#I just started typing and didn’t see how long it was getting

[bullet-prooflove]

The Professional: Andrew 'Pope' Cody x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @akotafi @yousigned-upforthis @fadeinsol @cowardlycandy

Prequel piece to:

Crazy (NSFW) - Pope's always been crazy but now he's also a man in love.

Tomorrow - Pope's family always fuck up the good in his life.

Do Over Day (NSFW) - Pope tries to make up for the day before.

Your relationship with Pope begins because of a safe.

A Garibaldi 1965 to be exact.

It’s a beautiful antique of a thing. It’s also a complete pain in the ass to get into, which is why they call in an expert.

The Professional is what you’re known as in their world. Every job you’ve ever pulled is seamless, a complete work of art Pope can’t help but admire. You’re consulting fee shows it too, you know your value and you won’t settle for less. As much as Smurf begrudges it, they need you otherwise the work and the money they’ve already put into this job, it’ll be completely wasted.

When you step through the door every single one of them is taken back because what they didn’t expect was a woman, a damn fine one.

Craig hones on that almost immediately but you shut him down by holding up your hand as if he were a dog, stopping him in his tracks. “Oh honey, you are so far from my type it isn’t even funny.”

His mother’s jaw tenses as she watches you because already you’re commanding the room and she doesn’t like the competition.

“She’s gotta be a dyke.” Craig says later when you and Smurf step outside to discuss bringing you onto the crew for the job because they’ve just realised how momentously fucked they are. “It’s the only explanation.”

“Or she just doesn’t like cokeheads.” Deran supplies, sipping from his beer. “If Smurf can convince her to get on board that’s probably gonna mean you’re gonna have to quit powdering your nose for a couple of hours while we get shit done.”

“Fuck that.” Craig says as the sliding door opens and you and Smurf step back into the kitchen.

“Alright.” You address the group as you stand there with your hands on your hips. “You wanna get into that safe it’s gonna take two of us. My partner in crime needs to be someone meticulous with attention to detail and steady hands. Who isn’t going to flake out going over the same thing over and over and over again so they can get the muscle memory boxed off.”

The last comment is directed at Craig, they can tell from the forceful look you give him.

“I guess that’s me.” Pope says raising to his feet. “Since I’m the only one with an attention span longer that the time it takes to do a line.”

He feels your gaze on him, calm and analytical, taking in his shirt buttoned all the way up to the throat, his stillness as he stands before you.

“You’ll do.” You say before jerking your head towards the front gate. “Come on, we’re going for a ride to my workshop.”

And that’s how it starts. Hours and days spent in close proximity as you teach him the delicate art of safecracking. He’s used to a more brute force approach. Tearing the shit out of concrete, blowtorching the mother fucker but the way you work, it’s like magic. Thorough, mediative. He comes out of your workshop at the end of each session feeling calmer, like some sort of balance has been restored inside him.

“I don’t like how much time you’re spending with that girl.” Smurf tells him, one morning on the way out the door.

“It’s for the job, you know it is.” He tells her before leaving.

But it’s not, not really because the two of you have started getting close. A couple of beers on your back porch overlooking the beach, dinner from a food truck before you kick off your shoes and take a walk along the shoreline, the water cascading over your ankles.

“I want to learn more.” He tells you once the job is over. It’s true, he does but he also doesn’t want this to end. You’re the first woman he’s felt an interest in in a long time, the first one that might actually see him.

You step outside onto the porch instead of letting him in the way you usually do. He knows it’s because of Smurf, that she warned you off him, told you his secrets. You know the truth now about how fucked up he is.

This is what she does when he starts trying to build something outside of the family, she cuts off his life lines, leaves him twisting in the wind until he realises the only place he can go is back to the house he grew up in, the family that steal away little pieces of his sanity until the darkness eats him up.

“Look…” He begins but you’re already wrapping your arms around his neck, gathering him up into a hug. He stiffens at first because he can’t remember the last time someone held him. His muscles relax and he draws you closer, his cheek coming to rest against yours as he breathes in the scent of the ocean clinging to your skin.

“You’re not the only one that’s fucked up.” You whisper, your breath ghosting in his ear. “I killed my father when I was fifteen because he was creeping into my bed at night.”

His grip on you tightens as he buries his face into the curve of your throat. 

“Don’t let her use that shit to control you. You’re not the person she’s trying to turn you into, you’re more than that.”

“How do you know?” He murmurs, his forehead coming to rest upon yours so he can look into your eyes. “How do you know I’m not the monster she wants me to be?”

“Because I see your sadness.” You tell him, your fingertips trailing over the copper stubble that mars his cheek. “You do it for the love and all you get back is this feeling in your chest, this emptiness that feels like it eats up your entire soul.”

“I don’t wanna be like this anymore.” He tells you, his voice breaking. “I don’t want to keep losing myself.”

“You don’t have to.” You tell him, your palm coming to rest upon his heart. He can feel it thudding underneath the pads of your fingers as he clasps it there, his connection, his way back to humanity. “The two of us, we’ll figure it out, I promise.”

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[sevgilimsatoru]

Error: 410 (Self Aware!AU Caleb Edition) Part 13

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader.

Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, angst, fluff, Stressedout!reader, Hypersexual!reader.

Word count: 2k

Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog

"I get that this life of mine is bereft of your presence, but then my heart doesn't know any other way to live."

You were sitting at your desk looking through another case file. Your eyes were starting to burn at this point. Ugh… God, you hated divorce cases, especially the ones with kids in them.

Just terrible… Both of the parents were clearly neglectful in their own ways—the problem was, who was the kid going to go with? It could unnecessarily complicate everything.

If you were being honest, you didn’t want the kid to go with either of the parents, but everyone knows just how great foster care is, and it’s not like your personal feelings matter. You were just doing your job.

The sound of nails tapping against your desk broke you out of your thoughts. You glanced up to see your friend and coworker, Madison. There was a smile on her face, a slight pitiful look in her eyes as she looked down at your hunched figure.

“Hey, Giggles. It’s almost lunch... Do you want to go grab a bite, or are you going to sulk all day, staring at that file?” She asked, gesturing for you to hurry up with her finger as she stood, leaning on your desk, waiting for you. “Up, come on.”

“Just a second.” You said, opening the notes app on your phone. Your fingers type quick words because of habit.

It’s been a tiring day today, Caleb. I’m going to go get lunch with Madison.

You wrote in your notes app. You couldn’t let go of that habit you had built up. Writing down mundane everyday events as if Caleb could still see and reply back.

How long has it been again? Around 4 years now…?

You sighed, getting up from your chair and fixing your shirt. “Let’s go…” You said, walking beside her.

Giggles, that’s what she called you. You both had properly met in your last year of college. Even though you shared classes, neither of you got around to talking to each other before. The conversations between you never ended without your laughter filling the space around you, earning you that nickname.

You were both lucky enough to get into a good and the same law firm in the city. Honestly, things had been much better with her around. Her presence helped your heart glue the broken pieces you had picked up yourself.

Both of your steps fell into synched paces as you walked beside each other; the sound of chatter, heels clicking, and typing of keys filled your ears until her voice forced its way inside your head. “There’s going to be a mock trial in a few days. Are you playing a part in it?” She asked, earning a shrug from you.

“No, not really. I’d rather watch; it’s interesting to see. I can learn something from watching. Besides, I doubt I can play the part of a money-hungry CEO.”

“Fair enough… Did you hear about the Honor Oil scandal?”

“The money laundering…? Yeah, allegedly there is a lot of hush money passed around. The CEO might just lose the company if he is not careful.”

“Is that case assigned to someone in our firm?” You asked, turning your head to look up at Madison.

“Nope, it's Smiths and Devane. It’s a shame, really; I would’ve loved to know more about it behind the scenes.” She said as you both stepped inside the elevator, pressing the button of the ground floor.

Neither of you said anything, hearing the small ding of the elevator, watching the door open. You both walked out of the elevator and out of the firm.

You sat down in front of Madison, sitting in the small café near the law firm you worked at. Quickly giving your orders, you just stared at Madison. There was something going on.

Madison was never this quiet… And it seemed like you spoke too soon before her green eyes caught yours and a sly smile formed on her face. “So, how do you like it in the firm so far…?”

The tone of her voice made you raise your eyebrows. Yep, something was definitely going on. “It’s alright… Just get to the point, Maddy.” You said, turning your head to look at the waitress who walked up to your table to serve your food. You gave her a smile and muttered a small ‘thank you,’ shifting your gaze to look at Madison.

“You know Spencer?” She asked, taking a sip of her coffee and looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Uh, yeah—he is very good with contracts and stuff, helpful guy.” You replied you felt like you knew where this was going.

“Well, he thinks you are cute and wanted me to give you his number if you want. He’s pretty nice, just a shy lad.” Madison said, looking up at you hopefully.

You knew the reason for that look in her eyes. Madison is a sweet woman; she is gorgeous and full of life. In the years you have known her, she’s been in relationships. And at one point, she probably didn’t want you to feel lonely watching from the sidelines. It was sweet, but no way you’d accept.

“Uh… that’s… thoughtful? I don’t know. I...just—it’s not…uh. I am not—“ You said, stumbling over your words. What do you even say, that you have a boyfriend who has no signs of existing?

“There is… someone I like, and I think it’s mutual… so you know.” You said, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

She reached her hand out, holding yours gently and giving you a smile. She understood and wouldn’t ask until you were ready.

It’s alright, sunshine. I can wait if you don’t want to tell me. You can take it at your own pace.

It’s best to keep things vague when it comes to dating. Besides, you said you’d wait, and you weren’t going to go back on your promise. You’ll wait forever if it means you’ll meet him at the end of time.

The next few days passed as a blur; somehow the only thing you were looking forward to was the mock court trial. It was a tense atmosphere in the mock trial, so fascinating to see how the mood kept changing instantly. This was supposed to be a quick trial, but everything was really dragging out.

You were trying to soak everything in when one of the receptionists walked inside the room and called for you. Apparently, there was someone looking for you.

Maybe it was a client or a member of their family... You’ll try and make it quick and easy for yourself, that is. These new cases were really stressing you out.

You took the elevator to the ground floor, glancing around the entrance. There were a few people there. One guy you had seen around the office, talking on his phone, and a few people talking to the receptionists.

There was also this guy… standing around near the couches with his back turned towards you.

He was really tall, with black hair, just standing around with his hands in his pockets. Wearing a leather jacket, black jeans, platform boots…? Just the way he stood reminds you so much of…

Caleb

You stood there for a few more seconds, the light metal chain around your neck feeling uncomfortably warm all of a sudden. You let out a shaky sigh, taking in a few breaths, trying to compose yourself.

Stop imagining things.

“Excuse me?” You said, walking over to him. Putting on your best professional smile you could muster up. The guy turned his head to look at you when he heard your voice, his warm brown eyes meeting yours, and it was as if the world stopped.

Maybe the world didn’t stop, but your mind certainly did—your smile fell as quickly as it appeared. You felt your knees growing weak the longer you stared at him.

Caleb Caleb Caleb Caleb Caleb

There was no way, right? You were just dreaming—your sick mind was just playing tricks on you. You didn’t want to believe it… you did want to believe it. You knew it was him. You just… you wouldn’t be able to handle it if the sound of an alarm woke you up like countless times before, when you had the solace of meeting him in your dreams.

“What… Are you surprised? Sure, it’s been a while, but you already forgot about me?” The pretty stranger asked, his voice shaking slightly as if he was trying to contain himself.

It was him; it was really him.

The voice you let out was almost inexplicable. Stepping towards him with shaky legs as you slowly wrapped your arms around him. Feeling his embrace. Your face was pressed against his chest, opening and closing your mouth as no words came out. Your mind is just trying to process it.

You could feel his arms around him, his cheek pressed against your hair, and his hand placed on the small of your back. The smell of his perfume clinging to the leather jacket—it was subtle but smelled good.

For three and a half years, you had forced yourself to live without him. Mourning his presence like a ghost. So far away, never in your sight but always in the back of your mind.

Now he was here… alive.

He was here.

“Oh god…” You choked out, tears streaming down your face as you buried your face in his shirt, staining the shirt with your tears—trying not to sob in the lobby of your office. He was here… Oh God, he was here.

It wasn’t a hallucination.

You weren't dreaming.

“Shh… It’s okay—I’m here now. Don’t cry, sunshine…” Caleb said, rubbing your back in small circles. “Can you take the rest of the day off, baby?”

You nodded without thinking; you could get Madison to cover your work today. Only a few hours were left, but you’d be able to go home.

You took your phone out of your pocket with shaky hands, tears blurring your vision as you felt Caleb’s hand wiping away your tears. You sniffled, quickly texting Madison.

Caleb was already looking at you when you turned to look at him. His hand wrapping around yours and leading you out of the law firm. He picked you up the second you stepped out of the firm.

“Caleb, what are you doing!?” You squealed, looking at him, and he just smiled back. “You weigh nothing to me, and I don’t care about what people think,” he said, knowing exactly what you would ask.

“Do you want to go back to your place?” He asked, and you nodded along. Before you could get another word out, he started walking. “I know how to drive, and I have a driving license, sweetie. You don’t need to worry.”

He always knew what to say, didn’t he?

“Mhm…” You just hummed in return. Leaning to put your head on his shoulder, shifting to nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. You could feel his heartbeat. You wished this wasn’t a dream, but if the gods were playing games on you again and this was a dream, at least you could wish it would last a lifetime.

Tag list: @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @aneertawrites @etsuniiru @demon-master-zero @angstylittleb1tch @mcdepressed290 @ittybittyfanblog @winwinwrites @alifyairl @huhleighna @calebsbeanpeeler @bookworrm1999 @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @babyx91 @multisstuff @beomluvrr @sunnylittleapple @lunia-likes-pomegranet @imhere2dosomething @lostpsycho13 @april-likes-smut @calebsbabyapple @mephisto-with-a-knife @wooasecret @anatherone @mangooes

[arinzu]

BLLK IMAGINES

How would these characters reach differently if you were their first love vs first love.

DETAILS/ P1/P2 (COMING SOON)

featuring. Isagi, Rin, Bachira, Nagi and reo. GN! READER

Trope`s. FIRST LOVE VS FIRST LOVE.

I need people to see this because it's so good i swear!!!

ISAGI YOICHI

FIRST love He met you while he was in a competition in your school. It was intense round between your team and theirs, eventually Isagi's team triumph with a score of 3-2. Impress by your ability. So when you asked for his number. he didn't say no. You both were blunt, not one for games but rather one for challenges. He talk with you late into the night about football. But he did notice some things about you like, the way you speak so passionately about the sport. So when you asked him out on a date, he didn't refuse, slowly that date turned into a relationship. His heart didn't flutter like the way the movies describe it suppose to be. In reality the 'i love you' shared between you and him felt emotionless, not a feeling- but a task. He did valued the relationship like bringing you flowers, but that flowers weren't your favourite. Talking like lovebirds, but it was more chit chatting like birds. So when the time came you pulled him close into a hug and asked to break up, he didn't fight back, didn't try to resolve, or fight. It was just a chapter closed.

...

First LOVE It wasn't always like this, he watch you play your guitar after school. Your fingers gliding through the strings as you hummed a melody, you look so peaceful. He felt something in his chest whenever you spoke to him, whether it was about school or sports. The way you chit chat to him if you saw him, made his heart flutter. Unlike the first, he was there, trying his best to speak up and listen to you talk. He didn't need to hide his chatter when he's with you. He just let it all out, he felt comfortable with you. it was a slow process, long chats late into the night. Joking around in class. At first he didn't even know that he had fallen for you— once he realise this, he tried to rationalise this feeling. Suddenly it hits him like a brick at 11 pm at night, he finally admits he fell for you. He thinks about you every night before he goes to sleep. He blushes when he talks to you. He really does like you. You were like a song, a lyric, a melody, everything inside one person, that he can't get rid of.

ITOSHI RIN

FIRST Love He met you during a training camp arranged between your schools. At first, you clashed— his bluntness, his cold stare, the way he treated everyone like they were in his way. But somehow, something about your calm persistence, started to pull his attention. Eventually, Rin asked you out. No grand gestures. Just a quiet and firm gesture. He didn’t even look up when he said it. And so, you became his first relationship. It wasn’t a fairy tale. He wasn’t the type to say sweet things or hold your hand in public. But he tried in his own way— walking you home, waiting for your messages even when he didn’t reply right away, staying up to watch your matches. You had moments. Quiet ones. Like watching the rain fall together, or him lending you his hoodie without a word when you were cold. But something was missing. While he was your first relationship, you realized… you weren’t in love. Breaking up with Rin wasn’t dramatic. He just nodded, eyes lowered, and accepted, because he knew you both were not meant to be. If you didn't take the initiative he'll take it himself.

...

First LOVE He doesn't fall easily, he didn't need distractions. That's why he built a strong and tall wall around him. He had a goal, and that goal was beating his brother. Then you showed up — loud in the quietest way. You didn’t demand attention, but somehow… his never left you. It started small, like passing notes or talking after class. Soon it escalated to making fun of his grade in math, to him offering his snacks since you were gonna steal it like it was natural anyways. He let you have it He saw things about you that you didn't even know. How you stare outside the window when you thought the teacher wasn't looking. How your voice got softer when you talk about something you liked. It was so engrave to his thoughts that he particularly memorise you, he knew you before you did. He understand this whatever this— was, it wasn't a crush nor a phase, or someone he cared for. You were it. You were his first love. First one to enter his world after Sae.

BACHIRA MEGURU

FIRST Love The simple and calm person to his energetic and golden retriever persona. You called him cute, and he blush. He held your hand. Everyone said you both were a match made in heaven. But the monster inside of him told him that he was playing someone else's role in your story. He didn't want to believe it. Late night calls, matching bio's and cheesy 'i miss you' at 2 am. He never told you about his monster, he didn't let you see his imperfections. Years of bullying taught him that it was better to hide himself. So he smiled the biggest, talk the loudest, the version of himself that people liked. Until that all faded... you grabbed him pulling him into a warm embrace. You knew that wasn't the real him, so you let him go. You'll support him not as a lover but a friend. And you were right. Because he liked you... but never loved you. He trusted you... but not enough. You were his first relationship. But you weren’t his first love.

...

