#I should've been doing chores! and look at this

[themeraldee]

YOOOO THE “figuring out how to control his strength” fic was SO GOOD, I saw spanking at the end of that, a wee request to expand on that idea mayhaps 👀

Kissing you for enabling me, mwah mwah mwah. I tried going with gender neutral reader for the last one but had to switch to female for this one. Hope that's ok! I'm happy you enjoyed the last one hopefully this one hits the spot!😉

[Masterlist] [A follow up to this]

18+ Only | 1.5k | Homelander x female!Reader | Communicating during sex. Spanking. Riding. Unprotected sex. A dash of dirty talk.

Homelander has been trying to get his paws under your clothes for the past hour of the movie you were adamant you should be watching together. ‘It’s my favorite movie!’ You had said earlier. And not that he has anything against sharing your interests, he loves having every piece of you to himself. But now you are warm and soft against him, cuddling and leaning into him in a way that pretty much puts you in his lap.

He inhales the lingering fragrance of the expensive hair products he got for you. Something in him stirring at the thought of how utterly he’s changing your life, marking you with his touch with every little change he’s making to your routine. Ever since he’s had you move into his penthouse he’s been meddling with every aspect of your life, wanting to add his touch. Just as a reminder that you were his. So anytime you spritz his choice of perfume you think of that and in turn he gets reminded everyday that you make the choice to be his again and again and again.

So it’s no surprise that he’s now peppering your neck and cheek with kisses, pulling you closer no matter how much you protest. “Come on babe, fuck the movie. We can finish it another time.”

“But it’s my favorite…” You pout like a child, trying to pull away but he’s having none of it.

“Shhh. Come on now, don’t be like this.” He’s nuzzling into your neck. His hands wrap around your body, resting on top of your tits, giving your nipples a pinch through the fabric. “Be a good girl for me.” 

Now that sends a shiver down your spine, slowly pooling heat in between your legs. It also gives you a great idea. 

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should spank me for misbehaving.” You’re not facing him but the cheekiness of your grin is audible.

However as much as you’d prefer him to lean into the dirty roleplay of it all, he pulls away, tensing up.

You turn to face him.

“Are you sure? You know I could hurt you.” He’s carrying his worry openly. But just like with the choking you know there’s nothing this man wouldn’t do for you. 

“We’ve been over this baby. Sometimes the pain just makes things feel better.” You caress his cheek, giving him a sweet kiss flush on the lips before you pull away and take matters into your own hands. You lay yourself over his lap, face down, wiggling your ass right in front of him.

Tucking your fingers underneath both the waistband of your soft luxurious loungewear and the panties he’s picked for you, you pull both pieces down to reveal the bare skin of your ass.

“So…maybe you could spank me for not giving you enough attention?” You try to tease him into it, shaking your hips gently to give him the green light.

This does the trick. Homelander places both his hands on your cheeks, giving them a squeeze, really just playing with the softness of the flesh before he remembers what he’s meant to be doing.

Slap.

“Holy shit! Oh-ohhkayy. Fuck. T-that was pretty hard.” His hand is rigid, hard, unforgiving. With his added strength it was definitely a lot for the first slap. So sharp it jerks tears out of your eyes. 

“Fuck—I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” You can hear the fear and panic in his voice. In this instance it’s both at the idea of hurting you and at disappointing you with not being able to do the act justice.

You gather yourself, as the sting slowly eases off. 

“No, no. It’s okay. It wasn’t bad, it was just a lot. Just rub it a bit. It helps with the stinging.” His hand is barely touching you now, almost worried that he could cause more damage but he rubs your sore skin anyway. His touch is soothing. His hands are perfect. Unmarred, not a single scar or blemish and you feel the softness melding right against your ass.  

“Next time, keep your fingers together. Keep your hand loose, relaxed. Don’t make it too stiff.” You give him instructions, not wanting to dissuade him from continuing. It may have been hard and definitely a slap you’d be more likely to handle better as the spanking went on rather than from the start but it was still exhilarating. 

“Homelander,” you say his name, to break him from the trance while he’s still rubbing your ass gently. And as much as that feels good you really want to get the party started so you convey the need for more with a little, “please?”

He takes your instructions to heart and he slaps your ass again. This time a little gentler. With his palm less splayed open it makes a deeper sound which is just music to your ears. 

“Oh fuuuck.” And it feels just as good as it sounds. Really good. Its gentle sting burns through your skin, thoroughly wetting your pussy. Your eyes roll back at the sensation. 

“Was that better?” He asks with gentleness you never expected him to be capable of.  

“Y-yeah.” You slurp back the saliva you feel pooling in your mouth. “It was perfect.”

He takes that as his hint to continue as he lands another. And another one. And more. All in the same spot. Your skin is getting brighter and brighter red. The burn is making your toes curl and your pussy throb.

The more you moan the more he spanks you, alternating between your cheeks until they’re both screaming bright red. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re leaking all over me.” Homelander says in an almost incredulous tone, as if he’s surprised that pain could make you this riled up. Finally, he sees it for the pleasure it gives you.

“Uhh, s-sorry.” You slur, drooling, already having melted into the couch. 

“You’re really fucking kinky, you know that?” 

You laugh at that. “What can I say? I know what I like.” 

“Clearly.” He ran his hand down the hot, red skin, making you hiss. His hands settled in between your cheeks, spreading them out while his other hand made its way to your pussy, sliding his fingers through the mess you made of yourself. 

“My, my, that got you excited.” He shoved two fingers in, meeting no resistance as he pumped them in and out. Even with the TV playing in the background the squelching sound of you is still obscenely loud. You should be embarrassed, really, but it feels so good to finally have something soothe the throbbing pain that’s been building up with each slap. 

“Fuuck. Can I have you, please?” You whine out, really just wanting to get pounded into the couch while you’re feeling all woozy.

“So you want me to spank you, and now you want me to fuck you? See, good girls participate. So hop on sweetheart. You gotta work for it too.” Now he was getting it. With his reservations out of the window, he slips right into teasing you.

You feel yourself flush and throb at his words. He’s so good to you. No matter what, he always makes you feel otherworldly.

With his help you peel yourself off the couch, straddling his lap where he’s pushed down his pants. His cock already hard and flushed red. Just like your cheeks.

You sink down on him, letting out a whimper when your cheeks meet his thighs. The skin on skin contact burns, reminding you of each slap you received. You wrap your arms around his neck for support, but really you just want to be close to him.

He kisses you, as if he’s been starved for it. This whole time you were facing away from him so it’s not like he could have enjoyed your gasps and moans against his lips.

You ride him as hard as your thighs allow, chasing the high of feeling full after the empty feeling you had to take each slap with. With each bounce your ass meets his thighs and your eyebrows pinch together in pain. Good pain. You’re sure he can feel just how blazing hot your cheeks feel.

Homelander grabs your ass from both sides, helping you up and down. His hands squeeze the bruising flesh, making you gasp for air.

“Good?” He asks as he massages the flesh, catching you off guard by another slap.

“Yea-AH!—s’good. Really fucking good.” You mumble, your speech slurring as you lean your forehead against his. It was intimate and debauched at the same time and it didn’t take either one of you long to finish. His cock was hitting you just right and with the added sting of your skin and the occasional slap he landed on alternating cheeks you unraveled on his lap. As you cling onto him with spent, burning thighs he finishes inside you with a few more strokes and you fully collapse into his arms. 

“See? I told you it’d be fun.” You’re panting against him, trying to calm your poor body down. Spent, satisfied and still burning up. You wonder how long you’re gonna feel that everytime you sit.

Hopefully for a while.

“Mhm. You got any more of these great ideas?”

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic): @infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @nervoussystemss @hom3landr @mrsdesade @nommingonfood

[noirscript]

silent servitude

WARNING/S! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. YANDERE. noncon; breeding; powerplay; biting; slightly descriptive sex scenes; f!reader

One must abide by His Majesty's every rule.

It was a phrase you often hear from other servants in the castle from the moment you joined them as your mother's apprentice. A phrase that helped them survive the dog-eat-dog world inside the palace walls.

“You're not expected to excel in your work, but do not even think about failing the task given to you.” Your mother grabbed your shoulders with a squeeze. “Do you understand, my child?”

You nodded your head as you tightened your grip on your skirt. “Yes, mother.”

She lightly tap your cheek before placing a lasting kiss on your forehead. “Go on, dear. I will see you before sunset.”

You looked around your surroundings before hesitantly nodding. For some reason, you can't seem to ignore what you've been feeling from the moment you entered the servant's gate. As if someone's watching your every move.

The path inside the dark tunnel was short, but for you, the time seemed to slow down. Your feet felt heavy to take one step forward after another. Like it was keeping you from going any further.

“You've arrived,” a middle-aged woman spoke while standing in the midst of the desolate area, few steps from where you came from. “Follow me.”

You scanned your surroundings, a poor attempt in remembering the path where you came from. However, the more you walk further and further away from the path that leads to your mother, the more you could sense something ominous was about to occur.

“Are you listening?”

You bowed your head and apologized.

“Stand tall and look at me,” she ordered. “In this castle, you must keep your eyes and ears open at all times. Do not even try to let your mind wander elsewhere. If you don’t want to suffer any consequences.”

Your body shook. You tried to speak, but your voice broke. However, when you nodded your head in desperation, the woman simply turn around and started to list down the rules within that castle.

“Do you even know why you're here?”

“T-To train to become my m-mother's replacement...”

The woman sneered. “If that'll help you sleep at night.”

After giving you a tour around an area that only a handful of servants can access, she led you towards a gated path that lead towards a small chateau in the middle of a small open field inside the castle walls.

The chateau, albeit small compared to the colossal main palace, was still bigger than your home. You also noticed the crawling vines on its walls, and as well as its tinted windows that kept its interior hidden from prying eyes.

“You will keep this place in order. You may not ask for anyone's help. You will only work here alone. Your food will be provided by one of the servants, but do not let anyone else inside the chateau.”

“But my lady...”

“That is all you need to know.” She looked down at your stature before clicking her tongue. “Stupid commoners.”

With that, she left you on your own.

THINKING BACK, you should've realized the message behind her poisonous words. Nobody would think that it is normal for a servant to clean an entire chateau within the day all by themselves.

That doing such chore might result to an inevitable mishaps that forces one to change their attire. Something that might force them to take every piece of clothing from themselves.

“Y-Your Majesty, please forgive this commoner from—” you felt one of his large, calloused hand caressing your face while the other hand pulled you closer to his bare body.

“Kept that mouth shut before I do it myself,” he whispered against your cheek before slightly biting it. “Who would've thought that this would be an easy chase?”

Callix, the reigning monarch, is known for his compassion towards the commoners. Some people would even see him interact with the lowest of the poor during their darkest moment, providing them hope and warmth.

But as you writhe beneath him, allowing him to touch every inch of your body as he please, made you doubt everything you heard about him.

After savoring your heat, he aligned his thick member against your quim. Callix grabbed you by your cheeks and forced you to meet his gaze.

“Please...” you pleaded, but he only swallowed all your pleas and cries as he penetrated your tight walls.

When your first intercourse with him ended almost immediately, you believed that he would let you go. That he would order you leave and never show yourself in front of him.

But after resting his head against the crook of your neck, he suddenly grabbed your ankles and pushing it apart.

