over his lips, and you rock against him, voice breathless but still so stern,

"Open your eyes. Watch me cum all over your pretty face. Yeah, take it all, you little slut. Drink it all up."

Sukuna's eyes meet yours, and he moans, and his hips buck involuntarily, cock so desperate that he is rutting against thin air while pulsing pre into his boxer briefs.

He drinks you up, pushes his pierced tongue deeply into your twitching pussy, and licks it all up, basking in the way you mewl his name for a split second before you regain control and run a hand through his tousled pink hair, smoothing it down again,

"You are a good little fucktoy, Sukuna. Well done."

Sukuna's cock throbs at your words, and he blinks in surprise. Ok, so it's not just degradation that gets him excited, but also praise? Well, he is so fucked. So thoroughly fucked, and he loves every second of it!

You climb off his face, kneeling on the bed beside him, and let your small hands trail down Sukuna's defined pecs and his taut abs, following his tattoos down to the hem of his boxer briefs.

"You have such a nice body, Sukuna. The perfect little fucktoy. And what about that pretty cock? Is he perfect too, hm?"

A breathy gasp falls from his lips when you run a single finger over the thick bulge in his boxer briefs, slowly running up and down his whole throbbing length. Just a light, teasing touch, but it makes his vision blurry and pulls a desperate-sounding whine from his mouth.

It's so fucking humiliating. He's making such pathetic noises. But he simply can't bring himself to care. Not when he finally feels alive again when he is with you. His low voice is thick with need when he whispers,

"You said you would make me cum."

"Uh uh, I didn't say I would make you cum, sweetheart. I said I will allow you to cum. Let's see how things will go. Let's see how excited my little fucktoy will get. Don't forget what you are here for, Sukuna, baby. You are in this bed to serve me."

"Fuck..."

It takes all of Sukuna's willpower to not shove a hand into his boxer briefs and relieve that fucking pressure.

You straddle him again, sit on his abs this time, rubbing yourself on them, making him gasp when he feels how wet and hot your pussy is and how you spread your cream all over him. It's sexy. Nasty, just as he likes it.

Sukuna can see your face now, and it makes his chest fill with elation when he sees the fucked out expression on your face as you slide over his firm abs, rubbing your little clit against his hard muscles, your eyes closing and lips hanging open dumbly when you moan so sweetly and twitch on his stomach, reaching another orgasm on him.

He could sneak a hand behind you, could jack off behind your back, but he doesn't do it. He wants to be your good little toy.

You don't stop but keep rutting against him, your fingernails digging into the swell of Sukuna's pecs, leaving their crescent-moon-shaped marks there as you abuse your puffy clit further on his abs.

And Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you ride his abs, grinning as he hears your harsh breathing and feels you starting to tense up again. Another loud squeal tumbles out of your mouth, and Sukuna is about to taunt you for being so horny for him that you cum on him three times in a row when he feels something hot and wet on his abs, much more than during your other two orgasms.

You hum and grind against him as more wetness flows out of you and onto Sukuna's stomach, warm and sweet-smelling, and Sukuna's gaze snaps to yours in understanding.

You laugh and rub yourself against him, smiling that devilish smile as you pee on him. And he can't hold back the loud moan falling from his lips, can't stop his cock from twitching, almost cumming in his boxer briefs.

"You like that, you fucking pervert? Yeah, Sukuna? You like getting peed on? Well, I have more for you, my nasty boy."

You slide off him, hands grabbing his boxer briefs and pulling them down, finally freeing his aching cock. Sukuna groans when it springs up, bouncing lightly, rock-hard, pre-cum dripping down from it onto his abs.

You throw one leg over his thighs, kneeling over his stiff cock, and then more piss rains down from your hot cunt and onto Sukuna's cock.

And Sukuna moans and curses loudly as his back arches off the bed, and he cums all over himself, untouched, shooting hot ropes of cum out of his tip, all over his abs, and over your cunt that's hovering above him.

His vision goes black for a moment, and his breath comes out in loud, harsh huffs, his whole body shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. He thinks he never came so hard in his life.

You laugh and finally sit down on Sukuna's twitching cock, letting it glide between your wet folds, making him buck against you. But you don't let him push inside you. You just rub your wet cunt slowly over his spent length, watching with an amused smile as you milk every last spurt of cum out of Sukuna while you let more pee trickle over his cock, mixing his cum with your piss.

Sukuna's heart is beating so fast that he feels lightheaded. And the overstimulation makes him sob, makes his oversensitive cock ache and twitch, but oh, how he craves this sweet pain. He lets his head fall back on the pillow, letting more low moans spill from his lips, eyes closing as he pushes his slowly softening cock between your pussy lips, whimpering softly anytime that delicious pain pulses in his length.

He doesn't know how long it takes before you stop moving on him and slip off his lap. But he sighs when the sticky heat of your cunt leaves his cock.

The bed creaks as you crawl up to him to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, whispering in his ear,

"You are such a mess, Sukuna. Such a cute mess for me. I'm excited to see what else you can give me, my little fuckdoll."

You leave him lying there on top of the blanket, his cock pulsing hotly from the overstimulation, mind hazy with post-coital bliss, chest heaving with heavy breaths, skin sticky from his cum, and your squirt and pee.

It's disgusting, and he should feel embarrassed, but he can't help but moan softly as a small smile creeps over his face. Sukuna feels satisfied like he hasn't felt in months. He hopes you will use him again as your personal fucktoy very soon.

FUCKTOY SUKUNA, I WANT YOU 💗💗 I wrote the first draft of this story a while ago and then thought I wouldn't dare publish it because it's too nasty, but I changed my mind, lol. I hope it was ok and that my fellow sub!Sukuna enjoyers accept this treat ;)

There will be a second part!! The story got too long, and there would have been too many sex scenes, so I decided to split it.

Thank you so much for reading 💗 Reblogs and comments would be very sweet!

HERE IS PART 02

[bbieangel]

Sticky

Joel Miller x F!Reader (18+)

mdni please

You and Joel find another way to make the summer heat more bearable.

tags: smut (duh), food play (popsicle), anal play, creampie, unprotected p in v (do not! do this! pls!), kind of? oral (f receiving), praising, dirty talk (joel doesn't know how to shut up and we love him for that), mentions of gagging (once), reader is abled, afab reader. joel is 20 years older. idk if I forgot anything else.

word count: 9.2k

a/n: this is just another level –for me, at least– of things I wouldn't normally write. please take my phone away? thanks. I think I was possessed when I came up with this. anyways! hope you enjoy.

this was inspired by If You Like Piña Coladas by @gutsby ! it was amazingly written, I loved it and after reading it I came up with this idea. <3

as always, please enjoy and lmk what you think! reblogs, likes and comments are always deeply appreciated 🫶🏻

It all started when you were out on patrol, scavenging and rummaging through abandoned places, looking for supplies to take back to Jackson.

"Anything, really." Maria told you, as the warmer weather was approaching and you needed anything that would help keep people cool. Especially the elders, kids and babies.

Could a horse carry a whole fan back to Jackson? Not possibly. So Joel got to disassemble it while you took the opportunity to look through every drawer, cabinet and box.

"Joel, look!" You said, holding up some molds. They were the kind that you would fill up with juice and fruit, then put the sticks in them to make a popsicle. Maybe it wouldn't keep you cool, but it was a nice distraction.

Joel chuckled as he saw them. He remembered making those with Sarah every summer in a desperate attempt to keep his daughter in a somehow manageable mood, as she hated the heat and made her irritable. You could see the shimmer in his eyes, the kind that showed up every time he thought of his daughter. He has recently started to open up about her, and you didn't really push him to do it: just let him.

"We should keep those." He replied. "Maybe try making some back at home."

The idea sounded fantastic, and there were more molds as you kept scavenging. Maybe you could even make them and offer them at the town hall for people to feast on while they fought the intense rays of sun.

Once back home, you got to work. Joel helped by squeezing the oranges as well as cutting up strawberries and apples, the kitchen ending up a fruity mess. But you didn't mind, if anything, it made your heart flutter at the sight. It was domestic, tender, to be cooking together. Making a snack to make the summer heat a little more bearable for the both of you.

You set them inside the fridge and honestly, forgot about them until two days later until Joel brought them up. The two of you were plopped on the couch, fanning yourself with magazines as you tried to pay attention to the TV with that old DVD player plugged into it, playing a movie Joel had made you watch more times that you could count on.

You were distracted, and you knew it. And he would be a liar if he said he wasn't. Your cause of distraction? The way Joel's cheeks were slightly flushed, sweat trickling down his tanned neck, how the popsicle would drip down his veiny hands. How he would lick it, God, why couldn't he lick you instead? And he was suffering from the same twisted thoughts. The way your lips would wrap around the popsicle.. he was almost sure you were doing it on purpose. Pushing it inside your mouth and pulling it out with a plop! He could think of the times you'd done that with his cock before, the image being burned inside his eyelids.

He couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't pretend he wasn't affected by you.

"It take you that long to finish that thing?" He spoke up, his voice slightly hoarse from hiding his desire for too. damn. long.

"What do you mean?"

You asked as you bit into it and chewed a smile piece of the ice thing, then swallowed it. His eyes followed the movement of your throat and oh, you knew.

He wanted to erase that shit-eating grin off your face with the tip of his cock, smearing his precum all over your—

"You know what I mean. You're doing it on purpose."

"And you aren't?" You leaned forward, and that made him feel like he'd been caught red-handed. Truth was that, yes, he had been slurping at the thing like he would swallow your juices whenever he found himself on his favorite place on earth: between your legs.

"What if I am?"

"What if I am too?"

The silence between you grew thick, like a string that was taunt with too much tension. Until he snapped it, grabbing the popsicle and shoving it into your mouth. You tried to protest by whining his name.

"Shut up." He spoke as he quickly worked to take off your shorts. He pushed them down and immediately placed his head between your legs, making you open your mouth so much that the popsicle almost fell. He caught it and put it back into your mouth.

"Keep suckin' it, sweetheart. Don't stop 'til I tell ya so."

And you obliged, a small smile on your face as you loved experimenting new things with your man. He licked a long stripe over your damp underwear, making you close your legs around his head. He was quick to separate them and nuzzle his nose against the cotton of it, inhaling your scent. You would be embarrassed if he hadn't done it like a hundred times before. It was nothing new.

"Joel.." You whined, almost pleaded as you gripped his hair. You kept eating the popsicle, licking and slurping at it to provoke him even more. And did he notice.

He looked up at you, eyes dark from his pupils occupying almost his whole irises. He took a finger and pushed at your entrance, penetrating you with your underwear.

"You take what I give you." He reminded you. Your mouth felt open at the sudden contact, aching to be filled. Some of the juice spilled down your chin and onto your chest, and he looked at it like it was the most attractive, sexy thing he'd ever seen. He pumped his fingers a couple of times before his patience broke.

"Damn it, darlin'. I swear I'm tryin' to take my time but today just won't be the case." He spoke, before pushing down his own clothes and your underwear flew God knows where.

He sat you on his lap, pressing you down against the evidence of the effect you had on him. Gently, never being rough, pushed your legs open with his knees and held you like that.

"Oh, look at 'er.. Already cryin' for me, baby?"

He teased, and brought two of his fingers at your slick. You squirmed on his lap, breathing ragged as you tried to find something to hold onto. But he didn't let you.

Instead, with those two fingers, he parted your lips open and looked down at your glistening cunt. It was gaping, closing around air as if it was already preparing itself for the stretch that Joel's length would be.

But.. he didn't do it. Not yet. He pulled the popsicle out of your mouth and pressed it against your hole. Your eyes widened and you gasped for air at the cold sensation, telling him that he couldn't do that, that it was wrong, that—

"Beggin' to be filled, isn't she?" He murmured, hot breath against your ear. He didn't really care about you trying to be cautious, he knew that deep down you didn't care about that either. You wanted to be filled, and he was a man that took your wishes seriously. He placed the popsicle in front of you so you could see it before he slowly trusted it inside of you. You cried out and he hushed you softly.

"Oh, I know, I know." He cooed at you. "She'll get used to it. Now take it."

And you trembled, fighting the internal battle of pulling his hand away or letting him fuck you senseless with a popsicle. The sticky, orange, freezing cold stick was melting inside of you. And every time Joel pulled it out and pushed it back down, some would drip out of your hole. Juices mixed with whatever blend of fruit you poured into those molds, all dripping down to the floor.

You could sense Joel's eyes locked on it, his breath becoming more labored than he would like to admit. He would beg to clean up that mess with his own tongue if it meant tasting your tangy, slightly sour slick.

"Takin' it so good, princess. Look at you. 's it feel good?" He asked, whispering against your ear. You couldn't see him but you knew that he looked pussy drunk, that grin on his face that told you he was high just from watching you take a popsicle or whatever he pushed inside of you.

You were a mess. Hair sticking to your forehead as the old ceiling fan wasn't strong enough to cool down any of you. Your own back felt sticky and hot against Joel's chest. But did he mind? No. He loved every liquid that would come out of you, even your sweat. He had eaten you out after being hours on patrol, sweat pooling in every fold of your body. But he just couldn't wait until you showered. That summed up how little Joel cared about any of that stuff.

Your head fell back against his shoulder and you shut your eyes closed as he stretched you further with the popsicle, the sounds were almost enough to make you want to hide your face in the crook of his neck out of embarrassment. They were almost pornographic, and you felt Joel's cock twitching underneath your ass.

"Joel—Please!" You cried out. "I want it. Please. I can—"

The popsicle was shoved into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue and making you gag softly as he went a little too deep. You could taste yourself in it, and it turned you on even more. Joel was tired of your cries, he would give you what he wanted when he wanted it.

"Hold it." He commanded and you held the popsicle, drool dripping out of it and into your chest, making an orange mess.

With his hands now free, he pushed your hips forward and up, lining the red, unattended tip of his dick against your entrance. You squirmed and cried, voice muffled by the long, cold stick.

"Shh, sh, sh. I got you, sweetheart."

I whispered and pulled you down against it with one swift move, having little to no mercy with your aching hole. He pushed on your lower back and you leaned forward as he started moving his hips deliberately, kissing your cervix every time he went up. He moaned at the sight of orange juice still pouring out of you, coating his cock along with your slick.

"What a sight, baby. I bet.."

He took the popsicle out of your mouth, and you panted for air. Your moans and soft cries filled the room as he filled you, stuffed you full to leave you limping for a week.

"..It'll look prettier like this." You almost didn't hear him, the pleasure overtaking you.. *almost*. But he made sure you did, at least, feel him when he pushed the popsicle into your rosebud, making the small hole stretch around it. He whimpered at the sight, something he never did. You gasped, holding onto the coffee table in front of you for dear life as you could swear you saw your soul leaving your body for good.

The squelching sounds, juices dripping everywhere making a mess around you two, was enough to make you near your orgasm. He pumped the thing in and out at the same rhythm as he raised his hips. You swore you'd never felt more full in your life, warm and cold at the same time in different places. He stared in awe, watching both of your holes swallow both him and the popsicle smoothly.

When Joel noticed that you were near, he picked up the pace of both: the popsicle that entered your anus with ease, melting and filling you to the brim, and his cock that you could swear you felt on your stomach.

"Thatta girl.. milk my cock, sweetheart. Yeah, good fucking girl."

He babbled nonsense, an indicator that he was close too. With not one, not two, but three thrusts he gripped your hips, biting down –gently– onto your shoulder as he painted your walls white with his seed. You could feel your legs twitching as his body trembled, your name coming out of his mouth in soft prayers. You followed quickly after him, closing your walls around his length in a way that almost got it hard again. You stayed there, bodies still intertwined and covered in fruit juices, panting for air until you both came back to reality.

He then scooped you up into his arms and carried you upstairs. He would clean up the mess later, he said as he guided you both into the shower. Once there, he made sure to clean up every dip and crevice of your body while you felt your eyelids drooping. He caressed your back gently and pressed soft kisses against your forehead and shoulders while rubbing you dry, making sure you were taken care of and never felt like any encounter was just to please him. Then, he carried you to bed and cuddled up against you, placing your head on his chest and running his fingers through your hair gently, like he always did to soothe you.

"We gotta make those more often. You know.. to survive the heat."

He murmured with a smirk as you drifted off to sleep. And all you could wonder was how the fuck did a man twenty years older than you have the stamina of a beast.

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: prt 3 of Mama Riley! One use of pronouns but it's nothing too gendered. Ignore any spelling error. I wrote part of this half asleep.)

Silence stretches out between you and Mama Riley. She's dropped an absolute bombshell of information so casually, as if it was like talking about the weather. And she's so confident in her statement, leaving no room for argument.

You're not entirely sure how to respond. But you manage to squeak out, “Is that so?” which is such a bad response. You can't help but cringe at yourself.

It makes Mama Riley laugh though. She really does like you. You're a firecracker, in her opinion, and she thinks you'd be good for Simon. But she promises that if you don't want to date him, that's okay. You two were friends before Simon caught feelings, and she won't let anything change that. She tells you to at least consider it.

You spend the next week considering it. Looking back over your interactions with Simon, knowing how he feels, it feels almost obvious. He's tense around you because he likes you. He keeps bringing you gifts and remembering your favorite drink because he likes you.

But where do your own feelings lie? You hated him in the beginning, and gradually warmed up to the mountain of a man. But do you have feelings for him? The thought process makes your head spin, and there's a weird feeling in your chest. The question is no closer to being answered.

Not until he returns from deployment. He's got a new scar on his ear, and there's a limp in his walk. Caught a knife in the side, just barely missed anything important, he informs you and his mum. And your heart clenches at the thought.

Before you can really think about it, you're scolding him for being so casual about being injured. He's got people who care about him, he can't be so flippant about these things. He has a reason to come home, so he needs to act like it. If not for his own sake, then for you and his mom.

Despite the fact that you're chewing him out, there's this tender look on his face, affection in his eyes. He quietly huffs out a ‘yes ma'am/sir’, and the warmth in his eyes is reflected by the warmth growing on your cheeks.

There's a pause, something heavy in the air. Simon opens his mouth, ready to say something, but the moment is broken when Mama Riley comes bustling into the living room, dinner plates in hand. Her eyes dart between the two of you for a moment, a knowing smile on her face. But she doesn't comment on anything, just passes out dinner and settles down on the loveseat.

Over the next few weeks, you and Simon have a lot of tense moments, ready to finally admit your feelings to each other. But each time is ruined by some interruption. Mama Riley interrupts, your phone rings. Once, the kids down the hall came running past, shrieking about the upcoming snowfall.

Poor Simon is trying not to totally lose it. This is the closest he's gotten to admitting his feelings, to have you finally, and every time something interrupts you. He doesn't want to mess this up. It needs to be perfect because, in his head, that's what you deserve, that's how he's going to win you over. Unbeknownst to Simon, he's already won your heart. He just needs to ask you out.

Once again, it's Mama Riley to the rescue. You three have a tradition: the days leading up to Simon's next deployment, you all spend the night at Mama Riley's flat together. Now, Simon's on leave for the next few weeks, but she can't bear to watch the two of you struggle like this.

So she invites you both over, insisting that it'll be nice to have you both over for something fun instead of sad. And then she conveniently remembers that she's got a book club tonight, and she leaves, telling you two to get comfy, watch a movie. She'll be back.