First LOVE You match everything inside him, you laughed at his jokes and gave your own. Too much, too loud, too messy, but that didn't stop you to be who you were. When he was annoying you called him out, but you never saw him as broken. You understand him like a painting, colour and the brush stroke to the tinniest details. You let him be him, defending, arguing and fighting, He liked that spark. You were like him but also having your own monster. The monster inside him enjoyed your monster, that voice told him that you were special, and he knew it wasn't just a crush. He asked him mom about what to do, and the answer was to tell you. If he messed it up then it's on him, on the other hand if you accept then he might actually pass out. When the time come he'll do it, you made him feel seen and heard. You were his voice and never tried to leave, you weren't just a chapter but a whole book. You were his first love. Not because you made his heart race. But because you made it feel safe to stop running.

NAGI SEISHIRO

FIRST Love Relationships was a hassle, dating was something he was dragged to. You asked and he said okay. It was okay, at first- the occasional conversations, texts with hearts, posting pictures, but once you expected him to reply after a few minutes or expected him to care more it became a hassle He didn't hate it. He frankly didn't feel anything. Holding hands didn’t make his chest warm. Your kisses didn’t linger. When you smiled, he smiled back because it was expected��� not because he meant it. When you asked if he was there, he didn't know how to reply, he was there, just not emotionally. That was the reason you two broke up He didn't feel hurt. You were like an unwanted app he uninstalled.

...

First LOVE You didn't force him to be present, but you sure did made yourself present. And that what led him to notice you. He really looked, it wasn't like the nagi who scores goals or naps between practice — the Nagi who gets bored with everything, the Nagi who sometimes wonders if he’s meant to feel more but doesn’t know how. You didn’t try to change him. You just... sat with him. And somehow, that silence with you felt louder than any conversation he'd had before. One day, you leaned your head on his shoulder, no words, no expectations— and he felt his whole chest ache in this slow, soft way. Like something inside me finally woke up. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to sleep through it.

MIKAGE REO

FIRST Love It started like most things in his life— polished, intentional, planned. You was smart, pretty, came from a good family. You both had chemistry, looked great together, and people said we were couple goals. he thought, Yeah, this makes sense. It felt like a win. Another thing to check off the list. You guys went on nice dates. Took cute photos. Held hands like it meant something. People envied us— which he thought mattered at the time. But… Something was missing. he'd smile, but not feel it. he'd talk, but filter everything. he felt like he was performing— like he was the Reo everyone expected. The one who wanted to win the world cup. He think you liked the version of him where he showed off — not the one who sat up at night wondering if he was ever enough without the money, the charm, the name. So when it ended, it didn’t hurt.

...

First LOVE You didn’t try to impress him. You didn’t care that he was a Mikage. You didn’t look at him like a trophy— you looked at him like an individual. You challenged him. Called him out when he was being arrogant. Saw through the mask— and didn’t flinch. And when you smiled at him, it wasn’t because of what he had, or what he could do. It was just… him. And suddenly, he didn’t want anything else. Not a title. Not applause. Not even the spotlight. Just you— sitting beside him, laughing at something stupid, looking at him like he was enough. When you speak something inside him broke. He knew this feeling all too well. Love. He won't tell anyone, but he'll try his best to capture your heart like you captured his. He didn't just wanna win you over, he wanted you. He'll be someone so great that even without being a Mikage, you will still smile at him like this You were more valuable then anything he own.

OMG FINALLY IT'S DONEEEE, I FEEL SO HAPPY. What did y'all think about bachira? was it too ooc??? please somone give me more characters to do this with!!! i loved and cried making this. Talking about making it 3:30 am rn.

[aventurineswife]

Hello! I kinda want your imput on something in the sahsrau. How do you think the characters would react if the reader expresses romantic or sexual attraction? I kinda had this though since a lot of people would think that the reader aka the creator is uncapable of feeling or understanding said feelings. Whoever the reader is capable of proving them wrong rather quickly. How do you think they would react to the reader wishing companionship or a romantic partner?

Or another idea how do you think they would react if they find out the reader had a lover once? or maybe even adopted a child? Like this type of thing would humanized the creator a lot because despite their power or divinity they aren't emotionless and it would make them more relatable. What do you think?

Ooh yes, I love this question. It adds such a deep, raw human layer to the whole SAHSRAU setup—like, the kind of twist that would throw the entire cast into emotional orbit.

Because you’re absolutely right: in most self-aware AUs, the reader—the “Creator”—is usually viewed as some untouchable, omnipotent force. So the moment they express something as intimately human as romantic or sexual attraction? That wall of godhood starts to crack, and for a lot of characters, that's earth-shattering.

1. Shock and Disbelief

Characters like Dan Heng or Jing Yuan might initially be stunned silent. They’ve spent so long revering you as this divine presence that the idea of you wanting something as simple and earthy as love? It’s like watching a star cry—it shouldn’t happen, and yet it does.

“You... feel that? Even with everything you are?”

“Does divinity not shield you from longing?”

They aren’t being judgmental—they just didn’t know you could want like they do.

2. The Soft Crumble

Characters like March 7th, Himeko, or Yukong would have this moment of quiet realization. Your confession makes you feel real to them. It humbles them in a good way, like:

“You’re not just watching from above… you’re with us.”

“You’ve been lonely too, haven’t you?”

They’d treat your feelings with so much care after that. Like, if you said “I miss being held,” someone like March would absolutely start crying.

3. Overprotectiveness Activates

Characters like Blade, Kafka, or Luocha might react with an intense surge of protectiveness. You? Wanting something so vulnerable? So open to being hurt?

“Who dared touch what’s sacred to us?”

“Your heart is precious. Not a soul is worthy.”

Even if they want to be your companion, this news might make them scared—not of you, but of the world being cruel to you.

4. Past Lovers / Children = Mind Blown

Finding out you had a lover or a child? That’d change everything.

Clara might start seeing you as even more kind, more nurturing.

Silver Wolf might analyze your choices like they’re priceless lore: “Wait, wait—what were they like? What kind of person gets the Creator’s heart?”

Argenti? Absolutely shattered. You had a family? A mortal, beautiful, fleeting love? That’s the most poetic tragedy he’s ever heard. He’d write songs about it.

And then there’s the collective ache—realizing their beloved divine has known loss. That your smile holds grief they never saw. It would make them adore you more, not less.

BONUS CHAOS: Reader admits their crush on the character(s)

Imagine the panic.

Reader: “...I always liked the way you spoke. It made me feel safe.”

Them: “...ERROR. FATAL SYSTEM CRASH—REBOOTING—”

You’ve just confirmed they’re not just your creation, they’re your desire too. Cue: emotional breakdowns, vows of devotion, fights between acolytes, and someone (probably Sunday or Argenti) declaring a week-long celebration.

So yeah, it would shake the entire system. Some would crumble, some would rejoice, and some would be quietly devastated because now they realize…

You’re not just their god.

You’re someone who bleeds. Who misses. Who loves.

And nothing could make you more sacred than that.

[lolitaonline]

Never Know, Chapter 1 18+ MDNI

Stalker! Best friend! Noah x F! Reader word count- 3,400k+

Summary- You and Bad Omens have been friends for a while. Starting to tour together and become closer than ever. During this time someone from the past begins to make himself known. Noah does not take too kind of a liking to this.

Tw- mentions of health scares/collapsing, medics being called, breaking and entering, watching from afar, gifts being left, stalking, mentions of religion/religious trauma mentioned through out, ptsd, anxiety, mentions of picture taken

An- If I missed a TW or would like to be added to the tag list please let me know. If you would like to be removed or added to the list please let me know. Thank you. I hope you all enjoy, ALSO THANK YOU TO MY LOVE @fadingintothegrey FOR HER AMAZING HELP AND ENCOURAGMENT, go show her love <3

Mature content ahead, you have been warned.

Divider by- @/anitalenia

Soft pitter patter of rain drizzled down the dimly lit street. The buzzing from the blinking streetlight hummed softly in the background.  

Footsteps quietly trailed down the dark empty alleyway. Hands shoved inside pockets; ski-mask fitted on like a glove. Not one of the safest towns but safer than most. No-one would suspect a thing, perfect opportunity. 

You walked through your front door, kicking your shoes and coat off to the side. You were in need of a hot shower. Your feet hurt from walking around all day sorting through papers for the merch team, safe to say you hated walking back and forth. Before that you had an early morning coffee date with a dude your friend set you up with. He wasn't your type, but you wanted to give it a try. You also felt it was time to move from how you felt about Noah.  

Noah is your best friend. You both met at Matt’s party he was hosting; you and Matt went to school together so it made sense that you would be there. It was nice to reconnect with him but to also meet Nick, Jolly, Folio, and Noah. You and Matt were close but you and Noah were a little closer and had more in common.  

At the party you and Noah both shared a joint and talked about aliens and the universe. You weren't sure how long you were out with him, but you knew you wanted to get to know him more. At the end of the party, you and Noah exchanged numbers and bid farewell. You both have been close ever since.  

You were with them from the start to the present day. You were so proud of how far they have come in the band. They offered you a job to help handle the merch and you happily accepted, you got to tour with them and make more memories together, you couldn't turn that down.  

In the beginning you were nervous to be working for a band or even around them. Seeing the behind the scenes of music videos, merch drops, accomplishments.

The growth was exceptional; the feeling of guilt would build occasionally when you started to catch feelings for Noah. You were aware that Noah was a catch, chased by many, yearned for at night, looked for in the morning.  

When you and Noah met it was just right around the beginning of talks of creating the band/in the process of creating the band. You and Matt had been friends since school and would attend the same church before he left after high school.

You were ecstatic when he wanted to remain friends. You didn’t have that many friends, but you had a few. Matt was a good friend though; you guys would hang out often and catch up as often as you could when he was in town. 

After high school you packed up and left your town. Leaving your faith, stalker, and past behind you. Cutting ties with everyone and never looking back. Matt was aware that you were having problems down there and helped you find a place near him. Ever since than Matt has been like your brother.  

After you had a break between the US leg tour of ‘Finding God Before God Finds Me’, you decided to try and give guys a chance. Normally turning them down, not looking for a relationship but you wouldn’t mind one either. You were not the most experienced, but you were still up for trying. Taking this opportunity to try and move on from your friend.  

This was just right around when the chaos started to happen.  

The gifts were first.  

Flowers, dolls, your favorite candy, make up 

As you all walked back into the green room, laughs and jokes ringing and echoing throughout the area. As you walked over to the couch, wanting to relax from the long day, collapsing on the couch. Allowing a deep sigh of relief through your lips.  

The band and you both started to pack and clean up a bit. Wanting to get to the hotel and get as much sleep as possible. You and Noah haven’t had much time to speak today. You both were busy with your respective jobs. You worked the merch booth and kept it as organized and quick as possible.

The boys controlled the crowd and sang to their heart’s content. It was a great show, the crowd was great, you got to meet a few new people and sold a good amount of merch. You were very proud of yourself. 

“Hey, Y/n look, did one of your little dates drop this off for you?” Hearing Folio teasing you brought your eyes to open. As your vision cleared and became focused your world stopped. 

A doll wearing a black dress, black shoes, and h/c, sitting in Folio’s arms. Her arms sat in her lap all pretty, shiny hair sat nicely on her shoulders. Behind her was a vase full of flowers, big bouquet, dark blue vase, red’s blues, pinks, and whites arranged. 

That was years ago, years and years ago. It went so quiet after a while.  

He couldn’t have found you, could he? Yeah, you were traveling with a band whose popularity is going up, but no one knew of you. You stayed behind the scenes; you just kept track of the ins and outs of merch.  

When you left your hometown, you wanted to leave this piece of your past right with it. You wanted a new beginning, the past was meant to stay in the past, not jump forward 5 or so years. 

Fear and shock warming up and buzzing through your system. Where did that come from? Is this a joke? No, no one knows, how could they? This was before you had known them, before you even met Matt.  

“Well, don’t you like dolls? You grew up with them, maybe a friend brought them for you” Jolly suggests an innocent idea, not understanding the severity of this. No one did, you couldn’t tell them. You had to figure this out on your own. You’ve done it before, and you won last time. Who is to say you couldn’t do it this time.  

The boy’s stood around the room patiently waiting for a reply. The jokes came to a pause, silence filling the room.  

Noah could tell by the look on your face that something might have been wrong. “Yeah, maybe an old friend, you used to love Dolls when you went to church right?” Matt tried to offer an explanation.  

No one knew of the things you dealt with. Even when you first met the boys it was happening but slowly died down. You and Matt met when he moved down for a little bit in high school and ended up attending your church for a little bit before graduating.  

Matt was right, you did like dolls to an extent. Not the barbie ones, but the vintage ones, the porcelain dolls, etc. You never collected them though; you just talked about how you thought they were cute. They kind of creeped you as well, like a love-hate kind of situation.  

Your breath and words got lost. You wanted to speak and say something, deny it all and forget about it. Last time you tried to do that there were consequences, your apartment was broken into and ransacked, your car broke down, lost your job. It felt like a curse, try to change your fate, you’re met with consequences.  

Every time you tried to ignore it, he got angrier. Why wasn’t his, love, ecstatic to see his gifts. He picked them out for her and chose her to be his. He spent his time and money on those things for you. Some of which he stole but you didn’t need to know that. Just as long as you had them was all he cared about.  

You wanted to get rid of him, forget about everything he had given you. Why would you ever do such a thing? Can’t you see that you belong to him. And then you just had to leave him and move away. Did that night mean anything to you, do you remember that night? How could you not, you didn’t drink that much. It’s okay, he will help you remember...  

Your thoughts were stuck on the past 5 or so years of your life. Everything you endured, thought, felt, dealt, all of it. It all came to the front of your head. All you could do was stand and stare at the gifts. No words could get through your head. None could be heard, you couldn't even see in front of you. It was getting darker. You knew that but why you weren't sure.  

That’s when it all began again.  

“What the hell” Noah exclaimed as he caught you before hitting the ground. Bringing his hand up to your forehead, checking your temperature. The boys moved around you making space. The boys were worried obviously; hearts dropped to their stomach when you collapsed. “We might need a medic, I’m not sure if this is because of the gifts or something else.” Nick said heading over to the door, exiting the room looking for help.  

“Let’s move her somewhere clearer” Jolly says, moving boxes and bags out the way. Noah lifted you up, moving you to a more private clear area in the room. He did not want to risk anyone seeing and causing a bigger problem. If it was the gifts, he was going to find out what caused your reaction.  

You had never mentioned any health issues either, so it had to be the gifts. Noah’s mind was racing with thoughts and worry. Why did you have that reaction? Noah hated the thought of you going on dates to begin with. And now here you are fainting backstage not even 10 minutes after having an incredible day. You were supposed to spend time with him tonight and instead here you are. 

“They’re here!” Nick exclaimed, moving to the side for the medics to come in and check on you. Noah did not play with anyone else, especially during tour. Everyone was so determined to work hard and make it big. This would lead to mental health and physical health being put to the side sometimes. When the band got bigger Noah and the boys always made sure that everyone was okay. 

Noah moved out the way, giving room for the medics to do their check up on you. “She just collapsed, she was fine and just collapsed,” Noah said to the medics. “She was fine, and she collapsed” Noah kept muttering under his breath. Noah wasn’t sure of the feeling that was coursing through his body. Anger, misery, confusion, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do but he wanted to fix it. Everyone knew that the reaction you had wasn’t normal.  

When the medics deemed you okay the boys made their way back to the tour bus. Noah held you tight in his arms. He enjoyed holding you close, despite the situation he was relieved you were safe in his arms and that nothing was wrong with your health but, Noah was going to figure out what this was about.  

You were his girl, no one else's, and the fact that someone is trying to come along and destroy it was a problem. As the boys walked through the bus, careful not to hit you along the way, Jolly helps Noah put you in your bunk. Carefully laying your head on your pillow, your breathing was back to normal. 

Noah decided to stay with you, laying his bunk directly across from you waiting for you to show any signs that you have woken up. He patiently waited, staring into the black small space before him.  

The next time you wake up you’re in the tour bus, laying on your bunk. It was pretty quiet minus the muffled sounds of voices through the thin walls. You take a moment to go through your head and sort out everything that happened in the last few hours.  

You were selling merch at the merch booth, watched the boys perform, headed backstage, that’s when it went dark.  

The last thing you remembered was when it went dark. You were praying that maybe it was a bad dream, and you just went straight to bed after the concert. “I have to be going crazy” you mumbled to yourself. Bringing a hand up to your head, you could feel a headache coming onto you. Debating on if you wanted to come out and face the situation at hand or deal with it in the morning.  

You thought back to when you had your break between the tour. The memory of you coming home and feeling uneasy when speaking with Noah. The window, the uneasy feeling of being watched, the way it felt like someone touched you in your sleep. You thought maybe it was the wind, but you knew it was a person in your room.  

Stepping outside the shower, grasping the towel tightly around your body. You walked aimlessly to your bedroom, tossing your phone on the bed. Walking over to your closet you pick out a t shirt and grab some shorts to sleep in. Dropping the towel on the floor as you started to get dressed you noticed something out the corner of your eye.  

“I didn’t open that...” your voiced mumbled out. Quickly slipping your shirt on; you walk over to your dresser.  

When you were getting into the shower you don't remember opening your drawer, you didn’t even walk over to this area. You had gone straight to your bathroom to lay down for the night.  

Peeking inside you take notice that it’s the drawer that keeps your panties, before you can investigate if anything is missing your phone starts to buzz.  

“Noah <3 Calling” 

Attention turning over to where your phoned sat you turn back to drawer and dismissing it. “I had to have left it open this morning...idiot” you mumbled out.  

Walking back over to your bed, grabbing your phone answering it quickly. “Hey, doll, just wanted to make sure you were home okay” you could hear his grin from the other side of the phone. Noah was aware that his nicknames for you made you flustered.  

“Hey, yes I made it home safe” you replied dismissing him. You were laying on your bed, legs pulled up slightly. You enjoyed listening to Noah talk, he had a nice voice, even better when singing. “We have a few new shipments coming in of hoodies and sweatpants, and then we have decided which ones to keep or scrape” Noah trailed on through your ear.  

“Anway's what are you doing right now” Noah asked, he liked talking about work but when it was with you, he wanted to talk about anything else. Noah was private about his feelings; he cared about you deeply and you knew that but other than the nicknames Noah didn’t show interest in you like that. Noah wasn't one who showed interest in those things, maybe a quick fling yes, but never a relationship.  

During this time, you were on the “Finding God Before God Finds Me” Tour. But you were given a two week break to get some rest. The boys offered for you to stay with them for a little bit, but you opted to go home for the day. You were thankful that today was the start of your two-week break. You had worked extra hard today to make sure everything was perfect before you had to get on the road again. 