You could feel his cum gush out of your quim, but Callix was far from satisfied.

That night alone, he ravished your body until the morning sun has risen.

When you woke up, you felt the coldness of the heavy iron wrapped around your ankles.

“You're awake,” you heard his voice from somewhere in the room. “I have some news for you. So, open your eyes.”

You tried to open your eyes, but for some reason, your eyelids felt heavy.

“Are you disobeying my orders?” he asked while gritting his teeth.

“Open your eyes!” he demanded as he grab your cheeks tightly.

You tried your best to open at least one of your eyes and look at him.

“There's my queen's beautiful eyes.” You could feel his hands all over your body as he leave kissing against your face. “Can you hear me, my queen?”

“M’not... queen...”

He chuckled before yanking your hair back, exposing your neck to him.

“You dare oppose me, hm?” he asked as he harshly nip your neck. “Are you forgetting who I am, my queen?”

How you wish you could simply forget who he is.

Quick note: This might be the start of some series. Let me know your thoughts :)

[keeksandgigz]

my guy

eddie munson x fem!reader

Eddie being your personal handyman and stupidly in love.

cw: 2k words. no warnings just two kids being absolutely smitten for each other. tooth rotting fluff. teeny allusion to smut. Eddie being a flustered mess bless him. 18+ mdni

AN: this is literally the most low stakes thing i've ever written i just started cheesing at the idea of eddie cheesing at being called your guy

The sputtering of the washing machine startles you.

Huffing, you put your book down on the couch, rising from the depth of the cushions in which you had settled yourself into after finishing your chores and go assess the issue.

"Shit," the floor is wet and you shudder at the feeling of the cold soapy water getting into the bottoms of your socks as you slowly make your way to the washing machine to unplug it.

You try your best to dry the floor, wincing at the feeling of wet socks on the linoleum floor, cursing under your breath at the cold feel of the fabric against your skin.

Despite the floor being dry, your washing machine was broken, and you couldn't afford to buy a new one. Fortunately, your neighbor, Eddie had been your own personal handyman ever since you mentioned in passing that your sink was leaking a bit after moving into your place a couple months ago. The day after he was at your door, toolbox in hand. Your sink was fixed in less than a couple hours.

You knock at his front door, three precise, well timed knocks. Your mind cannot help but start counting just to see how long it will take him to open his door.

One, two, three, four, five, si--

The rattling of the door handle distracts you from your counting. Eddie's eyes are wide as they stare at you. His hair is tied in a low bun and he's fidgeting with a guitar pick in his hand. He must have been playing.

He's really quiet for a second, then clears his throat. "Oh, um. Hey, what's up?"

"Hey, nothing much? just wondering if you're busy right now" your tone always softens up with him around.

He looks around his apartment, almost as if he needed to remember if there was anything he should've been doing.

"Nope, don't think so. Why?" He leans against his doorframe, and he's cute in the way his pitch perks up, his smile expands just a bit to let a few crinkles form around his eyes.

"Well um... my washing machine broke and I can't afford to buy another one. I have a really important interview tomorrow morning and I need a clean dress shirt to wear. I thought I could get my guy to take a look at it and assess the damage?" you lightly punch your fist across his chest and he blushes a bit. You can tell by the way he starts blinking a bit faster that he's flustered.

"Your- your guy?" he stutters, almost as if he heard nothing else aside from that.

"Yeah, silly. My guy, like, my handyman" you smile at him, and if someone could get even more nervous, you're sure that Eddie just did, because he lets out a breathy laugh.

"Right. Your handyman guy, of course" and he shakes his head, smiling to himself a bit.

"So... can you do it?" you ask, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, no of course, sweetheart. Gimme a couple minutes and I'll be right over to you" he says smiling.

You head back to your apartment, leaving the door open for him to follow you with his toolbox, and Eddie feels like he’s lost every sense of reason when he enters and becomes surrounded by your scent.

The fabric softener you use has taken over every corner of your house, but he’s not complaining. Taking one last sniff for courage, he steps into the kitchen, where you’re sitting at, waiting for him.

“Alright, can I take a look at your washing machine?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah, it’s right this way” you lead him to the laundry room, and Eddie’s suffocating. You’re everywhere.

He kneels in front of the machine and opens its door.

"What's this interview for anyway if it's got you actin' so nervous?" He says from inside the washing machine. He's fidgeting with the rubber at the opening, the hose.

"It's for this job at the school. I applied to teach at the middle school, but I'm not sure if they'll give it to me" you say, panic settling in. He's taking too long, you're done for. No clean shirt, no job.

"Nah, sweetheart, there's no reason why they shouldn't. You're incredibly smart, from all the books I've seen you read, your apartment is all books, you nerd" he starts laughing, and then stops.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to call you a nerd." He takes his head out of the washing machine. "I just- I know you're gonna do great. And if you don't maybe you can become my apprentice, would you mind passing me my flashlight?" he gives you a half smile.

Reaching for his toolbox you pass it to him.

"See? You're already perfect for the job, you're hired" he says, making you laugh. He smiles proudly to himself, and he's happy that you can't see him from inside the washing machine, because he's sure he's bursting with joy at the sound of your laughter.

"Thanks, Ed. I'll consider it." you say, and immediately after you hear a oh shit! coming from inside the machine. Concern washes over your face.

"Ed? What's wrong?" you say, as you carefully step closer towards him.

“I know what the problem is." He takes his head out again The rubber thingy that helps you close the thingy is broken” he says, like you understood what he meant.

“For a handyman you sure have your way with words” you laugh, and he doesn’t even care that he’s made a fool of himself by forgetting what the rubber gasket was called. Because he’s made you laugh.

"So how do I get this rubber thingy fixed, mr handyman?" you ask, voice still amused at how flustered he is.

"Well, I'd need to go down the hardware store and get a replacement, but it's 8PM, so I can't do anything about it now, sweetheart. Sorry" he says, and it breaks his heart to have to say no to you.

"Oh, okay." your voice sounds sad, it hurts him. "Thanks anyway, Eddie. I'll stop by the hardware store tomorrow morning before my interview if you wanna stop by in the afternoon and finish this?"

He thinks about it, about the interview. About how much you said you want the job.

"Wait, I have an idea. What if you wash your clothes in my washing machine for tonight? So you can have your shirt ready for your interview, then tomorrow I can go and get the gaskets to fix it. It's called a gasket, not rubber thingy" he says, playing with his hair.

"Ed it's fine, I can go get it" you say, trying not to blush at how gentle and kind he is "I'll take you up on your offer of using your machine, though. Thanks, Ed. You're too nice" you say, reaching for the basket of wet clothes on top of the dishwasher.

"Anytime, sweetheart. Y'know I take good care of my clientele" he says, smug smile on his lips. You giggle and fake a gasp.

"Are you cheating on me? Are you being someone else's guy?!" he laughs and goes along with it.

"Well, Mrs. Davis did ask me to fix her bathtub, after learning from someone that I fixed their sink" he said, a fake accusatory stare at you.

"You should get paid for this, Ed. You've already fixed my sink, my door hinges, helped me change my lock and now my washing machine. Soon the whole complex is gonna ask you to do their maintenance" you laugh.

"I do it out of the kindness of my heart" he says, taking a dramatic bow , then rises and leans against the washing machine. "Really, though, I don't mind doing it. I enjoy being helpful. I don't want your money, sweetheart"

"No, Eddie, I insist. I need to pay you, especially after you said you're getting the rubber thingy for me, what was it called again? A gusset?"

"Gasket" he says smiling, pointing a cheeky finger at you. Then the air becomes a bit tense, he stiffens up. You see him takes a deep breath, he's suddenly nervous which puts you on edge. Did you say something wrong? Then he speaks up again. "Tell you what, as a payment for my services, I pick you up Friday night at 7 and we have dinner. What do you say?"

Shit. You would not have pegged him for the type to be that smooth, but he had you. He liked you and he was sweet to you and he wanted to take you out to dinner. It helped that he was cute. There was no hesitation when you nodded your head yes.

"I say that's a great idea, Ed. I'll let you know how the interview goes. Should we go to your apartment?" you say. You notice the quizzical, borderline alarmed, look on his face.

"So I can wash my stuff, I mean" an awkward laugh escapes you as he motions for you to lead the way.

His apartment is the same layout as yours, but rather than books, his walls are filled with painted figurines, guitars, notebooks and DnD game sets. A true nerdy den.

"Um, the washing machine is down the hall. We have the same one, let me know if you need anything, okay?" he says, heading over to the couch, setting his toolbox down and picking up his guitar.

His laundry detergent is strong. The thought of this load of washing smelling like him makes your head spin.

After you've started the load, you head out of the laundry room and head over to the couch, where Eddie is. You swear his eyes glint a little when he sees you.

"Hey mr. handyman." you say, plopping down next to him "Keep playing, I'm just gonna watch you." You smile at him.

His face is concentrated, tongue darting out of his lips every once in a while. Cute, you think, a silly quirk that makes your mind travel to places that it should not even dare to go, you haven't even had your first date yet. God, you wanna kiss him.

He plays some aggressive guitar chords, one after the other, music sheets scattered on his knee, balancing precariously as he taps the rhythm with his head, his hair falling out of its confinements with each bob of his head.

"I hear you play sometimes." You interrupt. He raises his head, his hair has all fallen out of the bun and lays on his shoulders.

"What?" he says weakly.

"Sometimes, in the afternoon, because you're so respectful, I hear you play. And I- I just stop whatever I'm doing and listen to you and- and it's so cool. Your playing is so cool" you stop your ramble, because now he's staring at you and he's making you nervous. He's closer, and closer, and closer. And he's kissing you.

His lips are soft, albeit a bit too wet from all the times he's licked his lips to focus. His hand is on your cheek and it's big and warm and his breath is on you and you just melt into him. Soft kisses, quick kisses.

After what feels like hours, your mouth is open and you're reaching for his shirt, but he stops you, a puzzled look on your face. "Let's save this for another time, sweetheart." He says, and you can tell he's struggling to say no to you "I wanna take my time with you. Maybe after our date?" he gives you a sly smile and you think you have melted into the cushions.

"Can we cuddle, then?" you say shyly and he opens his arms for you to fall in, you take a deep breath. He's warm and smells nice.

"For a handyman you kiss really well" you say, laughing a bit. He jerks his head and quirks an eyebrow.

"How many handymen have you kissed?" his tone is dramatic and you know he's joking.

"None that I am aware of, but y'know, it could be a side job" You giggle.

"I thought I was your guy!" He says with a whine, and he makes you laugh like no man has ever made you laugh before.

“Maybe you can be my guy for real then” you say, smiling, finally holding eye contact with him.

“Yeah, I can be your guy, sweetheart.”

[rcmclachlan]

Relative Value (buck/tommy)

"And I feel for her, you know? I really do. The dissolution of a relationship, especially a marriage, feels like you're drowning in hot tar, and you spend every waking moment kicking your way to the surface to try and breathe. But if she brings up her divorce again while I'm in the middle of peeing? I'm going to divorce her head from her body."

Buck makes a face at the thought of Maddie's decapitated coworker. "Please don't send the 118 to that scene. I'm not so great with entrails these days. Send the 147—they deserve it after they botched that extrication on Monday." 