Now's a better time than never, especially since Mama Riley's practically given you the chance. She's gone all of two seconds, before you whip your attention onto Simon, blurting out, “Your mom told me you're in love with me. Is that true?”

[marvelfilth]

The mustache

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha crashes your date

Masterlist

You let a fake laugh bubble out of your mouth for what feels like a hundredth time this evening. Your date looks smug, her eyes trailing over your form, almost leering. She takes a sip of her wine and licks her lips slowly, daring you to look.

You don't.

You can almost hear Natasha say I told you so.

You clear your throat and take another bite of a perfectly made steak - the only saving grace of this disastrous date.

You mentally cringe, closing your eyes briefly. Objectively, the date is going well - she showed up on time, held the door for you, helped you to your seat and made perfect small talk, occasionally throwing in a joke or two. You can excuse her wandering eyes, knowing you've been throwing mixed signals all evening.

You nod along to whatever story she's telling, smiling and chuckling when it's appropriate. You barely resist the urge to excuse yourself. You chew on your lower lip, wondering how you allowed yourself to get in such a mess.

Your phone chimes once, screen lightning up with a new notification.

Natasha.

Yep. Here's your answer.

You look at your date, hating how different her smile is from your best friends. It's too large, too open and not even half as genuine. Natasha's smiles are small, barely noticeable, but they're enough to make your breath come short.

You sigh. You need to stop comparing your every date to Natasha.

“Do you mind if I take a look? It might be important,” you ask, reaching for your phone. She nods happily, waving the waiter over for another glass of wine.

How bad is it?

You snort, coughing immediately to cover up the sound and reaching for your glass.

Another message appears right in front of your eyes.

That bad?

You choke on your wine, discreetly looking around, but coming up short.

Six o'clock, dumbass.

You wait a moment and look right behind you, mouth falling open when you finally see her.

She's sitting three tables down, wearing your favorite hoodie and a black cap. With sunglasses covering her eyes. In a dimly lit restaurant. What makes you let out a strangled laugh, though, is a perfect old fashioned mustache glued right under her nose. She twirls both ends around her fingers, curling them up, before lowering her glasses and sending you an exaggerated wink.

The best spy in the world, the woman who made entire governments collapse, is sitting right behind you, looking like a child playing dress up.

You whip around, your face red, and wave off your date's concerned look. “I'm alright.”

She nods, all too happy to continue talking about all of the famous people she's met through her job.

You hide your phone under the table and shoot your best friend a text.

You're ridiculous

Her reply comes instantly.

And yet you love me.

Her words hit a little too close to home.

You are hopelessly in love with your best friend.

Another message comes through.

What's wrong?

You frown, eyes darting around. You didn't even do anything to warrant the question.

And don't even try to lie. I can tell something's wrong.

You sigh, tell Natasha everything is fine, and place your phone face down on the table, your date still recounting a story of how she met some actress.

The next half an hour is tense. You can feel Natasha's eyes on you. You can hear her plotting a way to get you out of here, but you know you have to at least try to make it work, if not with… Connie? Courtney? Then with someone else, before you go completely mad.

Your phone rings. You can't stop yourself from picking it up.

“Sorry, it’s an emergency.” Your excuse sounds bad even to your own ears, and you wince when your date pointedly looks away with pursed lips.

“Do you want me to throw her out of the window?” She starts without a preamble. “If not, I have a knife in my boot and you know how good I am with knives.”

“Can't you handle it without me?” You ask, knowing Natasha will play along. Your date reaches for her purse, dejected. Guilt swirls in your chest, and you contemplate your next words. Maybe you should stay and-

“Don't feel bad, she's been looking at the blonde to your right since she came in,” Natasha drawls, “and no, I can't handle it without you. I need you back home.”

You blush, biting on your lower lip.

“I'm sorry, but there's been an-”

“Just go,” your date cuts you off, “I'll handle the bill.” Her eyes are on the blonde girl before she's done speaking, and you leave with your conscience clear.

Natasha catches up to you outside and leads you to her corvette - her sunglasses and cap are gone, but that ridiculous mustache is still in place.

“What do you think?” She asks as she opens the door for you before going around the car and taking a seat behind the wheel. “I like the look.”

You snort and shake your head, amused with your best friend's antics. “It's… something.”

She rolls her eyes, starting the engine. “I know you love it.”

You hum, relaxing against the soft leather, your worries stoved away by Natasha's calming presence.

“Why do you keep going on dates if you hate it so much?” She asks when you reach Compound gates.

You sigh, think of an answer that would get her off your back without making her suspicious.

“I just… I-” you stutter, wincing.

Great.

She raises an eyebrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but so, so beautiful, it makes your entire chest ache.

The car comes to a stop, and Natasha focuses all of her attention on you.

“I need to get over someone.”

There, you've said it.

“Who?” She asks, and for the first time in all the years you've known her you can't read her at all.

“You don't know them.”

She looks ahead, her jaw clenched tight. “How long?”

You blink away the tears. “A few years.”

She looks down at her lap, her fingers tapping against her thigh. “Who?” She asks again.

“Natasha…”

“Is it Carol?” Her voice is tight, her eyes dart around the street.

“God no,” you chuckle, thinking about your blond friend. Valkyrie would kill you on the spot if you even looked at her the wrong way, not that you're interested anyway. They need to get over themselves and finally admit their feelings to each other. Anyone can see their pining from a mile away.

“Kate?”

You shake your head. “You don't know them.”

“Then tell me. What would it matter?”

“Nat, can we just-”

“Tell me.”

You groan, and turn to open the door, but Natasha’s hand landing on your thigh stops you. You swallow, freezing on the spot.

“Please.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable. “It's you,” you whisper.

The hand on your thigh clumps tight. “What?”

“It's you,” you repeat, feeling braver after the admission. “Always you.”

She lets out a deep, shaky breath, before reaching for your face with her other hand. “Look at me, please.”

You face her, eyes still closed, a few tears sliding down your cheeks. They're wiped away a moment later, and your face gets enveloped in the softest warmth.

“Open your eyes.”

You swallow, and do as she asked. She looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, lips falling open. “What?”

She smiles, her thumb tracing patterns on your wet cheek. “I love you.”

You look at her for a long moment, taking in her features - her forest green eyes, tender and soft, the slope of her nose, so kissable. Your eyes trail lower and then suddenly a loud laugh makes its way out of your chest. You bend, clutching your stomach, happy tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

Natasha looks delightfully confused.

“I'm sorry, it's just…” you giggle, pointing at her face, “the mustache.”

She groans, tearing it away. “I've been going crazy all this time, you know.”

“Yeah?” You grin, head spinning.

“Yeah,” she says before claiming your lips. She's soft, so soft it makes your toes curl and your chest get warm and fuzzy. The kiss is gentle, loving. You mewl against her, opening your mouth and welcoming her tongue.

The kiss grows heated.

“I,” you gasp between the kisses, “I love you. So much.”

You can feel her blinding smile in the next kiss, and the one that comes after.

[revasserium]

loving you was red

sylus; 4,627 words; fluff, banter, no "y/n", mild spoilers for sylus's main storyline, subtle but not so subtle flirting, nicknames (kitten, little crow), kinda enemies to lovers

summary: the beginning of everything, all in shades of red

a/n: this was supposed to be fun lil drabble; alas, that's not what it turned out to be, but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless. i had fun with the banter in this one u__u

001. fire and brimstone

The city below is a shatter of broken stars, and from up this high, none of it seems real. You cannot reconcile the sight of all those scattered, pinpoints of light with the lives you know shine behind them. You cannot imagine sitting in your living room, scrolling through your news-feed, waiting for the water to boil for late night ramen.

“Trouble sleeping?”

You congratulate yourself on not wincing, on keeping perfectly still.

Sylus joins you by the window, his arms looped lazily in front of his chest, his dark silk robe falling open to reveal his chest. You keep your eyes resolutely on the technicolored skyline.

“Yeah,” you say, feigning a yawn, “just something about being held captive against my will that just… messes with my circadian rhythm, y’know?”

Sylus chuckles, the sound rumbling through him, low enough to make you shiver.

“Don’t tell a girl like you still needs someone to sing her to sleep.” He’s teasing. You know he is, and yet you can’t keep the heat from clawing up the back of your neck. You scowl, chewing on the insides of your cheeks.

“What gives you that idea?” you ask, still in your flailing attempt to seem calm, seem collected.

"Nothing in particular… just… the twins found a shocking number of plushies in your room so —”

"You had them go through my stuff?” you round on him, glaring, your fingers clenched into fists.

Sylus shrugs, peering at you out the corner of his eye, an amused grin ticking at his mouth.

“Feisty little kitten, aren’t you? Though for what it’s worth — they didn’t find much on how your Evol works.”

You huff, turning back to the floor to ceiling windows, knitting your arms tightly across your chest.

“You heard the shopkeeper — we have to — to…” you trail off, the words caught in the back of your throat like peach pits, hard and large and impossible to stomach. You flush, biting down on your lips.

“To what, hm?” Sylus sounds amused, and it’s this more than anything that spurs you onwards.

You turn to glare at him, “To not hate each other!”

Sylus cocks a single, arched brow.

“So, do you?”

You blink, feeling the ever-present heat prickling into your cheeks as you stare resolutely at the skyline outside. From this distance, Linkon City could be any other city, with it’s towering skyscrapers and twinkling lights.

“Do I what?” you ask, your voice softer as you try to pinpoint the exact location of where you used to live.

“Hate me.”

You turn; in the dimness, all you can see of Sylus is his firebrand eyes and his stone-cut features. The dark curve of his mouth and the sharp jut of his nose. When he turns to meet your gaze, you can barely stifle your gasp — his eyes are so red, so deep and strange.

“Brimstone…” you say, without really thinking about it.

Confusion flickers across his vulturine features.

“Hm?”

You lick your lips, feeling the dryness that had since collected there.

“Brimstone,” you say again, shaking your head and averting your eyes, only for Sylus to catch your chin in his fingers and force you to look back at him, to be swallowed up by his gaze, “it’s… something from… the ancient religions. It’s — back when they believed in gods and monsters, people would use the word brimstone to signify divine wrath…”

His finger slacken on your chin and you let your head fall as he takes half a step away.

He lets out a mirthless laugh, his eyes faraway as he stares out at Linkon City, laid out before his feet.

“I can’t say I know much about gods, but… monsters?”

You swallow, feeling the imprint of his fingers on your skin.

He turns back to look at you, his gaze soft, but no less startling. You feel an unnamable fire frisson up your spine and skitter back down again.

“Monsters are very, very real,” he leans in, closing gap between your body and his, till he has you nearly caged against the cool glass of the penthouse windows. He shifts to brush away a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear with too-gentle fingers. His next words are whispered, his voice in a register so low it almost sounds like the shadow of sound — he leans in, his lips brushing by your cheek till you can feel the heat of his breath right next to your ear —

“And they look just like you and me.”

002. lipstick

“So at the auction —”

“Just do as I say, and you’ll get what you want.”

You narrow your eyes in the mirror, staring at the reflection of Sylus fastening a pair of ornate silver cufflinks to his impeccably tailored suit.

“Give me one reason to trust you,” you say.

Sylus looks up, a hand still on his cuffs as he meets your gaze in the mirror, unflinching.

“Since when have I ever asked you to trust me?”

Over on the dresser, Mephisto lets out a soft caw that sounds almost mocking. You swirl to glare at him and he has the decency to flap his mechanical wings, shuffling until he’s hidden from view behind Sylus’s shadow.

Sylus laughs, “Alright — settle down, little crow.”

You frown, “Little crow? What happened to kitten?”

Sylus shrugs, “Changed my mind. Figured little crow fits you a bit better. You know — loud, defiant…” he smirks as his voice trails off.

You don’t try to hide your consternation, “Often associated with murder?”

Behind him, Mephisto lets out an indignant ca-caw.

You try to sidestep Sylus, only to find yourself trapped against the mirror by his strong arms. He grins down at you, his canines flashing over his lower lip as he cocks his head.

“Like I said, fits better, no?” he asks.

You stare up at him, trying to make out what he’s thinking behind those firelight eyes of his.

“Let me go — I still need to finish my makeup,” you say, pressing a palm to his chest. You try not to think about the firmness of his muscles beneath your touch, or the heat of his skin, even through all these layers of clothing.

“What else is there?” he asks, his eyes flickering over your features; you shiver, feeling the weight of his gaze as it sweeps over your face like a sudden flare of heat, “you look pretty finished to me.”

You lick your lips, and feel a strange, savage satisfaction at the tick of his eyes down to your mouth, at the way his pupils dilate, at how they track the slow progress of your tongue as it laves across your bottom lip before disappearing back into your mouth.

“Lipstick,” you say, trying not to sound too smug.

Sylus puffs out a laugh before reaching over to the low dressing table and grabbing a tube of lipstick. He uncaps it with a finger, and twists out the color without once breaking your gaze. Vaguely, you feel your stomach tense, and you ponder the unfairness of this one, single act — how could he look so stupidly attractive doing all this when he’s got you trapped here? Like some sort of exotic songbird in a golden cage.

“T-that’s not the color I wanted —” you say, but even to your own ears, you don’t sound convincing.

Sylus’s smile slackens into a lopsided smirk as he tilts your chin up to press the cream of the lipstick to your lips, dragging it delicately across one way, then back the other.

“Press your lips,” he says, his voice softer and gentler than you’ve ever heard it before.

You do, feeling a stifling thump-thump-thump rise up to beat against the back of your throat as his eyes flick down to watch you.

“Mm… as I thought, this color looks great on you,” he says, pulling back to admire his handiwork.

You feel the air rush back into your lungs in a single, searing breath, caught between the urge to brace your arms against your knees and heave, or to drag your hand across your mouth to rid yourself of the lipstick.

You do neither though, because at that moment, the twins call from outside the door —

“Auction’s about to start!” says Luke.

“Hope you’re both ready!” says Kieran.

Sylus straightens, capping the lipstick with a sharp click. You force yourself to calm down, to focus on your breathing — four counts in, seven counts out.

“Are you ready?” Sylus asks, his tone once more whiskey-smooth and just as potent.

You roll back your shoulders and give a quick nod, speaking to yourself just as much as you’re speaking to him —

“Sure. Let’s get this over with.”

003. blood and roses

There’s blood on your hands and blood on the pavement. The world shimmers around you in wildfire and smoke.

“… so… so much blood…”

“You can’t die here —” Sylus’s voice cuts through the memory like a struck chord, resonating inside you till it’s the only thing you can hear, “that life you owe me? It’s not your time to pay it back yet!”

You reach for him, and the moment you feel your palms connect, a bead of heat pulses out from the center of your clasping hands. Your skin is slick with sweat and blood, but his hand beneath you is oddly cool and smooth.

The charred ashes of the beaten Wanderer fall around you like flakes of misbegotten snow; you wave your free hand to keep the pieces from falling into your eyes. A river of light seeps from the Deepspace Tunnel into the center of your chest, glowing brighter and brighter until it coalesces into a familiar gem-like shape.

It comes to a rest between your fingers seconds before it cracks, the light flickering once along the seam before going out.

“It — the Aether Core —!”

“It’s power is yours now. Why’re you so surprised?” Sylus doesn’t let go of your hand, but realizing this, you pull away first, and he makes no move to stop you.

“D-did you know?” you ask, unable to keep the accusation from seeping into your voice.

“Does it make a difference?”

You clamp down hard on your bottom lip, weighing the answers. It isn’t until you reach up to absently card your hand through your hair that you notice — your wrist and his, linked together by a tangible string of red, pulsing power.

You gasp, “W-what —?”

“Tch.”

You wave your wrist, watching as Sylus’s hand follows the movement. Your cheeks darken as he looks away, sighing audibly.

“If you planned this —!” but your words are cut short by a sudden wave of vertigo — the world spins around you and for a second, all you can see is the pinwheeling stars above you, the bright, pulsating edges of the Deepspace Tunnel, and then — everything fades to a sweet, merciful darkness.

You wake up to the smell of roses, and a warm body next to yours. Groaning, you try to shield your eyes from the light filtering through the massive windows.

It takes you a second to orient yourself, and to realize why your wrist seems so heavy as you try to lift a hand and rub at your eyes.

“Looks like you’re up early, though Mephisto still has you beat.”

You blink blearily up at Sylus, sitting next to you in bed, his back propped up on a fortress of pillows, a tablet in one hand, the other still linked to your wrist, half-raised to your face.

You squeak, ducking down to hide beneath the covers, hurriedly wiping at your eyes and your mouth, a mix of horror and embarrassment mounting in your stomach as you realized you must have been drooling in your sleep.

“What did you do to me?!” you demand, pulling back the covers when you’re somewhat certain that you don’t still have drool-marks at the corners of your mouth.

Sylus, for his part, looks only mildly ruffled by your sudden stint back to wakefulness. He takes his time setting down the tablet with his free hand and picking up the steaming mug of black coffee.

“You fainted,” he says, as if that explains everything, “after the resonance worked. Though it makes sense you would — after finally getting the Aether Core and all —”

“No! I mean —” you gesture desperately between you, the pristine linen sheets twisting around you both like waves on a white-sand beach, “how did I — we — get here? Who changed me?” you ask, your cheeks flaring up even as Sylus sips at his coffee, seemingly content to watch you sputter yourself dry.

“Really? After all that, the first question you have is who changed your clothes?” Sylus asks, a distinct tone of mockery clear in his every word.

“Shut up! You know what I mean!”

“Do I? I don’t think I do — you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” He grins, all splitting lips and too-white teeth. You stare, dumbfounded at his nonchalant expression before huffing and slumping back into your own pile of pillows. You blink, throwing up your free hand to shield yourself from the too-bright light of sunrise, shining straight into your eyes.

Wordlessly, Sylus taps a few buttons on his tablet and the windows darken, filtering out the harsh morning light, leaving the pair of you in a dim, yet luminous shadow.

“I just —” you cut yourself off before you can ask yet another mundane question, and finally, after a few minutes of mulling over what exactly it is you want to ask, you settle on, “what now?”

Sylus shrugs, casting his eyes back down at his tablet, setting his half-drunk cup of coffee on the bedside table.

“Now, we do whatever we want. You have your Aether Core and I have mine,” he lifts up his wrist, shaking yours in the process, “and we try to figure out how to manage this.”

“And if we don’t?” you ask dryly.

Sylus chuckles, “Then, we figure out a way to live with it.”

You roll your eyes involuntarily, “Ugh. Of all the people to be stuck to…” you mutter to yourself. And though you’d said it quiet enough for it to be an afterthought, both of you knew Sylus had been too close not to hear.

He scoffs, pulling you close, tipping you off balance so that you topple face-first into his chest.

“Wake up, little crow,” he says, his tone caught halfway between mocking and maleficence, twisting your face till you’re forced to stare out of the window at the dulled-out skyline below.

“You think you’re so great, being a Hunter and getting rid of Wanderers,” he says, a sharp venom seeping into his words as he speaks, and slowly, he punches a button the tablet that makes the windows un-tint themselves.

You watch as the sunrise bleeds itself dry over Linkon City, the harsh, morning light slicking the entire city in a vapid, orange glow.