“I just got done showering, I was going to start dinner, watch a shower and sleep” you chuckled out, rubbing your eyes, feeling sleep slowly slipover. “What are you going to make, and you better not watch Demon Slayer without me, you promised” Noah rushed out accusingly. When Noah found out you had never seen it, he was so shocked but took this as a chance to spend time together. “I won't, I promise, thank you for introducing it to me, it’s really good” you laughed out, balancing your phone between your jaw and shoulder. You reach inside your fridge grabbing some left-over pasta from the night before.  

“Well, that's really cool, how are the boys doing now that we get some time to breathe” you teased out. Throughout the car rides Jolly was starting to feel home sick but pushed through until the break. You were starting to worry about it, but you were happy knowing he was doing good at home.  

As you and Noah continued to talk the more you felt more ‘exposed’ for some reason. Like the hairs on the back of neck rise. This uneasy feeling wouldn’t go away. The more you waited on your pasta to heat up the more creeped out you felt.  

Dragging your attention back Noah speaks up “You, okay? You went quiet?” Noah asked through the phone. “Yeah, I just feel uneasy right now for some reason, like I'm being watched.” You replied, quickly grabbing your food and making your way back to your room.  

As soon as you left the kitchen you felt much better. You couldn't shake that off feeling you have coursing through your blood. “You need me to come over?” Noah offered, he wouldn’t want you to be alone especially if you were scared or had an uneasy feeling about it. You didn’t want Noah to have to drive so late it was turning to be 12:00 am and you knew he wanted to get some work done in the morning.  

“It’s Okay, I should be okay, I think I just need to stop watching so many horror movies” you joked back. Attempting to lighten the mood a bit. Noah on the other side was a little worried about you. You did sound distracted from the conversation halfway through the phone call.  

The clock resting on your bedroom wall was looking to strike 2:00am. This made you cut off Noah feeling bad for keeping him up so late.  

“Sorry, I did not realize how late it was.” You apologize not wanting to keep Noah awake or causing him to oversleep and miss something. “It’s okay, doll. I will let you get some sleep. Call me if you need anything. You know that though” Noah teased.  

You hang up the phone, tossing it to the side. You loved talking to Noah and bonding over time. Feeling a yawn coming, you moved your plate of your eaten food on your desk. “I’ll take it down tomorrow” you mumbled to yourself.  

Making your way back into bed. Slipping in between the sheets, curling up and getting comfortable. Mind wandering around. Nothing in mind, just drifting off to sleep.  

She looks so beautiful sleeping, capturing a picture isn't wrong. Her beauty radiates so brightly, and she can't see it. It’s such a shame.  

“Don’t worry, baby, you’ll come around soon” a quiet voice whispered into the dark, a hand gently grazing your cheek as you curled deeper into your sheets. The touch tickling your cheek lightly. 

Deciding to just stay in your bunk and not face the issues of the night, you turn over. Forcing your eyes shut, you didn’t want to have to explain and dig up something you surely wanted to forget about. This was supposed to stay in that town. Buried and forgotten.  

Noah was aware that you were awake, he could hear you mumbling to yourself. He knew that you didn’t want to talk about it right now. If it had brought that strong of a reaction from you, he didn't blame you for wanting to be alone or for not wanting to talk about it.  

Noah knew for sure he wanted to help you; he needed to help you. Moving out from his bunk he makes his way to the other room where everyone else was chatting. Not wanting to burden the mood of the rest of the night. It will be handled tomorrow; they have the day off and can hang out together. 

----- 

Dear, Reader 

I have missed you  

I hope you didn't forget me while I was away 

It’s okay though, I am here to protect you, don't worry  

No one can get you 

Not while I am here, remember  

I am your God  

What I say, goes 

What I want, I get 

And you, my love, will be mine 

sincerely, your Love 

A rosary, letter, and rose is left to lay in your bunk. Where you spent some of your nights, laying in the dark reliving memories and thoughts. Silent cries and guilt. The tour bus is quiet, only sounds to be heard are the creaking of the floor under the heavy footsteps.  

Taglist- @fadingintothegrey @like-a-omen @veejezhyk @english-fucker @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bluestdai @kaliforniahigh @flowery-mess @concreteemo @dollieomens @calleyx13 @fadingangelwisp @hurricanesfollowyou @lacy1986 @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @xxkittenkissesxx @iluvmewwwww75 @silent-stories @veephoenix @graceylove @marvelousmal @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @amelia-acero @disappearintothegrey @concretejunglefm @concretenoah @tikosblogg @xmads-omensx @tosoundlessdarkistare @hedonist-k1l @bloody-spades @theanarchymuse95 @renegadebirch @concreteangel92 @elysian-after-dark if you would like to be added, shoot a message <3

[lightlycareless]

warnings: highschool au. fluff. small proofreading.

Sometimes I wonder how does your father take the fact that Naoya is, first of all your boyfriend which although supportive of him because he’s a hopeless romantic at heart too, he can’t help but worry and from time to time. He doesn’t want you rushing things that might lead to some dreadful regrets, after all!

But what surprises him most is probably the fact that he gives you all that you want??? No matter what it was, whether a drink from your go-to boba shop or the newest installment of your favorite videogame franchise—consider it done.

Saw a pair of shoes you thought they’d be cute with that new outfit you got a few days ago? Wonder no more, they’re yours.

A plushie you were considering whether to pre-order, or wait until it’s released to see if you really want it? Naoya’s got you covered, one less thing to worry about.

Your father was able to tolerate most of these things since they were relatively small to begin with, not necessarily luxuries…

Until you come along with a new phone.

Maybe it was time to step in.

“Dad, it’s not that big of a deal, really!”

“No, young lady. As much as he’s your boyfriend there needs to be a limit to his spending!” He warns.

“But didn’t you say I should look for someone that will always dote on me? That’s what Naoya is doing, right?”

Eiichi hates when his words are used against him. Yes, he did say that… but not to the level of he’s on right now!!!

“What is it that bothers you, dad? It surely can’t be that!”

He sighs. It’s not that, for sure. Might as well be honest.

“Look, while I’m happy that you’ve found someone that is willing to give you the world every single day… I worry that his family might not share the same sentiment.” Your father begins, making you anguished. “I’ve known the Zen’in for quite some time, but their reputation really is… modest when it comes to their actual behavior.”

“O—Oh…” you murmur. You’ve heard of them, mostly through the rumors surrounding your boyfriend alongside his own experiences but… well, you never thought they’d prove much worse than you anticipated.

The last thing you wanted was to cause (more) rifts between Naoya and his family because of you. After all the nice things he’s done for you… he deserves that much.

“What… what do you suggest I do…?”

“Take it easy, there’s other things the two can do together without spending money.”

“…Yeah, you’re right.” You say with a bright smile, suddenly motivated. “This might be my opportunity to finally use that cooking book I got from Nanami!”

“Wait, you’ve never cooked anything for me!”

“Yes I have, I made brownies for everyone on Valentine’s day! Remember?”

“But that was so long ago, pumpkin…” he groans. “But it’s ok, in the end I’ll always support you in whatever you decide to do. I shall even taste your craft before you hand it over to Naoya, just to be sure it’ll be of his satisfaction.”

“I’ll make a bit extra for you, dad. There’s no need to go to that length.” You pout, Eiichi laughs.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy either way.”

And he was, very much so, that it didn’t take him long to start looking forward to what delicacy you’ll bless him with that day. Something he desperately needed to repay with more of his usual lavish gifts, naturally.

…Until your sudden rejection for them stops him dead on his tracks, slapping him across the face like a bucketful of ice that not even your reassuring gestures could warm up.

You tried to play it off as not finding any use in being one-sidedly bombarded with gifts when the two could easily be doing a whole world of things together!

But instead, he took it as a “I’m not impressed by your favors anymore, Naoya” type of thing. Subsequently prompting him to double his efforts if he wished to regain your admiration once again.

However, all that he obtained this time around was the Zen’in’s interest on you.

Oh no, who are they going to send to investigate you?

Or worse, are you getting invited to the estate???????????? hehe.

[samijey]

okay i’m so glad you didn’t think that sami would turn heel last monday (or anytime soon) because i trust your judgement on this and i cannot stand the thought of that man going to the dark side. he’s too pure.

I appreciate you! However, I think Sami getting back in touch with his heelish tendencies is a very exciting prospect and one that fans of the character and his dynamic with Jey (platonic or not) should look forward to - I'll tell you why under the break because I started typing and all of a sudden I was several paragraphs in oof ✋😩

Firstly, it's counterproductive to think of any wrestling character as "too good"" or "too evil" - anyone worth scrutinizing has shades of grey and is therefore susceptible to positive AND negative influences - be those coming from within themselves or from outside sources. Pro-Wrestling is a medium where storytelling is largely told via conflict, whether that comes from betrayal, friendly competition, manipulation, etc feuding is how relationships deepen and how characters grow and evolve.

Sami and Jey are already way outside the norm in the sense that they've kept contact on screen for years since their feud ended just to keep reminding us how close they are and to reap the benefits of a great storyline by simply giving them 20-30 seconds of screen time on a regular basis to just be cute and pop the crowd - this simply does not happen in WWE. Name me 2 other characters who constantly interact backstage across the span of years without being in a feud/faction/tag team - it just not a thing they like to waste time on (which sucks and robs us of depth but that's a whole other rant). Now, for and for as nice as it is to see them support each other and maintain the friendly status quo for so long, this is still wrestling and if we want their relationship to gain new layers, worthwhile conflict is something we SHOULD want, as long as it is well written and well timed (I know the performance aspect will be stellar, so that part doesn't worry me).

They got to the point they did - a fan favorite duo with a tremendously underrated amount of iconic moments and dialogues exchanged - BY WORKING THROUGH CONFLICT. The fact that Jey was the heel for most of their feud and was pushed into reconnecting with his better self by a babyface Sami "who saw the good in him the whole time and never gave up on him" should honestly have everyone salivating at the prospect of them feuding again with the roles reversed. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want to see Jey be the one to help pull Sami back into the light when he comes dangerously close to losing himself??? To give Jey the opportunity to cut amazingly emotional promos like this again?? That's what shipping gold is made of, come on!! Think of the parallels! The call-backs! The devastatingly sad looks of longing making a comeback but now with 3 years of baggage to give it 10x more depth!! THE EVENTUAL REUNION ONCE THEY'VE MADE PEACE ONCE AGAIN AND ARE BACK TOGETHER AND THEIR BOND IS STRONGER THAN EVER FROM HAVING SURVIVED A WHOLE NEW SET OF TRIALS AND HARDSHIPS??? I understand some people don't want to see their faves have conflict, but that is inevitable in wrestling and it's how iconic dynamics are cemented.

Let's also not forget Sami was a full heel for a LONG time, so there's a whole catalogue of past tendencies and behaviors to pull from. Back then, manipulation and a disheartening win/loss record were the trigger for him turning heel, not any dark impulses of his own (strong reason why I'll always argue he's a natural babyface), so should he get back in touch with his heelish side, I'm adamant that the most in-character way to do it is to again have others dripping venom in his ear and a sustained string of losses - both of which are already at play (shout-out to Karrion, Seth and Drew especially, dem nasty haters). Hell, the fact that the ball has been rolling for a while on these two points and Sami has firmly remained good speaks volumes to how much stronger of a character he is now, which is wonderful - and again - the reason why we need to put these characters through situations™ and have them struggle to overcome them.

At the end of the day, I have very VERY little trust in WWE to handle anything correctly EVER, but I do trust the performers to take what they're given and elevate it to the best it can be. I know there's still a whole goldmine of storytelling between Jey and Sami to explore, which says a lot considering they've been in each other's close orbit for 3 years now and there's still so much more we can do - in a perfect world we get a great, emotionally rich feud between them, a satisfying pay-off with them reuniting once more and FINALLY that tag run they kept teasing last Summer and Jey has been yapping about in interviews for aaaages - give that man his lil treat!

[monicfever]

almost professional. 𝜗𝜚 billy russo.

russo is obsessed with the one thing in his office that won’t fall in line — his razor-sharp, unflinchingly composed assistant. he flirts, she sighs, and somewhere between coffee runs and stapler theft, it becomes a war neither of them wants to win.

cw ᝰ .ᐟ fem!reader ,, dark themes ,, obsessive tendencies ,, yandere tendencies ,, short blurb.

it starts, always, with the coffee.

she brings it in at 7:30, like she’s supposed to—like she’s been trained to.

billy made sure of that. made it very clear on her first week: two creams, no sugar, extra hot, lid tight, sleeve facing forward.

precision. discipline. standards.

but sometimes he’ll take a sip, pause, tilt his head just so, and say, “didn’t i say one cream, not two?”

even though she knows she didn’t mess it up. he’s playing with her. again.

“no sir,” she says, calm, eyes sharp like she’s learning the rules of a game she didn’t sign up to play. “you said two.”

he’ll smile. real slow. real smug. “mm. right. guess i just wanted to see you come back in here again.”

she rolls her eyes. subtly. but he sees it. he sees everything she does.

and god, does he love watching her try to hide her annoyance — tries to stay composed, collected, military-grade professional.

she’s his assistant. she’s supposed to be invisible. keep things moving, on time, under control.

but she’s the only thing in the building he actually notices. and he likes to think she knows it.

she always lingers a little too long at his door. always knows when to interrupt a meeting that’s gone on too long. always brings an extra pen when he’s out, before he even asks.

she’s good. scary good. and that makes it worse.

because he’s starting to obsess over the way she bites her nail when she’s thinking, the way she never breaks eye contact when she’s annoyed, the exact pitch of her voice when she says sir.

she’s so goddamn disciplined.

he wants to ruin that.

wants to see what she looks like when she slips.

billy russo is a man who gets what he wants. he always has.

and what he wants now is wrapped in soft perfume and sharp glances, walking around his office in heels he’s already memorized the sound of.

she doesn’t flirt. doesn’t try. doesn’t need to. he flirts for both of them.

just to watch her blink slower. shift her weight. glance at the door. he can’t help himself.

“you sure you got the coffee right this time?” he says it every couple days now. just to make her backtrack. just to hear her voice again. just to keep her in his space.

because the second she’s gone, the room feels wrong. too quiet. too sterile. too efficient.

it doesn’t matter how expensive the furniture is, how fast the emails go out, how many men in uniform knock on his door with updates — she leaves and the air goes flat.

so he doesn’t last long. maybe three minutes. five if he’s really trying.

then he’s pushing away from the desk, sliding his jacket back over his shoulders, and stepping out into the open-plan hum of anvil’s top floor, all smooth confidence and controlled dominance.

she’s at her desk, typing something, headset in. back straight, shoulders drawn tight in the way he’s learned means she’s focused.

he leans one hip against the edge of her desk without a word, just the soft click of his dress shoes and the scent of his cologne marking his arrival.

she doesn’t look up.

“miss me?” he asks, voice low and warm, curling at the edges like smoke. she exhales through her nose. doesn't answer.

billy watches her hands on the keyboard for a beat longer than is appropriate.

“where’s that briefing you said you’d send me?” he asks, all faux-disappointment. “you losing your touch?” finally, she looks at him. cool. unimpressed. perfectly put-together.

“i emailed it twenty minutes ago,” she says. “you didn’t check.” his grin widens.

“oh, i check plenty.”

she blinks. he can see the exact second she decides not to dignify that with a response. it thrills him.

around them, a few employees glance over. not directly — never directly. people don’t really look at billy russo unless he lets them. and right now? he doesn’t.

his gaze slices sideways toward the two guys at the adjacent desks who’ve been lingering too long on her side profile. sharp. ugly. warning clear. they both turn back to their screens quickly.

good.

billy’s eyes fall back to her. she’s returned to typing, pretending he’s not still there. but she’s typing harder now.

“you always this cold to your boss?” he murmurs, fingers brushing a paperclip off the edge of her desk just to feel some part of her world shift beneath his touch.

“you always this unprofessional to your assistant?” she shoots back, voice flat.

his smile spreads like a knife sliding into silk. “only the ones i like.” he stays there a little too long. he always does. she always lets him.

which is how he knows — beneath all that perfect posture and clipped tone and sharp-tongued resistance — she’s playing the game too.

———————————————————————

he starts showing up more.

not with purpose, not with anything urgent. just to hover. to haunt. always with that half-smirk and tie just a little too loose.

he leans in too close when he’s pretending to check something on her screen, voice low in her ear like it’s a secret. like they’re co-conspirators in something darker than office logistics.

she hates how aware she’s become of him — how the air changes when he’s near. how she braces herself for his shadow before it even crosses her desk. he feeds off it.

today it’s the stapler.

hers, specifically. the one she keeps precisely aligned beside her keyboard, parallel to her notepad. everything in its place.

he picks it up, turns it over in his hand like he’s never seen one before.

“you always this neat?” he asks, flipping the stapler open. “feels a little... obsessive.”

she doesn’t look up from her spreadsheet. “says the man who sends his coffee back if the lid’s off-center.”

he grins, tosses the stapler lightly from one hand to the other. “touche.”

“put it back.”

he doesn’t.

“billy.”

it’s the first time she’s said his name in days. he notices. savors it.

“i like when you say it like that,” he murmurs. like it means something. like it tastes good on her tongue.

she reaches for the stapler, but he’s faster.

he lifts it just out of her reach, arm stretched, elbow cocked with lazy arrogance. “ah, ah —” he drawls, wiggling the stapler between his fingers. “say please.”

she freezes. her expression doesn’t change, but her shoulders draw back, spine a little straighter. he can feel the shift — like static charging the space between them.

“you’re acting like a child.” he grins wider.

“and you’re acting like this stapler is the last thing holding your world together.”

she rolls her eyes; but she steps closer.

not much — just a single stride, enough to close the gap between them and pull her scent into his lungs like a hit of something addictive.

he watches her jaw tighten. “give it back.”

“what if i don’t?” his voice dips, low and deliberate.

he lifts the stapler another inch. her gaze flicks to his hand, then back to his face — calculating.

“what are you, five?”

“not when i want something,” he says, soft and smug. “then i get creative.”

her fingers twitch like she’s ready to snatch it, but she doesn’t. “you’re really this desperate for my attention?”

“you noticed.” his smile turns lazy, indulgent.

“you’re impossible.”

“you’re close.”

his eyes drop, just for a second, to the inch of space left between their bodies. he doesn’t look back up right away. she’s not blushing. he’s sure of it. she’s too composed for that.

but she’s warm. he can feel it in the air.

and when she finally reaches for the stapler —quick and precise — he lets her grab it.

but not before brushing his fingers across hers, slow and deliberate, a spark disguised as an accident. she snatches it back. hard.