Maddie laughs, the sound tinny but comfortingly familiar coming through his phone's speakers. She'd propped her phone on Jee-Yun's dresser halfway through the call so she could put away laundry while she talked, and for the last five minutes he's been watching her fold Jee's clothes like she's being judged at the Olympics. 

It's nice to see that hasn't changed. Maddie should've been in jail years ago for the way she loads a dishwasher, but when it comes to laundry she's a goddamn wizard. When he was younger, his parents saddled him with taking out the trash and doing the dishes, but putting away the laundry was always Maddie's chore. She actually enjoyed it, the weirdo. She used to tell him the first whiff of warm Snuggle right out of the dryer was a cure-all. Also, she can fold a fitted sheet in under ten seconds. He'd timed her once.

Maddie takes an eye-wateringly orange shirt out of the laundry basket and with three decisive motions turns it into a perfect rectangle. If Jee ever decides she wants to go deer hunting, she'll be all set. "Since when are you not good with entrails?" 

"Since that guy was ripped in half last week."

It'd easily been the grizzliest car crash he'd ever been called to. It made the 405 pileup a few years back look like Disney on Ice. About halfway through tagging and bagging almost a dozen casualties strewn all over the westbound lanes of the Pomona Freeway, the guy responsible for the crash snapped awake while Hen and Chimney were setting up and drove off in a panic. The top-half of the motorist stuck under his car was dragged maybe sixty feet, and Buck had a front row seat to the sight of the poor guy's nerves and vasculature trailing behind him like squid tentacles before the driver came to a stop by hitting yet another car. 

"I'm also not eating spaghetti for the foreseeable future, FYI," he adds.

Maddie wrinkles her nose. "Okay, changing the subject: when do you leave again?"

It wouldn't be an overstatement to say the smile that question invokes explodes over his face. He feels it happen; the spark eats the fuse so quickly there's barely any lead-up and his cheeks burn from the sheer magnitude of the blast. 

"You look deranged," Maddie says, laughing.

"I feel deranged." He's been like this all week and it's starting to scare everyone. Chimney keeps leaving pamphlets for Clozaril in his locker. "Tomorrow morning. We're picking up the bird right after we do a coffee run."

"I wish my boyfriend was whisking me away to the mountains for a romantic getaway." Maddie heaves a theatrical sigh. "My husband says the best he can do is Shake Shack."

The whole thing is absolutely bonkers. He'd been minding his own business, half-watching a documentary about volcanoes with his feet in Tommy's lap, when they showed some insanely beautiful footage of Mount Rainier. And although his mind was focused on completing level 29 of Euclidea, his mouth was busy saying, "I've always wanted to go there." 

Thumb digging into Buck's instep, Tommy had made a thoughtful sound and said, "I'd tapped a buddy of mine to get us into Griffith Observatory after hours, but I like your idea way better. Let's do it."

If someone had told Buck 1.0 that someday a beast of a man would be flying him by helicopter to the Cascades for their two-year anniversary, he would've laughed his way into a pneumothorax. And then he would've tried to fuck his nurse. 

He looks across the living room to where their bags have been sitting, fully packed, since last night, and grins. "Tell Chim he needs to step up his game. You're worth Zankou, at least."

Maddie snorts. "Gee, thanks."

Behind her, there's unexpected movement, and every muscle in his body locks up as his heart stops in a moment of brief, blinding terror. 

It's stupid to feel this way after seven years, but a little part of him is still waiting for Doug to crawl out of the shadows like a wraith to finish what he tried to do. He's spent many a sleepless night spiraling to the soundtrack of Chimney's desperate, Do you know he's dead for sure? Did you see a body?

Buck did see his body, but a little voice sometimes whispers to him from some deep, dark place at two in the morning: it was freezing that day. It could've slowed the bleeding, could've kept him alive long enough to go to a hospital. You don't know what happened after the ambulance left with him. What if he survived? What if he's out there right now, just biding his time?

Which are bad and ridiculous thoughts to have because he knows that monster is dead, and frankly he's got better things to think about than Doug, who's absolutely having his skin torn off in hell right now—especially since his adorable, perfect niece is the one who came into the room. 

"Say hi to your uncle, Jee," Maddie says, smiling. In her hands, a pair of polka dot leggings becomes a polka dot brick with hospital corners. 

Jee-Yun jumps a little like she can't quite see him, and Maddie goes over to the dresser to obligingly tilt the camera down. 

"Hi, Uncle Buck." Jee-Yun waves, then rises an inch or two higher in the frame, and he realizes she's standing on her tiptoes. She cranes her head, moving it a bit from side to side like she's looking for something. After a few seconds, she drops back down, grimacing in disappointment.

He looks over his shoulder, but no one's there. "Sorry, kiddo, it's just me."

"Just you is fine, always," Maddie immediately pipes up, and he ducks his head with a smile. It's always nice to hear her say that. "It's just that… well, she had a question and we weren't sure if you were the one we should be asking."

Buck grins. "Lay it on me, Jee."

It's always a little hilarious to watch how Jee reacts when the spotlight's on her. She bounces and twirls a little, and her whale-spout pigtails move with her. For someone getting ready to enter kindergarten, she's got the stage presence of a Broadway star. "Uncle Buck, how do airplanes fly when they're so big and heavy?"

He opens his mouth to answer her, but there's nothing there, just an empty pocket of air that tastes vaguely like the ham sandwich he had for lunch. He closes his mouth with a click, stymied. He could've sworn he knew this one. Something about lift and drag?

"Jee, I-I'm sorry. I don't know off the top of my head. I could look it up for you?"

A little groan escapes her, but it turns into a shriek when a tie-dyed sweatshirt comes winging from off-camera and lands on her head. Jee wrestles the shirt away, static making her hair cling to her face, which she swipes with a whine. 

"That's why I wanted to ask Uncle Tommy!"

Buck has forgotten a lot about the tsunami. Time has softened the memory of how warm the water was, how it shoved its way into his mouth and nostrils like it was trying to find a way inside his veins, and that it was filled with so much debris it scored the insides of his cheeks bloody. But the one thing he never lost was how his feet went out from under him when that first wave hit like a freight train. He hasn't been able to ride a roller coaster since: he doesn't see the need to pay to experience the feeling of free fall again. He remembers every second of it like it just happened. 

He may be sitting on the couch with his feet firmly on the floor, but his stomach is thrilling at the familiar sensation of being completely unmoored. Only instead of being dragged into the dark, he's being pulled up into endless blue. 

Breathless with stratospheric joy, he digs his trembling fingers into his knees like it's going to do anything to keep him grounded, and chokes out, "Who, Jee?"

The look Jee turns on the camera is so confused that Buck isn't sure he was even using real words just then. It could've been a jumble of sounds falling from his mouth like aquarium gravel. 

"Uncle Tommy," Jee says, with the patient air of someone who forgot they were talking to an idiot. "It's okay if you don't know about airplanes, Uncle Buck. You drive fire trucks."

He's pretty sure he was just insulted. Behind Jee, Maddie's wide-eyed and mouthing an ecstatic oh my god! 

"Tell you what. When—" he swallows thickly, overcome "—Uncle Tommy wakes up from his nap, I'll have him call you and he can tell you all about how planes stay up in the air."

She mulls it over, and he can see the outline of her tongue poking the inside of her cheek like she's swishing the offer around in her mouth. Finally, she gives him two decisive nods of her head that has her pigtails bouncing. "Okay. When's that?"

"I-I don't know. Soon." If the lightning had struck a few feet away from him instead of dead-on, he thinks it would've felt like this. Any second now he's going to vibrate out of his skin and scar Jee for life. "Maybe I should go check on him." 

"I think that's a good idea," Maddie says cheerfully, coming into the foreground. Her eyes are glossy and red, and even with two screens and several miles between them it feels like she's about to wrap him up in the warmest hug. "Why don't we let you go for now? Uncle Tommy can give us a buzz later."

"Yeah, t-that sounds like a plan." He knows he's rocking the deranged look again, except it's somehow so much worse. He doesn't care. He hopes his face gets stuck like this. When he rolls into the station two weeks from tomorrow, he's going to take every pamphlet Chimney shoves at him and eat them.

Maddie's grin is threatening to split her face in half. "Give Uncle Tommy a big kiss from us."

He's going to do way more than that. "You bet. Bye, Mads. Bye, Jee!"

The very second the call ends, he's on his feet and practically running down the hall. Tommy had been coming off a rough 24 earlier when he'd sloppily kissed Buck and then staggered into the bedroom. It's been almost three hours and Buck hasn't heard a peep since. 

Buck makes sure to lift the bedroom door when he opens it so the hinges don't creak, and when he sees Tommy—sprawled diagonally across the mattress with his jeans still on and enough drool soaked into the pillowcase to fill a bathtub—his knees decide it's the perfect time to stop working. He clutches the door frame so he doesn't crumble to the floor under the weight of all this euphoria.

Jee thinks of Tommy as family. It's not hard to figure out the logic she must be using to get there: she has an Uncle Buck, who has had a Tommy for as long as she's been making real memories, and therefore… 

He can't help but wonder who else in the world is operating on that same intel. Jee has no doubt told the teachers at her kindergarten about her mom and dad and her amazingly cool Uncle Buck, but maybe she's also told them about her other uncle, who always lets her ride on his shoulders when they go to the park and who talks to her like she's a forty-seven-year old at brunch. Maybe she's told kids at the playground about the uncle who knows why planes stay in the air and who folded himself into a pretzel because she wanted him to sit next to her at the kids' table last Friendsgiving. Maybe she's drawn shitty pictures in crayon of two stick figures holding hands under a smiling sun, and when her classmates ask who they're supposed to be, she tells them, "That's my Uncle Buck and my Uncle Tommy." 

Inhaling shakily, he makes himself move from the doorway to the bed, crawling in as gingerly as he can. It's all for nothing, though, because Tommy cracks an eye open and fixes it on him. Buck scrunches his face up in apology, but Tommy just smiles a little and tugs Buck down, pressing his face into the space between Buck's neck and shoulder and settling with a hum.

Buck slides a hand into his hair and holds him close, breathing in old sweat and a hint of his own shampoo. "I love you, Uncle Tommy."

"If this is a new kink, I'm going to need at least another two hours of sleep before I'm prepared to tackle it," Tommy mumbles. 

Choking on laughter, Buck presses a kiss to the side of his head and wonders if it's possible to die of happiness. "Not quite. Your niece has a question about airplanes and wants you to call her when you wake up."

When there's no immediate answer, Buck is sure Tommy's fallen back to sleep, but then Tommy shifts a little in his arms, presses a kiss to his shoulder, and murmurs warmly, "Will do."

[p0ssywhippedcream]

Zuko has been with the gang for a while now and you've been able to teach him how to do most any chore. He can set up tents, bathe Appa and even dry clothes off without lighting them on fire (it happened a couple times tho). But the one thing he just can't get is cooking.

He stands beside you as you lower a pot over the fire gently, his eyebrows knitted. He watches as you angle it so there's no chance of it falling as it small bubbles appear; signaling its commence of boiling. You sit down on a flat stone and take out a small knife, gesturing a c'mere motion with the blade.

"Can you hand me the tomatoes?" He grabs them and passes them over, ears flushing when your hand brushes his.

"You're going to boil them?" You giggle and shake your head.

"No, this is for the broth and the beef. Everybody has been craving it but Aang is a vegetarian, remember?"