“The brighter the light, the darker the shadow — do you really think that just because you and your little Hunter friends are out there killing Wanderers and saving the world, that there isn’t the a need for people like us?” Sylus pushes you away from him. It’s not a harsh move, but it’s not exactly gentle either.

And again, you can’t help feeling the imprint of his fingers, almost as if burned into your skin as your rub at your jaw.

It’s when you turn to glare at him that you meet his gaze and find him staring at you with a look that’s much more haunting than ghost. Much more longing than loathe.

“Well… you’re one of us now. And newsflash, little crow — sometimes, the world just doesn’t want to be saved.”

You let his words sit with you, like river stones, hard and smooth, feeling them sink slowly down the length of your throat to settle somewhere in the wide basin on your stomach. You avert your eyes, and it’s only then that you notice the bouquet of flowers sitting on your bedside table.

“What are the roses for?” you ask, reaching out your free hand to run a thumb along a single, velvet petal. It comes off at your touch, and you watch it fall against the unmarred white marble of the table top.

“A little present,” Sylus says, waving you away, “a thank you - for a job well done last night.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your tone, “it’s not like I had much of a choice.”

“You did,” Sylus says, “you could’ve killed me. And you didn’t.

“I could still kill you now,” you say, though there’s no conviction in your voice at all. Instead, you reach out to tug at another dark red petal. It comes off just as easily as the one before.

“You could. But you haven’t. And don’t you think that warrants a reward?”

004. dawn

“I’ve never hated you, you know.”

You frown, squinting against the early-morning light.

It’s not the first time you’ve found yourself waking up next to him, and you think it won’t be the last. You flip onto your side to face him, feeling a familiar rush of heat crest into your chest as you come nearly nose to nose with him.

Sylus barely even flinches, cocking an eyebrow before reaching out to tug a stray piece of hair from your face.

“What?” you ask, even though you know full well what he’d said. So maybe, you just wanted to hear it again — is that so terrible?

“Hn,” Sylus grins, rolling onto his back to cast his eyes up at the ceiling, “I said you’re getting drool on my pillows.”

You squeak, fumbling to wipe at your face before the realization hits, and you jerk up, pouting.

“That’s not what you said!”

“Then you did hear,” Sylus casts you an amused glance.

You lick your lips, the soft cotton of sleep still muffling the world such that everything except him feels strangely out of focus.

“I — I heard… a word here and there —”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”

You scowl, whipping around to pin him with a stare, “Where I come from, that’s not a bad thing.”

Sylus’s eyes tick towards you, his expression amused as he appraises you, and not for the first time, you feel yourself go warm beneath the solar-storm fixation of his attention. Like this, you can feel the air between you blistering, as oil to a lit fuse, as his eyes travel over the planes of your face, the curve of your shoulder, the thin silk strap that had since slipped to cling to your upper arm.

“No? I suppose not,” he concedes, pushing himself up, reaching over the bedside table to push at a small button on the far side. Somewhere else in the penthouse, you can hear an alarm bell ring.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing.

“Coffee,” he answers, and you fall silent again, turning your face away from him to look back at the heartbreak city, carved in shadows against dawn’s liquid light. It’d only been — what — a week? A bit more? And yet you can’t bring yourself to see the city the same.

Nothing has changed — not really.

But everything’s different, you think, as the door on the far side of the bedroom cracks open and Luke peers in with a smug smile and two steaming cups of coffee.

“Black for the boss, and milk and sugar and all the trimmings for the little crow.”

Sylus tsks, a frown digging itself into the space between his eyebrows, his eyes flashing as he takes the two cups. Luke, to his credit, jerks back, dancing out of Sylus’s reach.

“Ah — sorry, sorry — didn’t know that was a special nickname,” he says, making a show of stooping to apologize, though neither of you miss the jesting crow beneath his voice.

“Out.” Sylus orders, and Luke doesn’t waste time scurrying from the room, cackling beneath his breath like a gleeful child.

You take your cup from his hand and give it a dainty sip, adjusting yourself against the pile of pillows.

“What? I thought that nickname was your idea.”

“It is,” Sylus says, relaxing back. The tether between your wrists sits slack and nearly invisible on the sheets between you. He stares down at the dark liquid surface of his own cup before turning to smirk at you, “doesn’t mean it was meant to be shared.”

You clamp down on another wash of heat, threatening your cheeks as you sink a bit deeper into the luxurious bedding. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to sleep on sheets this nice again once you figure out how to break the tether between you and you’re finally allowed to go home.

“Why say it where other people can hear if you didn’t want them to pick it up?” you shoot back, determined to get the last say, at least in this.

Sylus sets down his cup, cocking his head to look at you, “It’s not a joke if there’s no one around to hear the punchline.”

You level him with a glare, “Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem if I’m just your captor, right?”

You open your mouth to retort, only to find your voice stolen by the sight of him, kissed gold by the rising sun. You’ve never been one to obsess over beauty but even you can’t pretend to be unaffected.

Like this, he looks hewn from marble, a statue at the loving hands of a besotted sculptor — a lazy god rendered into silk and stone. He is smooth skin and burning eyes and a jawline that might’ve been turned on a diamond cutter’s lathe. There’s a base carnality in the way he looks at you (and looks at you) — his gaze so penetrating that somehow, you don’t think you’ve ever been seen this way before.

There’s a damnable elegance to him, even as his lips twitch up into a tell-tale smirk.

“What?” he asks, leaning forward just an inch, but the distance feels exaggerated by your closeness, such that suddenly, you’ve got to lean back to look into his face. He licks his own lips languorously, and you feel your chest tighten on a torque, caught in the turn of his smile.

“Kitten got your tongue?” he asks.

You shake yourself, shifting back slightly, “You’re mixing your metaphors,” you say, trying to keep your eyes from straying back to his face.

“They’re my metaphors to do with as I wish. So. Aren’t you going to answer?”

“Answer what?”

“What you think you heard me say, right before you woke up.”

You cup your palms around your coffee mug, feeling its heat seep steadily into your skin. There’s a familiar tingle at the tips of your ears and you know you’re already blushing.

Stupid coffee, you think, trying hard to school your expression into a frown, stupid Sylus, you add to yourself, taking a long sip and biting back your sigh of relief at the mundane magic of caffeine and sugar.

“Does it matter what I think?” you sidestep the question.

Sylus doesn’t miss a beat, “If it didn’t, would I have asked?”

The torniquet in your chest twists tight enough to make your stomach flip as well. You chew on your bottom lip, mulling over your answer.

“I never hated you…” you say, finally, your voice barely more than a whisper or a breath. And even as the words fall from you like so many rose petals, you’re unsure if you’re repeating his words back at him or making an admission of your own.

Sylus only shifts back to his side of the bed, leaning against his pile of pillows. Your wrists sit atop the sheets, inches apart, and yet you can’t deny the dull pull of gravity between you, as if something beneath your skin is itching to be close to his.

You turn to face him, twisting your fingers in your lap.

The quiet softens around you both, settling until you let out another long breath.

“So…” you drag out the word as Sylus glances up at you, expectant. His eyes flicker with the fire of the rising dawn behind you, and in them, you can see the shadow of yourself, painted in darkness against the light.

“What’s for breakfast?” you ask.

Sylus chuckles, his head listing sideways as he studies you.

“Whatever you’d like.”

“Hm…” you make a show of swinging your legs out of the bed, shivering slightly as your feet come into contact with the cool marble floors, “are there pancakes?”

Sylus stretches his arms over his head, letting out a soft groan that evokes something inside you that you’d rather not examine at the moment. You keep yourself turned resolutely away from him even as you hear the distinct sounds of him getting out of bed as well.

“No, but there can be — you only need ask.”

“Fine, I want pancakes,” you say, finally turning around, only to find him standing right behind you, his silk robe discarded on the floor by the bed, his chest broad and entirely bare. Your breath catches in your throat as he cocks an eyebrow.

“Is that asking?”

You crinkle your nose, forcing air back into your lungs.

“Okay, okay — can we have pancakes?”

Amusement dances behind his eyes as he bends over you, propping a hand casually on the dresser behind you to limit your movements.

“And the magic word?”

You narrow your eyes, “Nevermind!”

“Mm — wrong. Two more tries.”

You try to duck under his arm but he catches you easily, spinning you back around to face him, nearly sweeping Mephisto from his perch on the dresser. The crow lets out an offended caw and flaps off towards the far end of the room, coming to a disgruntled rest on the back of a satin loveseat.

“Let me go!”

“Wrong again — last chance.”

You sink your nails into the skin of his forearm, trying not to think of the taut muscles corded there. He doesn’t even wince, though for a second, the tether between your wrists flares up like a fanned flame.

“Fine! Please!”

Sylus straightens with a satisfied smirk, turning around to make for the bedroom door. Your chest is heaving, and the sudden space between you make your head spin. You blink at his retreating form, and it isn’t till he reaches the door that he turns to glance at you over his shoulder.

“Hope you like raspberry jam.”

You level your breathing and hurry to catch up, clutching your own sleeping robe tighter around your chest as you fall into step next to him.

“I thought you didn’t like sweet things.”

He opens the door and steps aside for you to walk through first.

“I never said it was for me.”

---

be part of my taglist! or read me on ao3

[whaddayadothatfor]

Ctenizidae

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re an anomaly from another universe. You’re not dangerous though, so Miguel’s made the executive decision to keep you around until more dangerous criminals are caught and sent home first. Unless that’s not the only reason he’s decided to keep you around…

Content warnings: dub-con, voyeurism, masturbation, obsessive!Miguel

WC: ~1k

AN: Y’all this is so unedited but I wanted to write smut for this man so I did! If y’all like it I can post a second, smuttier part.

MDNI

“Here.” You drop a small plastic bin of chocolate chip cookies in front of Miguel. As a peace offering. No, really.

Miguel raises his right eyebrow in question. He doesn’t even answer you anymore. The other Spider-people go about their day in the cafeteria, having seen this scene time and time again.

Every day for the past two weeks since you were suddenly teleported to Nueva York and promptly labeled an anomaly, you’ve been practically begging Miguel to send you home. He’s declined every time.

This is pretty much how the conversation goes each time:

“Miguel, I think I should—“

“No. We have to send the most dangerous anomalies back to their universe first—“

“I’m dangerous! I’m plenty dangerous.”

“The only thing you’ve maimed, tortured, and killed in the past month is a flippin’ houseplant. You’re staying.”

You see how frustrating this man is?

So you’ve decided that maybe bribery— sorry, a peace offering— will work better. Hence, the cookies.

“Maybe if you eat something sweet you’ll stop being so bitter and stubborn all the time,” you smile tightly. “Then you’ll find it in your heart— the one that shrunk three sizes— to let me go home.”

“I appreciate the offering— though you could use some more creativity in your approach— but just know that these won’t get you home.” He pries open the container and lifts one to his mouth before moaning in delight. “These are delicious. Thank you,” he said, sucking the melted chocolate off of his thumb. His overly enthusiastic groans were clearly a tactic to piss you off, and it worked.

You simmer in anger as he smirks while chewing his cookie. You try to snatch the bin back, but he moves it out of your way.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, pushing up from the small table he was sitting at and leaning down to whisper near your ear. “No take-backsies.”

He flustered you, and he knew it. He laughed as he walked away. You stuttered a retort in embarrassment, but he didn’t even have the decency to turn around.

“Ugh, I hate that guy,” you stomped in anger. You muttered several curses before you turned around to leave, only to see several wide-eyed Spideys staring at you in concern. This is why you wait until after you’re alone to throw a tantrum— it scares the locals. Whoops. “Uhh, carry on. My bad. Enjoy your lunch!”

You quickly walk away, feeling defeated. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve got nothing but time. You’ll catch him when he’s sleeping. He’s gotta be more amenable then.

Later

“You know, just for the record, I think you going to his room this late at night is a terrible idea,” Lyla warned as she flitted between standing and reclining with her arms crossed behind her neck.

“Well I think him keeping me here is a terrible idea. I guess we’re all full of them.”

“Seriously—“

“Lyla I don’t care! I’ve got a family to get back to. Friends, a life. I don’t care how fine that man is, I’m going back home. Tonight, preferably.”

“Whatever, it’s your funeral.” She acquiesced before disappearing into the ether, just as you arrived at his door.

“Wait, Lyla! Open the door.” Without a response, the door opened. “Thanks, Lyla.”

You walked in to the large room to see Miguel sitting up in a chair near the center of the room.

“Miguel, you need to listen to me—“

The sight that met you was so shocking you had to take it in one part at a time.

First, You see Miguel’s side profile as he faces the wall to the left of you. He’s breathing heavy, chest heaving as his hand vigorously moves up and down his— oh. Maybe you came at the wrong time.

With the sudden awkwardness that’s overtaken you, you look somewhere else, anywhere else, only to find the source of what he’s staring at— a video, no, porn. The second piece of the puzzle, you take in the video’s content. First, you just see flashes of skin and hear soft grunts and moans emanating from the screen. But then you realize, the voices sound familiar, really familiar. Then it hits you.

It is you.

And him. The both of you together. And that realization connects all the pieces of the puzzle together. He’s keeping you here, on purpose.

Your eyes dart back to Miguel, who has now abandoned his video in favor of the live view he has right in front of him. He’s shirtless but he still has some grey sweats on, pushed down just enough that he can jerk off. His hands move desperately over his cock, aborted grunts and breathy moans coming out sporadically.

He turned his head to the side, his cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed with desire. You were frozen, stuck in time. Miguel kept stroking his cock while staring into your eyes. He did this right up until his orgasm overtook him, throwing his head back and jerking his hips upward as he called out your name.

His cum spurted out in waves, once, twice, three times. It was thick and opaque and made a mess all over his lower stomach. He sighed and sank back into his chair.

“Did you enjoy the show?” His voice is low and heady as he calls out to you. It takes you a moment to respond, because admittedly you’re still staring at his— well, his everything, dick included. Still It was a very, very nice, thick, veiny d—“Am I interrupting?”

His teasing knocks you out of your reverie.

“I-I should go.” You said. You’re starting to realize that Lyla might have been right. Maybe you should’ve waited until the morning. You start backing up to leave but Miguel shakes his head and the door shuts behind him.

“No, no, no. See, that’s your problem. You’re always trying to leave,” he chastises.

He stalks towards you, like you’re prey. You move backwards until your back hits the door. He reaches over you, placing an arm over your head and his index finger under your chin, lifting it upwards. He bends down, close enough that you can see even minute details of his face.

He narrows his eyes as he bares his fangs.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

[sofiawritesstuff]

Platonic

part 6

summary: When Lando's "playboy" image is setting a bad reputation for him. He turns to the person the trust most in this world for help.

pairing: landonorris x bestfriend!reader

warnings: none

part 5

AN: Before we start I do want to say that I’m sorry for how this story has turned out, I’m lowkey hating it but i will come back with a better story soon. If anyone has any longer stories they would like to see, then please leave it in my submissions box, in my comments and/or feel free to message me privately. I also apologies about the wait for this. Sorry guys and thank you.

--

Lando had woken first, the light of the early morning sun filtered through the curtains. He stretched over you, smiling to see you still asleep against him.

He kissed your head before sneaking out of bed, this was the first morning in a while that Lando woke up feeling refreshed and confident for the race, he was also early, early enough to make you breakfast.

He reached for the t-shirt that lay on the floor beside him before trotting his way to the kitchen. He began by making you both coffee before moving onto toast.

"Good morning" you said with a smiles, your voice still rough from just waking up "Well hello there princess, what woke you up?" he asks holding your hand that wrapped around his waist from behind

"The beautiful smell of coffee, and the cold bed. You're up early is everything okay?" you question, resting your head on his back "I'm feeling so good, about today, I got the best sleep last night, we've got so much time before we need to leave too" he smiles buttering your toast and sticking it in your mouth

You smile, taking it out your mouth “I’m glad” you say chewing covering a hand over your mouth “Are Max and Pietra awake?”

“I don’t think so” he smiles leaning down to kiss you

Neither you or Lando had mentioned all the kisses throughout the weekend, the ones in public and in private, but you were both enjoying whatever was going on.

“So today, I was thinking of wearing my new white summer dress, what do you think?” you tell him, sitting on the chair next to him “The one that you ordered last week?”

“Yeah”

“That’s nice, I like that” he nods pulling your legs up on top of his

--

Lando had decided to match your all white outfit today, he held your hand tightly entering the paddock, pulling you closer to him as people rushed by.

You could sense the rise of Lando's nerves, in attempt you comfort him you put your free hand on his bicep

"How are you feeling today Mr Pole Sitter?" Ted Kravitz asks walking up to you both with the camera crew in front of you "Feeling good, hopefully can perform well enough to get the win, got a lot of support here so it would be good to put a smile on peoples faces”

“And you’ve also got that support of your lovely best friend too” he nods and you and you smile at him “Yeah I love having my girlfriend at races with me, she’s my biggest supporter so”

“Oh i’m sorry i didn’t realise that you were finally in a relationship” he apologises “congratulations to you both”

You both thank him before heading into the McLaren garage, stopping to say hello to everyone

"I'm glad to see you here, I've missed you the full weekend" Will smiles opening his arms "Glad to see you too" you hug him "Stealing my girlfriend now are we?" Lando jokes wrapping an arm around your waist

"Wouldn't dream of breaking you two up, feeling good about today?" he asks Lando "Good aren't you" you answer before Lando says something negative "Yep all good" he rolls his eyes "Hey! I'm going to the bathroom, make sure I've not got moody Lando" you kiss him before leaving him with Will

"You're kissing now" Will smirks "I mean, yeah" Lando shrugs "There's no cameras about" the engineer pushes "We've actually had a few kisses back home" Lando says hiding a smile

"Well it's been a long time coming, just make sure your heads in the game today. I'm happy for you though" he pats Lando's shoulder "Trust me, that girl is the reason I'm feeling even the littlest bit confident today"

"Really?" Will asks turning to face him "Well yeah, she's the only one that really understands me. I just love her so much" he blushes

"So you're in love with her"

"What? No I'm not?" Lando scoffs "The way you talk about her is the way I first talked about my wife, now we have a child together. You need to realise how you feel about her without people telling you"

"And if I admitted I was in love with her?"

"Then you should tell her, the way she looks at you is the way Hayley looked at me. Get yourself ready mate"

Lando sighed, looking at Will one last time before heading to his drivers room where you were sat "Hi pretty boy, I've left your shirt out, your hats there too" you point to his chair

"Thank you, are you going to chill in here until the race?" he asks taking his shirt off "Yeah, I'm going to wait on Max and Pietra. I'll be watching"

"Good, I'll see you later. Let me know if you're going anywhere" he says leaning down "I will" you lean up to kiss him "Bye" he shouts leaving the room

-

As it got closer to lights out Lando walked around the garage talking to everyone he needed to, he sat with Will for a while before he needed to get into the car.

As he approached you, you knew what was coming. The dreaded moment you had before every single race.

“Be safe, I love you” you tell him, wrapping your arm around his waist “I promise I will. I love you too” he says holding out his pinky finger. You link yours with his and both of you kiss your hands.

He hugs you tightly, kissing your head before moving down to your lips.