“done?” she asks, cool and sharp.

“never,” he answers, softer. “but i’ll let you pretend i am.” she exhales, sharp through her nose, and turns back to her desk.

but he catches it — just for a second — the corner of her mouth twitching.

like maybe she’s not as unaffected as she pretends to be.

he files it away. he files everything away.

the twitch of her mouth. the way her fingers brushed his, fast but not fast enough. the pulse in her throat when he said she was close. he should go back to his office. should let her work. should let the moment cool. but he doesn’t.

instead, he lingers.

just a step or two from her desk, pretending to examine the framed mission statement on the wall like it’s suddenly become interesting after three years of ignoring it. she clocks him instantly.

“do you need something?” she asks, already typing again. she doesn’t look at him.

he smirks, turning just enough to lean a hip against the edge of her desk. again. “nope.”

she types louder.

he leans a little closer.

“you sure? you’re hovering like you forgot how doors work.”

“maybe i just like the view.”

she pauses. breathes in. breathes out. still doesn’t look up. “you’re the most annoying man alive.”

“you said that last week. you’re gonna have to come up with some new material.”

“or maybe you could just stop bothering me.”

“see, you say that—” he drawls, plucking a paperweight from her desk and turning it in his hand, “but you haven’t told me to leave for real, or even changed desks.”

“because I’m professional,” she mutters.

“mm. and I’m charming.”

“delusional.”

“same difference.”

she finally looks up, fixing him with a stare that could cut glass. “billy. if you’re not bleeding or on fire, i’m going to need you to go away.”

he grins. wide. teeth and trouble. “see, i was gonna ask you to grab lunch with me, but—”

“no.”

“you didn’t even let me finish—”

“still no.”

he pretends to be wounded. clutches at his chest. staggers back a step. “god, you’re cruel,” he says. “i’m starting to think you don’t like me.”

“i don’t like you.”

“now that,” he murmurs, leaning back in like he never left, “feels like a lie.”

she exhales. clicks her mouse. won’t give him the satisfaction of a laugh.

and when he walks back to his office he doesn’t stop smiling.

not once.

started 4.23.2025. finished 4.23.2025.

( masterlist. )

©️ monicfever 2025

[snail-day]

Male JJK hybrids types because I have nothing to do rn

Gojo Satoru - A lot of people have said that he would be a snow leopard, but I disagree. Although it’s very similar to a snow leopard, I think he would be an albino tiger. Albinism is extremely rare and causes a lot of health issues to whatever has that gene, but people only focus on the beauty of it. The six eyes appear once every several hundred years and when Gojo was born with that trait, his life was no longer his. Both of them were robbed of a normal life because of something that they couldn’t control. Both of them have something empty inside of them that can’t be fixed when their life is spent inside a cage. Both of them are watched until they inevitably die without ever knowing of a life outside of the prison they were born in.

Geto Suguru - Unpopular opinion, but he would be a comet moth. I base this off of him defecting and changing who he is. It starts off as a caterpillar and does whatever it needs to survive. (when he was a student) Then the caterpillar builds a chrysalis around itself, hiding themselves from the danger around them. (The depression he went through after Haibara’s death) Finally, the caterpillar emerges from its chrysalis as something new. (Defecting)

Although Geto is graceful, he would not be a butterfly. He would be a moth. The Comet moth is beautiful and can easily be mistaken as a butterfly. Non-sorcerers are so captivated by his appearance, that they don’t notice his true nature. They see a butterfly, not a moth.

Toji Fushiguro - Bull shark. When you think of a dangerous shark, the first thing that comes to mind is the infamous Great White, but that’s not the only thing in the water that you should fear. Bull sharks are sometimes overlooked, but they’re also one of the most dangerous and aggressive sharks in the water. Toji came from a long line of sorcerers, but didn’t end up getting the same ‘blessing’ as they did. The sorcerers are the Great White sharks. They’re big, powerful, intimidating, dangerous, and everyone sees them as the biggest threat.

Toji isn’t a Great White, but he doesn’t have to be one to be just as deadly. While others are distracted by the infamy of the Great white, Bull sharks claim more and more lives. Being underestimated gives him an advantage. Bull sharks aren’t as flashy as Great Whites, but they’re just as dangerous.

Nanami Kento - Dobermann. Stoic, strong, does it’s job effortlessly, quiet and barks to alert others of danger. Must I say more? Dobermans were often used as police dogs and helped save many lives. The animal would prefer a life knowing love and comfort instead of death and commands, but it does what it’s told because that’s what it’s trained to do. Nanami wanted a simple life for himself, but there’s no escaping death once you’ve been around it. You can adopt a police dog and give it a new life, but the dog still can’t forget it’s training.

This is a lot more angsty than I thought it would be lol. I have no idea why I spent so much time on this instead of finishing up my own work, but I hope you enjoy this as much as I did while writing it. <33

- 🌱

YES YES YES I AGREE WITH ALL OF THESE!!

Though I'm still on th Puppy! Satoru train, you cant tell me that man doesn't have a tail wagging 24/7!

MOTHHHHH GETO YESSSS I don't know if you saw but @indiewritesxoxo is starting a moth man geto series and I've never been more excited in my entire life. I love how you symbolize his defect!!

Shark Toji and Dobermann Nanami are doing something to me 😵‍💫

Love your writing as usual!! 🩷🩷

[tearsofdiamonds]

🔥🔥🙏🙏🙏🙏 im losing ym shit

sorry girl but that picture of jennifer and needy + the pictures of youngliz gave me other thoughts 😵‍💫

wonyoung and liz as jennifer and needy is a concept that i love. i can see them as the typical best friends that are about the popular pretty girl duo that has all the guys in the palm of her hand + loser friend who is a virgin and doesn’t even use Instagram to try to flirt or get guys but just because she likes to support her friend’s posts… type of friendship where liz’s parents would say that wonyoung is a bad influence and that they should look for better options for friendships, little knowing that liz loves this type of dynamics.

also the friendship between two girls that looks like a toxic lesbian situationship. they don’t date or anything like that, but the behavior of both is always like a relationship full of jealousy and obsessive acts even when wonyoung claims to be straight and half the school is after her while liz stays like her virgin loser best friend who never leaves the house because she prefers to stay in her room and read all day rather than come out of her cave and enjoy life like any average teenager would.

and the heated conversations with a certain amount of tension were always present. being best friends since they were children, they already have a habit of having sleepovers every weekend, leaving school on friday afternoon and heading to someone’s house to spend the whole weekend together and then going to school together on monday morning.

“hello?” wonyoung, who was barely entering her teens, gently touched the blonde’s forehead, giving liz a gentle tap on the forehead, as she always enjoyed doing. “we turned thirteen last month! we’ll be starting high school soon. we have to be prepared~”

and liz didn’t understand what her best friend was referring to! “prepared for…?”

“for boys, right? we’ll have to be prepared for tongue kissing and sex. don’t tell me you feel like we’re not ready for that yet.”

and well, that was the first time there was a weird moment between them! wonyoung teaching liz how to kiss using her tongue and her whole mouth wasn’t something liz had ever thought about... she hadn’t even had a crush on a guy, so kissing was something that was so far from her thoughts, but it’s good that wonyoung is a great friend who wouldn’t allow her best friend to look like a silly brat who doesn’t know how to behave once the opportunity presents itself with a guy, so spending almost the entire night sticking her tongue almost down liz’s throat was both of their favorite activities for a long time <3

that hasn’t changed until now. both in wonyoung’s room, talking about the upcoming party one of the school’s athletes was planning. liz wasn’t the going–out type, only accepting invitations when she knew her best friend would be attending.

“we have to prepare you for when a guy wants to take the next step with you.”

and liz is more than fed up with hearing that! wonyoung constantly seems to want to try to get her to have something with some guy because ut seems to bother her that liz keeps her social status at the same level, but at the same time she seems to get annoyed when some guy gets too close to liz, even if he’s a classmate being kind to liz and managing to get a smile out of her.

but the words get stuck in liz’s throat when wonyoung instead of starting to give advice like always chooses to crawl over to where she is in bed… liz would say something if it weren’t for wonyoung taking her jaw and making her listen instead of saying something stupid.

“you’re gorgeous, liz. beautiful face, nice tits, big ass… i don’t understand how no guy has asked you out yet.” liz’s face changes to shades of red.

how could i say that this ends with wonyoung training liz for when she finally sleeps with a man? liz is so dumb that she doesn’t have a voice of her own that she doesn’t even dare to refuse when her best friend tells her that she’ll fuck her to prepare her when she gets the chance with a guy :( choosing the strap with a considerable size, big and thick enough to get liz used to the moment she has to take a real cock she doesn’t feel uncomfortable and don’t try to give up the moment you feel full and be a little sissy about it.

“first you have to give him head. the vast majority of guys like their cocks sucked. then you’ll learn how to do it so you don’t suck the first time.” wonyoung would say sweetly, looking at liz with loving eyes and a mocking smile as she notices how the blonde looks with big doubtful eyes at the silicone cock that gives her the feeling that it will be a difficult task to do…

wonyoung guiding liz at all times <3 showing her how she has to tease a little first because sometimes it’s better to tease first with kitten licks, asking her to maintain eye contact with her as liz slowly inserts the dildo into her mouth because in wonyoung’s words, “that’s what guys like,” telling her to use one of her hands to pump the shaft of her cock while she in turn bobs her head up and down on the other half of her cock… she even dares to take liz’s soft and silky blond locks in one hand, holding them in a ponytail and using it to move liz’s head and simultaneously moving her hips against her face to fuck her mouth properly. liz is so wrapped up in her task and following the advice her friend is giving her that the poor fool doesn’t realize that this stopped being just help and tips for her future a long time ago…

and wonyoung training liz’s pussy so she can take a real cock tomorrow, only liz is now about to collapse because if she struggles to take wonyoung’s cock in her mouth, she doesn’t want to imagine how hard it will be for her pussy to do it this time!

wony giving words of encouragement to liz as she slides the silicone cock into her best friend :( awww she is showering liz with sweet words, taking advantage of the small moment where liz seems to be “okay” to instruct her to place her hands on the back of her knees and push them against her chest because, again, “that’s what boys like,”

[kittenfangirl20]

Charlie: I hope I am not going upset you, but what happened to your eye.

Vaggie: It’s alright, I never told anyone because they never asked. Many people assume it was a vampire, but it wasn’t. It was my dad, I grew up in one of those ultra religious families that treated everything as a sin. I could only wear skirts that went down to my ankles because a woman showing off jet legs was a sin, my dad seeing you wearing a suit would cause him to meltdown. My hair had to be a certain length because short hair was meant for men. Well, when I was about thirteen, I started to notice how beautiful women were and I wasn’t at all attracted to me. I would find a way to sneak pictures of women I found pretty just so I could look at them. It was nothing beyond looking, but my dad found the collection and started screaming at me about how because I was using my eyes to sin they must be cut out before he cut out my left eye.

Charlie: That is so terrible, he shouldn’t have done that to you.

Vaggie: Thank you, he would have cut out my right eye if Adam hadn’t heard the commotion and ran inside to see what was happening. It was nice to see the look of fear cross dad’s face when a six and a half foot tall priest burst into our home and beat the shit out of him while the true sin is abusing your daughter and not the fact that the daughter likes looking at pretty women since he saw my collection which wasn’t even pornographic at all. Adam took me out of there and found a way for him to get legal custody of me and be my guardian. When I moved into the church that became my home, he asked me what I wanted to do first and I said always wanted to cut my hair to chin length, so he had me sit down and cut my hair that length. I was even allowed to wear jeans and shirts I found cool. Now the reason I grew my hair long is because I chose to do it. I wanted to become a nun because Adam saved me, but Adam would only let me begin my training after I graduate high school because he wanted me to have the normal high school experience. I am thankful for that because I got to do things like go to prom and graduate because of his choice. People thought it was odd that my guardian was a priest, but on his off time he would play the electric guitar and play video games. Though I was rather envious that he had a DD cup and my breasts firmly stated at an A cup.

Charlie: I think your breasts are pretty.

Vaggie blushed and before they knew it, they were kissing. They got out of their clothes as Charlie made love to Vaggie. Vaggie had at most experienced kisses and some intimate touching, but she knew that this was what she wanted now she only wanted it from Charlie. As a vampire Charlie could shape shift parts of her so Vaggie could experience different types of intimacy. Afterwards they curled up together.

Charlie: Stay with me and be mine and I will be yours as well.

Vaggie: I want to stay with you.

That night Adam woke up feeling so rested and happy. He got out of the bed and put on a silk robe so he could walk around the room. Everything was so grand and beautiful, Adam excitedly hugged himself realizing this was his home and he now had a husband who loved him. He went to the bathroom and got a warm bubble bath ready. Once in the tub, he felt strong and gentle hands wash him. He looked up to see Lucifer bathing him.

Lucifer: Did you sleep well my dove?

Adam: Yes, I did.

Lucifer: What would you like to try out tonight?

Adam blushed knowing what he wanted, but he was afraid Lucifer would laugh.

Adam: Promise not to laugh.

Lucifer: I promise.

Adam: I want to know what sex with a pussy feels like. I know vampires can shape shift, I want you to give me a pussy so I can know what it feels like.

To Adam’s relief Lucifer didn’t laugh.

Lucifer: We can do that, but I should warn you that there is a chance you can get pregnant this way and you will be stuck with a vagina until you give birth.

Adam: I don’t mind, I like raising kids.

After Adam was cleaned up, Lucifer took Adam to the mirror and opened Adam’s robe. Lucifer then placed his hand on the intimate part between Adam’s legs. When Lucifer pulled away his hand, Adam started to feel warm between his legs as his dick and balls started to melt before forming into a pussy between his legs. Adam got out of the robe and lay on the bed as he played with the changed part of his body. He blushed as he became soaking wet between his legs. He liked touching himself, but he wanted more, Lucifer moved Adam’s hand and started to eat him out. Adam gasped when he felt Lucifer’s tongue play with his clit. Lucifer was such an expert with his mouth, he made Adam orgasm many times.

Lucifer: Do you want more?

Adam: Yes.

All of this was so nice, but Adam’s wet, aching pussy needed Adam’s dick. Lucifer lay on the bed and coaxed Adam to get on top of him. Adam moved up and down once Lucifer was inside of him. Everting felt so good like last night.

Lucifer: Do you want a baby in you?

Adam: Yes.

Adam knew at that moment the reason why he wanted to experience vaginal sex was because he wanted to experience pregnancy. He remembered once when he was a teen telling a friend that he wanted to get pregnant. His friend laughed at him and said men like them can’t get pregnant. He laughed even more as Adam started to cry. That ended their friendship and the guy had to be sent to another school when he started to bully Adam by stuffing pregnancy tests into Adam’s locker. Now was his chance to have his greatest desire. Lucifer grabbed Adam’s hips and thrust deeper into him, he was going to make sure to fill up Adam with cum and Adam could have his baby. He wanted to see Adam go through the pregnancy process, stomach become even bigger as well as well as round. Lucifer arched his back from the mattress as to fill Adam up with his seed.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

Vampire/Priest Au

Adam had to make sure that the church and the living area where he and all the nuns lived were locked up tight at night.

He also made sure everyone had their cross, rosary beads, and wooden stake.

Could never be too careful when Vampires live in the area. Recently one got in and sucked one of his nuns dry as if she were a juice box.

Vaggie: Father.

Adam turned and smiled: Sister Vaggie, you should be in bed for the night, it's dangerous.

Vaggie: I know, I just wanted to be sure everything was secure.

Adam: It is, go to your room and keep your windows locked and curtains drawn.

They couldn't risk losing another one.

-

Charlie dropped the animal on the ground and wiped the blood from her mouth. She turned and saw the glowing eyes of her father in the darkness of the forest.

Charlie: Dad?

Lucifer: It's time to go back to the church.

Charlie: Are you sure?

He turned to the direction of the church, the glow from the stain glass windows in the distance.

His future Queen was in there.

Lucifer: Very sure.

Unlike what the myths said, it wasn’t dangerous for vampires to step onto holy ground. Charlie followed her dad onto the church. He watched the nuns walk through the grounds, but they didn’t interest Lucifer. Lucifer saw his future Queen on the balcony, the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life. Even his black priestly robes couldn’t hide his curves.

Lucifer: Soon you will be my Queen.

Adam heard the words that felt like a caress. Somehow he knew those words were for him and they were a real turn on for him.

Adam internally: Why are you letting yourself do this Adam? You dedicated yourself to the church, you said you would be chaste.

Lucifer: Why should a beauty like you have to be chaste for life.

Adam suddenly felt hands caress his body.

Adam: Who are you?

Lucifer: Invite me into your quarters and you can see me.

Adam: You can come into my quarters.

Adam walked inside not expecting who to see, but it certainly wasn’t a very handsome man. Lucifer smiled at Adam and Adam could see the fangs.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

[gutsby]

Too Close for Comfort

Pairing: Joel Miller x Babysitter!Reader

Summary: You’ve been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you’re surfing the web on her dad’s computer, and you find some…unusual things in his search history.

Or, Joel likes to jerk off to your lookalike on PornHub. It’s time you showed him what the real thing is like.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (m!receiving). Creampie. Mommy/Daddy Roleplay (HEAR ME OUT!!) Brief boot humping. Squirting. Perv!Joel. Breeding kink.

Note: ‘Just call me if anyone else checks in…and by anyone, I mean any swingin dick’ is a line from No Country for Old Men

Word count: 12.7k

Purple slime had been Sarah’s idea.

It was an innocent thing, really. The four-year-old had practically been bouncing on the balls of her feet, eyes wide and shining with excitement when she’d begged—‘Can we pleeeeease?!’—and who were you to tell her no?

You’d only be breaking one small rule of Joel’s, after all. One silly little admonition he’d made before leaving for work the first day you’d started babysitting for him. That had been over a year ago, and he hadn’t even sounded that serious when he’d said it. He probably wouldn’t mind if you bent the rule this one time at Sarah’s behest.

‘Don’t go in the computer room, please.’

Don’t use Joel’s desktop. Don’t rifle through any of the drawers in Joel’s office—it was a mess, but everything was in its place, according to him. Just don’t go in there.

But in exchange for Sarah agreeing to take her nap that day without protest, you’d promised to order her slime.

Purple, gooey, glittery, sticky stuff for her new collection.