He nods and pops a squat next to you on a large rock. Your ankles touch and his toes flex. "You're making him something separate." You agreed with a hum and begin to slice the fruit over a bowl in your lap.

"That's nice of you." You glance up briefly and give him a sheepish grin. He finds it endearing.

As you focus your attention back to the task at hand, Zuko wonders what he should say next. Before he can really consider it, you toss a piece of tomato at Momo and ask, "Your uncle makes tea right?"

"Uh, yeah. Uncle loves tea."

"How come you haven't learned how to?"

He doesn't want to admit that he didn't pay attention when he should've, when he had time to notice how Iroh did it. "I wasn't taught."

"Do you want me to teach you?" You look up and pause your slicing. The bowl has a small stack of tomato piled inside that tumbles when you shake it.

"I'm not very good at uh.. making things." You snicker, remembering when he burned lettuce a couple weeks ago.

"Yeah, I noticed," You smile to let him know you're teasing and he returns it a little shyer. "I could, though. Teach you. You don't have to be good at it."

"What's the point of teaching me if I'm not good at it?"

"I like spending time with you." You shrug and reach for an avocado across him. Your arm is just too short and he takes the opportunity to grab it for you, turning his head so you don't see his blush. "And you'd get the hang of it, tea is like.. your birthright."

Zuko chuckles. He always thought his birthright was violence. He wonders if it still is. He doesn't say that. "Because Uncle owned a tea shop?"

"Yeah," You laugh, "And you can use your fire bending, yunno? But I'm not sure if you have the patience for it."

"Why's that?" Suddenly Sokka is next to him, holding a pile of sticks and asking you where you want them. You point next to the fire and notice the water jumping in the pot. Standing up, you motion for the broth ingredients and Zuko hands you the pre-mixed bowl. Sokka is quickly distracted by Toph demanding to know where Aang went and Zuko turns back to you.

The crackle of the fire comforts the atmosphere as the sun sets, giving your face an orange hue that dances dramatically from your chin to your nose. You tuck a piece of hair away and Zuko can see the way your eyes glitter in the soft glow, your pupils swallowing the color of their rims.

It's silent for a bit, Zuko simply watching as you stir the pot and occasionally call out for Sokka and Toph to stop arguing. You set down the ladle and pick up a bowl of assorted vegetables and fruits, passing it to Zuko.

"Can you find that bread from the village? I think it's in Katara's bag?" He disappears to rummage and returns holding a half-eaten loaf.

"Okay, that should be enough," You remark as you turn away from cooking and towards his returning figure. You make eye contact with him and your nose wrinkles in the moonlight as you smile, "Can you cut that in half and make a sandwich?"

He sits down and follows your instructions, first wiping the knife you'd used earlier before slipping it in the loaf and beginning to separate it. His dominant hand slices down as he keeps it steady in the other and as he gets to the end, he takes his chance to look at you.

Your feet are bare on the ground, a little dirty and as you shift from side to side, your heels lift enough he can see your bridges. A daffodil is stuck to the bottom of your left foot, staring at him before being engulfed in a step again. You move around the pot, pushing the ingredients stuck to the side back in the middle and the flower is left upside down on a rock.

His finger burns in pain and he notices a small cut. He had finished slicing the bread and had dug into his hand. Cursing, he sets aside your assignment and stands up holding his hand as blood flows slowly. You notice immediately and rush over. You bend down and rip a bit of your skirt, wrapping it around his hand and shushing him back down onto the rock again.

"It's not too deep, you should be okay." He nods, hissing as the fabric rubs the sensitive flesh. "It hurts?"

"Yeah." You press his hand towards you, checking it again and clutching it from the palm.

"You can go back to cooking." You look up at him confused and he continues, "It might burn."

"It's fine, it needs to marinate. You need my attention more."

The firelight covers the furious burning of his face, "Are you sure? It's a small cut."

Your expression is hard to see in the dark but the coy fluttering of your features is obvious enough. You're nervous, and a shade darker on your cheeks and oh, you're blushing too.

"I care about you." You murmur and it's a blessing he hears it.

"I- I care about you too," He offers, the urge to look away would be worse if you weren't already doing that. He watches the twitch of your nose as your smile takes your lips again. You meet his gaze and he realizes how close you are. He feels your hot breath on his face and leans in just a bit more. "You look really... really pretty."

Your eyes crinkle in the corners as your mouth spreads wider and reveals your teeth, dimples making his heart flutter as he confesses, "You're glowing. The- the fire makes you glow."

You digest his words with a gentle laugh covered by your hand. "Yeah," You pause and quirk your head to the side, "You do."

He wants to faint and of course he doesn't know what to say. You help him out again and suddenly your nose is brushing his. "You like me?"

He nods because he's not sure he can speak without squeaking.

"I like you too.." Your words are felt on his lips as you get even closer. Your eyes dart across his face, seemingly checking for affirmation before your mouth is on his and all the blood rushes to his head. His hand comes up to hold your head as he kisses you back. For a second, it's so amazing as you lick across his bottom lip until pain is shooting up his hand and he has to pull away.

Your hair had brushed his still open cut and he cradled his hand a little closer to himself as you re-examine it. "Sorry.."

Zuko looks at you like you're crazy, "Don't be sorry."

You glance up and away, still flustered.

"I've liked you for so long," His admission fills the night wind and you prompt him to continue with wide eyes. He's a little quieter as he finishes with, "Since Ba Sing Se."

He misses your voice dearly as he waits for your answer. He gets it in the form of giggles ticklish as butterflies. He watches you with curiosity until you say, "I was wrong, you are patient."

He laughs too now and you both shake beside the fire with hands holding bellies. The spurt of broth leaping out of the pot brings you back and you scramble up to stir it. Zuko watches as you step over the daffodil again and it flips upright, showing him that it was two, smushed so closely it looked like one. He looks up at you in admiration as you taste the stew and feels a surge of affection for whatever luck landed him at your side tonight.

"You were wrong too," His face contorts in confusion and you elaborate, "You're good at making things... you made me like you."

He's the luckiest guy in the fire nation. He goes to tell you but you speak first. "And I want to teach you how to make tea, but I think I should let Iroh. When we find him."

Zuko's left with a mouth hanging open and a heart stuck between missing his Uncle and loving you for all your kindness and thoughtful nature. He settles on both. "I don't know if he'll forgive me."

You make a strange face as you gaze at him over the open flame, it looks intense in the orange heat. "You don't give his love for you enough credit."

Then you're coming over and pecking him on the cheek, making him dizzy again. You bring your lips to his ear and whisper "I think he'll do anything if you let him teach you to make tea."

His smile is warm and flustered when you teasingly add, "I would, and I like you a little bit less than he does."

[harunayuuka2060]

Diavolo: *reading MC's resignation letter*

Diavolo: ...

Diavolo: What's the reason, MC? You've been doing so well.

MC: *gives him a tired smile* I am exhausted. That's the only reason I have.

Diavolo: Then I'll give you days to rest. I won't approve this resignation.

MC: ...

MC: I would ask you to reconsider.

Diavolo: ...

Barbatos: MC, the young master has his priorities in line. Would you mind waiting for his answer?

MC: ...

MC: I'll try. Please excuse me. *then takes their leave*

Diavolo: ...

Diavolo: What happened to them, Barbatos?

Barbatos: It seems you haven't received the news yet, my lord. Regarding the recent event.

Diavolo: What is it?

MC: *is finishing up all the remaining work in the House Of Lamentation*

The brothers (except Lucifer): *who have been observing them*

Asmo: Mammon, this is your chance now to apologize. You too, Levi, Belphie.

Mammon: Wh-Why do I need to apologize?! It was their fault they got shoved off the railing!

Mammon: They could've used their magic to stop us, y'know!

Satan: Mammon, you idiot—

MC: ...

MC: *walks silently to the other room*

Mammon: ...

Levi: I think they're still mad...

Belphie: We should let them cool down first. I'll approach them when they're no longer mad at us.

Beel: I'll buy them some food. That will make them feel better.

Asmo: Mammon, your only job is to apologize and you can't do it right.

Asmo: Why do you always have to use that non-existent pride of yours? It's getting annoying.

Mammon: Huh?! Who's annoying?!

MC: *enters Lucifer's study*

Lucifer: MC—

MC: I'm done with all the chores.

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: I see. Why don't you take a seat first?

MC: I would like to, but we would only be wasting each other's time.

MC: I'm only here to inform you that I will not be working here starting tomorrow.

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: Diavolo didn't approve your resignation.

MC: But that can't stop me from leaving.

Lucifer: MC, you're being unreasonable right now.

MC: Maybe I am. Though I can't deny to myself that I'm really exhausted.

MC: I'm exhausted from all of this.

MC: All I want is to leave and get away.

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: If it is the power you need, I'll give it to you.

MC: ...

MC: I've already given up on that.

MC: I choose to be an ordinary human this time.

Lucifer: ...

Solomon: ...

Solomon: You're just going to leave me?

MC: I'm sorry, Solomon. You must be disappointed with me right now.

Solomon: ...

Solomon: No. I was never disappointed and never will be.

Solomon: I understand why you're doing this.

Solomon: *hugs MC* However, if it's fine with you, I want to join you in the human world.

Solomon: This is a different timeline. And I want to keep you safe.

MC: ...

MC: *hugs him back* Wouldn't it be great if I could really take you with me?

Solomon: MC...

MC: Thank you, Solomon. I won't ever forget you.

Barbatos: Are you certain about your decision?

MC: Yes.

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: You're aware that I would never disobey the young master.

MC: *smiles* I apologize for the trouble, Barbatos.

MC: I hope one day, I can make it up to you.

Barbatos: ...

Barbatos: *smiles back* I'll be hoping for that as well.

Solomon: ...

Solomon: MC? What happened to you?

MC: *forced a smile* I had an accident. *has an injured leg*

Solomon: You should've called me instead of forcing yourself to walk here.

MC: ...

MC: Solomon, it's completely gone now.

Solomon: *looks at them, shocked* What?

MC: I almost died today. The brothers got rowdy again and... I accidentally got pushed off the railing. *chuckles* Good thing there was a soft cushion below.

Solomon: MC...

MC: ...

MC: If only you have seen their confused faces...

Solomon: ...

[jumbojazzcats93]

Should've been a Cowboy - Soap

Summary - Cowboy Johnny has a penchant for keeping a woman on her toes.

Tags/Warnings - Should've been a Cowboy by Toby Keith, MDNI 18+, smut, cussing, drinking, biting, anxiety, religious values, old fashioned mindsets, part 1 of ????

@glossysoap @lordlydragon @grizzersmamma @ivymarquis @gremlingottoosilly @quietlyignoringyou @violet-phantoms @ghastlybirdie Banners by @/saradika-graphics

A woman living alone in the prairie was a risk. Bandits or crude cowboys could come along whenever they wanted and wreak havoc on your little homestead. By the grace of God, it never happened, but the threat was always there.

Your livestock guardian dogs would alert if any uninvited guests appeared, but the nights were always relatively uneventful. Stray coyotes came to test the worth of your dogs, but you'd never been given instance to doubt their abilities. It's why you jumped sky high, 2 steps out onto your front porch when you went out for your morning chores on the farm. A large body laid limp in your rocking chair; boots still on and hat drawn down over his eyes. Your 2, apparently worthless, dogs were laying next to the man's feet, sheepishly wagging at the sight of you.