“Come home”

“I always do” he winks before getting in the car

It never got any easier, it hadn’t since he first started in 2019. Watching him leave the garage not knowing what where he was going to finish after the race and your worst fear it he didn’t finish at all.

Max stood beside you, putting on a headset, in a selfish way you were glad he wasn’t racing anymore, it means you didn’t have to worry about two people, but you knew Max wished he continued, he could have made it to Formula 1.

“He’ll win” Max wraps an arm around your shoulder, rubbing it reassuringly “I know” you smile

“I just wish he knew that” he nods to Lando’s car on the screen “He’ll see what we see one day”

The race was tense, within the first lap six cars had locked up and people were losing positions. The upside to it was Lando keeping his place and Oscar moving up to P2, getting out of the mess without harm.

You could feel your heart beating against your chest, fighting to leave your body as the last lap of the race came closer.

Two laps to go.

He was seconds ahead of the cars behind him.

One lap to go.

The crew ran across to the pit wall, as Lando approached the final corner, as he crossed the line you could hear him screaming down the head set.

Your eyes filled up with tears, you turned to Max as he engulfed you in a hug jumping up and down.

As he came down the pit lane, you threw your head set off, pushing through the crowd of papaya to the front where Zak was.

He stood on the top of the car, throwing his hands in the air while everyone around you cheered. He took his helmet off running and jumping into the crowd of McLaren and eventually he was pulled to the other side of the barrier

“Where is she?” you saw Lando looking around, when he spotted you, he lifted you up hugging you tightly “I’m so proud of you Lando, you don’t know it”

“You’re the best, I love you, I love you so much”

“It was you that did it baby, get on the podium and get drenched in champagne”

He leans down kissing you before jumping over the barrier again. You let the nickname slip, you didn’t mean to say it but the way it made you feel was so good, it felt as if it was normal.

The media covered up how Lando felt about it, the way he was yapping in his interviews when the only thing he could think about was you and the nickname. “Baby” he wishes he could get used to that.

part 7

TAGS

@harrysdimple05 @ironmaiden1313 @charli123456789 @alltoomaples @jule239 @panicsinvirgo @cmleitora @blueberry64857959 @imboredway2much @landoslutmeout @obxstiles @morenofilm @formula1mount @dreamercrowd @brekkers-whore @sialexia @bokutos-babyowl @merchelsea @lexiecamposv @lunamelona @nightlockcornucopia

[chessholic]

ー

The One With

Joey's Food

ー

Joey Tribbiani

x

Reader

Summary: JOEY DOESN'T SHARE FOOD... However it seems that rule might not apply when it comes to you.

Author's Note: Someone asked me to publish my Joey fanfics, so this one is for you. <3

ps. I made that iconic Joey's Meatball Sub, it really made me feel alive again.

New comfort food unlocked

ー

You were so tired, and hungry.

Oh dear, you could eat a horse right now. Or maybe not if that meant eating the entire horse.

Finally you got yourself inside being greeted with everyone else except Joey.

Where was he? You could really just snuggle against your friend to forget all your worries. Joey felt like home, he felt safe.

Except Chandler would disagree with you, strongly, not that you could blame him after that robbery thingy.

"It's a zombie! Everybody, run!", Chandler shouted while jumping behind Ross and pushing him towards you.

"Hey!", Ross squeaked realising that Chandler, his best friend since the beginning of time, was sacrificing him to this supposed 'zombie'.

"Hahaha", you laughed a dry sarcastic laugh while getting your jacket off.

"What happened to you?", Rachel asked noticing your disheveled look.

"Your eye bags-", Rachel was saying before you gave her a stern look that did shut her up.

Monica also gave Rachel an are-you-serious look before helping you sit down at the kitchen tables chair

"Work huh?", Monica asked already knowing what was behind your current state.

Before you started to explain Joey made a grand appearance with his iconic sandwich. It makes your stomach growl and mouth water.

Joey sat at the table next to you, he gave you a tender look before getting ready to destroy his food, with the intention of not leaving even crumbs behind.

"So. I got to work a few hours early because my boss asked me to and as we know my boss, I couldn't refuse-", you started taking a deep breath.

"I had my mom's cooking for lunch, but there was so much going on I didn't have time to eat. And when I finally did- that ass had eaten it! My food! It was supposed to be the only good thing today, and it was taken away from me", you rambled trying not to break down completely.

"Oh, this reminds me of that 'MY SANDWICH' thing", Chandler said looking at Ross who just looked back at him shooting daggers out of his eyes.

"Oh, this gets much worse. I confronted that- idiot and it got a bit heated. Long story short, I got fired", you ended your story leaving out the details of wandering around the city crying your eyes out.

"Let's celebrate!", Phoebe cheered from the couch making everyone turn to look at her.

"Yeah, you hated that job! More than I hated serving coffee!", Rachel said trying to comfort you.

"I didn't hate the job, but the people", you muttered burying your face into your hands.

"That's my girl!", Chandler cheered giving you a quick pat on the back before hurrying towards the armchair.

Your stomach made a loud noise and you felt truly awful.

"Do you have anything to eat Monica? I don't have anything at home", you asked carefully your voice cracking slightly.

"I need to go quickly to the store-", Monica started hurrying to gather her stuff.

"Here, you can have my meatball sub"

The time seemed to slow down.

Phoebe stopped chewing her hair.

Rachel had her hand covering her mouth that was hanging open.

Monica dropped her purse to the floor.

Chandler almost fell off the armchair.

Ross had a look on his face that would be expected if someone would prove to him that dinosaurs had never existed.

You lifted your head to see Joey smiling and offering his food, to you, you.

Joey had a small amount of the sauce on his face.

"I already took a couple of bites if that's okay", he said looking a bit sheepish.

"Really?", you asked voice slightly shaky, knowing that nobody else dared to move or speak.

Joey nodded and you reached towards him. But to everyone's surprise you didn't take the sandwich.

However you got up and put your arms around his neck. Burying your face to his neck you mumbled so many thank you's that nobody could say exactly how many there was.

Maybe ten? Hundred? Hundreds? Who knows.

Then you gave a kiss to his cheek before pulling away and snatching the sandwich from him.

Eagerly you started eating it and you moaned slightly at the most delicious thing you had ever eaten.

"JOEY DOESN'T SHARE FOOD!", everyone suddenly shouted after they switched glances between each other.

Joey tried to look like he had no idea what they were talking about, his face was oddly red and he was feeling warm and fuzzy.

Joey loved seeing you happy, he could sacrifice one meatball sub for your happiness.

But only one.

When Joey looked at you eating happily his favourite Meatball Sub he couldn't even see anything else than you. He didn't even care about his friends who were still shocked and wanted answers.

Joey would give you every meatball sub for the rest of his life if it meant seeing you so utterly happy.

But he wanted a bite, at least.

ー

[rinachains]

this is a life

wc: 4.7k

contents: no curses au; geto x fem!reader; angst, fluff; brief mention of diets, implied child abuse; mental illness, smoking, alcohol consumption; reader is in an established relationship with someone else, geto is an elementary school teacher; he's lowkey giving reader a therapy session here; very loosely inspired by *that* scene from fleabag

a/n: this turned out way longer than i originally planned, lol. comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! divider credits: @/saradika

“And guess what happened after that?”

The woman across from you leans against the table, all eyes on her, waiting for a big reveal.

“She thought he was her friend’s father and not her boyfriend!”

Laughter erupts, a song of shrieks and booming echoes, and in the midst of it all, you sit with your mouth shut, wondering if their reaction is a product of consumed alcohol or an inside joke you weren't allowed in on.

Your boyfriend puts his hand on your knee – nearly slaps it – as his body shakes from laughing, swiftly glancing towards you.

You meet him with a strained smile.

“We’re talking about an old classmate,” he explains to you between labored breaths after he calms down.

“Ah, really?”, you say, dryly. Your voice is distant, lacking the interest he was hoping you’d respond with.

The red wine you’re sipping – an expensive one that your boyfriend specifically bought for this occasion – leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you believe it might etch your tongue away. You don’t like red wine, or any alcohol in general – you drink it more out of obligation than out of true enjoyment. It always leaves you with a wave of nausea the next day, no matter how much or how little you consume. There was at least the hope that the alcohol would loosen the tension in your body, make you open up; however, to your luck, it appears to have the opposite effect.

You’ve never been more aware of your body and your surroundings before; the clatter of dishes and the breaths you take through your nose ring in your ears.

There are only five people at this table; your boyfriend and his three friends from his old university days. And you.

You’re already familiar with two of them, but the third one, the other man sitting to your right – Suguru Geto – is someone you’ve just met for the first time tonight.

(‘By the way, another friend of mine will join us tonight,’ your boyfriend told you this morning as you got ready for work

You held back a tired sigh.

‘Another friend from university?’

‘Yep. Suguru Geto is his name. Cool guy, pretty close friend, we used to hang out a lot. He recently just started working as an elementary school teacher. Good for him, I guess,’ he explained as he buttoned up his shirt.

You didn’t miss how his tone dripped with the slightest bit of condescension when he said that last part.)

“By the way, my cousin dropped his new major,” his other friend says between bites, as he chews messy.

The noise makes your skin crawl.

"Again? Didn't he say this major was going to be 'the one'?" your boyfriend scoffs. 

"Yeah, some people just don't have a plan in life, it's kind of pathetic. Right?"

For some reason, his friend decides to look at you for confirmation. You don't respond, and your boyfriend puts his hand over yours before things get uncomfortable.

"Excuse her, she's just a bit shy."  

He laughs, again. The other two join in. Geto doesn't.

I'm not, you want to say. Your boyfriend always says that you're shy, but you're just quiet, more reserved, and he just keeps mistaking your reserved nature for shyness. You hate it; you feel the need to defend yourself, but you'd feel like a child, annoyed by your parent and overreacting.

However, he does talk about you as if you were his child or his pet, reluctant to interact with other people, still learning what it means to socialize properly, and he guides you on your shaky legs.

It’s no big deal, the voice in the back of your head whispers, you should be more grateful.

Yet you’re dealing with a clash of gratitude and buried guilt; guilt for that hidden monster of resentment that lurks somewhere deep inside of you, underneath the muscle tissue and ribs, waiting for the perfect moment to burst forth, tear through your body and cause terror.

It’s easier to blame this feeling on your inferiority complex - after all, you are your own worst enemy.

Your boyfriend leans in from his seat next to you, his lips brushing your ear as he mutters, “Let’s relax, okay? Tonight’s going pretty good so far.”

“Right,” you mouth back. Your voice not strong enough to vocalize that singular word. You try to muster an enthusiastic smile, you really do, but the corners of your mouth seem stuck, unwilling to rise any higher. They ache, and your cheeks begin to cramp. Your boyfriend gives you a sloppy kiss on the cheek – seemingly pleased with your response - before resuming his conversation about the past.

(they do a lot of talking about the past while you try to remove its bonds from your hands and feet.)

As your boyfriend turns away from you, you sense a tingling sensation, burning into the side of your face. Discreetly, you try to peer out of the corner of your right eye, only to be met with a piercing stare from Geto. You freeze, like a deer caught in the headlight, even though he’s the one who’s been caught. He leans further back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, not breaking eye contact. You avert your gaze after what feels like minutes.

A feeling of awkwardness rushes through your body as you take another sip of your drink.

What’s his problem? Did he hear what your boyfriend whispered to you?

Ignore it, the voice says again. So you do. Or at least you attempt to.

Despite your aversion to alcohol, your glass empties quickly, so you have a second, and before you know it, you're on your third.

The others continue to discuss their jobs, finances, families, future plans, politics - this is what normal, functioning people must talk about, you muse as you swallow a big gulp.

Once a layer of fog has settled over your vision, you realize the effect everything has on your body - it's as if you're not quite here.

You're in your apartment, the place where you live, at the table where you eat every day, and yet somehow you feel as if the place you're sitting in is reserved for someone else. An intruder - maybe that's what you are for tonight.

(but is it really just for tonight?)

You sit there, taking in the spectacle around you, until the image in front of you begins to swim, a blur of colors and shapes; now you're a background character, nameless and following the instructions of the script, watching the main characters interact - with their lively attitudes, ambitions and achievements, and overly complicated problems - while you do as little as possible. Your only purpose is to emphasize how important and memorable they are. Easily replaceable. Not worth paying attention to, not worth remembering; what a cruel role.

Then, with a painful blink, you're back in reality. But you realize that it wasn't some oddly vivid dream and that you weren't actually transported to another reality - you were here, at this table, in this seat, all along.

"Yes, I'm currently following this diet and workout plan," one of your boyfriend’s friends announces with an exaggerated sigh, and she quickly turns to you, giving you a half nod, "if you want, I can give you some details about it."

The look you give her is blank. Your raised glass lingers against your lips as you are about to take a sip.

Before you have a chance to answer this time, she turns back to the others and babbles on about some other topic.

You put the half-filled glass back on the table, your thirst now gone.  

"Ahh, I really don’t know how you can stand being around children every day, Suguru. I almost lost my mind watching my niece for only three hours!", she practically whines as she addresses the man next to you.

Geto answers with a chuckle, though it sounds strangely empty, as if something is missing.

"I also deal with a lot of adults, you know, other teachers and parents. And I can say that there isn't much difference between them,” he replies, “At least children don't know any better yet. Adults, however, choose not to do anything about their lack of…competence."

Again, a repeated round of laughter. Geto wears a mere placid smile.

"You’re not wrong, you’re not wrong. God, some of our clients are so incompetent, I sometimes wonder how they’ve made it this far in life.”

In the last two hours, you’ve learned: Geto isn’t particularly talkative, at least compared to the others.

However, he seems fine with it, sipping his drink unhurriedly and responding smoothly when spoken to. He exudes a confidence and carries a casual demeanor that a small part of you can't help but envy, for how often do you wish you weren't the way you are?

So you just sit there, lost in your own thoughts, accepting defeat for the situation you're stuck in.

“Have you heard about–“

Another clink.

“No way, that’s actually sad–“

Another loud chew.

“Guess who decided to contact-“

Another giggle.

At this point, the conversations have turned into a hectic game of tennis, the ball going back and forth between them, and you’re trying to follow it, maybe even graze it with your fingertips, but you can’t seem to catch it, it’s too fast, too-

"So, what do you do?"

You blink. Once, and then twice.

You turn your head to the right; Geto’s eyes are focused on you.

They're purple, a deep, gem-like shade, you note. You’ve never seen eyes like his before.  

His brows raise slightly and you realize that he’s expecting an answer.

"I…I work in a library. And I write. Or, well, at least I'm currently trying to."

A grin tugs at his lips; saccharine and foxy. For a moment, you fear he might eat you alive.

You’re not even aware that the other three have halted their conversation and are now paying attention to you and Geto.

"Oh? What are you planning to write? If you don't mind me asking."

You don't.

"Just a bunch of short stories," you answer with a shrug as you pick at the skin around your nails, "A big story is kind of intimidating, to be honest. I want to start small, it’s easier that way and I don’t have to put all my focus on one idea..."

Your voice loses its volume towards the end - a force of habit. Geto tilts his head and you believe to see a small frown appear for a second before it vanishes quickly. Replaced by his thin smile.

He shifts his body towards you, cheek resting against his fist. A flutter of his long lashes.

"You know, I once considered writing a book too.”

One of your brows lifts in wonder, "Really?"

“Hmh. A children’s book – for my students.”

“Are you still considering it?”

“I haven’t had the time for that yet, so I haven’t really done something for it.”

“Maybe you should have a mental breakdown too. ‘Gives you enough time to get real creative.”

Of course, right in this moment, your tongue decides to get loose. Surprise flashes across Geto’s features, clearly caught off guard, and you hear your boyfriend inhale sharply. You don’t even have to face the other two to know that they exchange looks.

What you said is wrong. It's always either right or wrong, right or wrong, and your teeth grit together, because why can't you just simply say things without them being right or wrong?

Suddenly, a low, muffled chortle reaches your ears. It grows louder, bordering on a genuine laugh, and you stare silently at the man next to you, the source of the sound.

Geto’s eyes form into crescent moons, and you become a shooting star, seen by chance, admired for the special moment you provide.

“I think I’ll pass. But many famous writers did create their works during hard times.”

You scratch along your neck, unsure of what to do with your fidgeting hands.

He continues, "Maybe we should switch roles for a day - I'll try writing and you can try teaching my class."

"Ah, I could never be a teacher, I'm not patient enough, I'm afraid," you say sheepishly, the tension in your face softening.

"I admit it's not always easy, but it's worth it to see the result of your patience. Besides, I had some practice before I started my job."

Your mouth opens, ready to ask another question, but then your boyfriend places an arm around your shoulder and squeezes it hard, as if he’s warning you. You have to stifle a yelp, his fingers digging a little too deeply into your skin.

“Maybe you should go easy on the wine, huh, babe?”

The thought of shaking his hand off flashes through your mind, but your body doesn't listen. Instead, you allow his grip to remain until he withdraws of his own accord.

His face screams jealousy – and maybe he is jealous, but he probably just wants everyone, including himself, to think he’s a protective and possessive boyfriend. He doesn’t have enough care in him for that.  

You used to believe that he did. Or at least you told yourself that – because he was the one who has pulled you out of the deep hole you were stuck in.  

He was the one who shook you awake and made you stare at yourself from a third-person perspective - and all that ran through your head was the word 'pathetic'.

Almost two years ago, you dropped out of university. You were at your lowest point, your mental health non-existent, and you had nothing and no one. And out of the blue, he showed up - with his sweet words and boyish charm. You had never received attention before, and suddenly there was someone, this handsome man, showering you with it.

He embodies the definition of ‘normal’, an average man - not someone with a dark past, a tortured artist, or a menace to society. He oozes the stability you needed during that time.

But you couldn't do anything about the doubts you had from the beginning of your relationship, because why would a man like him be with someone, a nobody, like you?

Sometimes he'd give you disappointed looks when you did something you usually did instead of what he thought was better. Sometimes being with him made you even more aware of what was wrong with you. Sometimes the normalcy you so desperately seek makes you feel like an abnormality.

You couldn't help but see him as your savior, someone who has achieved something so painfully average that you could only dream of. And he gives you that normalcy - at least you're on your way to it. However, the path seems endless, littered with ditches and spikes and numerous other obstacles that make you reluctant to continue.

Perhaps he thought of you as a fruit, not yet ripe, attracted by the potential sweetness, able to satisfy a certain hunger. But every fruit eventually begins to rot, no longer edible, and quickly discarded.

‘I don't deserve this,’ you told him once as you packed your things to move into your new shared apartment.

(one he'd picked out, claiming it was perfect for both of you).

Your confession tasted like honey in his mouth. He just gave you a little grin, nothing too big, so as not to show how his pride was swelling in his chest.

He didn't disagree with you.

After a few minutes, you feel a familiar itch in your hand. You start to get up, your boyfriend gives you a questioning look and you nod towards the balcony. He eyes you with disapproval, but you grab your jacket before you can change your mind and comply.

Every time you smoke in his presence, his nose wrinkles in disgust and words of complaint come out of his mouth. You’d take it more seriously if he didn't smoke himself.

Once outside, you put on your jacket and sit down in front of the steel bars of your balcony, next to some empty flower pots.

You haven't done anything, but you're exhausted.