You weren’t sure when the fuck putty had become the plaything of choice for kids in Pre-K, but you hadn’t been in a place to judge; whatever Sarah wanted to do, so long as it was safe for her to play with, was totally fine by you.

It was just one rule.

Surely if Mr. Miller knew how badly his daughter wanted the slime, he’d be fine with you booting up his computer once. That was what you kept telling yourself, anyway.

What kept humming through your mind as the desktop came to life and you toggled straight for Google Chrome.

Be quick, be quiet, it’s fine. It’s fine.

Purple goo—it was safe. Innocent. Completely justifiable.

What could the sweet, old, forty-something and forever polite Joel Miller possibly have to hide on this machine that made it wrong for you to buy this one simple toy?

You reached for the keyboard and inhaled a quick breath.

Then you typed one letter, and your heart nearly seized.

P…

…ornhub.com

It was the very first thing that appeared in the search bar.

You couldn’t unsee it. Instinctively, your hand clamped over your mouth, and your eyes widened. You couldn’t help but read the four URLs that immediately dropped down below the first; they were just so garishly inviting.

Hot, Naughty Babysitter gets POUNDED by her Boss!

Slutty Babysitter Gets Railed from Behind and Loves It

Big Dick Boss Gives Babysitter a Passionate Raw Fuck

‘I’ve Never Done This!’ Babysitter Deepthroats Cock

“Oh…my gosh,” you said, words muffled by your palm.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. It was just too bizarre, too far out of character, too unlike your boss.

The man had scarcely said ten words to you altogether that didn’t relate to your job in some way or another. He rarely ever engaged in casual confab, and he certainly wasn’t the type to flirt, or make you uncomfortable in the slightest. Frankly, in all the time you’d been babysitting, you always thought you were just…invisible to Joel Miller.

Not this. Never this.

You were still staring at the screen when you realized that you’d missed one URL title from the list. It was long.

It was the most unnerving one of all, you came to see.

Babysitter Lounging Poolside in Hot Red Bikini Gets a BIG Surprise—Her Old Boss Teaches Her How to FUCK

Your hand lowered from your face. It trembled, contemplating, before coming to rest atop the mouse.

Something about this seemed familiar. Strangely…off.

You couldn’t explain it, but your head and your heart and your hand gravitated to that one odd link in particular. You hadn’t even meant to move the mouse. Or press it with your finger. But there you went, following your instincts like some dumb, brainless ditz, and then the screen was changing. Going dark with the shift to an adult site before brightening anew with the thumbnail.

It was paused on one frame. Your jaw slackened.

The girl staring back from the scene was you.

Or looked exactly, uncannily like you anyway.

It was then that you noticed what she was wearing, too—what you guessed wouldn’t be on her body for long—and you glanced down to your own shoulder. Just like your on-screen doppelgänger, you were wearing the same bikini in a bright, cherry-red hue beneath your tank top.

You wore it under your clothes damn near every day, indulging in the Millers’ backyard pool more often than not, and even being allowed to swim there on the days Sarah had summer camp—Joel had been so obliging.

So accommodating and sweet.

You never thought he’d be seeking your fucking twin online on a porn site after watching you traipse around his property wearing it. Your gut clenched; you clicked.

“Hey, sweetheart! Everything go OK?”

The voice that rumbled through the speakers was low. Male. Vaguely paternal and with a hint of a Southern lilt.

You swallowed, knowing exactly where this was going.

You weren’t sure why you were even watching when you could already predict what would become of it. The camera panned over a body identical to yours; it landed on a face that was smiling and sweet and so like your own you almost had to question whether it might not be you after all. Had you somehow forgotten this secret porn alter ego in a bout of amnesia? You kept watching.

The girl bit her bottom lip and let out the phoniest giggle.

“Yes, sir. Perfectly fine. Do you like my new bikini?”

Be so fucking serious, you thought, critically.

Then you remembered it was porn, not an Oscar-winning film. You saw the camera tilt down to her tits, and you had to admit, she had a great rack. A bit nicer than yours.

For a beat, you wondered if Joel had thought the same.

You had to batter those thoughts away, because the next second brought a big, burly hand onto the screen. It reached for the girl with her perfect, perky breasts and it kneaded them softly. No further pretense or prelude was needed—they just jumped right in and let it happen, like this was a normal thing for a babysitter and a boss to do.

Maybe in some other universe it was. In a world where a girl your age could just smile, and bat her eyes, and let them roll back gently as a whimper crossed her lips and she begged him, ‘More, daddy, more!’ this was all okay.

The man squeezed the flesh harder. She whined, and he proceeded to push the red nylon aside and expose the whole expanse of her breast—and holy shit, even the nipple looked like yours. Your mouth opened wider, and for a moment, it was like you couldn’t breathe as you watched that old, sun-kissed hand fondle the breast of a girl who looked just like you. Who was peering up at a man who sounded almost like Joel, murmuring, ‘Attagirl.’

You’d heard your boss say that once.

It had been such a silly, off-handed thing that you doubted he even remembered saying it. But one time, you’d struggled to open the passenger door to his truck before he drove you home. Once you’d narrowly managed to pry it open and slide into your seat, he’d laughed and rumbled: ‘Attagirl.’ Your face had warmed.

Just like your cheeks were doing now, all hot and bothered and desperate to hear more. Presently, the man slid the top off of the girl’s chest, and her breasts hung freely. You could hear him groan behind the camera at the sight, and not too long after that, before he could reach to touch her tits again, she was crawling on her knees toward him. Shuffling easily and expertly across the lawn chair and undoing the belt, button, and zip of his pants in a matter of seconds. A hand smoothed over her head, and you could see her preen beneath his touch.

Before she’d even wrapped her lips around his cock, your stomach was churning. Your fingers were stirring from the mouse and moving gently—again, of their own volition, it seemed—toward the waistband of your own bottoms. It was sick, admittedly. So wrong to be wanting to touch yourself to the very same video your boss had indulged in himself, in the very same chair he had done the deed. But you couldn’t help it. Your fingers slipped under the the fabric of your shorts, then your bikini, then your throat let out the tiniest noise upon seeing a cock appear on-screen. It was abnormally large, of course.

Silently, you wondered if Joel’s might not look the same. Your stomach flipped as soon as the girl took it in her mouth, and your index and middle fingers landed on your clit. You barely needed to touch to feel a jolt of pleasure.

Her head bobbed up and down. You felt powerless to do anything else but rub. And circle. And moan the slightest bit when you saw her coat his length with her shiny spit.

You heard that your noises mirrored hers. You didn’t care. Really, it felt as though you were in a trance, and you couldn’t stop watching, or touching, until you’d had your fill. Like Mr. Miller had done himself. It was all too much.

Before you even realized it, five minutes had passed, the man and woman on-screen were shifting from oral to raw, penetrative sex, and you were nearing your peak. Right before the cock that had been lodged down the girl’s throat could slide into her wet, glistening cunt, you felt your stomach lurch. You rubbed harder, watching the fat and leaking tip of the man’s cock tease through her folds, and just as he was about to slide in and you could finally find your release…a door banged open downstairs.

You almost screamed.

As quickly as you could, you yanked your hand out of your pants and clicked out of that browser even faster. The second you heard footfalls on the steps, you scampered out of there. Half-sprinting, half-tip-toeing down the hall and toward the bathroom, before halting at the door. You made your presence known with one light stomp of your foot, pretending to be turning and walking out, and as soon as you did, Joel was right there. Staring.

Sweating.

Scrubbing at his face with one weary hand, before taking a rag and wiping it through his beard. He sighed heavily.

“Long day?” you chirped while trying to mask the panic.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Joel answered, voice wan, “How’s my little terror? Asleep? She give ya any trouble?”

Just asked me to buy her a toy online and inadvertently led me to find your internet Spank Bank archives full of women who look like me. Other than that, it was fine.

“I put her down about an hour ago. She was great.”

You forced a smile, and Joel seemed to believe it.

“Perfect. Need me to give you a ride home?”

“No, no, you should stay here with Sar—”

“‘S’alright. Tommy’s right downstairs.”

Of course he’d brought him home.

“No, really, I can walk. It’s fine—”

“Don’t be silly. C’mon, kiddo.”

Kiddo.

Kiddo.

The man had been jerking off to the thought of you for who knows how long, and now he called you ‘kiddo’?

You hated how arousing the nickname sounded from him

You despised yourself for rubbing your clit in his office.

Most of all, you loathed the way your panties had gotten wet the last time you’d climbed into his truck and heard that word crawl off of his old, drawling tongue: ‘Attagirl.’

Reluctantly, you nodded your head. You followed him downstairs and hoped the car door wouldn’t stick again.

He had to stop.

It was no longer a matter of ‘if’ but ‘when’ his dick would lead him straight off a cliff, and today, Joel was starting to think that precipice was looking extra nice. Tempting.

Almost as inviting as the divot he could see at the small of your back, glimmering with a couple hot beads of sweat under the midafternoon sun. He swallowed.

Sarah was at camp today. You’d had the time to yourself, and the weather was blistering hot, and of course, where else would you be but his backyard? He’d told you ad nauseum, ever since you started babysitting his kid, that his pool was open to you whenever you so chose to go.

Presently, Joel wished he could revoke that invitation.

Seeing how you were flipped on your stomach, body all soft and warm and splayed out on one of his deck chairs—wearing that fucking red swimsuit, of all things—Joel was left to ogle from his office window, and inside, he felt like a certified pervert. Arguably, he was. His old, worn hands had all but glided to find his mouse as soon as he’d sat down at his desk and saw you out there, and no sooner had his cursor found Chrome than his cock started to stir. He’d wanted to watch. If not you in all your bare, sun-baked glory, then surely the woman he could see getting her throat and cunt stuffed on his screen.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Was he really that much of a gooner he couldn’t let his kid’s babysitter lounge outside without stroking his dick?

Shit. He had the bottle of lotion in one hand and the box of tissues in the other in no time at all. He ripped three free Kleenex aside and reached for his mouse once more.

He was pissed at himself. He toggled over to the Hub with a grunt, and in no time at all, had you pulled up.

Joel liked to pretend it was you, anyway.

If he couldn’t have the sweet young thing every swinging dick in this town would’ve killed to have himself, he could rub one out to a girl exactly like you. He could fantasize.

He could skip the video to 8:53 on the dot, as he always did, and he could rub himself raw. It wouldn’t take long.

He always fast-forwarded to that exact part, without fail, because she moaned like you then. He’d never forget it.

It had almost been six months since it happened, and he still remembered that sound as clear as day. You’d been hauling your backpack off the couch in the living room, having stuffed the thing full with more school supplies than you could feasibly carry, and Joel had been in the kitchen, unseen. You’d lifted the bag with effort, and once you had, you let out a soft but audible whine. You dropped the bag back down to your feet, and when you bent to try again, you’d moaned fully. It was like the stretch had made you feel good, or something. You’d huffed and managed to get the weight slung over your back with modest success, then left, but Joel had been changed. Too quickly had he retreated to his office and swore to find any clip where a moan sounded like that.

“Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!”

Granted, the dialogue was cheesy, but the sound after it was identical to the one you’d made. Joel repeated it.

He hadn’t even noticed, but he’d already lathered his hand and cock with lotion. He was scrubbing vigorously while your twin wiggled her hips and begged her co-star to put it in, to quit teasing her pussy like that, can’t you see I’m practically dripping for you, daddy? Look at it!

Unfortunately, Joel’s head was turned the other direction—away from the screen, and toward the window—watching you where you sat out on the lawn.

He stroked harder. He groaned.

You had just turned onto your back. Your tits looked incredible. Joel reckoned they’d look even better with his dick pushed up between them, and at the thought, his mouth watered. His lips were slightly parted, and he feared he might drool. What a sight he must have been then: jaw slack, lids heavy, cock in hand, and moan after moan bubbling out of his throat. He got closer to climax.

“Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.”

It wasn’t long after that that Joel heard the girl whine in pleasure—the man behind her had notched in the first inch and told her to behave—and meanwhile, he watched your chest rise and fall, rise and fall outside. It was calm. Unlike the girl being taught how to fuck poolside, you remained untouched. Spotless. Placid and serene while your hands picked up a magazine and began flipping through it. While Joel’s orgasm crested inside him, he wondered if you’d ever want to try something like that. Roleplay. Or would it be fake at all? Had you ever been touched by a man, shown the best ways to give and receive pleasure, or was it all brand new, like it was supposed to be for the woman on his screen? Joel panted, and he fucked his hand harder. He groaned.

“Oh, daddy, it’s so big! Feels so good going inside me!”

“You love gettin’ fucked by an older man, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy, yes! Please don’t stop—oh, OHHH!”

Joel wanted to be the only older man you had.

If he wasn’t the first, he sure as fuck could be the last. Give you all the dizzying, euphoric feelings your body deserved and stretch you open gently for the taking.

He could teach you so much, ruin you for any oth—

Shit.

What the fuck was this asshole doing here?

At the back gate, he saw his neighbor Dieter.

The man strolled across the lawn, and Joel’s orgasm receded in a blink. He was walking right over to you.

No. No, no, no. Joel released his dick from its vice grip and felt the thing twitch in indignation. Meanwhile, the sound of skin on skin continued to flood his eardrums from out of the computer speakers, where the happy babysitter-boss duo was hitting a brutal pace. The girl let out one over-the-top shriek of pleasure, and Joel clicked pause. He toggled out of the browser. Then he redirected his gaze out the office window, where his own girl was being accosted by Dieter. His blood boiled with anger.

Who did this creep think he was? The man never so much as looked Joel’s way or approached his property unless it was to ask to be ‘lent’ some booze or else ask after some friend, relative, or coworker Dieter wanted to be introduced to—he was perennially unemployed and a fuckboy bachelor to his core. The last Joel had heard, he’d spent the last year in Los Angeles, or Paris, or some other too-big city to chase his singing and acting dreams

And here he was now, hitting on his poor, defenseless babysitter. Joel wouldn’t stand for that in any world.

Though his dick was still erect, it had softened some, too. His rage facilitated that, and him shoving his length back in his jeans, zipping it up, and all but punching the desktop off made it spongier still. He walked like he was mad at the floor beneath his boots. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so defensive—he had just been rubbing one out to the sight of you less than five minutes ago—but now wasn’t the time for thinking. He had to act.

Protect, if he had to.

What if his neighbor wanted to go for a swim, too?

Joel would drown the man with his two bare hands if he so much as reached for your bikini-clad form. He stalked loudly down the hall and searched for a less sweaty shirt to wear, then some deodorant, then a comb. He peered in the bathroom mirror and saw his black-and-grey locks all out of sorts, and for a second, he contemplated taking a shower. You’d probably be able to smell his unsatisfied desire from outside. He looked, and felt, a bit unhinged.

Joel decided he didn’t care, before plodding downstairs.

Outside, you lay in the same position he’d seen you last. Your hand was shielding your face. You were smiling.

And beside you, Dieter was grinning even bigger.

Joel made a beeline down the porch steps, then across the lawn, like his life might’ve depended on it. Scowling.

“—but getting cast in Gladiator II would’ve been wild—”

Of course Dieter was yapping about his failed acting career. Of course. Joel could hear him drone on as he approached, though he didn’t register a word of what he said. Instead, he waved a hand. He feigned a calm tone:

“Dieter! How’s it going?”

And he slowed down, too.

Just as he drew in, his neighbor volleyed a look his way. Joel couldn’t miss how his smile twitched down a little.

“Joel.”

Accepting a cordial hand in greeting.

“Doing alright, how ‘bout yourself?”

Joel nodded fine, just fine and offered some offhand remark about not having seen him since last summer, and Dieter couldn’t resist the chance to puff up and mention a school he’d been attending. Joel didn’t hear it, or give a shit. His gaze was already trained on you. Your own flitted from Dieter, to Joel, then to Dieter again, and your lips were smiling kindly enough. You seem humored.

“Mr. Bravo just got back from Berlin,” you beamed.

Then Dieter met your look and shook his head.

“Dieter, sweetie, Dieter. Or Dee, if you want.”

Joel almost wanted to vomit in his mouth.

“Germany, huh? What brings you here?”

No sense in beating around the bush.

Joel meant to ask why Dieter was here, in his backyard, with his babysitter, of course. Why the fuck he was eyeing you like that, like your tits were two Emmys and the only way to earn it himself was to stare as long, and as hard, as possible. Joel cleared his throat instinctively.

Dieter blinked and cast a glance back to him.

“Oh, here. Yeah. I, um…I just wanted to see if you had that— that—” He snapped his fingers, “That leafblower.”

Leafblower?

He was so full of shit.

“My leafblower,” Joel repeated.

It was fucking July, for crying out loud.

Evidently, his neighbor didn’t seem to care. He met Joel’s gaze with an even look, and he nodded his head.

He doubled down: “Yeah, the leafblower. I’ve had some debris pile up in my yard since I’ve been gone, y’know.”

“Are you gonna be in Austin long? Or are you going back overseas once you’ve had that casting call?” you asked.

You cocked your head with genuine curiosity. Joel grit his teeth, but he tried not to let his discontent show anyplace else on his face. A muscle might’ve jumped when he saw how smugly Dieter smirked at your intrigue.

“Oh, I’ll be here long enough, don’t you worry,” he said.

That was it.

Joel gestured to the shed in the back corner of the yard, about to tell Dieter that the leafblower was in there, go knock yourself out, when his neighbor cut in once again.

“In the meantime, maybe I’ll have you babysit for me. I hate to steal Sarah’s pal, but maybe you can split your time between my place and Joel’s. What do you think?”

You blinked a little quicker, like you weren’t quite sure what to say at first. Joel took the chance to interject.

“You don’t have any kids, Bravo,” he practically growled.

“I know. I’ve got cats, though,” Dieter just grinned back, flitting a cheeky look to you. “And you have no idea how naughty those pussycats can get while a man’s away.”

That was really all Joel could take. He didn’t even let you answer; he just pointed to the shed and made a fist with his other hand at his side. His chest was heaving breaths.

“You and her can chat when she’s off the clock, how ‘bout that? Leafblower’s in the shed. Door’s unlocked.”

His words didn’t invite protest of any kind. Dense as he was, Dieter probably sensed that he’d ticked his neighbor off with the suggestive comment to his babysitter, and he backed away, both literally and figuratively. He bid a quick, cavalier goodbye with a shit-eating grin stretching his lips, and then he went to the storage shed and left.

You were still blinking, still creasing your brows tight, by the time the back gate had slammed shut behind him. You watched after him, teeth gnawing at your cheek.