You snatched the towel from your belt and began whipping at him with it. "Johnny MacTavish! How dare you sleep on my porch!" Johnny flings himself from the chair, stumbling to the ground. Your towel finds him over and over, "Stop, Lass! Please, I'm sorry!" His hand finally grabs a hold of the towel, "I didn't wanna wake ya up last night!" You stare at him on the ground as you both held tightly onto the towel... before releasing it and letting him fall back. Hands on your hips, you looked down at him, "You scared me!" He slowly sat up with a sheepish smile and you sighed, fighting against your own smile with pursed lips. "Come on inside and get cleaned up, then." Snatching your towel back from him and turning to the door, you glanced back at him still sprawled on your porch as you headed back inside.

One bath later and you're cleaning up your kitchen while Johnny's sat at your dining table scarfing down the fresh breakfast you'd made him. You'd zoned out; staring out the window at the extra horse that now grazed in your pasture. "I missed you, dearie." Warm breath whispered against your neck, jolting you out of your daze. His strong arms slid around your waist in a soothing effort. "It's been so long... what were you doing?", you questioned. Johnny squeezes his arms and presses his face into the crook of your neck, "Well... I won't taint your lovely mind with such gritty tales." You hummed absently. "Dont fret, bonnie girl... You know I always come back."

That he did... but he would never stay long.

Coming into the parlour room at the end of the day felt odd. Seeing Johnny fast asleep in one of your arm chairs makes you wonder, again, what he had been doing all this time. Normally, he'd never be away longer than a month, but this time you'd been alone for almost 8 months. At first, you'd wait on the porch some nights. By the end of the second month, some nights became every night, and by the end of the fourth month you'd given up on the idea of him coming back. You're not really sure if the things he did were legal, if he had other women. He never went into detail about his exploits, but you always knew it was safer not knowing.

You sit on the arm chair opposite to him with a cup of strong cider. A new and nasty little habit you'd had to hide from the other ladies in your congregation when they came to visit. They'd been wanting so badly for you to marry and had no idea why you'd been so disinterested in all the suitors that had come from town. Your eyes focuse in on Johnny. Watching him sleep put you at ease for the time being. He never wanted anything from you, but that was half the problem. Other men saw something material to gain when they approached you. Your farm and all your property were a great asset after all. Johnny was straightforward. He wanted nothing, but your attention when he was here.

When was the key word. People in town would be scandalized to know of his irregular presence in your home.

Before you knew it your cup was dry. Sighing and briefly clenching the cup in your hands, you stood from your seat. "Johnny...", you called out gently to his sleeping mass. He made no move to wake as you slowly approached. The firelight lit his tan skin in such a complementary way that you let out an appreciative sigh. Shirt slightly unbuttoned, legs spread wide, his body slumped into the chair with his head lolled to the side. "Johnny.", you called louder. A lack of response made you come closer until you stood between his legs. Reaching out, you ran a hand up his chest to his neck where you brushed your thumb across his cheek. His head shifted to rest against your hand and he peeked one eye open. "Coming onto a man while he sleeps is rather uncouth now, dearie." An uncontrollable smile broke out on your face in response.

His hand grabbed yours and slid it to his lips for a kiss while his other hand grabbed the waistline of your skirt to pull you closer. Tired eyes held yours as another kiss was placed against your palm. Your knee rested on the cushion between his thighs; a deep inhale and his eyes fluttering shut were the only indication he had felt your knee pressing against the crotch of his pants. "Come to bed?", you whispered. After a pregnant pause, he dramatically slumps back into the seat, "Carry me." You scoff a laugh and pull yourself free from him. He grabs at you like a phantom. You're just barely out of his immediate reach.

"If you're not upstairs by the time I'm out of my day wear, you'll be locked out for the night." An empty threat that you know he knows, but he gives a dramatic start anyways. "You wouldn't dare.", he counters dramatically. You back up slowly as he rises, both of you wearing playful grins. By the time he's chasing you up the steps, the brightness of his smile has left your relentless worries in the shadows.

The boards of the second floor groan under your hurried and careless steps. Johnny has you cornered in the upstairs hallway within seconds. His eyes are alight with something wild and his canines glint in the candle light as he grins from ear to ear. Your heart is hammering in excitement within your chest. You reach out a hand to touch his chest as he draws nearer. Your fingers brush against his exposed skin as your back thumps against the wall. Eyes meet and he looks feral. You can only imagine what you look like to him with your skin flushed from drink, hair sitting loose after your playful chase. His eyes shift to your hair as he reaches for a loose lock and gently twirls it around his finger, murmuring, "You should know better than to play games with me when I've been away for so long, lass." Johnny slides his finger down your throat, following it with his gaze. You lick your lips and his eyes lock onto the movement.

"You've been rather cold to me all day." He muses and looks up to meet your eyes. "I did miss you.", he reaffirms.

It's almost jarring to be reminded of your unease and uncertainty in this state. The questions about where he'd been and who he'd been with. Were there other women like you? Did he really think of you when he was gone? Why had he been away so long this time?

A warm hand runs firmly from the top of your breast up to your neck until two hands are tilting your head up and your eyes are focusing back in on Johnny. "Don't think about it so much."

"I thought you'd gone home to Scotland... and I'd never see you again."

Your words are quiet. He sighs deep with his thumb brushing your cheek affectionatly as he leans in and kisses you. It's avoidant of him, but it's nothing new... so you let it go. Give in to him knowing it'll just drive him away if you don't.

You let him pick you up and carry you into your bedroom. As he lays you down on your bed, your skirt slides up your legs drawing his attention. Johnny falls to his knees in front of you; taking your leg and throwing it over his shoulder, he laves wet kisses along your inner thigh. Upon reaching the softest part, he bites down making you gasp out. The bite is hard enough to know that the mark left behind will bruise before the night is over. Johnny pulls your underwear down and your heart races. It's another thing the ladies of your congregation would be scandalized by; premarital sex. It was even worse that you had no defined relationship with Johnny. You'd been personally, religiously, and if anyone found out, socially ruined for any other man.

Your arm flew up to cover your face and Johnny chuckled at your embarrassment. His fingers graze your cunt before slowly pressing in. Your face pressing deeper into your arm. It wasn't like you'd never laid with Johnny before, but 8 months was a long time and you'd forgotten the intensity of it all. Suddenly, his fingers are pulling out of you and his tongue licks a fat stripe up your slit before sucking on your clit causing you to jolt forward a bit and squeal. "Eeeaasy, lass." Johnny shushes you as he stands up, undoing his jeans. You watch wide eyed as he pulls his cock out. He reaches out, dragging his fingers along your slit to collect your juices and uses it to wet his cock. "Take a deep breath for me, dearie." A smirk creeps onto his face, "I'm sure you've been waiting for me like a proper little lady."

The feeling when he slides his cock into you is electrifying and it has you letting out a soft, shakey moan. He starts with shallow, gentle thrusts. Taking your legs and wrapping them around his hips, he props one knee on the bed. His hands slide up your thighs until he's gripping your hips. When you look back up at his face, he's watching you. The way you look at him must spark something because he suddenly grabs your thighs and presses them right up to your chest. While it's something he's done before, it's been so long that the sensation is just too overwhelming. You moan loudly, struggling in his hold a bit as he starts to lose that gracious bit of gentleness he'd afforded you. His thrusts are an even pace, but their hard; striking your gspot everytime. In this position you know you won't last very long. You're clenching tightly on his cock, an absolute moaning mess as he fucks you.

Johnny lets go of your thighs and leans forward onto his hands. Still thrusting into you, he reaches one hand to your face, brushing his thumb over your lips. You moan and he slides his fingers into your mouth. The ones previously inside your cunt. You're holding his stare while you suck on his fingers. His mouth hangs open, panting and his shaggy Mohawk sticks to his forehead with sweat. In a defiant move you bite down. Not enough to hurt, but enough to elicit a reaction. His hips buck erratically when you do causing you to moan his name and let his fingers go. His hand is instantly on your jaw forcing you to look at him. "What a brave little lass you are, biting me." His chuckle and aggressive tone strike through your body and make your pussy clench. "Ahh... yeah, love, I knew you liked it a little rough." He reaches his free hand down as he speaks and slaps your clit. "Just took a little while for you to show it."

Your orgasm is building up the more he teases you, all you can do is nod and moan eagerly in agreement, praying he doesn't stop. You grab onto his forearms and look down to watch his cock as he fucks it into you. The way your body reacts must be so familiar to him at this point because he slows down and grinds into you, still playing with your clit as he feels you reach the start of your orgasm. Your pussy spasms wildly as you cum. Your head falls back and your stomach clenches while your loud moans fill the house. Johnny's groaning is drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears as you relax. He's fucking you through your orgasm to desperately reach his own and it doesn't take long. With a whispered, "Fuck." His thrusts become frantic, his panting gets louder until he quickly pulls out and grabs your hand; guiding you to jerk him off. His hand squeezes and guides yours until he's cumming all over your stomach and cunt with a loud moan. His hips buck involuntarily as he overstimulates himself.

Your gentle puffs mix with his heavy pants. You watch his body jolt as you let go of his cock and use your clean hand to reach out to his face. Your hand slides from his cheek to the back of his neck. He's leaning down before you even have to pull him. Leaning up and meeting him in the middle, you share a final heated kiss.

[notlhecxzsa]

Sorry - Scarlett Johansson

Warnings: Angsty, slightly mean Scarlett (she's a literal baby at the end!), sad reader

Sum: Aftermath of the fight between Y/n and Scarlett

Scarlett JohanssonXFem!Reader

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No one's POV:

You didn't remember the reason why the two of you started to fight anymore. Hours and hours of shouting here and there with so many different topics coming up in every seconds. You just confronted her on being so busy this days, i mean, you know and understand her line with work, but this past few weeks you felt as if you're just a chore for her.

Why is it so hard for her to understand where you are coming from? Because as the shouting gone by, she's flipping the table, and she's coming at you, saying things that's not true, which really hurt you. While Scarlett, is just too tired and exhausted from work, that her anger got triggered when you confronted her, and became too blinded on where you are coming from.

They said that these things, the fightings, is normal in a relationship, but it gets really tiring, so after the last sentence she shouted at you which is "Fuck, why can't you just shut the fuck up?! Can't you understand it? I'm working, and i've been busy!". You just shut your mouth, and made your way to the kitchen.

She made you felt as if you're in the wrong, as if you're the wrong one here, while all you just wanted is a free time from her, it may just be an hour or two, you didn't really care, because all you wanted was her, but now, she took the confrontation the other way.

So, currently, you're here at the kitchen, cooking dinner, while she went upstairs to take a very much needed shower. Even though you're very upset at her, the care you have for her still didn't go away, and the fact that she's tired and exhausted from work, makes you feel like you should still make her feel all better and cared for, that's how you love her.

Now, back to Scarlett, as she take a shower, her mind went back on earlier moments, analyzing and calculating your words, and her words, trying to make out on who's truly wrong. A fight that started from a small conversation. As her mind became wider and more clearer, she realized that she's the one who's in fault.

Because, as much as she don't want to believe it, she been so busy, so busy that her busyness makes her almost forgot about you. Her heart swell in guiltiness, and regrets because of the things she said to you. It almost made her angry with herself, on how dumb she is for not seeing through you, and for not understanding you well.