The cool breeze on your face reminds you of drinking a cold glass of water after waking up in the middle of the night. The pain in your head is simmering.

The nicotine intensifies the bitterness in your dry mouth as you pull out a cigarette and take a long, long drag. A light, pleasant burn that awakens your senses in a non-overwhelming way, sobering you up a bit. Your shoulders slump, a pleasant shiver runs through your body. You needed this.

The sound of the balcony door opening makes you jump, the cigarette between your fingers almost falling down. You turn your head over your shoulder, expecting to see your boyfriend, preparing yourself for a scolding; but it's Geto. You can't tell if the emotion boiling in your chest is disappointment or relief - at this point, they've merged.

“I hope you don’t mind the company.”

You shake your head. Not too eagerly, you remind yourself.

One corner of his mouth lifts up, his gaze sweeping discreetly over you without you taking note of it, and he places himself on the other end.

There’s a good distance – intentionally - between the two of you, neither of you daring to cross it. A wall, set in stone, and the temptation of climbing it to peer over the edge lingers in the back of your head.

“Are you enjoying dinner?”, you ask him, scratching your cheek with your nail. You suppose that’s what a good host does.

Something you can’t quite identify glints in his eyes, and you can tell that he’s suppressing a chuckle. You feel the tips of your ears warming.

“I am. It’s more entertaining than I expected.”

You raise your brow at his answer.

"Hmh?" you see him pulling out a lighter and gesture to your pack of cigarettes, "Oh, you want one too?"

Geto dismissively waves his hand and takes his own pack out of the pockets of his black coat, "No need, I have my own.”

The way he lights the cigarette and brings it up to his lips paints a graceful picture, a fluid sequence of quick, minimal movements, and you can’t bring yourself to avert your stare.

He's handsome, you think. A unique but pleasant kind of beauty, a mixture of feminine and masculine features. This thought came to you the first time he appeared in your vision; you could admit it, but you don't allow your thoughts to go any further. You can't tell if it's out of compulsion or out of respect for your partner.

As he blows out the smoke, he says, "To get back to what I said: I wasn't sure what to expect tonight. The thing is, I'm not, or wasn't, that close to your boyfriend, so I was surprised when he invited me... I guess some people just have different perceptions.”

“He claimed you’re his friend,” you retort, confusion laced in your voice.

“Then he must have a lot of them, if that’s all it takes.”

You press your lips together, swallowing the grin that threatens to break across your face.

Geto clears his throat, "I was surprised to meet you, though.”

You cock your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

The expression he carries is a strange combination of hesitation and determination, "He didn’t mention you when he invited me."

Oh. Right.

"He hasn't?"

The answer is written on his face, you don’t need another verbal confirmation. 

Your back straightens, your shoulder rolls back as you exhale heavily.

"I mean, why would he? It's not something he has to say."

You don't know why you're defending him. Maybe it's because you want to defend yourself, too.

"I just find it interesting that he didn't tell me about you when he invited me. I mean, if I invited someone to my house for dinner, I would definitely mention my partner. But maybe we have different views on that.”

Your headache begins to return.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say instead of lingering on the subject, trying to distract from it, eyes flickering between his face and the balcony railing, “back there. You mentioned something about already having practice before becoming a teacher.”

At that, his face brightens subtly, something you’re able to catch in the dim lighting. He sits up and brushes a silky strand of hair from his face.

“I did. I adopted two daughters before I started working there – Mimiko and Nanako are their names.”  

“Those are pretty names,” you say, hiding your surprise at the fact that he’s an adoptive father – seems like your boyfriend truly isn’t that close to him, “not that there’s anything wrong with it, but why did you decide to adopt them?"

"I interned at an elementary school before I knew what I wanted to do. It was fun, exhausting, but I learned a lot. But it was there that I noticed something wasn't quite right," Geto tells, a frown beginning to appear, "there were these girls - well, they're my little girls now. Mimiko and Nanako were quiet, well-behaved, but too docile for my taste. I found it strange, and when I asked around, the other teachers just told me to be happy about it, that it's a good thing. But then I started noticing the bruises on their arms and the way they would flinch when someone got too close or raised their hand. You can probably guess what that means.”

You swallow, subconsciously mirroring his frown.

"Anyway, I reached out to them and although it took some time, they finally opened up to me and told me everything. I went to the police and luckily they took action and got them out of that hellhole," the words spit from his tongue like venom and you're not sure if the sickness in your stomach is from the alcohol or what he just told you.

“How old were you?”

“I was 17 at the time.”

The way your eyes grow in size and your brows shoot up must be a comical sight for him.  

“17? That’s so young!”

“It is. But it felt like the right thing to do,” he runs his hand through his dark locks, an exhaustion that is more than familiar to you, "I mean, I couldn't take them in right away because I was a minor. They put the girls in a children's home where I visited them regularly. When I turned 18, I didn't wait a second to sign the adoption papers."

Your lips purse, "It must have been a complicated process."

His eyebrows draw together, a melancholy weariness settling over his sharp features, "Oh, it was. I came pretty close to losing my mind. But it was all worth it; if I had to, I'd do it again. In a heartbeat."

The way Geto talks is soothing. Comforting, like a blanket being laid over your shivering body, and you sink into it, relishing the warmth it provides.

“You really are a good person, Geto.”

He leans his head back against the wall, “Funnily enough, you’re the first person to tell me this. Most gave me weird looks for it. Even my friends berated me for being too impulsive, but I couldn’t do nothing.”

“It’s admirable. And other people’s judgement doesn’t have to be the final one,” you say, pointedly, “…So that’s why you decided to become a teacher, huh?”

He nods, “I believe it’s our responsibility to teach children everything. Not only the basic subjects, but also how to behave, how to socialize. And how to ask for help.”

You wonder what Geto would have done if he had met you during that time. Would he have helped you? Would he have given you words of encouragement, taken care of you?

Without even closing your eyes, you can picture him in his classroom, drawings and inspirational quotes adorning the colorful walls. He stands behind his desk, greeting his students with a gentle, welcoming smile, laughing softly at their antics, answering questions with ease, giving praise when someone gives a correct answer, motivating a student when he notices their grades improving.

You'd have enjoyed to go school with someone like Geto as your teacher.

"I'm not sure if I could ever do something like that,” you admit.

"That's okay. We all have our own roles in life. I simply chose this one."

Are you happy with the role you've chosen? With the change you have made? Or have you inadvertently dug yourself a deeper hole instead of getting out of it?

"Do you ever regret your choice?"

"Of course I have tried to imagine how different my life could have been if I had made a different choice. But there's no point in dwelling on that - I chose what felt right, and looking back would do me more harm than good," Geto points at you with his chin, “how did you end up working in a library?" he asks you now, with no hint of judgment or disdain in his deep voice. Just pure curiosity. 

You don't, can't, answer directly. Coming up with an appropriate answer while your mind is still clouded by alcohol proves to be a difficult task.

“I also studied at a university“, you start, carefully. “Medicine. That’s what I studied.”

He waits patiently, giving you time to figure out what you want to say.

“I stopped last year,” you continue. ‘Stopped’ – what a great euphemism for ‘gave up’', “I realized it wasn’t for me. I didn’t do anything for a while, and then finally got a job at the library. It’s only a side job, though.”

Talking about it – even solely scratching the surface -creates a lump in your throat.

“Is that what your joke was about?”, he muses. You mumble a quiet ‘yes’. Geto hums, seeming to be deep in thought.

"There's nothing wrong with starting over," Geto eventually proclaims into the night, and you follow his words, "If you ask me, it's stupid to choose just one path in your early years and then think you have to stick to it for the rest of your life. We've only lived a small part of our lives so far, so why not consider trying other paths? Ones that also promise less suffering."

You nod, slowly. Let the weight of his words sink in, absorb into your body and mind.

“But how do I know which path is right and which one is wrong?”

This time, he lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Well, you won’t know unless you try. And there’s no such thing as a wrong or a right path – you can learn something from every path you take, even if you think you’ve failed.”

You breathe out a shaky sigh, a white cloud appearing in the cold air before you, only to dissipate in a few seconds.

“I guess you’re right.”

"I know," he smirks, and you let out an amused snort. Then, "Perhaps you should try a different path. One that is the opposite of what most people choose and expect. You might find some peace in a place that is not so crowded".

You have to say something back, something good, but you're too stunned to express any of the thoughts and emotions running through your head. 

"Do you regret stopping your studies?", Geto breaks the brief moment of silence.

Teeth dig into the inside of your cheek.

"I don't think so."

"Then I'm happy for you. Do something with that."

You find something swirling in those purple shades that you have been looking for so desperately, fruitlessly in your partner: understanding.

You don’t know what to do with it.

As Geto finishes his cigarette, he glances back at the door before turning back to you.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

A strong gust of wind rustles through the air, a whistling sound from the night sky, like a siren alarming you.

You listen to it.

“…Let’s wait a little longer.”

[heartfullofleeches]

What if someone from "Sheep"'s old pack came back around and tried to expose them, maybe for joy in suffering or to get people to split away and have an easy meal?

Sorry if this read weird I'm tired as hell

(I doubt any of them would recognize "Sheep" after all these years, but here's what would happen if any predator tried to reveal "Sheep's" identity.")

[Warnings Physical Violence, "Sheep" has a panic attack.]

-

"How stupid can you lot be?"

No...This isn't real. It's all a bad dream, right? You'll wake up any minute now, surrounded by all your friends and neighbors you've yet to acquaint yourself with. Perhaps you'll finally join Rabbit on one of their picnics. Or maybe Swan can teach you how to play chess - surely he must be tired of you asking which piece is which every time you play.

Claws digging into the meat of your shoulders stake you within the world of this cruel reality. This isn't a dream. You can't wake up, even if you chewed your own tongue off and suffocated on the blood as every cell in your body screamed at you to do. It would save you the torment. Your mouth hangs open, ragged draws of air and the smooth, filed surface of your canines preventing you from carrying out the deed.

"A sheep? This thing?" The cackle he barks causes your knees to curl against your chest - body instinctively trying to make you as small as possible. What do you have to be do afraid of? If you weren't so spineless you could've done something by now. Everyone is going to die now, and they'll die hating you.

"I wouldn't be surprised if we grew up from the same pack!"

It won't be long now- the concern for their fellow neighbor bleeding away to further terror and confusion. Were you responsible for the recent disappearances? How long until you devoured everyone? Monster. Beast. Wolf.

The townspeople are in a frenzy. What should they do? If the wolf's claims are true.... No- That could be dealt with that. The most important thing was getting you away from him before he hurt you anymore. They're so many of them. It'd be easy, right? The thought crosses their minds, but no one dares to speak first. A rabbit grows annoyed of their hesitance. Whilst the town is bickering amongst themselves, you're laying there - cowering for your life as that wolf threatens to ruin it for you. It isn't fair. The knife in their basket was for cutting cakes for you to share...

"Liar....."

As the rabbit weaves through the crowd, another resident of the town returns home from her daily gatherings. Rocks weight the pockets of her dress - the shouts and panic from her fellow neighbors channeling miles throughout the forest. Scrambling to find the sharpest one, she throws it directly at the back of the wolf's head.

"You damned liar!"

The wolf staggers forward - a pitiful whine escaping you as his claws retract from your shoulder. Blood gushes from the back of his cranium, a sharp ringing in his ears bring him to his knees - landing center on the blade aimed at his stomach.

"About a week ago, Sheep and I found a robin's nest in my backyard.... They got all teary eyed when the last egg wouldn't hatch... Tell me.... Would a wolf do that?"

Rabbit plants their foot on the wolf's chest, twisting the handle of their knife as they rip it from his bowels. The wolf grabs into their ankle, using what little strength he has to shove them off of him. Mouse leaps onto him from behind, slamming another rock into the nape of his neck.

"Take it back! Take it back! Sheep isn't anything like you! How dare you accuse them! You monster!"

Stop....

Your voice is too quiet for any of them to hear. You doubt that'd stop them anyway. They'll kill him. He came here to do the same, but does that make it right? Strong arms lift you from the dirt floor - mindful of their antlers as they place your head to their shoulder. Mayor Moose always knew you best - hushing your sniffles as soon as they begin. Swan stands off to the side behind him, refusing to meet your eyes. He tucks the coat of his suit over the handgun strapped to his belt.

"I'm sorry..... I'm so sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" Swan still fails to look up at you. He knows if he does- there's the smallest chance he'll give into your pleads.

"Get some rest. You'll need it after the day you've had."

Carried away from the commotion, the defenses your fellow townspeople confess, the blood they spill so that your innocent is kept - the blood loss and sheer shock of it all lulls you into a dreamless slumber.

It's the best sleep you've gotten in months.

[technovillain]

also also been thinking about the "involuntary responses" of psychic powers lately. i am forever a sucker for the 'powers driven by emotions' trope and i feel like it's pretty safe to say that psychonauts powers work like that at least in big situations (i.e. bob lifting his whole greenhouse outta the ground with plants with the emotional power of his grief, etc), so i like to think about it in smaller circumstances too.

like levitation happening involuntarily to people, floating when they get too excited without necessarily realizing it. or involuntarily floating towards the door when they're getting bored, their brains and begging them to leave the room. floating away when they get too caught up in their own thoughts, all "head in the clouds" starts literally taking them...to the clouds.

pyro specialists being more prone to getting flushed/red in the face when they're mad/embarrassed/strong emotions in general. getting hot and having to leave the room and or take a walk to "go cool off"

motherlobe gardeners trying to keep certain herbaphony specialist agents away from their plants because option A. the plants hate that guy, his attitude just makes them shrivel up or option B. the plants like that guy's energy *too* much and i don't have time to be pruning and weeding this whole area again.

this one's stupid but. electrokinesis specialist who can't stand it when the microwave is running. totally scrambles their train of thought. electrokinesis specialist who has accidentally fried their phone line hanging up on a particularly irritating phonecall and has to call the repairperson to get them a new phone....again....

and of course, mental connection and projection specialists/those who can externalize 'figments' being accidentally really easy to read. accidentally wearing their hearts on their sleeves. if they don't focus their energy on keeping their thoughts internalized, they might have little purple thought clouds over their heads just making it super easy to tell exactly what they're thinking. or maybe their archetypes are out sharing their host's true thoughts and feelings about the way you file your paperwork, or the way you chew your food with your mouth open in the breakroom. i imagine that when these types of psychics lose control of their minds even temporarily it can end up in a lot of unintentional oversharing.

[authortelevision]

arthur frederick and the new producer: the end₊˚⊹♡

words: 7, 504✦ .ᐟ

♯┆arthurtv slow burn, bach and arthur podcast

after lara leaves bach and arthur’s podcast, you become her replacement. after discovering that arthur hates change, it takes a lot for him to warm up to you and become friends. it also takes a lot for him to admit how he truly feels about you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Chapter Nine

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

Chapter Ten ₊˚⊹♡

You and Isaac sat across from each other at the table in the studio, cards in hand, as you both played a game of Uno. Arthur, sitting off to the side, was eating his lunch, looking mildly amused but mostly preoccupied with his food.

“Why did you even bring this here?” you asked Isaac as you placed a card down with a satisfying slap.

Isaac shrugged, not looking up from the game. “I don’t know, just in case Arthur gets too boring so we can actually have fun.”

Arthur, his mouth full of food, glared over at him. “Hey, I heard that,” he muttered, but his words were muffled by a piece of bread.

Isaac smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Ew, Arthur, please stop spitting your food out when you talk,” he said, scrunching up his face in disgust.

Arthur, still chewing, rolled his eyes and shook his head but didn’t bother responding, choosing to focus on finishing his lunch instead.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you drew another card. “I think you just got roasted, Arthur,” you teased, watching him shake his head in mock exasperation as he continued eating, clearly trying not to laugh.

You and Isaac resumed the game, the sound of cards shuffling and playful bickering filling the air, while Arthur, despite his grumbling, seemed oddly content in his corner.

“So,” he began, casually tossing down another card, “you wanna come out with us tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow, tapping your cards against the table as you considered the offer. “Who’s going?” you asked, already wondering if you’d even be up for it.

Isaac shrugged nonchalantly. “You know, like George, Arthur Hill, Chris… the usual people who would go out.”

You hesitated, unsure. “Oh, I don’t think they’d want me there.”

Isaac immediately rolled his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. “Don’t be stupid,” he said, grinning. “Arthur literally talks about you non-stop when he’s drunk. You’re basically there every night.”

You loved that part of Arthur, the part of him that made him so special to you. He was just so passionate about everything, and it extra special that he was so passionate about you. Regardless of how you felt about Arthur, Isaac’s words echoed in your mind as you tried to play it cool, but you couldn’t help but feel a little caught off guard by his honesty. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Arthur, who had been finishing his lunch nearby, suddenly looked up and chimed in.

“Yeah, I mean, I do talk about you. But not as much as he’s making out to be. Any ways, you should come out. It’s fun when you’re with us.”

You looked at him suspiciously, feeling face heat up, but didn’t know what to say. Arthur’s new casual confidence left you speechless for a moment, but Isaac was quick to add, “See? Told you. You’re practically one of us already.”

You bit your lip, looking between them both. “Okay, okay,” you relented with a smile. “I’ll come. But no promises, I might bail early.”

Isaac laughed, clearly satisfied with the result. “You’ll have fun. Trust me.”

————————————

You stood in front of the mirror, finishing off your makeup and double-checking your outfit when Emma suddenly popped her head into your room with a big smile on her face.

“You look so pretty,” she said, her voice genuine as she leaned against the doorframe.

You gave her a funny look, rolling your eyes. “I literally have a boyfriend, you know.”

Emma laughed and walked further into the room, her eyes sparkling. “I know, and I’m so happy for you! Honestly, it’s been so nice seeing you so happy lately.”

You grinned, feeling a little shy at her enthusiasm. “No need to get all sentimental on me.”

She shrugged, a soft smile on her face. “I’m just glad he makes you happy. I was worried for a while, you know, with everything that happened before. But he’s really grown on me. He seems like a good guy.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised at how supportive she was. “You actually like him?”

Emma nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I do. He’s a little… annoying sometimes, but I can tell he really cares about you. You deserve that.”

Your heart warmed at her words. “Thanks, Em. That really means a lot to me.”

She gave you a wink. “Of course. Just don’t forget about your old flatmate when you’re busy being all in love with him.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I won’t. Promise.”

You grabbed your jacket and headed for the door, feeling the familiar rush of excitement to see Arthur. As you stepped out of your room, you found Emma now lounging on the sofa, scrolling through her phone.

Before you could leave, you walked over to her, giving her a tight hug. “I really love you, you know,” you said, squeezing her a little tighter. “More than anyone in the world.”

Emma looked up, surprised by your sudden sentiment. She grinned and pulled you in tighter. “Even Arthur?”

You pulled back slightly, giving her a playful look. “Way more than Arthur,” you teased, “You’re my best friend.”

She chuckled, clearly pleased by your words. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said, ruffling your hair. “Go have fun with your boy. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

You smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude. “I will, and I’ll see you later.”

With that, you turned and left, closing the door behind you. As you stepped out into the cool air, you spotted Arthur waiting for you, a smile breaking across your face when you saw him.

Everything felt right in that moment, and you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to have both Emma and Arthur in your life.