“He seemed like a funny gu—”

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

Joel’s words appeared to sting like a slap in the face. You jerked your head back to him, seeming to say, ‘What?’

“You know what. Don’t play innocent now,” Joel griped.

You continued to stare, then started to shake your head.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Don’t Mr. Miller me, either,” he snapped, far shorter than he’d ever spoken to you before. His nostrils flared, “You’re old enough to know better. You did all of that.”

“All of what?” you shot back.

“Attracted men like Dieter into my yard.”

“He’s your neighbor! What do you expect?”

Offense marred your tone. He didn’t entirely blame you.

“No, no—he never sticks his nose over here unless he sees something he wants. You were flaunting yourself.”

At that, your mouth fell open.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Miller? Are you serious?”

“Language, young lady—”

“I don’t give a shit.” You stood up from your chair. Your eyes flashed with ire. Just like his hands had before, yours curled into fists. You stood your ground with him. “You invited me to come swim here whenever I wanted to. You did that, asshole. What did you expect me to sunbathe in, army fatigues and fucking combat boots?”

Joel blinked hard at that. He didn’t like being mocked.

“Still shouldn’t be that damn skimpy. And I said lang—”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, dad. Don’t act like you’re mine.”

Don’t act like you’re mine.

Joel’s chest tightened. His gaze seared into yours, almost as though he were as angry as you were now, but deep down, the man only felt remorse. Resentment. Whatever rage he harbored now was reserved for himself

He shouldn’t have gone there.

He shouldn’t have masked his own jealousy with pseudo paternal scolding. He looked like a dickhead doing that.

And you weren’t shy to let him know it in the slightest.

Presently, your finger was jabbed in his face. You were planted less than two feet from where he stood, and though you were noticeably dwarfed by his size, your next words had him beat by a foot, if he’d had to guess.

“I watch your kid, Joel. I am not your daughter. If you don’t want me hanging around here in my hot red bikini, then you can just say that. But don’t blame me for him.”

Joel bristled at your words, though he wasn’t sure why. When he opened his mouth to speak again, you added:

“And don’t blame me for that, either.”

Suddenly, he realized your finger was pointed at his legs.

Or, rather, what was poking up stiff between them.

Joel’s cheeks heated up to a thousand degrees.

You’d just caught him. You’d seen his arousal.

And you were turning on your heels again.

Before Joel could even try to summon the words to his tongue, you were grabbing your things. Shoving your shoes onto your feet. And Joel had only to stand there.

Feeling stupid and inert beside you.

As you went to the back gate, he somehow managed to call that you didn’t have a car, let him drive you back.

You didn’t even dignify his words with a verbal response.

You just raised your middle finger over your shoulder.

And then the gate crashed shut behind you.

You would be walking home that day.

Two big eyes and round cheeks were all you could see.

Then, they darted beneath the covers and were gone.

“Oh no, where’d sweet Sarah go?” you wondered aloud. Sitting at the edge of the bed and pretending not to see where she’d just dipped her head under the blankets, you furrowed your brows and proceeded to pat around you.

Everywhere you felt with your hands, you completely ignored the big lump under the duvet. It was a game.

A silly one at that—hide-and-go-seek was generally best left to places where you couldn’t figure out her location in the blink of an eye. But you played along. You heard a soft giggle. You continued feeling around the twin-sized mattress like this was the most bewildering puzzle of all.

“Whe-ere’s Sarah?” you sing-songed.

You heard a shuffling of limbs, a sniffle.

Your palm tapped right by those little feet.

And as soon as you did, she screamed. At four years old, Sarah hadn’t quite mastered the art of being stealthy.

You’d cut her some slack. You always had.

Blindly passing where her body lay, you glided to the opposite side of her bed and tapped inquiringly there.

“Is she…here?” You got a pillow.

“No!” Sarah shrieked back.

Such a helpful, obliging kid. She’d make a terrible spy.

“Is she…up here?” You rapped the headboard twice.

“No!!” she squealed.

You glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was approaching bedtime. Taking note of this, and knowing you couldn’t keep up with the charade for much longer, you let out a sigh. You stood from the bed, looked around the room with dramatic éclat, then started to walk away.

“Okay…I guess if Sarah’s not here I’ll have to leave…”

The second you said that, Sarah threw the covers back. She jumped up in bed, and she stomped her little feet.

“No! No! I’m here! I’m here!”

You spun on your heels, eyes wide with faux surprise.

“Sarah!”

And then you rushed back over, just in time to watch her drop to the bed and flash you a wide, exuberant smile.

“Your Sarah,” she corrected.

She adored it when you called her that. Your Sarah.

You nodded your head in agreement, “My Sarah. Sorry.”

She nodded too, like she’d just reminded you of the most important thing, and then she slipped back under her covers. She let you drag the purple duvet over her frame, all the way up to her chin, and when she was all snug inside, she gave another smile. She kicked her feet again.

“Stay,” she commanded, tone still sugar-sweet.

“I will, baby. ‘Til your daddy gets back, I’ll be here.”

“I mean forever!” Sarah dragged out the last syllable, and, not yet content with the answer you’d proffered, tried swaying you again, still more emphatic, “For-ever!”

If your daddy wasn’t such an ass, I might consider it.

Instead, you smiled back at her and shook your head. You smoothed the hair away from her face, then you leaned in and kissed her forehead with a gentle peck.

“Then my family would miss me. I gotta see them.”

“Says who?” Sarah’s pout was unmistakable.

Before you could reply, she cut in again.

“You can be my family. My mommy.”

Your throat constricted at those words. You weren’t sure what to say, or how to assuage your sweet Sarah then.

Again, you were about to open your mouth to speak, when your pint-sized companion piped up again. This time, her voice was softer. Surprisingly delicate and low.

“I want you to be my mommy,” she told you quietly, “Then you’ll live here. With me and daddy. And you’ll never have to go home again and we can play all day!”

Your heart ached. You kissed the tip of her nose and turned away, momentarily, to hide the hurt on your face.

Sarah Miller deserved much more in a mother than you.

When you looked up again, her grin was big. Hopeful.

“Don’t you wanna be my mommy too?” she asked.

“‘Course I do, baby,” you answered without hesitation, “But…don’t you think your daddy should have a say too?”

Somehow, her face got even brighter.

“He will! He— he…”

Sarah trailed off a second, as if considering her words. She didn’t understand what marriage meant. You’d help.

“Your daddy,” you finished for her, speaking slow and soft as you leaned in close, “is a good man who deserves a good woman to make your mommy. Don’t you agree?”

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“Yeah, but—”

“And a mommy’s gotta be someone he really loves.”

“But he…”

She was thinking again. You could tell. You pressed on.

“He is gonna find someone great someday. He’ll love you and her to bits, and y’all will get to play together all day.”

“But he loves you!” Sarah cried, at length.

A beat.

Your breath faltered.

The girl’s words had scarcely hung in the air for more than two seconds, and their meaning hardly registered in your brain before your own were coming out fast. Certain

“Your daddy doesn’t love me, baby. I’m just his friend.”

“Yes, he does! He told me so himself!”

Again, you shook your head.

“You misunderstood him, sweetie.”

You tried to smooth her hair back again, but Sarah’s head bucked away. She scrunched up her nose in clear protest and refused to let you cradle her face until she’d spoken her piece. When she did, her voice was pleading all over:

“Daddy loves you, he told me. You can be my mommy.”

And for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, you felt your heart balloon in your chest. Your gut clenched—but not for the reasons she or you wanted it to. The truth was that you didn’t have the words to tell a four-year-old girl that her father didn’t love you like that at all, that his head and his heart were anywhere but with you, and that, if you were being honest, you were furious with him. How he could so much as hint at such nonsense was beyond you. His little girl dreamed of having a mother. It was stupid and senseless and cruel to even suggest that that woman could be you. You sighed.

But, despite your every thought and feeling to the contrary, you knew you had to soothe the girl with some small semblance of hope. Something to hold her over for the night, so she didn’t cry herself to sleep thinking that you didn’t want to be her mommy. Gently, you leaned in.

You lifted the covers back up from where they’d fallen. You tucked them snug around her torso, and you paused.

Your tone was measured and soft when you spoke next:

“I don’t know about your daddy, baby. What I do know is that I would be the luckiest lady alive to get to be your mommy, alright? I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

And you meant it. You saw one look light up her face, and every ounce of anger that had been provoked by her father was forgotten in an instant. Her grin ensured it.

“Anywhere,” she parroted back.

“Anywhere,” you said, again.

Then you kissed the crown of her head, wished her sweet dreams, cut the little light off. You left the room quietly.

It was only when you were out of there and far enough away down the hallway that your skin started to burn.

You couldn’t help it. Anger was fast to trickle back.

This feeling was only compounded when the next moment brought a sound to the landing on the stairs. You glanced over down the hall, muscles all tensing at once, and when you saw him there, it was as though your rage just bubbled over. Your jaw clenched; your stomach flipped in a way so decidedly unlike how it had done for him two days ago, in his office, and suddenly, your throat was working again. You kept your voice low this time, keen not to draw Sarah’s attention out there, but the words you used were clear. Quiet. Doubtlessly effective.

Even in the dark, you saw his brows jump when he heard:

“Joel, we need to talk.”

It had been two years since he’d had a woman in here.

Joel wished it were under any circumstances but these.

Presently, your eyes were ablaze. The two of you had just stepped into his room and shut the door behind you, and with the click of a latch, you hadn’t thought to hold it in:

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

He blinked.

Well, many things.

Joel wouldn’t have had the space to explain it all if you’d given him a week, and still, he had to say something. He blinked again, made a sound in his throat as if to clear it, then shook his head. His shoulders sagged in his jacket.

“I…I’m sorry.”

For the other day. For getting caught up in his own anger and taking it out on you. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for now, or what he should say, but he thought it best to start there. He shrugged his jacket off and set it over the back of the nearest chair. He turned to you again, where you were standing with a warning look.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” you said. “Say sorry to Sarah.”

Sarah?

Before he could speak, you went on.

“You’re just setting her up for heartbreak, you know that? I mean how selfish— how stupid could you possibly be?”

You pursed your lips like tears might threaten if you didn’t. This caught him off guard—his daughter? What could he have said or done to hurt her in any of this?

“What are you talking about?”

“You said I’d be her mom, Joel!”

He winced. You furrowed your brows and set your mouth in a line—really trying to fight the emotion behind it—and, while all the rest of you bristled in anticipation for what was to come, Joel softened. He didn’t mean to. He didn’t want to be the guy who lost his head at the thought of seeing you cry and forget the whole reason you were upset with him in the first place, but he couldn’t help it. Though you looked like you wanted to kill him right then, Joel drew closer. He shifted toward you.

“Did— did she, uh…call you…mommy?” he said, pained.

“Yeah. And you let her believe she could,” you spat.

He hadn’t meant to do that, either. Sarah had been calling you that for a while when you weren’t around to hear, and after enough times telling her otherwise, he’d just stopped correcting her on it. Sarah wanted a mother. You were the closest thing she had, and who was he to sabotage that? At the time, he’d just wanted to…pretend.

That was a running theme he had going with you.

Right now, you didn’t seem to care about that.

You just rolled your eyes in that cool, juvenile way when you didn’t hear a response from him, and he had to bite his tongue from saying something worse. He hated when you did that. It made him remember your age—the reality of you being his kid’s babysitter and how guilty he should feel for wanting to do something more about that eyeroll.

He wasn’t your father.

You weren’t Sarah’s mother, either.

You most certainly weren’t the girl on his computer screen, as much as he would’ve liked to see you that way, and even though you were standing here in his bedroom.

That was all fantasy. Make-believe. This was his reality.

You were visibly pissed and wouldn’t budge an inch.

“Is it really so bad if she says it?” he grit out.

Your eyes widened. You scoffed.

“Of course it is, Joel!”

You backed away.

He hated seeing that, too. He hated having you move from him, not toward him, wearing that scowl on your lips as you did. His fingers twitched—itched—at his side.

“Sarah’s young. She doesn’t…mean anything by it. She’ll grow out of it soon enough. And I don’t want to hurt her.”

“You’ll hurt her even worse by not telling her the truth!” you snapped. You sounded exasperated saying it now. “We’re not a family. I’m the goddamn babysitter, and— and— you’re Sarah’s father. Act like it, for Christ’s sake.”

That set his teeth on edge.

Joel felt the urge to fight back, but narrowly refrained. He flexed his fingers, and he bit down hard to keep the vitriol at bay. Because that was exactly what fathers did. They controlled their anger; even when faced with a smart-mouthed babysitter who wore his patience out.

Even when your arms were folded over your chest in that impossibly tight, white tank, and your tits looked like they might spill from the fabric at any given moment. Joel swallowed and refocused his gaze before going on.

“Don’t tell me how to be a father.”

Something flared in your eyes.

“Why? I’m fucking right.”

“Language, young lady.”

That only seemed to irk you worse; your hands flew up.

“Yeah, well,” you started, accusing, “If we’re playing house, I might as well be allowed to say what I like.”

“We are not playing hous—”

“But you want to, right? That’s why I’m always here.”

“No, I need a—”

“Maid? Mommy?”

You paced closer. Joel’s jaw clenched.

“Obedient little housewife?” you sneered.

Your eyes were shining like two derisive pools. With every blink, you seemed to mock him more. Goad him on and beg for your reward, though you hardly knew what it was.

“C’mon, Mr. Miller,” you chided, voice low, “What is it?”

What he was, or what he’d stand to take. It wasn’t this.

“Keep runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth, I’ll show you what.”

The words flew off his tongue before he could stop them.

It was a reflex—something that had been stewing in his mind since the second you’d set foot in his room and went on provoking him. But it was wrong, of course.

He was wrong for even thinking it, much less saying it.

Now your eyes were round, and your mouth was slightly agape, and your brain was likely working a thousand miles a minute to process what had just been said.

Joel had to fix it.

“That— that ain’t—” he began, already hating himself.

To his surprise, and embarrassment, a laugh rang out.

Its sound was explosive and short. It split the air with such hot, bitter force that his words dropped off. His gaze had no choice but to remain plastered on yours.

“Oh, I bet.”

You grinned, humorless.

You didn’t appear shocked in the slightest. In fact, his remark seemed only to embolden you then, as you teased that smile wider, drew yourself closer, and tipped your chin up. You looked doubly enlivened by his last admission. Vindicated in some strange, inexplicable way. Your breaths were warm, and the swell of your breasts came to hover just inches from his chest when the last thing he needed to happen, happened between you next.

You pointed again. Joel didn’t need to look down.

“‘Don’t tell me how to be a father,’” you repeated his words from before, voice taking on a low, faux baritone.

Your amusement was clear. His cock was hard.

It seemed you’d never let the latter slip past you.

“Is that what we’re gettin’ at here, Mr. Miller?” you asked, tone now precocious. Probing, “You showing me what a great daddy you are, and me being the mommy you al—”

“No.”

Joel pushed off. He didn’t want to hear another thing.

He headed straight for the door, prepared to usher you out of it. This conversation had taken an irreparable turn.

When he reached for the handle, though, he had to stop. Your voice made him stop, echoing from the opposite end of the room. Joel turned, and he saw you on his bed.

“I’m just curious. Is that really what you meant?”

You were sitting at the foot of it, legs casually hanging off. Your look was innocent, and still more knowing than Joel could bear. The heat left to swirl in his groin nearly suffocated him below the waist, and he inhaled deeply.

“Mean what? I didn’t…mean anything.”

His touch fell from the doorknob all the same.

Your feet were swinging when he faced you completely.

“Just like you didn’t mean for Sarah to call me mommy?”

Maybe he had meant it more than he let on. He couldn’t answer. Joel felt every bit the creep he knew himself to be—decades your senior and letting you rest on his bed, soft, smooth legs kicking back and forth as he watched.

He was good at that, wasn’t he? Watching. Waiting. Aching from the comfort of his home office while he watched those filthy clips on repeat, images of you flitting through his mind at every stretch, moan, and whimper. His will was powerless to his perverted needs. He had only to defend himself against their influence by planting his feet firmly in place and refusing to move.

“You wanna teach me, though. Don’t you, daddy?”

It was as though your words reached him from another place. Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind—his memory—and the tone of it stirred him. It was familiar, in ways you couldn’t have possibly understood. Unless you were living in his head, there was no way in hell you could’ve known what those lines meant to him.

‘Gonna teach ya, honey. Teach ya how to please a man.’

It made him ache.

Joel still wouldn’t move, but you could come to him.

He blinked once, and you were there. Off the bed. Walking to him. Down on your knees in front of him.

This had to be the work of his own sick imagination.

He groaned at just the sight of your smile, curving slow.

And then you peeled off your top, revealing the bright, nylon, cherry-red fabric he’d seen far too many times on his computer screen and off it—on you, by his pool. Joel sucked in a breath and shook his head, gaze darkening.

“Thought you didn’t wanna play mommy,” he growled.

If this was all just in his head, he could talk as he wanted.

“I don’t,” you answered him soberly. Suddenly, your chin was in his hand. Your eyes were still glistening up at him. “But you need to get this out of your system. Just once.”

Out of his system.

Joel was out of his fucking mind with desire.

“Just once?” His voice cracked as he said it.

Only one time. That was alright. Forgivable.

From what he half-believed to be a figment of his own perverted mind came the word from your lips: ‘Once.’

The next had the thumb that was cupping your chin slipping between those same lips. Still smiling while your mouth slid down to his knuckle. You sucked him gently.

And in just one glimpse, one fleeting second on that lone, thick thumb, the sight below him had every other obscene thing entrenched in his memory beat by a mile. You were better than everything else he’d seen or tried to dream up. You were real, he hoped, sliding your shiny wet lips up and down the surface of his skin, and when you pried them off, and you asked for his cock, he had no choice but to oblige. He had to rack his brain for words.

This was his babysitter, his daughter’s companion, his—

“Sweet fuckin’ girl,” he said when he first felt you there.

Before he even knew what became of his belt, buckle, and zip, the base of his cock was in your hand, and your lips were hovering precariously over the tip. Your breaths were soft and hot. Your graze drank him in with curiosity.

“Should I kiss you here, daddy?” Your mouth lowered.

“Right there, sweetie,” Joel breathed out.

He truly couldn’t believe it when the warmth of you enveloped his tip. When the first lick of your tongue came to collect the bead of precum sitting at the slit and he damn near bucked his hips up. You licked at it again.

And again. And again. And again.

You whimpered lightly, enjoying the taste.