So, after she's done and all clean up, she quickly turned the shower off, then drying off and putting a much more comfortable clothes on. Then going down the stairs to look for her girl, only to be met by the smell of her favorite food. All she wants to do is to hug you, say sorry, and to whisper comforting words. Her wandering stopped until she found you in the kitchen, and only now did she notice that you're wearing her clothes, from head to toe, it's all of her clothes, it only made her realized more of how much you have really missed her.

And god, don't you look so cute and adorable wearing her clothes that are bigger than you.

Calmly making her way over to you, stoping when she's just behind you, peaking over on what you are cooking, as her arms found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to her until your back touches her front. Even though you don't really want to be near her at the moment, you just let her.

"That smells amazing, my love." She whispered lovingly in your ear, but you made no move and just continued cooking.

Hmp, she deserves this.

"I'm sorry, baby..." Once again, she was met by silence. "I'm really really really sorry, i should've known, im just really tired and exhausted that's why i snapped out, i don't even know where the words i said came from. I'm really sorry, please forgive me." She begged, hiding her face on the crook of your neck, as her hands snaked inside the shirt you are wearing, her fingertips dancing around you tummy soothingly.

She kept begging and apologizing, showering you with kisses, attention, and sweet words. But, you made no action on paying any mind to her.

Now, it's time to eat, but you're still ignoring her, you just eat, while she stared at you. You're halfway, and her stare is really bothering you, plus, the food is getting cold, and ofcourse, you being the caring girlfriend, and with the looks she's giving you, you know she won't eat until you talk to her.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Your voice is calm, it's not as warm as it used to be, but it's not that cold either.

"I am." She squeaked out, she sounds like she's fighting her tears, making you look up.

"Then what are you waiting for? The food will get cold." You said, pointing at the food.

"Talk to me, then I'll eat." She said, her voice is now breaking, her heart cannot contain the pain of you, ignoring her as if she's not there.

"Am i not talking to you right now?" You ask with a raise of an eyebrow, as if it's the most obvious thing. She shook her head, and you see tears started to brim out of her eyes, making you feel bad for the way you're treating her.

Damn, she's so sorry already, why can't you just accept it then move on. But, you want her to feel how you felt, you have valid reasons.

"I'm saying sorry to you, and you won't even acknowledge me." She said, which came out as a whisper as tears fell out of her eyes, which she quickly wipe, then lean back on her chair, looking forward at the plate, avoiding your gaze.

And now, if you would look at your peripheral vision, Scarlett looks like a kid who is being scolded by her mother for not wanting to eat.

You almost felt bad just by looking at her, but it's making you laugh at the same time for how she is acting. Such a baby.

"Okay, sorry, i just- i just thought you would understand what i felt and realized what you did, which i think you do. I wil accept your apology, only if you promise me that you won't do that again." You said now more softly and warm, just how she loves.

"I promise, im really sorry, i really promise to have more time with you, and give you more attention that you deserve." She said, looking at you pleadingly and convincingly, then reaching out to hold you hand.

"Look, im not asking for so much, because i know you're a very busy person, i knew that from the first day i met you. But, an hour or two with you is enough, that's all im asking." You said, softly.

It makes her heart clench on how you're very desperate on having her by your side, it's just a very simple thing that she can't give you, a very simple, but a very heart-warming gesture. You just want her, while all she does is work.

"I'm really sorry, baby..." She started, as she reach over to pull you in her embrace. "I promise, i will give you more than just an hour or two, okay? I will take a break from work, and then we'll go on a vacation, just the two of us, how about that? Would you like that, my love?" She ask softly, hooking her index finger on your chin, making you look up at her.

"You don't have to do that, im just asking yo-" You tried to reason, not wanting to be a burden or anything to stop your girlfriend from doing her work, but you were cut off by Scarlett.

"Shhh, i want to, okay? I want to make it up to you, im just giving you what you deserve, plus we would really need that, i've been busy, and work is really hectic, plus, we would have much more time with each other. Work is nearly done anyways. Pleaseeee?" She begged as she gave you a puppy eyes at the end, making you sigh in defeat.

I mean, the idea of going on a vacation, just the two of you, no works, or anything that can interrupt the both of you, is a good thing right? No, it's amazing.

"Okay, okay, fine. We'll go." You said, and smiled softly at her, which she returned with much more big smile. She lean in to kiss you, and you met her halfway.

The kiss is deep, full of love and passion, but before it can lead to something more, you quickly pull away, much to her dismay.

"Okay, okay, stop, let's eat." You said, chuckling when she groaned.

"Why do we even need to eat?! We're just gonna poop it out anyways." She whined, making you slap her playfully.

"Hey, we're infront of the food." You scolded her while laughing, which made her laugh too, and said a small 'sorry'.

Before she started to eat, she softly capture your face with one hand, and gave your pink plump lips a multiple pecks, that you needed to stop her because she doesn't want to stop.

"Okay, big baby, you're being too spoiled with so many kisses already." You teased, and she pouted, but it quickly go away when you gave her a kiss.

"Now, go on, eat up." You said, which she quickly obliged.

"I love you." She said lovingly, before shoving a food in her mouth.

"I love you too."

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[webslingingslasher]

trouble asking peter if they're still friends after a fight bc not only are they lovers but also best friends🥲❤️‍🩹

it's been hours since the argument. you've both talked it out, apologized and made up to each other. so why do you still feel unsettled?

'peter?'

you scoot backwards on the bed until you bump his back with yours. 'peter?' you bounce against him, you earn an unhappy whine.

'peter?'

'what?' peter's talking like he's in a library.

you barely rest against him, you're scared you'll annoy him even more with your touch. maybe you shouldn't have woken him up, you might've just dug a deeper hole for yourself.

you stay silent, he might just think you were sleeptalking. peter doesn't buy it for a second. normally he'd be totally fine with going back to sleep but he can always sense when you're upset and really need him.

'please tell me you didn't wake me up just to pretend to be asleep.'

you turn to lightly scratch his back, he hums and arches into your touch. 'it's stupid, sorry for waking you up.' peter could leave it there, but he's a damn good boyfriend.

'tell me.' he's already awake, what's the harm in a light conversation?

biting the bullet, you ask the looming question on your mind.

'are we still friends?'

peter rolls onto his back and looks up at you, your hand is nearly squished in the process. he's disoriented from sleep and you just threw him a curveball. you feel silly but it's important.

'what?' he heard you loud and clear, the randomness of the question caught him off guard.

'are we still friends?' peter relaxes into his bed, he's going right back to dreamland. 'trouble, you're my girlfriend.' that's not the answer you wanted.

'but i'm still your best friend, right?' your voice cracked with your ask, peter opens his arm for a cuddle and you stitch yourself into his side. 'of course you are,' it's solidified with a small peck at your hairline.

'even if i say mean things?' you were the reason for the fight, you jumped at peter the second he got home because he promised he'd do dishes and he didn't. it made you spew a dozen things you've been holding in and peter was caught off guard while you backed him into a corner.

you weren't nice, even when peter said he understood why you were upset. it took him softly humming as he rinsed out cups for you to realize how nasty you were. peter just let you go off on him, he told you he was sorry and he should've cleaned them before he left and he didn't forget, he just adjusted his schedule.

peter took your upset in stride and didn't bicker back. instead he agreed and told you he'd make sure to put his chores first and all it took was him humming for you to come to your senses.

you had tucked your tail between your legs and approached him, resting your forehead on his arm so you could hide the shame. 'i'm sorry.' you know there's more to add, you just needed to say it before anything else.

peter brushed off your apology, he said sorry for some things too. you both made dinner together as a patch to your argument and peter thought it ended in the kitchen but your mind is still replaying your mess up.

'you weren't mean, you were venting. it wasn't just about the dishes, it's how i started to slack off on everything because i got used to you offering. i've been a bad roommate and you called me out on it, i didn't take it as a personal attack on our relationship.'

it's true. peter wasn't used to having someone do his laundry or pick up the little messes he leaves behind and it reached a point where all he was starting to do was burden you, the dishes were just the final straw.

he doesn't hate you or resent you. but does he still like you?

'so are we still friends?' peter almost lets out a laugh but he holds it in for your sake. 'you're my best friend and my girlfriend, trouble. that's never going to change.'

'it isn't?'

'well,' peter kisses your shoulder and tightens his hold. 'until i give you a ring.' 

[burstinn]

OBSESSIVE

Obsessed! König x Male! Reader

Warnings and notes:

You have been kidnapped

No proofreading again lazy writing

Bad German/ some words are translated

Mentioning that you are just an ordinary guy that works in a cafe. Lee mao

You had a breakdown and are now unresponsive to König. Though the breakdown is not mentioned you are unresponsive now.

"Du bist mein Mann"

König would whisper in your ear, slowly caressing your face lovingly. He didn't care if you cried or screamed, he didn't care if you denied your love for him.

You are his Husband.

And you would learn that soon, you better learn it soon.

He would leave you in his basement for God knows how long. He hid you down here ever since.. He took you..

°°°

You are a normal man really. You work at a small Cafe inthe suburbs as an asisstant manager. You go to the grocers every Friday. You would greet the old lady to help her with her chores everytime you could.

You had a routine, you had a normal life.

Until he came, König he called himself.

"Ahh.. E.. Es Tut.. Mer.. I'm sorry are you closed?"

Though he looked and sounded intimidating, His eyes looked very.. Meek and nervous when you first met him.

König was wearing all dark clothes that day, a hoodie and mask covering his face. His towering figure over the counter almost scared you off into saying 'yes we're closed'. Maybe you should've just said you were closed. So you wouldn't be in this situation. Locked up under this house.

"Oh! No no don't worry! You can order don't worry. You can be my last customer"

You could only see a small shine of happiness and relief in his eyes when you said you were still open. You should've just told him to fuck off..

It was already tiring to clean the equipment and floors and after making his order you had to reclean in again. Past work hours. You should've left hours ago. But you decided to be nice that day... Why.

"I'm sorry.. How much should I pay?"

"It's okay, it's on the house.. You can have your order for free"

You smiled at him.

And that's when he would come over to the cafe.. Every time. He almost became a regular.

But König had strange breaks in between.

It would be 2 weeks, 6 months, 3 months, and 1 year.

He would never explain why, but you shouldn't really ask.. It's none of your business anyway.

You would simply put on a smile at him everytime, cheerily greeting him and already asking him if he was gonna have his same order.

Hell, you even just saved a room for him. A corner in the store, it's obvious by his first meeting he was an anxious man. And you felt for him so everytime maybe to ease him a bit.

You would always strike up a conversation. Even if he doesn't answer, you would talk.

And he eventually did start engaging in conversations. Slowly but surely he would become more lively around you.

He would ask you would answer, you would ask he would answer as well. It was good.

You even had a reason why he had strange long breaks in between visits to the cafe. Apparently, he is a Colonel of a military. What an interesting man, knows how to shout orders but can't speak properly when ordering something?

It was good. Life was good.

You had known König for long enough that you have his number, know his address and know everything about his simple interest.

So does he, even something simple you mentioned he would know. Even if you didn't remember you said that. It impressed you.

He would send you gifts even when he was still in his job in the military. One time he walked in wearing his uniform. Imagine your surprise when it was König, all wide eyed and mouth agape.