You walked up to Arthur, and as soon as he saw you, his face lit up. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a tight hug, his warmth wrapping around you. You breathed in the familiar scent of his cologne, feeling at peace in his arms.

As he pulled away slightly, he whispered softly in your ear, “You look gorgeous.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, the compliment making your heart skip a beat. A smile spread across your face as you looked up at him.

Turning around, you waved at Emma, who was standing at the door, watching the two of you. She gave you a little wave in return, a content smile on her face.

Arthur followed your gaze, noticing her too, and gave her a casual wave as well. “See you later, Emma!” he called out.

She shot him a playful wink. “Have fun, you two!” she teased, before disappearing back inside.

You smiled to yourself, turning back to Arthur. “Ready to go?” you asked, your hand slipping into his.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his smile only growing as he walked alongside you.

Everything felt right, and the world felt a little more complete with Arthur by your side.

You walked into the bar with Arthur by your side, the bright glow of the warm lights and the buzz of conversations making the atmosphere feel welcoming. As soon as the guys saw you, they greeted you with smiles, and you couldn’t help but feel like it wouldn’t be as bad as you originally thought.

“Hey! It’s nice to see you!” George said first, pulling you into a hug. He was always friendly, and his bear hug made you feel safer.

“I didn’t know you were coming out tonight!” Chris spoke, wrapping you in another hug. “Glad you made it.”

Arthur stood back for a moment, watching with a small smile as the guys showered you with affection. It was clear that they were all happy to see you.

“I didn’t know you were the popular one,” he teased, nudging you playfully.

You smirked at him. “I’m just that good,” you replied, winking.

Isaac, always with a quick joke, grinned at you. “She’s the life of the party now, obviously,” he said. “But, alright, let’s get drinks, yeah?”

They all made their way to the bar, chatting as they ordered drinks for the table. Arthur leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing, “You’ve got them all wrapped around your finger, huh?”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “It’s not my fault they’re all this nice,” you said, glancing over at the group.

As the drinks arrived, you all made your way back to the table. Laughter and conversation filled the space, and for the first time in a while, you felt completely at ease surrounded by Arthur’s friends.

As you continued the night, you moved to a different location. The club was filled with energy, the music louder as the night wore on. Drinks kept pouring, and everyone seemed to be in high spirits, especially the boys. They were all getting progressively more drunk, their faces flushed with the warmth of alcohol.

Arthur, George, and Chris were joking around, playfully pushing each other, while Isaac sat beside you at the table, leaning back in his chair. He had that relaxed, stupid grin on his face, a little tipsy but still confident with his words.

You looked around, smiling at how affectionate everyone had gotten as the drinks took hold. Arthur wrapped an arm around George’s shoulders as they laughed at some joke, and Chris was constantly giving Arthur playful shoves, all in good fun. It was clear that their relationship was strong, the kind of friendship where physical affection came naturally, but in a totally loving, fun way.

“Hey,” you turned to Isaac, who was busy swirling his drink around. You leaned in a little, wanting to make sure he could hear you over the chatter. “Thank you for inviting me. It really means a lot.”

Isaac looked at you, his face softening as he gave a small nod. “Of course, I’m really glad you came,” he said with a smile. “Plus, you deserve to have some fun, too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, “It’s nice being here, seeing Arthur so happy.”

He gave you a kind look, raising an eyebrow. “Well, Arthur seems very happy with you, but you might have to fight for his love” he said, gesturing to where Arthur was laughing hysterically at something Chris had said.

You chuckled, glancing at Arthur who was now leaning into George as if they were some kind of drunken conjoined twins. “Yeah,” you said with a grin. “I think I’ll just let Chris have him”

Isaac took a sip of his drink, a small glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, lowering his voice a bit. “Just so you know, Arthur’s been telling Chris all night that he thinks he loves you,” he said. “Said he’s pretty lucky to have you in his life.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. But before you could reply, Chris stumbled over and threw himself dramatically across the table, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he slurred, “This night is amazing, right? I love you guys. You’re all my best friends.”

You laughed, your cheeks warm as Chris smothered you in a hug. “I love you too, Chris,” you said, patting him on the back. It was impossible not to be affected by the overwhelming sense of affection in the air. It was lighthearted, fun, and easy, and you were happy to be a part of it all. You were just so happy to be a part of Arthur’s life like this.

Isaac watched the exchange, shaking his head with a grin. “See?” he said, taking another drink. “That’s what I’m talking about. That man is full of love you gotta hold your boy close to chest.”

You grinned back at him, feeling comfortable in the chaos of the evening. “Yeah, you’re right, I gotta look after my boy.”

As the night went on, the jokes and affection only grew, everyone getting more carefree and silly. But in that moment, as you sat next to Isaac and watched your friends laugh and joke, you felt a deep sense of belonging. You were glad you were there.

Arthur and Chris were in their own little world, joking around across the table. Chris had his arm draped over Arthur’s shoulder, laughing at some ridiculous story, and Arthur was trying to play it cool, though his sappy smile gave away how much he was enjoying it.

Out of nowhere, Chris reached over, giving Arthur a playful smack on the ass. The sound echoed slightly, and Arthur jumped, wide-eyed. He shot Chris a glare, his hands going up in defense.

“Stop! I’m literally married!” Arthur exclaimed, laughing, his voice full of exaggerated outrage. “What’s wrong with you, man?”

Chris just cackled, shaking his head. “What, it’s just a little love tap! Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in your chair, glancing at the two of them with a grin. “Chris, you can keep him,” you said.

Arthur dramatically put his hand to his forehead, playing up the melodrama. “Well, guess that’s it for me then,” he said, feigning heartbreak. “I’m being traded off. Someone call my wife.”

Chris raised his glass in victory. “Sorry, Arthur, but I think I’ve got a new favorite.”

You chuckled, watching them laugh back and forth. It was all in good fun, and seeing them so carefree made the night even more enjoyable.

The walk home felt a little surreal, the city streets dim and quiet around you as the adrenaline of the night began to wear off. You’d sobered up enough to feel grounded again, but Arthur, still a little drunk, was stumbling beside you, his steps unsteady but his energy still infectious.

He kept leaning in, pressing soft, playful kisses to your cheek and temple, laughing lightly each time. Every few steps, he’d kiss you again, this time lingering just a bit longer than the last.

“Arthur, stop,” you laughed, trying to push him away gently as you nearly lost your balance from his affection. “You’re gonna trip us both up if you keep doing that.”

He grinned, unbothered by your protest, and leaned in for another kiss, this time targeting your forehead. “I can’t help it,” he said with a little giggle. “You’re just too lovely to resist.”

You half-stumbled as you tried to step around him, giving him a playful shove. “Seriously, I’m not going to be able to walk properly if you keep this up,” you warned, laughing despite yourself.

Arthur just wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you, pulling you closer as if he hadn’t heard a word you said. “I’m helping,” he said, his voice full of that familiar drunken sweetness. He leaned down to plant another quick kiss on your lips, this one too brief for your liking but just enough to make your heart race a little.

“Arthur!” You giggled, unable to hide your smile. “You’re so annoying, oh my god!”

He pulled back, still grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “I know, I know,” he said, his voice slightly slurring but his affection completely clear. “But you like it.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head, but the warmth spreading through your chest told you everything you needed to know.

As you finally made it to Arthur’s flat, the warmth of his embrace and his kisses didn’t let up. He was still kissing you, his lips persistent against yours, but he quickly started to shift down to your neck. The sensation of his soft lips trailing along your skin melted your thoughts away.

“Arthur…” you murmured, feeling your blood burning through your veins as he left little marks on your neck. “Can you at least take your clothes off?”

You meant it as a joke, trying to redirect his attention to something more practical, like getting into his pyjamas, but Arthur just chuckled against your skin, the vibration of his breath raising the hairs on your collarbone. “Oh, you are such a flirt,” he teased, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile, even as he leaned in and kissed you again, more passionately this time, helping you out of your jacket. You tried to take control of the situation, urging him, “Arthur, seriously, get in your pyjamas first—”

But he didn’t listen. Instead, he kissed you on a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, and the reaction was immediate. You let out a soft whimper, not quite able to hide the effect it had on you.

“Sorry,” Arthur murmured, his voice low, the playful teasing from before replaced with a deeper, more intense tone. He didn’t sound sorry at all though.

You exhaled sharply, feeling incredibly turned on. “God, Arthur… please…” you whispered, trying to gather your thoughts but not wanting to pull away to finally get the change of clothes you’d both been talking about. But Arthur only held you closer, his lips hovering at your ear as he whispered, “Please what darling?”

It was impossible to argue with that. You couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed the closeness. The strong smell of his deodorant wearing away through the night and being replaced by the scent of Arthur’s desperation made your heart pound in your chest in ways you couldn’t explain.

Arthur’s lips were addictive as they moved from your neck to your jaw, his hands gently guiding you toward the bedroom. He kissed you deeply, one hand resting on your waist while the other cupped your face, as if trying to keep you close, not letting you get away.

You stumbled a little, distracted by the feeling of his lips trailing against yours, but he kept you steady, leading you forward with a powerful intensity in every touch. You didn’t say anything, but your heart was racing, each kiss leaving behind warm imprints of his love for you.

He kissed your lips again, and again, moving you gently backward, step by step, until your knees bumped into the edge of the bed. Arthur paused, looking down at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes, as if savouring every second.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked softly, his voice hushed, as if the moment was suddenly too real for both of you.

You nodded, too consumed by the intensity of the moment to form any more words. Without waiting for an answer, Arthur kissed you again, this time slower, deeper, and with an almost ungodly touch. His hands brushed over your skin, drawing you into him as he pressed you down onto the bed.

As his lips moved from yours to your neck again, his hands slowly started to explore, pulling your shirt off as his kisses followed the line of your collarbone. The room felt like it was spinning, your mind was consumed by Arthur, every touch, every kiss, every low moan. You tangled your fingers in his hair, feeling each lock pass through them with every kiss.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, “I want this,” he whispered, as if confirming it to himself as much as to you.

You simply smiled, tugging him back down toward you, letting his lips claim yours once more, unable to deny how much you wanted him too.

“You look absolutely stunning,” Arthur whispered, his voice like a confession meant only for you. His gaze fixated on your lips, slightly parted, your brows furrowing under the weight of his admiration. For a moment, he simply stared, as if committing every detail to memory, his breath falling from his lips in ragged, uneven pants. His eyes, a deep chocolate brown, glimmered with something so utterly consuming.

Arthur’s hands brushed over your skin with a heavenly tenderness. The contrast of his hot fingertips against the cold softness of your skin sent shivers dancing along your spine. Starting at your shoulders, his fingers pressed gently into your muscles, kneading away tension as though his sole purpose was to unravel you. A quiet sigh escaped your lips, and Arthur’s lips quirked into the faintest smile, as though your contentment was his greatest reward.

Each movement of his was deliberate and filled with adoration. His hands skimmed lower, following the curve of your arms and trailing back up to cradle the base of your neck.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he murmured roughly. His breath was hot against the curve of your neck as he leaned closer, and the world seemed to fall away, leaving only him. “Wanting to feel your soft skin against mine, to lose myself in you.”

His lips grazed the shell of your ear leaving you breathless. Your back arched instinctively, your body answering his touch without thought, a silent invitation for him to go deeper, to explore further. His hands followed, tracing the curve of your back with a languid, unhurried intensity that left your heart pounding.

Arthur’s lips brushed against your jaw, a whisper of a kiss that lingered as though savoring the taste of you. “Every inch of you,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion, “I want to know it all. Every curve, every breath, every moment of you.”

His words wrapped around you like a spell, and his hands, now bolder, continued their journey down. He kissed his way down your neck, peppering soft kisses along your collarbone. His beard tickled your skin, a delightful sensation that made you giggle softly. Arthur's hands glided down your sides, his thumbs brushing the edges of your breasts, causing you to catch your breath. He took his time, savouring every moment, as if it were a delicious meal to be enjoyed slowly.

Arthur unhooked your bra, revealing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He admired them, his eyes darkening, the chocolate becoming lovingly bitter. "So beautiful," he whispered. He leaned down, his warm breath caressing your nipples, causing them to harden in anticipation.

His lips found one sensitive nipple, sucking gently. You moaned, grabbing fist fulls of his hair. Arthur's tongue was so slow and teasing, bestowing upon you a symphony of sensations. He lavished attention on one breast before moving to the other, ensuring that both received equal adoration.

As he worshipped your breasts, his hands roamed freely, exploring your curves. He traced the outline of your waist, the dip of your hips, and the softness of your thighs.

Arthur's fingers unbuttoned your jeans, his movements painfully unhurried. He slid them down your legs, his eyes never leaving your face, seeking your approval every step of the way. You nodded quickly, letting your mouth hang open as he kissed you.

He knelt before you, his eyes locked on yours, as he gently removed your underwear, exposing your pussy to his eager gaze. Arthur's breath sped up at the sight, his desire for you evident in the way his body trembled.

"You're so beautiful, so wet for me," he whispered. He leaned forward carefully. You shivered, your pleasure pulsating through your veins as he blew gently.

Arthur's tongue basically rolled out of his mouth, tasting you for the first time. He moaned, the vibrations reverberating through your body, as he savored you. His tongue moved in slow circles, exploring every inch of you, driving you insane.

You arched your back, pushing your hips forward, seeking more of his touch. Arthur obliged, his tongue delving deeper, finding that sweet spot that had you crying out in ecstasy. He suckled gently, his fingers finding your clit, teasing it with feather-light touches that had you trembling on the edge of release.

"Oh, Arthur," you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as your orgasm built. "Don’t Stop. Fuck, please..."

He didn't. Arthur was almost drunk of your pleasure, your moans making his pace get faster until it was too much to control.

Your climax hit you like a wave, crashing over you and sweeping you away. You cried out, your body trembling. Arthur continued his devouring, riding the storm with you, ensuring your orgasm was as intense and satisfying as it could be.

As your tremors subsided, Arthur slowly made his way up your body, his lips seeking yours. He kissed you roughly and passionately, sharing the taste of your climax. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close.

"You’re so gorgeous," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with awe.

With that, Arthur positioned himself between your legs, his hard length pressing against your entrance. He looked into your eyes, seeking your consent, and you nodded, eager for more.

He entered you slowly, inch by inch, his eyes never leaving yours. The sensation of being filled by him was exquisite, and you both groaned in unison as he seated himself fully within you.

Arthur began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate. He set a gentle rhythm, taking his time to ensure your pleasure. He was mindful of your every reaction, adjusting his pace and angle until he hear you cry out his name.

"You feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You moaned in response, your nails digging into his back, leaving deep red lines. Arthur's hips moved in a steady rhythm, his beard brushing against your neck. He kissed and bite at your sensitive skin, his touch a perfect contrast to the deep, almost euphoric pleasure of his thrusts.

He whispered words of adoration, praising your beauty and your responsiveness. His words were like fuel to the fire, igniting your desire and making you crave him even more.

As he continued to move within you, Arthur's pace gradually increased, his thrusts becoming more messy. He was losing himself in the sensations, in the feel of your body wrapped around his. You matched his rhythm, your bodies moving as one, a perfect duet of pleasure.

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the movement of muscles beneath his skin, as he pushed deeper into you. You could feel your orgasm building again, a familiar tension coiling within you, and you knew Arthur was close as well.

"I'm so close," you whispered, your breath coming in short gasps.

"Me too," he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

With a final, powerful thrust, Arthur sent you spiraling into another mind-shattering climax. Your bodies trembled in unison, caught in the throes of ecstasy. He filled you completely, his release hot and intense, as he called out your name.

As your hearts raced and your breathing slowly returned to normal, Arthur collapsed onto the bed beside you, pulling you close.

The bed’s residual warmth lingered as you both lay entwined, the sheets a tangle from you and Arthur. His head was nestled against your chest, his breath soft and subtle against your skin. His hand rested gently on your side, while your fingers absentmindedly traced circles on his back.

He nuzzled into you, his voice a soft murmur. “My love?”

You looked down at him. “Yeah? What’s up?”

He shifted slightly, his eyes still closed. “I love you.”

Your breath stuttered for a second, surprised by the words. You hadn’t expected him to say it so openly, so freely. It felt like something monumental that you couldn’t quite put into words. You swallowed your nerves and smiled softly, holding him closer. “I love you too.”

He hummed contently against you, his voice soft and sleepy. “Mhm, yeah…” He snuggled in a little more, his body still, his breath slow.

A sudden thought made you pull back slightly to look at him, your fingers tracing through his hair. “When did you realise?” you asked, your voice hushed.

Arthur paused for a moment, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but something else in his eyes, his eyebrows were furrowed and his face was relaxed and gentle. He let out a light sigh before speaking.

“I don’t know exactly,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “Maybe it started when we went out for that coffee date… I remember thinking that I could talk to you about anything, and that was something new for me. But then, every time we hung out, it felt like… like it wasn’t just about having fun or passing the time. It felt real, you know? The way we could just be with each other, like I didn’t have to try to be anything I wasn’t.”

You smiled, running your thumb over his cheek.

“And then there were all those moments when we just laughed, when we didn’t even have to say much. Just being around you felt right. It’s like, I didn’t realise it then, but looking back, it was always there, in every little thing we did.”

Arthur’s eyes fluttered closed again, and he adjusted his arm around you. “I just—I don’t know. I guess I just love you. I’ve always loved you.”

You held him tighter, feeling the soft beat of his heart against your chest. Your own heart was full, a gentle smile tugging at your lips as you kissed his forehead lightly. “I’m glad you realised,” you whispered.

Arthur smiled into your chest, his breathing slowing even more as sleep began to overtake him. “Me too,” he mumbled, barely audible.

“When did you fall in love with me?”

As you laid there, the warmth of Arthur’s body pressed against you and the soft rhythm of his breath filling the silence, his question echoed in your mind. His eyes were closed now, his face peaceful as he began to drift off, but there was something in his question that made your heart feel heavier, yet lighter at the same time.

You hesitated for a moment, thinking back to all the little moments that had slowly built up to this. It wasn’t a single moment, a defining moment. No, it was everything. You smiled softly as your fingers traced idle circles on his back.

You opened your mouth, ready to speak, but you realised you had to think about it, really think about how long you’d known. You thought about the first time you really got to know him, how his jokes, his passion, his beautiful smile had drawn you in. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than just work, just the podcast, just two people who would share the same space for a while, but somewhere in the middle of it all, you fell in love.

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you said quietly, your voice blending softly with the white noise around you both, as if finally speaking the truth out loud made it feel like everything had clicked into place. You could feel Arthur’s body soften against you, but you knew he wasn’t fully awake. So, you continued, knowing he would hear it anyway, even in his sleep.

“From the moment we started hanging out, I didn’t realise it, but there was something about you. At first, I thought it was just… you know, you being you. But then we’d talk and talk and I’d catch myself looking forward to hearing your voice, even when we were just texting about random things, like what movie we should watch for the podcast, or whatever weird topic you were passionate about that week. I remember you’d say these little things that would make me laugh, like the time you got so passionate about some movie I hadn’t even seen, but you were so excited to share it with me anyway. You didn’t even know you were doing it, but you were always so considerate, so you. That’s when I started to realise how much I was drawn to you, more than just your beautiful face.”