The second you pulled your mouth away, Joel hissed.

“Baby, please—” he started, tone strained.

“What? Where does daddy want it?”

The question was so innocent.

It was clear you wanted to hear him guide you through it, as evidenced by the way your lips twitched at his hand smoothing down and over the crown of your head. Joel held it like he might never get this chance again, and, at once, his voice lowered along with it. He scarcely recognized himself with how gently he spoke then.

“Let daddy show you,” he said, “Open your mouth.”

And you did.

Your jaw fell slack, your lips split apart, and your eyes peered up with a wide and open stare. In a look, you seemed already to say that you trusted him to fill it.

No sight on a screen could’ve made him so hard.

He fed you an inch, eyes locked with yours as he did. His cock slid in another, and another, then stopped. He pulled back. The wetness and the warmth of your mouth nearly did him in, and the way you whined for more had him fisting your hair tight. Trying to keep his composure.

“That alright, honey? Feel…nice goin’ in?”

“Yes, daddy,” you hummed obediently.

Your mouth opened wider.

“More, please?”

Your tongue was flattened in a second. Joel slid back in, and his shaft was greeted by the slick, shiny cushion of the muscle underneath. He sank in. He invaded every inch of your mouth he could find, and he breathed out.

“Just like that, sweetie. Takin’ daddy so well.”

What little gurgles he heard stifled between your lips at that, spit drooling gently from either side, he only found more endearing. When he pulled back and saw strings of your spit trail after its path, he felt delirious. You were real, coating the whole throbbing length of his cock with your saliva and your precious soft whines, and you were sweet for him. Pliant for his cock. Jaw obliging and inviting and hanging wide open for him to fuck again.

He let you have it. He slid in once, grazed your throat, slid out again. He cupped your face in his hands and thumbed your cheeks. He coaxed your lips wider for him. You took it all well; you responded to every tender little directive from the man who was stuffing your mouth, ‘Faster now, atta girl’ and ‘Take daddy deeper’ and ‘Keep that pretty mouth open and those eyes on me.’ Joel was so caught up in the feel and the friction and the intimacy of every passing moment that he almost didn’t see when you started to shift your legs. Parting them.

And, right when the head of his cock had reached the back of your mouth and was teasing down your wet, open throat, he felt it fully: your whimpering plea.

You grinding your cunt against the toe of his boot, and peering up at him with eyes all wet, wide, and needy.

You rutted your hips. It looked like you couldn’t help it.

It seemed as though it were a mere spasm of the body that you couldn’t control—like his cock down your throat was too good for your sense or your oversexed mind to handle. He’d scarcely stirred in place when he felt you humping him, whines rippling down his length with every bob of your head as you keened for some kind of release.

Joel had never seen anything like it. He didn’t know what to say or do except stroke his hand over your scalp and pin you with a look. His cock twitched in your mouth.

“Is that how we ask to get fucked in this house?”

His tone surprised him with how steady it stayed.

Your mouth still full of him, you tried to shake your head.

What came next was more instinct than logical thought; Joel pulled you off his cock and onto your feet. His touch on your body was soft. He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his being so gentle, but every second that elapsed now seemed to demand it. He was teaching you to please. There could be no better place for kindness than here.

He’d lead you to the bed and guide you down himself. He’d tell you to open your mouth and then he would kiss it, and lick inside it. Maybe spit inside it, too. He’d tug at your bikini straps, watch your breasts give way to the pressure of the pull before bouncing right back in place. He’d take off your top. Latch his mouth around a nipple, swirl his tongue across the skin, and he’d kiss you again.

Joel did all these things, and you let him. You met him with whimpers, with wide open legs, and eventually, with your feet digging into the covers beneath you, begging, ‘Daddy, please put it in.’ Your gaze was febrile as you did.

Whether you meant it, or were simply pretending for him, gave Joel pause. Just as you’d tried to yank your jean shorts down your legs, he dropped his hands to your own. He stopped them in their path. He leaned closer.

“Do you know what you and me are about to do, hm?”

His question was barbed but sweet. Testing the waters.

Were you game to keep playing house? Did you want it?

These things mattered to Joel; whether the wetness between your legs was meant for him and him alone. Whether you needed him there, like the breath in your lungs. He wouldn’t fuck you if he wasn’t. He might feel lonely at times—desperate to feel your cunt squeeze his too-old cock like your life depended on it—but he was a man who wanted to be wanted, too. An instant of clarity hit, and suddenly he was asking it, plain and in your face:

“Do you wanna do what mommies and daddies do?”

Your mouth fell slack. Again. You nodded.

Either you were the single best actress, or you wanted it. Hoping desperately for the latter, Joel kissed the side of your face. You turned your head, quickly, and captured his lips in yours instead. You pulled him down to you.

“Like this?” you murmured, words muffled against him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and then ground your clothed lower half with his—Joel’s cock was tucked haphazardly back in his boxers, and his jeans, unzipped, hung just underneath them around his hips. He felt like a teen again, clothes thrown askew and hormones all wild.

Except he wasn’t. He was a grown man, in his own bed, with his child fast asleep down the hall. He thanked his lucky stars that their rooms were as far apart as possible, and that he no longer had to worry about the prying eyes of his mom or dad trying to catch him out after curfew. This wasn’t high school, or a night out in college, or the time a condom had split and Sarah had been conceived.

Now if he could just make sure she didn’t get a sibling…

Kidding.

“Pill,” Joel choked out, just as your legs drew him in to meet your movements, “Are— are you on the pill, or—”

Am I going to have to hit up a Texaco at 10 PM to get some rubbers and admit I haven’t gotten laid in a year?

You grinned.

“IUD.”

That works, too.

Joel probably shouldn’t have seemed so eager. He probably shouldn’t have taken your face in his hands and kissed you so hard, either. But his skin was ablaze; his eyes were wild; his limbs were molten; and his head—you didn’t want to know where it was. What he was thinking.

What he wanted to tell you while he tugged his cock back out and started working his hand up and down it. It felt too intimate, too depraved, to be spoken aloud.

Then, to his shock, you said the words yourself:

“Show me how you’d make me a mommy anyway.”

If not for protection. If not for common sense. If not for that thrumming, pulsing, warning repetition in his head: Do not get her pregnant. Do not give your kid a sibling.

But this was all pretend, wasn’t it?

Joel yanked down your shorts, practically tore them from your legs, and situated himself between them, breathing hard and fast, before he nodded his head and kissed you. With his one free hand, he held the base of his dick, and he guided it closer to your slick, puffy, aching entrance through the barrier of your red bikini. He rutted his hips.

You were bare beneath him, save for that one scrap of fabric between your lower half and his. You smiled, and you wriggled your body against his, and you drew him in. Joel groaned when he felt you slide your bottoms to the slide and let him feel, for the first time, how wet you were. How warm, inviting, and tight that cunt must be and how badly he needed it. How desperately he had to be buried inside that heat—he all but panted the words:

“Can daddy put it in?”

You spread your legs wider. You nodded.

Then he did. Without one breath of a thought to the contrary, he pushed the head of himself past the fabric, through your folds, into that wet and precious spot he’d only dreamed he’d ever feel, and he let out a full-throated moan. He felt your walls contract, heard the tender little squelch of your body making room for his length, and he damn near blew his whole load right there. You felt good.

Your chest rose with a breath, and your eyes widened.

Like you hadn’t just had him down your throat, drenched in your spit and gliding in and out: “He’s so big, daddy.”

Joel’s lips kissed your cheek. His tip kissed your cervix. You whined a little, and he pulled you in closer to him.

“I know, honey, I know,” he cooed, rocking you with the softest motions, “Ain’t that what mommy likes, though?”

Your lips parted again. A strangled whine of assent slid out, just as his hips withdrew himself back to that shiny, bulbous head, and then he fucked back in. Back and forth, back and forth, Joel sent your body bouncing with every thrust. He felt you clench, and the strokes sped up.

The bed creaked underneath. It seemed to shake the whole room. In truth, there wasn’t a thought in Joel’s head except for the ones relating to you and how good you took his cock, but somewhere, not far off, there was the instinct of a father idling too. With every stab of the headboard against the wall and every moan of yours under him he had to smother with his lips, he was reminded you two had to be quiet. He leaned in.

Grazing your ear with a stubbled chin, and fucking you gently into his bed, Joel sank his weight even lower.

“Can mommy stay real quiet for daddy? Can she try?”

From the way your eyes were glazed, he expected you to nod. And you did, just barely, heels digging in the mound of his ass and your fingers finding his sides. But then you slid a touch up his ribs; you squeezed the flesh. You let him pound your cunt for a few more precious seconds, and just when he thought that was the end of it, you tilted your head to him. Your nose bumped his, and you grinned, flashing the single most pretty, fucked-out look.

“Feels like a fucking dream, daddy,” you breathed.

Joel balked. He almost stopped right then and there.

Please! Feels like a fucking dre-e-e-e-e-eam—oh, OH!

Oh.

You couldn’t have known that.

There was no shot you knew where the fuck those words were from. Or what they meant. Joel furrowed his brow and kept rutting his hips, hands tightening in the sheets beside your head as the scene from his naughty all-time favorite film flickered briefly through his mind. No shot.

Then your legs wound around the backs of his even tighter, and your eyes were all but shining with a fresh, twisted glint. With a measured tone, you went on for him:

“He’s so big, daddy. Feels so good going inside me.”

You even mimicked her tone. Joel paled above you.

His hips stalled a moment, and your cunt hugged him tight. Your teeth nipped at his chin, playfully, and before he could even try to speak again, your lips were there.

At his ear, whispering what he’d dreaded hearing most.

“You should really clear those PornHub searches after you’re done. Or at least lock your office while I’m here.”

Joel’s thrusts stopped completely.

He was about to search for his voice again, when your walls clamped down around him, and his vision went swimming. His cock pulsed inside you, and he groaned.

Then his hips picked up; it wasn’t a conscious decision. He just needed to fuck, needed to finish, needed to see the light twinkle and burst behind your eyes while he stuffed your cunt full. It didn’t matter what you knew—your lips were curled in such a sweet, smug smile below him, there was likely no use in trying to explain himself now. Joel just gritted his teeth, and he tried smiling back. He fucked you faster, and harder, than he’d done before.

When you clawed at his back, the pace grew merciless. Every inch of the space around him, it seemed, was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, whimpers, and moans. As before, Joel almost didn’t recognize his voice.

‘That so?’ was all it could manage to get out at present.

With your cunt fluttering repeatedly, hips rolling with his own, and those lips letting moans spill out one after the next, it was all he could do to try to keep his composure.

Joel kissed you, and then he flipped your body around. He moved back to find the headboard and rest himself against it, got your legs straddling his, and slid you down

Down, down, down on his cock. Stretching you out. Then moving you back up again. Making you bounce in his lap and have your hands fumble to find his shoulders. You squeezed his biceps and moaned, and at the same time, his slick-smeared lower half rutted to greet yours. Your essence drenched him; he could feel it soak straight through the black-and-gray hairs at the base of his cock.

You looked perfect like this—better than any girl on camera could’ve been. Your hips rolled, and you moaned while sliding up and down on his dick, again and again. Joel felt the trembling pulse through your body and his, groaned at the grip of your cunt around him, and helped you ride him. With one hand at the small of your back and the other cupping your face, he held you close to him. Your pace quickened, and the hand at your chin made its way to your throat, to hold you firmly there.

Joel had a thumb on your pulse and his eyes raking over your writhing form when he felt compelled to talk again.

Share a truth, since all the rest was coming out anyway.

He didn’t think so much as feel it flow from there, like the blood rushing through his veins. Joel winced at a fresh influx of pleasure and let you grind on him twice more. Then he was gripping you tighter, fucking up into you harder, and he was skimming his teeth along your skin. As a knot coiled deep within his stomach, he let it out:

“Wanna cum inside this pussy, baby. Fill her up with me.”

The head of his cock struck a dizzying blow to someplace close to your cervix, and you held him tighter.

“Yeah, Mr. Miller?” You couldn’t help the teasing tone.

You fought a breathless laugh, then were forced to suck in a gasp of air just as quick; his length sheathed itself inside you completely, and Joel’s grip constricted on your throat. He kissed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth while he fucked up into you, again and again.

You whined, and he mumbled against you, “That’s right.”

You hissed at him deep in your guts, and he went on:

“Gonna stuff her full. Make her wet and messy and drippin’ with me. Show mommy how much daddy lov—”

He cut himself short. His balls were heavy, full, and ready to paint you white, but that line was a touch too far, even now. He couldn’t say it outright and not sound like a fucking creep, no matter how deep in this roleplay you happened to be. Joel squeezed your hips and grunted.

And, for what felt like the fifteenth time that night, you surprised him. Your chin tilted to his, your lips brushed against his mouth, and you smiled, again. It was tender.

“How much does daddy love me, hm? Show me.”

Your walls clenched at the end of the last sentence, and Joel couldn’t help but groan in your mouth. His eyes lifted to yours, and in your gaze, he found anything but incredulity—you already knew what he felt, somehow.

“Sarah tell you that, too? That I love you?” he growled.

He’d said it once. At the time, he hadn’t thought he’d meant it at all, but the words just sounded so good when it came to you. Sarah had asked him if he’d wanted you to be her mommy someday, if he loved you like a daddy loves a mommy, and he’d said he did. Looking back, it hadn’t felt half as good as it did right now: peering into your eyes, feeling your warmth swallow him whole, and sensing you were nearing your climax, all because of him. It made him want to say it over again, now face-to-face.

Be it roleplay, fantasy, fixation—he needed to say it now.

“Daddy does love you,” he went on, before you could even respond. His pelvis rutted against yours, and his gaze stayed steeped in desire as he felt you grip harder, “Loves you so damn much he wants to stuff a big load in that pretty little cunt. Make you his. That alright by you?”

Your gaze went blank in an instant. Your lips twitched.

Something delectably wet, tight, and far too tempting shuddered someplace inside you, and with pride, Joel sensed the remnants of it leak out and smear his tummy. You liked that idea. Still, you seemed hesitant as your teeth snagged your bottom lip between them. You drew one steadying breath, and you slowed your movements.

“I’ve never…had that,” you admitted quietly.

Then that sticky-sweet embrace your cunt held him in got even wetter. Like your mind wasn’t fully on-board, but your body was all in. You were close, by the feel of it.

But Joel would only give what you were fully ready to take. At length, he lowered one hand to the small of your back, and his thumb rubbed at the skin. He let you feel him in only the shallowest of strokes, bouncing you softly

“Ain’t gotta be inside, then,” he murmured, assuring, “I’ll shoot this load wherever mommy tells me to go, alright?”

That made you whimper.

From there, your mind seemed to be decided all at once.

“Cum inside. I-I want it.”

Joel swallowed thickly.

“You sure, sugar? I can—”

Suddenly, your hips were stirring. They started up quicker than before, and your hand was swift to plant itself flat on his chest, as though to stabilize yourself.

“Cum. In. Me.”

It was the most decisive, and desperate, you’d sounded all night. Your gaze flitted to his, and in it, he saw a plea.

With a look like that, Joel knew he couldn’t make you wait. He wouldn’t make you wait. Trying not to smirk as he did, he leaned in and kissed you, and felt you drip more arousal as something knotted in your belly. He smoothed your hair away and delivered the gentlest thrusts from below—he knew it wouldn’t take much.

“Mama goes first,” he prodded. He felt you tense, and clench, and leak a little more down his front, and when the head of cock nicked a soft ridge, he groaned, too. “Cum for daddy now and he’ll give you his load, OK?”

Then his touch slipped between your legs. You keened.

“Daddy, I—” you hiccuped, grip tightening like a vice when his thumb found your clit and started rubbing.

Joel circled faster.

“Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

“I can’t,” you cried, “Feels too—”

Good. Your body seemed to finish for you.

It started with a pulse. Then a pinch. A trickling warmth. Joel hardly knew what else to do but keep rubbing that little pearl between your folds, even when you started to gush around his hand. It wet his tummy; it drenched all the hairs around the base of his cock, and still, he kept thumbing your clit and rocking you back and forth above him. He let you cry out and bite his shoulder while your climax tore through you, and though he knew you had to be quiet, he couldn’t help but relish the sound. He smiled

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Give it to daddy.”

And, while he also told you to keep breathing and let him have it all, he was right here—in a matter of seconds, he was slipping off, too. He couldn’t hope to try and stop it. With one more pulse of your walls, you groaned and got your wet, spent, needy hole stuffed full of him, just how you’d asked. Joel flooded your insides with his seed and kept you fucked straight down to the hilt so he wouldn’t see a drop of himself escape. He hugged you tight and heard you whine at that primal sensation, getting pumped with rope after rope of his cum, then he felt your limbs go limp. Joel kissed the side of your face. He cradled you, held you securely in place, and let the last of his spend paint your walls in a couple more gentle spurts

When it was over, he stroked your back. He sensed the aftershocks of your climax pass through your tired frame, and he made sure not to rock you too hard against him. He just wanted you to feel that he was there, if the heft of his cum and his cock still deep inside you wasn’t enough.

His head grew clearer, too. While still drawing short, ragged breaths in time, he managed to find the words that had evaded him before—what he should’ve said.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled into your hair.

You just nuzzled your face deeper.

“Don’t be.”

“But I—”

Then you tilted your head—enough for your gaze to meet with his, briefly, and tell him all that he needed to hear.

“You’re a good dad, Joel.”

He opened his mouth, but you were already pressing on.

“And I don’t…mind if Sarah calls me what she wants for now. I’m sure you’ll find someone great to be her mom someday, and then this whole thing won’t even matter.”

For some reason, the sound of it made Joel wince.

He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but he knew he didn’t want you thinking that. His grip constricted around you.

“No,” he muttered, indistinct. Defiant.

“No?”

You almost laughed.

It was insane, admittedly—just last night he’d been dreaming of the feel of you in the grip of his fist, wishing for nothing but his own release and a fleeting thought of your body underneath him, and here he was, doing this.

You’d said it was a one-and-done deal, and maybe it was.

But for him, maybe, it wasn’t. He’d be remiss not to try.

If you shot him down and left him to pine and meander through the manifold archives of PornHub for the rest of his horny life, that would be alright. At least he had tried.

With these thoughts thrumming through his brain, Joel was about to pull you closer and venture to speak again, when, for the second time, his words were cut short. His voice was presently supplanted by a sound that startled you both, and in a moment, he recognized what it was.

A knock.

“Da-a-a-a-a-a-addy?”

Shit.