"Oh.. Hi! Uhm.. What's your order?"

"Hallo! I'll have my usual, bitte"

"... ", " König..?"

"Ja? Ich bin König!"

"OH MY GOD"

It was funny, he would even do it at times.. But it was obvious he would only do it just to tease you or make fun of you or something.

You would visit his house at times, funnily he would still cover his face around you.. Even though you were friends for like 7 or 8 years?

He even taught you some German.

You'd hang out with each other out of work if König or you had matching schedules to even hang out.

So you guys both plan ahead, never missing any hang outs. Lest one of you got an emergency call.

°°°

It was nice.. Simple.

You got a new friend, and you had a routine life.

All of that stopped when you got a text from König that he would be gone to the military for a few months. Of course you were saddened by that of course you sent your sad faces and good lucks.

Making your way to work, getting bombarded with customers. And annoyingly, having to fix a machine by yourself while you tell the rest of the employees to go home for the night. Really it just decided to break when it was way past the time to get home? Having to stay over work time once again really ticks people off. Especially when you don't get paid for your overtime.

Atleast the whole place was clean. You just needed to fix the machine, and it took about... You stayed there for 1.5 hours trying to fix it. Fucking dammit, An angry smashing of the plates and tables was an order but you were to tired to do any of that. Instead you make sure everything is in check before closing the lights, getting your stuff and locking the place up.

Fucking finally. You can go home and rest..

Walking your way back should've been simple, you should've been safe this was a tight knit community. Everyone knew everyone, even new comers. No one would try anything but you had to be the one.

All was well til you felt gloved hands grab you from behind. Shoving you hard against the ground, covering your mouth as they blindfolded you and gagged your mouth

Someone should've heard you, especially when you managed to slip away and ran for a few miles before getting caught again. Being dragged back to the dark..

"Bitte, es tut mer leid.. It's okay"

Imagine the betrayal, you stop struggling looking behind you to see your friend. Dragging you to his car and shoving you inside.. Not before tying you up. All the while apologizing and trying to explain something.

Not like you were listening, all that mattered was the fact you were being kidnapped by your best friend.

°°°

"Leibing, I'm back"

2 clicks then loud thuds coming from the stairs as he makes his way down to the makeshift room König prepared for you. A bed, a small bathroom, a small kitchen with all the supplies you needed. No knives, König was smart enough to think you would try to kill him.. But worse yourself. He can defend himself easily from you.

Especially that one time you managed to break off a piece from the cabinet and trying to stab him.

He made sure to lock you down here longer.

He's not a monster though. He knows you have a system to do things so every twice a week he would bring you outside. Monitored.

If he was out on his job, he would just open a makeshift window for you to bask in the sun while he was away.

He would always stock your food, even giving you snacks.

He gave you a T. V, books, magazines, small toys and games to keep yourself entertained.

He bought you new clothes, he brought you gifts from his travels.

"Liebe? Are you hiding?"

Peek around the corner. There you are. You're curled up in a ball. Tired and emotionless as usual.

"You haven't been sleeping again, have you?"

He walks over to you, wrapping you in his arms

" Ich liebe dich so sehr.. You know that right?"

"It's why I did this.. es ist für dich"

You don't answer

You stopped answering just a few weeks ago

König missed your old personality, where was the cheerful you? The one who would strike up the conversation first.

But König knew why, He knew the consequences way back when he planned on doing this.

He planned this for so long to have you.

He could live with the changes, He could live with the fact that you probably hate him now.

Stockholm Syndrome was his hope of you loving him back, but he knew it would take a while. He can be patient, he waited long enough.

He cupped your face, lifting up his hood slightly to give you a loving kiss.

You stopped fighting back as well.

"Ich kann auf dich warten"

[amourtoken]

Oh my god I've been talking to @as-above-so-below1000 about this but imagine your boyfriend being roommates with Matt and you end up moving in cause you're always over anyway. ALSO this isn't edited I did it at work forgive me I'll rewrite it to be even grosser asap

cw: cheating (deserved tbh), Matt's evil, raw sex, recording, oral (f receiving), breeding, overstimulation, daddy kink matt u know it, dacryphilia, praise (a miracle tbh), belly bulge, squirting, ect.

You thought moving in would mean your boyfriend would pay more attention to you but honestly it just feels like you're a glorified roommate even more now. You do your chores plus his, he spends more time out with other friends than he does at home and 99% of the time when he does get home he immediately goes to sleep so you've started to get restlessly lonely. During all these times, Matt's been quietly watching everything unfold. It irritates the shit out of him that not only is his roommate a lazy cunt but he's also not able to treat the girl WAY out of his league so much as slightly decent. He'd do so much fucking better and he knows it. At the very least, he'd make sure you didn't have to fake those moans he can hear across the apartment anymore, he could make you feel so much better.

Little does Matt know you're having the exact same thoughts! You feel bad about it deep down but fuck he treats you like a real person and at this point that's enough to get you on your knees. Matt constantly asks if you need help around the house, he shares his snacks with you, lounges on the couch and watches shitty reality TV without complaints. He also happily lets you come hang out in his room when you're feeling extra lonely, it started off with you just sitting at his desk or on the floor doing your own thing but didn't take long to evolve into full blown cuddling and sleepovers on his side of the apartment.

your boyfriend doesn't even clock that you've been walking around the house in Matt's oversized shirts and hoodies either, but it gets Matt so hard he gets fucking dizzy. I've said before this mf is territorial as hell and any way he can mark you as his, he's doing. He knows he could do so much more but he's saving it for when the time is right.

It's been a couple weeks since this whole arrangement started and you're still at least somewhat trying to be a decent girlfriend so you bit the bullet and planned a whole big date for your anniversary with your boyfriend. You got a dinner reservation, bought tickets to visit this huge aquarium you've raved about for months and begged to visit and you even bought the pretty little white sundress you have on while pacing your living room and sending text after text to your boyfriend asking where he is and when he'll be home. Matt nearly dropped dead when he saw you in that dress though, it hugs your curves just right and your hair and makeup are done so well too. You look stunning, the only thing marring up that pretty look is the stressed expression on your face.

When you looked up at him with those big teary puppy eyes he swears he's never been so mad in his life. You're explaining the entire ordeal and Matt is just seething, you're dolled up and gorgeous, even went through the trouble of planning this whole thing because your boyfriend wouldn't and this fucker can't even answer a call or show up for it? On your anniversary? Bullshit. You whined about how you should've just planned this date for you and Matt instead and that's when he decided he didn't wanna draw this plan out any longer, he was ending it today. You're not spending another second suffering.

Matt reaches up to try and wipe your tears away without messing up your makeup cause there's no way you're gonna be crying your pretty eyeliner off around him unless it's from him fucking you to tears.

"Please stop wasting your time on this fuck up and let me treat you right, sweetheart. You know I can make you feel so much better, stop lying to yourself."

He's right, you'd be lying if you truly said you thought anyone could treat you better than Matt who's become your best friend in just a few weeks. He does everything right and your boyfriend really did just ghost you on your anniversary, you should get back at him shouldn't you?

And you do. Matt doesn't waste any fucking time throwing you onto his bed and hiking that pretty little dress up your hips. He's wanted literally nothing more than this since you moved in and he's gonna enjoy every second of it. He has your legs over his shoulders and is lapping at your cunt until you're nearly in tears again right away. You can literally feel him smiling against your pussy, he's so fucking full of himself and he's just proving himself right in this moment cause you're pulling his hair and rolling your hips against his face while you're whining and begging for him to keep going. He's never heard you be so loud or genuine, so that's all the proof he needs. He's not satisfied until you're squeezing your thighs around his head like a vice and shaking like a leaf under him while he makes you cum on his tongue.

He's nowhere near done though, and had really planned on being gentle, but he hears your boyfriend pull up and his door close and decides right there that he'd save the softness for next time. Matt damn near folds you in half and is rubbing the tip of his cock right against your overly sensitive clit just to hear you whimper.

"Want this dick? I wanna hear you beg for it, baby. Tell daddy what you need"

Oh! Ofc he's into that. Not that it bugs you, your brain is so fuzzy you don't even think twice about begging for him to fuck you and dropping his name entirely in favor of calling him daddy. He happily "gives in" to your pleading and fills you entirely in a single thrust. The sound you made was nearly inhuman, the stretch made your insides ache but fuck you genuinely don't think you could feel any better. Matt sets a bruising pace immediately and is mouthing off the whole time.

"I know baby- never had dick this good before have you, huh? Taking me so fucking well- good girl"

"Told you I could treat you better, you belong to me. Don't wanna hear another word about that fucking lame ass boyfriend of yours. You're mine."

"Daddy's dick making you dumb, baby? It's okay. You don't need to think, I'll handle it for you."

"Gonna cum again? Fuck- wanna feel you cum around my cock princess, it's okay, cum for me baby-"

You're being so loud you don't even hear your front door open but Matt sure does and that's when he slows his pace, making sure he grinds himself as deep as he can get every time he fills you up and he leans down to suck dark hickeys in as many visible places on your neck as he can. You're in full blown tears at this point and it only gets worse when he pulls your hand to your lower stomach and presses his on top so you can feel how deep he is inside you.

"Bet he never filled you this good, did he?"

"Gonna fuckin' marry you I swear- you'd look so pretty full of my kids"

You can't even tell if he's serious but you hope he is, you'd marry him rn just for how good his dick feels. He hears your phone vibrate from the nightstand and picks it up while still grinding against yours. You finally got a response from your boyfriend, all it says is "where r u" and Matt seeing it before you did is the worst thing that could've happened cause rather than telling you, he just takes it upon himself to answer. He unlocks your phone and opens your camera, you didn't even realize he was recording until he held your face in his free hand and told you to "say hi" which you couldn't do, every time he thrust into you your voice broke off into a pathetic little whimper.

Matt made sure to get a good shot of himself filling you up, and used his free hand to abuse your clit until you were nearly screaming which was exactly what he wanted. He couldn't just end the video on a random note, he really wanted to get his point across. He picked up the pace of his thrusts and his fingers never slowed down until you were convulsing under him again and squirting on his cock. *still* not quite enough, but he pulls out right as he cums to watch it drip down your pussy and then he decides that's probably enough. He sends the video to your boyfriend without a second thought and nearly collapses on top of you, pressing extra kisses to your neck and chest. His door's locked, and he can fight, he doesn't give a shit about repercussions cause he finally has what he wants.

[immortalityriver]

can you please write how aged!up genya would act if reader was pregnant?

i looove these kinds of scenarios. anon didn't leave specifics so I'll make headcanons with scenarios described as small fanfics.

Aged!up (20) genya x pregnant gn!reader

Au: original/timeskip

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he does his damnedest to make sure you're comfortable. he couldn't imagine having to carry a child for 9 months, much less give birth to one.

He's your shadow. Would you like to do laundry? he's helping you hang everything up on the line. dishes? he's already done them. Did you forget to grab something at the market? he'll be back in an hour.

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you huffed, holding the clothing basket against yourself as you waddled out to the backyard to hang everything out to dry.

currently, you were at about 8 months. pretty far along in your pregnancy, even simple things became tedious, including chores.

you caught his eye.

"..hey! Let me help out with that!" and suddenly he's on his feet rushing after you.

"..Genya it's fine. I can do it myself." you chimed as you looked up at him as he took the basket from your hold.