You let out a quiet sigh, remembering how desperate you were for him to see you, to notice you, to just be friends with you. It was strange to think back to the first time you found yourself standing by your window, waiting for Arthur to show up at midnight, the cold winter air biting at your skin as you told yourself, It’s fine, it’s just Arthur, but in the pit of your stomach, it felt like something else. The thought of him walking in, his scarf wrapped around his neck, his eyes focused on you, like he was waiting for something, too.

“Then there was that night,” you said, a smile forming on your lips as the memory surfaced. “When you came over in the middle of the night, just to hang out, and I realised you’d traveled all that way just to see me. And I remember thinking, This is it. That night, it wasn’t just about the movie, or the podcast, or even the fact that you wanted to spend time with me. It was the way you looked at me, the way you listened to me, like I was the only person who mattered. That’s when I realised I cared about you so much more than I ever thought possible.”

You could feel Arthur’s soft breaths, his chest rising and falling steadily, and it made you smile even more as you continued.

“You know, I thought I’d just be friends with you. Honestly, after that first awkward moment when when we went out to that market and all I could think about was how much i loved just being with you, no one else, I figured, This is just going to be a weird little friendship. But then… something kept happening. Every time you came to see me, even if it was just for work, I’d start feeling like maybe it was something more. Like when you showed up at my flat, and you were nervous and cute, and we just fell into the rhythm of being together. And when you kissed me that night, I don’t think I’d ever felt more special in that moment.”

You laughed to yourself, remembering how embarrassed you both had been afterward, and how awkward it felt, yet perfect at the same time.

“And then the way you’d show up to work with that stupid smile on your face, making my heart skip a beat every time I saw you. Even the teasing from Isaac about you liking me, all of that, it was building something bigger than I realised. I guess it was all those little moments with you, when you took care of me when I needed it, when we shared those late-night talks after everyone else had gone home. And then, when we started saying things to each other that weren’t just ‘I like hanging out with you,’ but ‘I like you’, really like you. That was when I knew.”

You hesitated, your gaze softening as it settled on Arthur’s peaceful face, his breath fanning over your chest. His expression was so vulnerable and truly peaceful, it forced a truth you’d been circling for longer than you cared to admit, out of you. “I think I’ve always loved you,” you began, your voice trembling. The words felt new and yet familiar, like they’d always been waiting for you to uncover them. “Maybe not all at once, but in pieces… little by little, over the months. And I didn’t even see it for what it was. Not until now.”

Your fingers brushed lightly through his hair, the soft strands slipping between them as you paused, searching for the right words. “I didn’t realise it when you made me laugh on the worst days or when you stayed, even when I gave you every reason to leave. I didn’t see it when you looked at me with those lovely brown eyes. But it was always there, wasn’t it? This… love. Quiet, patient, waiting for me to understand.”

Arthur stirred faintly in his sleep, shifting closer, his arms tightening around you as if he could sense the depth of your thoughts even now. His lips curled into the faintest smile, and the feeling made your chest ache. You pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering there as the truth settled fully into your heart.

“And now I know,” you whispered, your words meant only for the walls of the room and the man in your arms. “I’ve loved you for longer than I can even remember. Longer than I knew. And somehow… you waited for me to catch up.”

Arthur’s warmth seeped into you, like his soul was combining with yours through your flesh. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no urgency, no need to run from your thoughts or drown them out. You just let yourself feel.

You opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling for a long moment before letting your gaze drift back to him. Even in sleep, Arthur had this way of pulling at your heart, of making you feel like you belonged in a way you hadn’t before. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you traced your fingertips lightly along the curve of his shoulder, marveling at how gentle and soft his skin was, almost as if it had been kissed by angels. You knew Arthur would give you an explanation for why this was not the power of god, but you knew that there was no scientific reasoning for how his skin glowed under the beams of lights so perfectly, you could thank every heavenly being you’d lay your eyes on.

“You know,” you murmured quietly, more to yourself than to him, “I used to think love had to be this grand, all-consuming thing. Something that swept you off your feet the moment you felt it. But this… this is different.” Your voice hesitated, but you pressed on, needing to say it out loud, even if he couldn’t hear you yet. “It’s softer. It’s in all the little things, like the way you smile when you’re teasing me, or how you’re always there when I need you, even when I don’t realise it. It’s been there all along, hasn’t it? I was just too scared to see it.”

Arthur shifted slightly, his face pressing against your chest, and you felt your heart swell again, almost painfully so. A shaky breath escaped you as your hand came to rest against his back, pulling him even closer. You wanted to freeze this moment, to hold onto it forever, because for the first time, you weren’t running from how you felt.

“Arthur,” you whispered, your voice breaking just slightly. “I don’t think I could ever stop loving you. Even if I tried. Even if I wanted to.”

You closed your eyes again, resting your cheek against the top of his head, letting his presence fill every empty space in you. The future still felt uncertain, and part of you knew there would be challenges ahead, but for now, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the way he fit against you, as if he’d always belonged there.

And maybe, you thought as sleep began to claim you, he always had.

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The End.

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author note: THANK YOU SO SO SO SO MUCH FOR READING MY FIC !! i love you all so so so so much and as a thank you i will be posting many christmas themed fics soon !! if you have any requests that i have not answered that you want posting id love to write them now i have finished this. THANK YOU FOR READING !! let me know if you liked it <333

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@rubyskies @rkaya @pookietv @rougetv @arthurhillmastermind @fatneek444 @pretendyoucantseeme @neivivenaj @mmilllll @asmoothoperator

[itgetsdark-x]

I Wanna See You Beggin’

Summary: Joel Miller is your dad’s best friend, you knew it was wrong, you knew it would only cause trouble but you couldn’t help the way you ached for the man. (Title is from I Hate Myself for Loving You — Joan Jett & The Blackhearts) 6.9k words. I’m sorry.

Characters: dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: 18+ only, no minors as it’s just a big ol’ load of smut… praise kink (use of ‘good girl’ a lot), p in v sex, unprotected (be sensible and wrap before u tap, pls), age gap (reader is mid twenties, Joel would be in his late 40s), use of the word ‘daddy’, oral (f receiving), no outbreak in this au.

A/N: hi guys, I haven’t written smut for years and Joel Miller has me frothing at the mouth and giggling like a little girl with a crush especially dbf!joel… Anyway, if this is enjoyed by people, I have an idea of how I could make this into a series. Please leave me nice comments or catch me crying in a corner somewhere lol

“Dad,” you huffed into the receiver as you held your phone to your ear with your shoulder. “I love you and all but I could think of better ways to spend my Friday night rather than listening to you and Joel argue over which 80’s band is the best.” You chuckled fondly as you carried on typing away at the laptop in front of you whilst you spoke into your phone. 

“Sweetheart, I love spending time with you and Joel, you love him as well! I’ll pay for dinner?” He spoke softly and you smiled as your could hear your dad’s smile down the phone. 

“Fine, what time do you want me round, old man?” You teased fondly. “I finish work at 5 today.”

“6:30pm work okay for you? Don’t forget to bring some beer.” Your dad asked with a smirk. 

You rolled your eyes before responding to him, “Fine, I’ll bring the beers but as soon as you and the other old man start arguing, I’m out!” You laughed. 

“Deal,” your dad agreed. “I’ll see you later my sweet pea, love you!” He hummed and hung up before you could respond. 

“Old men and technology.” You muttered to yourself before taking your phone and opening your messaging app. 

You quickly tapped on the screen and chewed on your lip as you did so. 

‘You need a lift to dad’s later? x’ you hit send and placed your phone down on your desk, returning your attention back to your work laptop. You were in the midst of replying to an email when your phone buzzed on your desk beside you. 

‘Sure thing, peach. See you around 6? :) Xx’

You couldn’t help the way your lips upturned into a smile, and as soon as you caught the reaction you chewed on your bottom lip. You hated the way the older male had such a visceral effect on you, you had known Joel Miller for around ten years now. You moved to the city and your father worked with him, the two of them soon became best buddies which in turn, meant he spent a lot of time around you and your house. When you first met Joel you were a mere sixteen-year old kid, from day one you felt an instant attraction to him, you knew it was wrong but you couldn’t deny it. In the beginning it felt like a harmless, childish crush, one that you were bound to grow out of but things only seemed to get worse the older you got, that attraction burned deep in your veins and any time you spent time with the older man you couldn’t help the way your cheeks burned and your pussy throbbed; there had been many nights where you had dropped him home after visiting your dad and rushed home just so you could relieve your tension. Your fingers buried deep in yourself, moaning Joel’s name as you came around them. 

You felt shameful, dirty and down-right embarrassed about those moments but it didn’t stop you from doing it again, and again.. and again. You knew Joel would never cross that line, never, he was too much of a gentleman and had way too much respect for your old man but that didn’t stop the feelings you had for him.

Your mind was reeling, so much so you barely noticed the way your thighs pressed themselves together searching for some relief to your aching core, you stood from your desk in your room and stretched before you looked at the time on your desktop, it read 4pm. You sighed and went to your kitchen to grab a snack and make yourself a strong coffee, you had an hour left of work before you had to shower and get ready before picking Joel up. 

The last hour of your work felt excruciatingly slow, your mind was busy with thoughts of your evening ahead of you; it was no different to your usual Friday get-together with your dad and his friend but today you couldn’t erase the filthy thoughts of Joel from your mind. You quickly showered, hoping the hot water would wash your mind and body clean, you ignored the burning to urge to relieve some tension and give your body the orgasm and relief it so badly needed. 

After showering you, you applied a light layer of make-up, like usual before pulling your hair up in a half-up and half-down style. You looked into your wardrobe and reached for a plain black tank top, orange plaid over shirt and black tennis skirt; you paired the outfit with your favourite pair of black converse. You put your accessories on; earrings, rings and gave your body a spritz of your favourite perfume. After grabbing the 12-pack of beer from the fridge, you quickly grabbed your phone and keys off the counter and left your apartment to go and pick up Joel. 

You were running a tad late but that wasn’t out of the ordinary, and Joel was always expecting it. You pulled up outside his home, gave a beep of your horn and took a shaky breath in as you saw him lock up and approach your car. Your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as he climbed into your car and suddenly your senses were attacked with the older male. The small space filled with his heady scent, his aftershave musky, spicy and just Joel. He was wearing dark grey jeans, not too tight but tight enough to appreciate his thick thighs and your eyes couldn’t help but notice his bulge as he walked. Joel was wearing a dark khaki over shirt and a black T-shirt under that went perfectly with his jeans, and of course, he was wearing his trusty dealer boots. 

“Hey peach,” he spoke and leant over to press a kiss to the side of your head. It was something he had done for years, only now, you craved to feel his lips elsewhere. 

“Hey old man.” You grinned and started your car once more. 

The journey to your father’s house was short, only about twenty minutes; it was annoying that he didn’t live in the same neighbourhood as it always meant you or, on occasion, Joel had to drive. It was a comfortable journey as the two of you spoke about your respective day’s and week’s. 

“So you’re not hanging out with that guy again tonight, oh, what was his name!?” Joel questioned, searching his brain for the name. “Derek? No, no, he definitely seemed like a George!” He laughed, his hands resting comfortably on his thigh, you couldn’t help the way your eyes glanced down at his large digits. 

“His name was Ben, and you know that, Joel. You’re just being a dick.” You shook your head quickly with a laugh. “And nope, dad had other ideas for me… clearly babysitting duties. I would much prefer to be out with Ben but here we are…” You said softly with a roll of your eyes, it was a lie, of course. You would happily spend every waking moment with Joel, if he let you, exploring his body, sharing your thoughts with one another. 

His hand tensed on his thigh, it was brief and barely noticeable but you did notice it; that was… weird? You shook off the feeling and parked up outside your dad’s apartment block. 

“Anyway, I love babysitting you old men. It’s cute. Great practice for when I actually want kids.” You laughed, turning off the ignition and climbing out of your car. “And, I’ve warned dad, slightest hint of bickering between you two and I am out. Gone. Done. You can walk home.” As you spoke, you bent over to reach into the back seat of your car to grab the beers, one leg slightly lifted as your body struggled slightly to pull them closer; you hadn’t given the motion much thought, especially in your outfit.

Joel moved until he was stood behind you, he cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly after catching a glimpse of your black, lace panties. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh hon, you might want me to grab those? Gonna give someone a heart attack if they see you like that.” His voice was soft as he spoke, still not making eye contact with you. 

“Shit. Sorry, Joel.” You cursed, your cheeks flushed red as you watched the dark haired man grab the beers and you smoothed out your skirt.

The rest of the evening played out like usual; your dad and Joel had a few beers each, you allowed yourself to have one as you were driving and you all ate way too much Chinese take-out. It was getting late, you were laid out on your dad’s couch, your legs swung over your dad’s lap, Joel was sat in the lazy-boy across the room, his legs sprawled wide. This was always part of the routine, you would all catch up on your week’s complain about work, talk about sport’s games that had happened or were about to occur, it was familiar and safe. 

“So get this, bud,” Joel spoke, his voice breaking the noise of whatever Depeche Mode record they had put on the player. “Y/N over here was saying she would have preferred to have hung out with that douche, Ben, we met last month. Can you believe that?” He looked over at you, smirking as he took a swig of his beer. 

“Dick,” you mouthed over to him and let your head hang back onto the arm of the sofa. 

Your dad opened his eyes and looked over at you. “Is that right, sweet pea? You don’t wanna hang out with your favourite ‘old men’?! I’m truly offended.” He laughed, closing his eyes again, feigning hurt. 

“Joel is just bitter I have a better love life and sex life than him.” You shot back, immaturely sticking your tongue out at the other male. 

“Gross! Dad in the room!” Your dad grimaced, watching his hands in front of his face. “You’re my little girl, I don’t wanna hear about you having sex.”

“Hey — that’s not even true, I have sex… plenty of it…” Joel huffed, trying to sound convincing as he lied through his teeth. In truth, Joel never really had an interest in the women he had met, sure he took a few women home from bar to sleep with them but after he lost his wife and child, Sarah, he never really had it in him to give dating a proper go. 

“Sureeee you do,” you giggled, causing your dad to let out a loud laugh.

You all laid about a bit longer, listening to music and joking around before you sat up and stretched your back out, causing your tank top to rise, showing a small sliver of soft skin to show. There it was again, Joel’s hand tensed in place and it was almost as if his jaw clenched down. You were sure you were imagining these things, like usual so you pushed yourself off the sofa and smoothed your clothes out. 

“Right, pop’s I better get old man Miller home before I pass out here. I’m shattered.” You yawned, reinforcing your previous sentence. 

After saying your goodbyes you walked back to your parked car, the cool chill of the late-night air made your skin prick up with goosebumps and sent a small shiver down your spine. 

Joel and you walked in silence, the silence remained as you started your car and cranked the heating up.

“Dick move, bringing up Ben to my dad by the way, Miller. Real dick move.” You spoke, your voice seeming loud in the confined and silent space, just the low thrum of your car’s air vents trying to clear the windows and fill the air with warmth.

“Ha, sorry, Peach. Couldn’t resist it. Was right there for me to tease you with.” He laughed lowly, bringing his hands up to blow some warmth into them. There it was again, that nickname, every time it rolled off his tongue it sent warmth straight to your core. 

“My dad doesn’t need to know what I would rather be doing on a Friday night, or rather who I would rather be doing.” You huffed.

“I wouldn’t go around proclaiming that sorta thing, especially round your pops. I’m sure he wouldn’t wanna hear how corrupt his good girl truly is.” Joel hummed, his finger tapping on his thigh as you began driving. 

‘Good girl’, it rolled off his tongue so effortlessly yet it sent sparks straight to your core, as you drove you shift in your seat and pressed your thighs together. 

“I — I uh, I’m an adult, Joel. I’m a fully grown woman, incase you haven’t noticed. I have needs and wants.” You argued, trying to remain confident in your words. 

“Needs… and wants, huh?” He laughed, raising an eyebrow at you. “Is that why I see you practically drooling every time you see me? Now would you say that’s a need or a want?” Joel asked, his voice low and sultry.

Your mouth dried up instantly, voice getting stuck in your throat as you tried to protest. “I — I do not.” You protested, your voice coming out as a mere squeak.

“Oh peach, I see the way you press your thighs together. So needy for me? Hmm.” He hummed, his hand reaching over to touch your bare thigh. “I’ve seen the way you shift in your seat when I spread my legs in the arm chair or when you catch a short glimpse of my bulge. I’ve seen it all, no need to hide it.” His fingers were barely touching you, ghost-like touches on your skin. It was a risky move, he knew that and he knew you could quite easily pull the car over, kick him out and tell your dad what he had done. It could ruin his only true, pure friendship if your dad found out. But Joel was also sure he had calculated this properly, he had seen you for the past couple years and your minuscule reactions only seemed to ramp up the older you had been getting. 

Your breath hitched harshly in your throat as you tried to concentrate on the road ahead of you but your mind was swimming with Joel once again, his fingers lightly traced patterns on your inner thigh and all you could do was whimper pathetically under his touch. 

“J-joel,” you whined. “Please don’t tease me, I’ll crash the fuckin’ car if you play like that.”

“Oh little girl, I’ve barely placed a hand on you and you’re already whimpering for me? Quite cute really.” He said, his voice seeming deeper than usual; he splayed his hand across the skin of your inner thigh and gripped it tightly. 

You forced your eyes open as you continued to drive, you weren’t sure if you were doing the speed limits or what, all you could think about was the large hand that was so close, yet not nearly close enough to where you needed it the most. You could feel how wet you were already, you had been a mess all evening but now you could physically feel your arousal collecting in your lace panties. 

“You reckon your ol’ man knows how needy you are for me? Your dad’s best friend. Oh peach, what a mess.” He continued, he had moved closer to you now, reaching over the centre console of your car, his breath fanning out over your neck. 

“J-Joel, I’m serious. I’ll crash if you carry on like that. Not funny.” You whined, trying to press your legs together again but feeling resistance in the form of Joel’s hand. 

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Joel tutted. “What are you trying to do there, darlin’?” He laughed, letting his pinky drift closer to your clothed cunt just barely brushing the fabric. 

You whined again, just a small noise from the back of your throat and pulled the car over, from what you could tell you were a few streets away from Joel’s house; the suburban area was dimly lit with few lights and no people walking around, especially not this late anyway. You pushed your car into park, turned off the lights and engine and looked at the older male for a moment, your lips wet and cheeks flushed. 

“Joel…” you started. “Y-you don’t have to do this, I know I’m not your type and I’m sure you’re just trying to play a bit of a joke on me. We should get you home and forget about all of this…” Your breath was shaky, you hoped to every god out there that Joel would continue but you wanted him to know he didn’t have to humour your silly feelings. 

“You don’t think I want this?” Joel asked, his face close to yours, hand still pressed teasingly to your thigh. “I’ve noticed recently, the way you react to me and tonight, w-when you were bent over. Took everything in me to not pull those little panties aside and bury myself deep in that little cunt right there in the middle of the street.” His voice sounded near animalistic as he finished that sentence and your cheeks burned a deep, cherry red as he finished speaking. 

“I didn’t mean to do that, didn’t really think.” You mumbled, looking past him to stare out the window. 