He nearly caught a knee to the gut with how quickly you tried scrambling off his lap, limbs revived and frantic and desperate to get your clothes back on before that tiny voice could resume its speech—or get a hand to the door

“Yeah, sweetie? Give— give daddy a—” ‘Fuck!’ he cursed under his breath as he tripped over your shorts on the floor, “—a minute. I’ll be right there. Just gimme a sec.”

Joel fell. You floundered. His hand snagged the edge of the bed before he hit the ground fully, while you set off across the room to fight the strings of your bikini top and wrestle the thing on. The second you sensed that battle was lost, you grabbed your shirt instead. You were just yanking it on, and Joel was just regaining his bearings and about to chuck your shorts your way, when a voice through the door stopped the two of you cold—again.

To your horror, it was hopeful. Too sweet to be real.

“Can I sleep with you and mommy tonight?”

You could’ve soundly beat Joel’s ass with that pretty, skimpy swimsuit in your grasp and not regretted a thing, if he had to guess by the look you were flashing him now.

He didn’t blame you. His hands shot up in silent defense.

“Mommy— mommy’s not here, honey. She went home.” Joel shortly tried, and failed, to keep the pretense of innocence alive, all while dodging the first swing of your bikini’s bra at his head. He ducked; you struck a lamp.

He jumped back, a wordless grin stretching his lips as he righted that fixture fast. With one look, it seemed to say:

I’m so, so sorry, baby.

But inside his head, he couldn’t help but admit this was a little bit funny. Probably sensing this, you swung again.

“Yes, she is! I heard her,” Sarah huffed outside.

Joel was sliding up his jeans. Apologizing with his eyes and also trying not to crack an even bigger smile at you.

“Don’t be silly, Sar—”

“You’re having a sleepover!” she accused.

Well, in a manner of speaking.

Joel had just buckled his belt and redid his zip when a flash of red nylon smacked him in the face. Playfully.

You were evidently beginning to fight a grin like his, dropping the feigned indignation and pacing closer.

“Sleeping my ass—” you started in a whisper.

And you were about to chase him again, or else propose jumping from the window to get out now and save face, maybe, when Joel felt an old, familiar feeling crop up inside him. Like before, it wasn’t the kind of urge he could fight; his instincts took over, and he did it swiftly.

Admittedly, the timing was terrible—but he kissed you.

He pressed his lips to your own and relished the feeling. He grabbed both sides of your face and walked you back to the bed—the same one drenched in sweat and your release, which he’d definitely need to change in a minute—and for a fleeting moment, it was all he needed. Your mouth was on his, grinning a little and promising silently that if Sarah ever does walk in on us, I’m gonna kill you.

Against his better judgment, he pushed you back on the bed. He dropped his weight over your body and kept the kiss ongoing, feeling need surge inside for something far beyond the physical. It couldn’t be ‘one-and-done’ here.

But for now, at least, in spite of his feelings, it had to be.

Joel didn’t want to let go or stop kissing, but the next second left no room for much else, unfortunately. His daughter’s voice returned, and the words that followed proved impossible to ignore, for either one of you then.

All color drained from his face, and your eyes widened.

“I heard mommy screaming before. Is she alright?”

[divinedomainn]

Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

play previous song? || ◁ PART 1 ▷ || play next song?

summary : After another horny stream, you drop the bomb: fuck-a-fan fridays—seven weeks, seven fans, seven filthy videos. masks on, faces hidden, just you and one lucky subscriber tangled up on camera each week. All they have to do? strip down, get hard, and show you why it should be them. Auditions start now.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, horny simp men

A/N : and so it starts!!! is everyone ready to see the submissions from your favorite horndogs? :) (also i hope you can tell whose who hehehe) i'm trying to keep the writing inclusive for every sort of female presenting person so let me know how i've done!

The next few weeks passed in a blur of lace, lube, and direct deposits that made your head spin. What had started as a desperate half-joke had morphed into a full-blown empire - your empire. The girl who once contemplated selling her underwear for gas money was now clearing rent, tuition, groceries, and still had enough left over to drop serious coin on clothes and silk bed sheets.

You’d gone to the next level. Your friends were of course benefitting from your suspiciously newfound wealth, you casually said you had found a better part-time job, never letting them know the truth when you decided to take them shopping. Not yet at least.

Private requests were your bread and butter. You weren’t just good anymore - you were a professional tease, a digital siren with a library of toys, outfits, and vocal tones that could bring grown men to their knees. They paid for everything; soft whispers, rough talk, slow stroking, filthy roleplays. Some just oddly wanted to hear your moans on loop. Others wanted personalized videos where you called them by username and told them exactly what you’d do if they ever had the balls to show up in person.

You were making big bank. Like “accidental tax bracket change” big. Like “should probably consult a financial advisor” big.

And the men?

Oh, the men were obsessed.

Especially the regulars. Their usernames lit up your screen night after night, tipping with reckless abandon, flooding the chat with unfiltered thirst. You didn’t know who they were in real life, yet, but their personalities bled through the screen in such vivid, chaotic little ways.

EmoWithaBoner was yearning. Desperate in a way that made your chest clench and your thighs twitch. His messages were usually soft, almost sweet - You deserve everything, You looked so beautiful tonight - until something cracked open inside him mid-message and he’d type something crazy like: I would lick your cunt until you beg me to stop. Now that had gotten a small “Oh.” out of you. He wanted to worship you and ruin you all at once.

SixEyesOnly was a fucking menace. Flirty, cocky, constantly sending emojis that were way too smug for someone probably watching with only one hand available. His tips were ridiculous, like, spend $300 just to watch you eat grapes in a bad wig slowly sort of ridiculous, and his messages read like he was trying to fluster you on purpose. You assumed it was some sort of control thing with him, throwing money at people and getting them to do it. No complaints from you.

TempleOfSin was smooth, a little poetic, a little filthy. He asked for long, descriptive videos where you described what you were wearing, how you’d touch him, how you'd taste. He liked to also order roleplay videos where you pretended to worship him like he was some sort of God. Sometimes he called you his loyal little follower. You didn’t ask questions.

daddyissuez was feral. No other word for it. His requests were blunt, primal, always toeing the line of what the platform allowed and your own, now lacking, self-control. He liked spit, degradation, and power games. His tipping was sporadic and a lot less compared to the others, though, it was enough to keep him in your attention.

OfficeAfterHours was different. Polite. Polished. His messages came like little business memos laced with innuendo. “You looked stunning tonight. That color suits you,” followed by a $200 tip telling you to buy more in the same color. Never crude, always composed. It made him stand out more, somehow. Like a man who didn’t need to beg. A man who expected what he wanted, and always got it.

And then there was KingOfRot.

Unpredictable. Crude. Arrogant. He dropped tips like they were nothing. $500 just because you looked at the camera in a way he said was like a ‘deer in the headlights’. Odd, but $500 was a good amount to keep your mouth shut. He called you “pet,” “whore,” “delicious little thing.” You should’ve blocked him. Instead, you kept reading his messages twice over with your jaw unhinged and in wonderment whether or not he actually said that. His energy was intense and you hated how hot that was.

Which brings us to tonight.

You were perched in your new silk sheets, ring light warm against your skin, wearing your most transparent slip where your nipples were clearly on display and a smug little smirk behind that now iconic mask of yours. You’d hyped this stream for days - teased it on your feed, hinted at it in DMs. The chat was already on fire and you hadn’t even said a word yet. Tonight was a big one.

EmoWithaBoner: god ur so fucking hot tonight SixEyesOnly: i logged in 15 minutes early and i still feel late :(( OfficeAfterHours: You’ve outdone yourself this evening. KingOfRot: Come on, get to the fucking point, girl.

You grinned, slow and lethal, dragging your fingers along your inner thigh and ignoring KingOfRot.

“Well,” you purred, “I figured since you’ve all been very generous lately… it’s time I give something back.”

SixEyesOnly: oh fuck You licked your lips, loving the short little power trip it gave you. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, voice sweet and dangerous. “Maybe it’s time to start a little… tradition.”

You paused for dramatic effect.

“Fuck-a-Fan Fridays.” You bit your lip. Boom. Chat detonation. SixEyesOnly had sent you $200 just for the phrase.

EmoWithaBoner: you’re joking SixEyesOnly: oh shit baby TempleOfSin: Perfect. KingOfRot: You say when and where, pet. daddyissuez: i’ll be first. fuck the line OfficeAfterHours: I trust you've thought this through..

You leaned in close. OfficeAfterHours was cute in the way he was concerned for you. “I mean, why stop at one, right?” You giggled, cheeks burning behind your mask as you kicked your feet a little bit out of the view of your webcam. “I was gonna keep it casual, but um… yeah. What if I made it a thing? Like, a series?”

Another pause. You leaned in even closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried heat.

“One fan. Every Friday. For seven weeks.”

You crossed your bare legs over one another, your slip rising on your thighs as you did so. “Seven Fridays. Seven people. Seven chances to fuck the brains out of a very nervous, very willing woman who cannot believe she’s actually saying this live right now.”

You sat up again, brushing the slip back into place like your nipples weren’t clearly on display.

“I mean..obviously, we’ll keep it anonymous. Like, we’re not stupid here. Masks. No faces. Just hands. Bodies. And my camera.” The chat was still in full meltdown, comments stacking so fast the shitty platform could barely keep up. Your heart was pounding, your skin warm and tingling from the high of it all—of watching them fall apart just from your voice, your words, the soft shift of silk and skin. You hadn’t even done anything explicit yet, and they were on their knees.

God, it was addictive.

You stretched your arms overhead with a soft sigh, the movement pulling your slip just high enough to tease your hips. A final little gift before the curtain dropped.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” you said with a giggle, feigning innocence even as your gaze sparkled with something much dirtier. “You guys are gonna give me a heart attack.” SixEyesOnly: no no no don’t leave yettt!! :(( KingOfRot: You owe me for the buildup, woman. You tilted your head, lips curving into a sweet little smile as you leaned forward, giving them just one more generous view of your tits before the curtains closed.

“But before I go…” you said, voice slipping into something quieter, softer, like a secret you didn’t mean to share. “If you’re serious about Fuck-a-Fan Fridays… I want you to show me.”

The pause that followed had its own kind of weight. You watched the chat stall for half a second. The anticipation was thick enough to choke on.

“Send me a message,” you murmured, “with a picture. No face. Just your body, and cock, obviously.”

You let your fingers trail down your own torso, to your hips, your thighs, hinting at what you wanted to see. “Let me see what I’d be touching.. What I’ll be fucked braindead by.” EmoWithaBoner: fuck i’ll take a hundred SixEyesOnly: don’t lose your mind too much baby KingOfRot: It’ll be mine you dream about when you touch yourself. OfficeAfterHours: Submission will follow shortly. No face. Clean framing. High quality.

You had to laugh—giddy and a little breathless. You honestly didn’t think they’d go this feral.

“Think of it as an audition,” you said, tucking your knees to your chest, playing sweet again. “Show me what you’re offering. How you’d fit against me. In me.”

You smoothed your hand up your own thigh, lazily now, teasing.

“And just so you know,” you added with a little grin, “I’m only really looking at the ones who’ve tipped enough to keep my attention. You know who you are.”

Oh, they most definitely did.

The seven of them were already scrambling—photos incoming, tips rolling, blood leaving their brains. You didn’t need names. Their usernames were burned into your memory. Their obsessions with you were paying your bills.

“Goodnight, boys,” you whispered. “Impress me.” The second you ended the stream, you collapsed backward into your pillows with a dazed little laugh, limbs spread like you’d just run a marathon and won a gold medal in filth. The glow from your laptop cast a soft haze across your legs, the screen already lighting up with the chaos you’d left behind—tips still pouring in, messages stacking, your inbox begging for attention.

And the photos?

Oh, they were already flooding in, from people you didn’t want, but it was there regardless - upping your activity.

You rolled onto your stomach, chin resting in your palm as you clicked open the first one with a half-curious, half-unhinged smile.

No face, just like you asked. Neck down. The guy was standing in front of a mirror, one hand wrapped tight around his cock, the other lifting his hoodie to show off his chest. His abs were flexed. His cock hard enough to cast a shadow.

You blinked. Let out a slow breath.

“…Damn.”

Another one came in. Different guy, different vibe—tattoos on his hips, hand slick and stroking himself in a dimly lit bathroom, captioned: Fridays look good on me. Want to see how I look underneath you?

“Oh my god,” you whispered, laughing as you pulled your legs up behind you. “This is real. I’m really doing this.”

And you were. One fan. Every Friday. Seven weeks. Seven videos. Each one getting posted to your feed, available for your hundreds of subscribers to watch, rewatch, tip on, comment under, and probably break their dicks to.

It wasn’t just a hookup. It was content. Premium content.

Still riding the rush, you opened your messaging panel and started typing.

New Mass Message Sent to All Subscribers:

Hey babes— If you missed the stream tonight (rip to you), here’s your official invite.

Fuck-a-Fan Fridays is happening. Starting next week, I’ll be choosing seven of you to spend one very intimate night with me. Every Friday for the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting a new video. One fan. One full-length scene. Just me… and whoever impresses me the most.

How to audition:- Send me a photo. - Neck down only. No faces. Masks will be worn on camera, so full anonymity will be protected. But I need to see everything. Cock out. Hard. Your body. Your vibe. The way you'd look on camera—underneath me, on top of me, behind me, inside me.

Show off a little. Or a lot.

Make me want it. Let the auditions begin.

xoxo,

—Your girl

taglist : @frozenmallows @90s-belladonna @moncher-ire @kunareads @blublublubby @grignardsreagent @soozeu @mochiivqi @sweetsformysoul @killak9mi @celloccino @gurlhere4fluff @syubseokie

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[talesfromawannabewriter]

@beef-brisket

Turns out the list she made was an incredibly long one. They started on the very top of the list. Which was none other than-

Adam: Yoga balls?

Charlie grinned as she let him over to where the equipment was set up: Yes! I read somewhere that it helps the core and allows the baby to flush right out!

Adam sighed: Why not?

He allowed her to set him down on one ball while she took the other.

Charlie: Ready?

Adam nodded and she started to bounce on the yoga ball. Adam followed and soon it was a synthesized song of bouncing.

Charlie looked over at the pregnant man and didn’t see a difference in his expression. Other than pure irritation.

Charlie: Feel any different?

Adam: Nope. Other than how ridiculous we look. More so me than you.

Charlie: Maybe you need to bounce harder. Here let me just…

Trying to make him go she used her leg to lightly kick at his ball. Unfortunately with her powerful hooves she accidentally ended up sending the first man to the floor.

Cross that one off the list then

—

Plan number two had Adam and Charlie doing yoga. Which was more than a little difficult with Adam’s situation.

Charlie: Feeling any cramping?

She called out from her downward position. She could hear Adam groan which sounded like a good sign.

Adam: Yeah but not in the places that matter. My legs feel like jelly!

Not being able to take it anymore he laid himself down comfortably and tried to take a breather. Charlie sighed another plan down the drain.

—

Charlie: Ok I am positive that this will make your water break!

Adam: Please tell me this activity involves sitting.

Charlie: It does indeed, now I only have one question. Are you hungry?

Adam: ….Maybe a little.

As if wanting to embarrass him his stomach grumbled to life.

Adam scowled placing a hand on his massive gut: Oh hush you brat.

Charlie beamed: Then you’ll love this!

The two demons entered the kitchen and on the table where was supposed to be the spiciest chicken wings in all of Hell had been completely devoured.

By none other than the radio man himself.

Charlie: ALASTOR!!!

Said deer had been dabbing a napkin against his lips when he turned to the duo. He grinned at them.

Alastor: Hello my dear, and Adam, what can I do you for?

Charlie: Alastor those weren’t for you! They were to help Adam go into labor!!

Alastor: They were? My deepest condolences Charlie I had no idea. If it’s any consolation they were positively divine.

Adam screamed as he rushed towards him and proceeded to choke the ever loving life out of him. Charlie did her best to pull him away from her manager.

—

Charlie was at the end of her rope. She had tried everything and she meant everything on the list. But it was no use, nothing had done the trick.

She was ready to throw in the towel and make the call to Bel when Angel and his friend Cherri came tumbling into her office.

Angel: Charlie you’re never going to believe this!!!

Charlie: What?

Cherri: It’s a miracle to your bloody answers is what it is!!!

Charlie sighed: Listen guys I’m sure your hearts are in the right place and you mean well but-

Cherri: Shut up and let us speak cunt!

That got the princess to zip it. Angel proceeded to animatedly tell her of information he had just inquired.

Angel: Down in Imp city there is a restaurant that sells this type of dressing sauce for salads. It’s said that the ingredients used have been known to make a pregnant person immediately drop!

Charlie: Really!? Are you one hundred percent confident that’ll happen?

Angel: I only went online and searched for hours about it. Guess what babe? They all came back with only positives!

Charlie couldn’t help the squeal of excitement from escaping her. As she proceeded to jump up and down in pure joy.

This was it! The answer to her problems! She was finally going to get Adam un-pregnant!

What she hadn’t realized then was that the sauce was so popular they weren’t the only pregnant person in Hell trying to get their hands on it.

Flower Within

@beef-brisket

When Adam and Lucifer found out they were first expecting there were an arrange of emotions that they both felt at the time.

Disbelief, anxiety, and of course fear, with the slight sense of excitement.

Even though both were terrified at the idea of having a baby together, seeing as how they were only fooling around at that point and not officially together.

They were both genuinely happy deep down that they were getting the chance to be parents again.

While this would be Adam’s first time being the mother and not the father. He still marveled at the thought of getting to hold a little squirming bundle of joy in his arms once more.

As for Lucifer he was also quite happy. Despite his initial shock at the prospect of having more children than just his daughter.

He loved Charlie with all his heart but unfortunately Lilith only wanted one child with him. Claiming that they only needed one heir. But now he was to gain more children.

With Adam of all people, regardless of past issues with the first man deep within him the devil had wanted nothing more than to have him as the mother of his child.

Soon to be children if he would have it.

There was soon a new emotion that bloomed within both men’s chests. It was hope. Hope for a new future and their precious little one that would soon be in their arms.

….If only it were that simple.

Lucifer and Adam didn’t know why, maybe it was a curse by the Heavens or some kind of twisted punishment created by Hell. But Adam had been pregnant for the last three years.

While his belly was swollen and he was more than ready for the little one within to finally leave, the baby wasn’t.

Which meant Lucifer, along with the rest of the Hazbins, had to deal with a hormonal, temperamental, pregnant Adam.

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

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