“Shh,” Joel hummed, he leant forward and placed a kiss to your lips with his hand still stroking soft patterns into your inner thigh. 

You sighed contentedly into the kiss, finally experiencing what you had craved for years, your hand snaked up to hold Joel’s face as you deepened the kiss; hungry to taste more of the man. Joel tasted like smoke faintly, salty from the foods you had eaten and there was the distinct taste of hops from the beer he had drank. Your fingers intertwined into his greying hair and you gave it a testing tug; Joel groaned and allowed his tongue to swipe across your bottom lip. Eagerly, you opened your mouth and urged the kiss to be deepened, taking as much of him in as you could in that moment. 

Joel saw this as his opportunity to advance his hand, he slipped his fingers under the hem of your skirt and let them stroke across the damp fabric of your panties. You whimpered into the kiss, your hips bucked forward searching for further contact. He couldn’t help but smile at how undone you were already. Joel teased his fingers across the waistband of the lace fabric of your panties, teasingly slow, just as you were about to pull away from the kiss and protest he allowed two fingers to slip into your wet folds and agonisingly slowly circle your swollen clit. 

“Fuck,” he growled lowly. “So fuckin’ wet for me already, darlin’?”

You nodded, gripping at Joel’s forearm as he started to rhythmically circle and play with your clit. He was right, you were near sopping as he slipped through your folds. 

“Wanted this for s-so long,” you whimpered. You couldn’t quite believe this was real, you were almost convinced you would wake up any moment, sprawled out on your bed with your fingers deep inside of yourself and not actually in your car, with Joel Miller’s fingers close to making you cum already. 

“Yeah?” Joel asked, his fingers speeding up. “Wanted to feel my fingers on your wet pussy, making you feel good? Huh? How does it feel to have my fingers finally in you?” Joel spoke, his voice a low huff as his fingers worked quickly. 

“So. Good.” You moaned, the noise low and breathy. “Feels so good. I’m going to cum. Please.”  

Joel groaned, he still couldn’t believe this was happening to him. Since you started maturing over the past couple of years he had thought so many times about how much he would love to corrupt you; to have his fingers, mouth and cock making you fall apart at the seams. Just anything to make you feel good. 

“That’s it, atta girl. Cum for me, good girl.” Joel whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear as he sunk a digit into you abruptly and let his palm bump up against your clit.

That was it, the white hot, searing heat in your stomach erupted and your eyes screwed themself shut so tight you saw white patterns dancing behind your eyelids. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip so hard the familiar metallic tang flooded your mouth, anything to stop you from alerting the neighbourhood with your screams. If that You that wasn’t just the best orgasm of your life, you would have been slightly embarrassed at quickly he had made you cum. 

Joel barely moved his finger in you, just circled it slightly but his palm nudged your clit as he worked your through your orgasm and it made you whimper loudly, your body flinching with over sensitivity. He took the hint and removed his hand from your wrecked panties and brought it up to his mouth, sucking his digits to clean them from your juices. 

“Taste so sweet, just like a peach.” He groaned, his fingers popping from his mouth, the noise startling you from your orgasmic comedown. There it was again, your nickname but now it just sounded sinful and you knew going forward, you wouldn’t be able to hear it without getting wet and embarrassed. 

When you finally regained some composure, you looked at Joel; your lips were swollen and red and your cheeks had a light flush settled on them. He smiled, thinking you were truly the most perfect sight he had ever seen. Your hand reached over to his lap, you had a hunger and needed to curb the insatiable need for his cock. Your small hand palmed him through his jeans, he was rock hard and fuck, he was big. You swallowed, almost nervously at the thought of his large cock stretching your tight hole out. Of course you had slept with people, you weren’t a virgin but your previous boyfriend was nowhere near that big and he definitely couldn’t make you come that hard, even on his best days. You gently squeezed at his length, stroking him through the rough fabric. 

“Not here, darlin’. How about we go back to mine so I can properly appreciate you?” He asked, and just as you opened your mouth to protest saying you wanted him right there and now he spoke once more. “I’ll drive, dunno if you can drive properly after that, little girl. I saw how hard you came on my fingers, now imagine how hard you could cum on my cock.”

Your whole body shuddered involuntarily, never in all your years of knowing Joel had you heard such filthy things from his mouth; he had always been the perfect Southern gentleman. You were soon pulled out of your thoughts by Joel opening your car door. 

“Shuffle over.” He commanded. 

You nodded dumbly and did as you were told. Joel swiftly started the car and continued the drive back to his, it barely took ten minutes but every minute felt like torture; your mouth watered at the thought of Joel filling your holes, using you how he pleased, your core ached with the need to be full of Joel again. 

Once the car was parked, Joel hopped out and was once again opening your door for you, you exited the car and grimaced at the cool air hitting your skin. You felt Joel’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you into his home, a place you had been hundred’s of times before but this time you felt nervous. 

He opened his front door for you and you walked in, just as you were about to turn and speak to the male he was holding your hips in his large hands and pressing your smaller frame against the wall. His lips were on yours and starting a bruising kiss, once again your hands found their way into his hair and you moaned softly. You wanted to be stuck like this forever, with his soft lips on yours and his rough facial hair scratching your skin slightly reminding you exactly who was kissing you. 

“Please don’t tease, I just want you so badly Joel. I have for years, b-been thinking about your cock filling me up for years.” You whined, sounding like a petulant child. 

“And I’ll be fillin’ you up real soon, sweet girl. But how about I make you feel good again, yeah? You think you can be good for me and cum again, I wanna truly taste how sweet you are, sugar.” He growled, his lips trailing rough kisses down your neck. God how he wished he could mark you up, head to toe, just so people would know you were all his.

Your knees buckled, and your body fell against Joel’s slightly, causing him to laugh breathily; no woman had ever reacted like that to him before, let alone just his words but then again, no woman was like you. He took you by the hand and led you up to his room, you couldn’t help but take in your surroundings, you had been in Joel’s room a couple times before but you had never noticed just how much it smelt like him. 

“How about we get you nice and comfortable, let’s get those clothes off you. Can’t wait to see your body.” He started by pushing your plaid shirt off your shoulders, throwing it over to the side; the heavy fabric landed with a dull thud onto his wooden floor and with that he swiftly removed your tank top. Somewhere along the way you had both kicked your shoes off but your brain was too murky to fully register it. 

Joel’s rough hands slid up your sides, he was drinking in every inch of your curves and soft skin; in the wake of his hands your skin was freckled with goosebumps. 

“So beautiful,” he breathed, a dim light casting beautiful shadows over his face. You felt embarrassed as his eyes fully drank in your form. “May I?” He asked, voice soft and smooth like honey, his hands were at the clasp of your bra and you simply nodded. It seemed like a trivial thing to ask permission for considering less than thirty minutes ago you were cumming around his fingers. 

He removed your bra, your perky breasts bounced ever so as the supportive fabric was gone. Your nipples hardened as the cool air hit them, pulling the sensitive skin tight. Joel could have devoured you whole, right there and then. His large, calloused hands came up to hold your breasts, his thumbs swiping over your nipples almost in a testing fashion. He did it again when it elicited a moan from your throat, he pinched the sensitive buds and your back arched towards him. 

“Joel, I can’t take it. Please.” You whined, his touches were entirely too much yet not enough all at once. It was your own form of perfect torture. 

The older male was loving this, watching your eager reactions as he toyed with your body, his cock was hard and leaking in his jeans and he couldn’t wait to be inside of you. 

“Be patient, darlin’. We have all night.” He smirked, slowly sinking to his knees in front of you. 

His rough hands begrudgingly left the peaks of your breasts and worked their way down to the zip of your tennis skirt, he unzipped the fabric causing it to fall to the floor. You took the cue and kicked it to side, out of the way. Joel’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties once more and slid them down your legs, you rested onto his shoulder and stepped out of them, just before you could kick them to the side, he was bunching them up and shoving them into his back pocket. 

This man — he would be the death of you, you just knew it. 

You were about to make a comment and protest but Joel was stood once again and gently pushing you back onto the bed behind you; you fell onto the plush mattress with ease, your thighs falling open without being asked to do so. You felt exposed, vulnerable but above all else, you felt needy. 

“Good girl, without even being told to lie like that. Such a beautiful girl.” He remarked, pulling his shirt over his head and slipping his jeans from his thick thighs. 

You rested up on your elbows to peer at Joel as he undressed and your throat tightened, all the air in the room seeming to have evaporated immediately. He was beautiful, all harsh lines to the outside world but in the glow of his bedroom now, he looked soft and warm. You were in deep, and you knew it meant deep trouble. 

He palmed himself through his boxers just to stave off some of the throbbing and your eyes followed eagerly, the thick outline of his cock making your walls clench around nothing. Wordlessly Joel knelt at the end of the bed, latched his hands onto your thighs and pulled you closer so you could feel his hot breath fanning over your sopping folds. Your hips bucked into thin air, nothing there to help you and he laughed, it was quiet and breathy but he definitely laughed — fucker.

Joel trailed two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on them once again and without warning he plunged them into you roughly. You gasped, your back arched off the bed and your fists balled into the sheets either side of yourself. His fingers were so thick, so much thicker than any man you had been with before; you weren’t sure whether that was down to the age difference or just Joel’s build. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out rhythmically, building speed and curling them so they brushed that perfect, sensitive spot inside of you. 

Your mouth was agape as you laid there, completely at his will, writhing under his relentless touch. Moan after moan, after moan spilled from your parted lips and just as you felt the tension tighten in your stomach Joel lapped his tongue of your clit. Your back arched and the filthiest moan escaped your mouth, you weren’t even sure how that noise had come from you but it had and it had Joel smirking as his tongue swiped through your folds again just to circle around your clit once more. 

Your hand laced its way into Joel’s hair, your fingers gripping the strands with a deathly vice and he groaned into your pussy causing vibrations to ripple through you. You weren’t sure how you were still holding on but your stomach was twisting, tightening and bubbling as your orgasm approached once again. 

“Mmm, good girl.” He praised as your walls clenched around his fingers as he continued to pump them into your wet heat. The room was filled with obscenely filthy noises; your moans echoed throughout the empty space as Joel slurped up your juices. 

“Joel —“ you sobbed, your back arching impossibly high off the mattress below you. “C-can I cum? Please. Need it.” You asked pathetically.

Why were you asking permission?

Never before had you felt so submissive for a partner in bed, never once had you asked permission to cum, no, normally you would be chasing your high, just trying to grasp at a fraction of how good Joel was making you feel. 

“That’s it baby, such a good girl for asking permission. Wanna make you feel as good as I can, peach.” He groaned in between pleasuring you. “Cum all over my face, wanna taste as much as I can.”

That was it, the coil in your stomach snapped abruptly and you were gushing onto Joel’s fingers, a pleasured scream tumbling from your lips. Never, not once had you squirted before, yet here you were, soaking the sheets beneath you and in turn, Joel’s beard and your own thighs. You would have felt ashamed if you didn’t feel such pure euphoria in the moment. Your back was twisted and contorted off the sheets as Joel worked you through it, making you squirt further.

He could have cum in his boxers, like a teenager as the first drops of your orgasm hit his face. He lapped up as much of you as he could, like a man who had been starved for years. And he had, he had been starved from allowing himself to have this moment with you and now he had you, he wanted to savour and devour you as much as you would allow him to. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your thighs trapping his head. “C-can’t do it anymore!” You sounded wrecked, your throat felt raw from how loudly you had been moaning. 

Joel laughed, pushed your thighs apart and removed his fingers from you. You winced and your walls clenched around air, feeling so empty once again. 

“Please, p-please can I have you now?” You asked, positioning yourself on your knees in front of Joel. You reached your hand to feel his hard cock through his boxers once again and this time, he didn’t stop you. 

You abruptly pulled the checkered fabric from his waist and his boxers pooled at his feet; freeing his cock finally, it sprang up against his stomach and you all but moaned. 

“You’re so…” you whispered, looking up at Joel through your lashes as your small hand wrapped around his thick length. The tip was dark, a bead of pre-cum glistened at the slit and all you wanted was to taste it, to taste Joel’s musk. “You’re so big, fuck.” You cursed, your tongue sticking out to kitten lick at his tip. 

You wanted to sink your mouth down his length to fully take him in so your nose could bury into Joel’s thatch of dark hair but you resisted and gave him another lick, tongue flicking into his slit.

Joel groaned, a low and gruff noise from the back of his throat. “Fuck, darlin’, I gotta be in you. None of this.” He spoke lowly, his thumb coming down to swipe along your bottom lip and you quickly sucked it into his mouth. 

“Please, daddy.” You whispered, the honorific slipping from your throat before you could process it. A look of horror washed over your features and you knelt up higher to look Joel in the eyes. “I — I, — sorry. I didn’t mean —“

Your fumbling words were cut off when Joel placed his big hand around your throat and brought you in for a kiss. You were trouble, you were sinful and he was damned. He had been called daddy a few times by younger women, they thought it was sexy; the way they would flutter their lashes at him at the bar, saunter over to him and whisper ‘hey daddy.’ Normally it made his skin crawl and caused his body to cringe but the way it almost innocently slipped from your lips, it was like a curse from the devil himself and it made Joel’s cock jump, nudging your stomach. 

He squeezed his hand around your throat and you smiled? Trouble. Nothing but pure trouble. 

“Not such a good girl, after all, huh? Been acting all innocent all these years.” He whispered, his thumbs squeezing near your pulse point, hard enough to make your head feel lighter and floaty but soft enough not to hurt you deliberately. “God, what would your old man say about this? See his little girl begging to cum, see you squirting on his best friend’s face. Smiling as I wrap a hand round your throat. Your trouble, darlin’. Nothin’ but damn trouble.” He whispered, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before peppering small nips to the flesh of your neck. 

Your legs trembled as they held you up, it was wrong but his words went straight to your core and soaked you further, you didn’t think your arousal could get higher but here you were. He was right though; your dad would be horrified, would be downright mortified to know what his daughter was truly like and at the hands of his best friend? That would destroy your lives. All three of you. You pushed that bitter thought away as your head lulled back and you allowed Joel to grope at your chest, hungry to feel your body once more. 

“Say it again,” he growled into your ear as he pushed your body back down onto the bed. “Call me it again as I fuck you real good. How ‘bout I show you what it’s like to have a real man fuck you, not some silly boy.” He said, his voice gruff whilst he stroked the tip of his cock through your folds. 

“Daddy,” you whimpered, parting your legs further to allow Joel more room to enter you. “Daddy please fuck me.” You begged, sounding weak. 

“Oh, of course, baby girl.” He cooed, pushing his cock into you roughly until he was bottomed out. “Fuck,” he cursed. 

“S-so big, daddy.” You whimpered, your hands grasping at Joel’s biceps, just trying to hold onto something as you adjusted to the slight burn of him stretching you out. “Mmm, please move.” You moaned. 

“Atta girl, taking daddy’s cock so good already.” Joel groaned and he swore that he saw heaven in that moment; your tight body below him, contorting to how he needed. He had already built up a punishing pace, hips drawing back to slam forward roughly. The room was filled with echoes of your skin slapping together, his deep pants and your wanton moans and weak, pleading whimpers. 

“I’ve wanted this for s’long,” you sobbed, your eyes falling shut as the tension built further in your stomach once more. You knew from this point forward you would be wrecked for any other man, no one would be able to make you feel this good. Not even close. “T-touched myself so many times thinking about you fucking me.” You admitted, the words falling without thought. “Want you to cum in me, wanna be full of just you, Joel.” You moaned. 

Joel was a goner, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer, you were too tight, too wet and just too good for him to have any real stamina. Your admission didn’t help matters, either. The thought of you spread out on your own sheets, touching yourself to him?!

He gripped one of your hips tightly, hard enough to leave bruises on your delicate skin as he fucked into you harder with deep groans. “Can’t be saying that to me, peach. Gonna cum too quickly.” He hissed, his free hand snaking between you to trace circles around your clit. 

“I c-can’t do it again,” you stuttered, your body burning from the inside and out. “Too much.” You breathed, your sharp nails clawing at any bare skin you could find. Just anything to anchor you down as Joel pulled another orgasm from you. 

“I think you can. Hmm?” Joel spoke. “What you think? Wanna be a real good girl for daddy and give me one more?” His thumb sped up but his hips slowed to a sensual roll, his cock head bumping the electrified bundle of nerves deep in your walls. You clenched around him tightly and he moaned, louder than before. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. One more, come on now. Come on.” He groaned, working your clit faster. 

You whined, the noise stuck in your throat as your back arched once more and you clenched around Joel before gushing around him with a moan of his name. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel, J—.” Your eyes had rolled back, any further and they would have disappeared into the back of your skull.

“Such a good girl, fuck. So tight. That’s it, squirt on my cock.” He groaned, removing his hand from your clit to hold down both your hips as he fucked into you with more fervour. He wasn’t going to last long, but he also knew you couldn’t take much more. You were cock drunk and spent. “Gonna fill you up so. fuckin’. good.” He huffed, accentuating each word with a thrust. 

“Daddy,” you cried, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body went into overdrive. 

That was it, that’s all it took. Joel looked down at you, your were a mess and all from him, tears fell onto your cheeks as he finished inside of you with a groan of your name. “Shhh, that’s it sweet girl. Such a good girl.” He cooed, his hand cupping your cheek as he emptied himself into you. 

You moaned, feeling the hot liquid of his cum fill you up, your walls clenched weakly, just trying to milk him of every drop and you turned to kiss his hand. The room smelt of sex, the air was thick and hot and sleep called to you like a sweet song. 

Joel pulled out of you with a hiss and you whimpered, your body felt like there were a hundred tiny pin pricks on your skin. You were overstimulated and completely spent but ultimately, you were so happy. 

“Hmmm, m’sleepy.” You hummed contentedly.

“I know, sweet girl but can’t sleep here. The sheets are a mess. How about you have a rest in the spare room and I’ll go sleep on the couch?” He asked softly, brushing your sweat-dampened hair from your face. 

“Sorry about the sheets,” You giggled, eyes heavy-lidded and barely open. “Although, was kinda your fault. You’re a dirty old man, too good at that.” You teased, still giggling. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going to hell.” He huffed, his voice all too serious. 

Joel scooped your naked body off his bed with a gruff noise and before you knew it, you were in another bed with the duvet wrapped around you. Joel had cleaned you up with a damp towel, dressed you in one of his shirts and wrapped you up into the sheets. 

“Stay with me,” you whispered as Joel turned to walk out, assuming you had already passed out for the night. “P-please stay with me.” You cried, tears filling your eyes. 

He smiled and obliged with no arguments. The mattress dipped beside you and he wrapped his large arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“Of course I’ll stay, peach.” He whispered and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You hummed sleepily, your eyes already closed and you felt peaceful. It was the most peaceful you had felt in a long time. Joel was there, you finally felt content and safe in his arms. You knew trouble was brewing on the horizon but right there, in that moment, you couldn’t find it in you to actually care.

Everything felt like it was too much, of course your fantasy came true but what did this mean for your futures? You only assumed it would be messy and all too hard on you both. 

You drifted off to sleep peacefully that night, the most peaceful you had been in far too long. Your senses screamed Joel and you felt safe. You knew trouble was brewing on the horizon but for now, you were content and happy.

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