"I know... but it's the least I can do. I let you do the dishes by yourself last time so you gotta let me help out now, right?" he looked at you with a softened gaze, already going to hang the clothes.

you knew he wouldn't take no for an answer, so you shook your head and joined him ".. Right. thank you, genya."

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when you're near your due date, he begins to wonder more about the gender, names, sometimes he'd pass shops and he couldn't help but get a few things.

you discourage it, since you're both unsure about the gender. but you really can't stop him, it's sweet he's so involved.

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"y/n!" his voice echoes through the home, and you drag yourself out of bed to go meet him

thats when you caught eye of the bag he was holding.

"..okay.. what'd you impulsively buy this time?" you smiled up at him, stifling a sigh, he really couldnt just wait until the baby was born?

"take a look." he held the bag outward, a big goofy lopsided smile on his face

you took the bag and peeked, finding a few toys, a stuffed animal and some clothes.

genya looked rather proud of himself, and you had to admit everything he picked out was adorable.

".. it's great, darling.. but do you have to bring back baby stuff every time you go out?"

".. it's not like i look for it or anything.. i swear it looks for me!" he raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, pointing to himself

you shook your head "..uh-huh.. so baby clothes can get up and walk now?"

"totally."

"..did you even get what i sent you out for?"

"..." he stared at you, looking at the bag in your hand, then down at his own, where the other bag should've been.

"..shit!"

"..genya.."

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and lastly, he's a generally affectionate guy. but when you're pregnant? he can't keep his hands off of you for even a second.

throughout the day it's constant kisses and hugs, and when bedtime rolls around he's stuck to you like he's a moth and you're a porch light.

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you could practically feel him seeping into your pores. with the way his arms wrapped around you.

"..genya, it's too warm for this.." you muttered, sticking your legs out from under the blanket to get at least some relief

"..nonsense.." he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, giving you a slight squeeze. his warm breath fanning against your skin didn't help at all.

"..genyaaaa..!"

"sh. go to bed."

"don't shush me.. i'm carrying your child." you retorted, now it was just playful banter.

"pft.."

you could feel his smile growing against your neck, to which you rolled your eyes at.

"i can hardly sleep with you smothered against me anyways. can't you scoot at least a little?"

he turned you over to face him, backing a little to make room for your very swollen belly.

"what, you don't love me anymore?"

"nope. not at all. that's absolutely what it is."

he sighed at your sarcasm, leaning into you and giving you a short peck on the lips.

"..i love you."

"I love you too, genya. goodnight."

``end

[pxuvalentinx]

Woah like imagine talking about having a family with teen kento ‼️ requesting anything on this plsplspls

a/n: i actually kinda really like this idea waowww !! i've been so slow with requests lately :') i'll get to them soon pinky promise. THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST THOUGH !!! tags/warnings: obv teen pregnancy, slight angst, fluff, nanami is a sweetheart, established relationship (lmk if i forgot anything)

Teen Dad! Nanami, who at first wasn't too sure about this. He always tried to be safe with you, but I guess accidents happen. Nanami honestly thought it was a silly prank of yours at first, but when you showed him a picture of the positive pregnancy test, he lost his composure for a second.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who told you that he needed some time to think about it and really realize what's happening. Once the shock was over, he came running to you, telling you that he'd be more than happy to support you and be with you regardless of the situation. Telling you that he'll support both you and your kid to the best of his abilities.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who now would take on more missions to make some extra money to be able to support you through everything and also save up for the future. Since his plan was now to put a ring on your finger someday.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who often came home exhausted, pissed off that he had to work overtime and also that he had less time to spend with you. Regardless of that, he always made sure to get you whatever you craved, to massage you whenever your back hurt too much, and to help with chores around the house. Nanami would also take notes for both of you in class; education is important after all.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who tried to keep as calm as possible when your water broke (he was panicking on the inside). He read somewhere that panicking will only make the pregnant woman panic too. So he kept calm, calling an ambulance as he held you close, grabbing the little hospital bag you two packed together (he also read about that).

Teen Dad! Nanami, who tries his best to even support you during birth, holding your hand. Sadly, he couldn't really bring himself to watch it happen, only ever glancing over. Nanami hoped it was enough for you.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who becomes the best dad ever regardless of how young he is. He'd start taking on a bunch of chores and duties, just to let you rest.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who calls Shoko every day just to ask silly questions that should've been obvious. Shoko answers every question anyway, wanting to support you and him. Nanami always wrote everything down.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who supported your spending addiction when it came to buying toys and outfits for your little one. In the end, he couldn't deny just how adorable it looked in all of those outfits you buy.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who started looking for other jobs he could do after he graduated from high school. He knew he wouldn't be able to do Jujutsu sorcery forever.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who your little one always throws up on. It's like, as soon as he holds your little one, it just gets the urge to throw up. Gojo definitely makes fun of him for that (until he holds the little one and it also throws up on him, earning a teasing smile from Nanami).

Teen Dad! Nanami, who loves you just as much as before, not caring about any of the changes the baby or being pregnant made to your body. If you're insecure about it, he'll reassure you a lot.

Teen Dad! Nanami, who spoils you and your child as soon as he gets the chance to. When your baby grows up, he won't be able to say no to anything they ask for.

[2smolbeans]

Part 1 Part 2 character info

Love Me, Love Me Not (2.5)

Yandere Best Friend x Obstacle Reader

Summary: You begin to contemplate your relationship with Marco after he's kept you long enough inside his apartment while sending you a few mixed signals..

Tags: One-sided relationship (?), potential poly with one yan and two poor darlings, kidnapping, hostage keeping, mixed feelings, yan best friend, belittling, isolation, nsfw implications, he's in love with his darling- but he's also interested with you.., just me rambling before I put part 3

*unedited

Disclaimer: This is just a scenario I thought of with an Oc! So nothing is really 'official' or canon to the orignal storyline--

_________________________

It's been what? Two months or so, ever since Marco had kept you locked up inside his cozy apartment. Every day is a blur. You always had a hard time telling what time or month it was. Same routine, same everything. It was tiringly comforting. It made you feel safe knowing what would happen. Marco would leave in the morning for work. You'd be left in the apartment to your own devices. Hours would pass, he'd come home, and you'd lock yourself in your room. You didn't have to worry about work. You didn't have to worry about chores. Your only worry was cleaning the place and looking pretty. But. That same routine was starting to eat at you. The desperation in something new was beginning to knaw at you. You wanted more. You felt like a zoo animal kept in captivity. You want to go outside to see the streets - hell to at least go inside a supermarket! Anything!

You're confused about the relationship that the two of you share. He hates you, but he wants you by his side. He often belittes you whenever he has the chance. Going out of his way to demean you with every chance he has. You want something? Well, why don't you go on your hands and knees and beg like the loyal dog you are? You want to talk to him? Well, why should he? Go on, convince him, and give him a reason why he should respond back to those dumb questions you're so persistent on asking.

But at the same time, he's clinging to you from the moment he gets home. Either sitting on the edge of your bed while he talks about his day at work. Cuddling right next to you without any say while you lazily switch through the tv channels. Or even on some nightly occasions, he's tightly snuggled up against you underneath the sheets of his bed. And on rare occasions.. He's often kissing the side of your neck with his hands in between your legs, whispering praises while he drinks in the sounds you make. Of course, only to then miserably make an excuse of how he was doing you a favor since he couldn't reciprocate those feelings for you. He was only making out with you out of pity! Wow, he must feel a lot of pity for you then for it to happen more than once...

What about your darling Marco?

You've asked him about it so many times. If he has her, then why is he doing those things with you? But, whenever you even bother bringing up the topic, he just shuts you up with a glare or threat. You're confused about him, and Marco, at times, seems confused about how he feels about you.. Oh well, it was a useless thought to dwell on. At the end of the day, Marco was a murderer who was soon going to kill you once he got tired of you. But what difference did it make? You were also one as well.. What better were you from him? Sure, you were pressured by him to commit the murders you did.. But you could've at least fought back? Why didn't you fight back? God, why couldn't you have tried to show some restraint? Your life or theirs, you should've at least died trying..

Does that matter anymore? You shouldn't care about that anymore. What's done is done. You should get over it. You don't care if you're being selfish. You want a fresh start. You want to be outside again. You look outside the window, looking down as you see the streets and people who walk around freely.

Just how long was this going to last?

.

.

.

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[cobraaah]

404 with a reader who is really sleep deprived?? maybe something about them falling asleep on him, idk i havent been able to sleep lately

do what you will with this, keep it gn if possible <3 thx

Pairing•[Nauseaxe_404 ♡ GN!Reader]

Warings•none, just sleepy fluff, not prof read

Word count•462

A/N•ahhh yes! This is such a cute idea &3. Also sorry for how short this was, decided to quickly drabble this before I sleep

Sleep

One of the downsides of being sent on this horrid job was having to cater to this capricious of a person, or rather monster. The fact that he's forcing you to indulge in his fantasies and write this long fanfiction about the both of you was making your head hurt and was really wearing you down. A yawn crawled out of your throat for the hundredth time, sleep was eating at you. Wiggling in the uncomfortable wooden chair to readjust yourself in hopes to grant a more comfortable position, Nauses unblinking gaze shifted down to the chair then to the typewriter. A familiar unsettling giggle can be heard next to you as he spoke, "Superstar, if you need a break you can take one. .," His hard breathing lingerd at the end of his sentence, a shiver runs down your spine, you don't think you could ever get over how unerving he could be.

Glancing over at him to respond, your eyebags and obvious tired features are more noticeable to Nause now. The idea of falling asleep doesn't seem that appealing, the struggle, restlessness, the constant tossing and turning, and your mind being constantly swarmed by irritating thoughts. Sleep felt like a chore to you and the idea of taking a nap in this crappy hotel room with an axe weildimg stranger with psychotic tendencies? Yeah, no thanks. . . right? He did have some redeeming qualities like being cute? In a weird way, he charmed you with his odd quirks of knowing every single thing about you and him just relishing in every moment with you. You've warmed up to him significantly fast. Could it just be constant adrenaline of your fight or flight whenever he takes his axe out to calm down, maybe.

"I'm fine," is what you wanted to say or rather about to say before he abruptly cut you off, easily grabbing you under your arms. "PHAHAHAHA. Did you seriously think I was going to let you continue writing with how tired you are? I should've noticed how exhausted you looked earlier. . . Im sorry, please forgive me, Superstar!" The warmth of his body radiating off to you was calming you down and making sleep creep under your eyes, threatening your eyelids to shut. With no protests from you, he went over to the corner and placed you down on the unkempt bed, sliding in next to you, keeping your body close to his. Your head quickly finds a comfortable spot on his shoulder, one of your arms moving across his chest on instinct to hold him close. His odd scent of metallic and light sweet musty smell comforts you weirdly.

"Sleep tight, my Superstar," His voice soft as he holds you comfortably against him. Maybe sleeping can be nice for once.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)

Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).

Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.

Words: 7,895

A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.

Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3

Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.

Until now.

There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.

Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.

And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.

Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.

He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.

It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.

When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.

"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.

"What's that?"

"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."

You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.

"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.

He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"

"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.

"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.

"FBI, I investigate art theft."

"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.

"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.

"And what is it that you do?"

"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."

"Sounds complicated."

You shrug. "I'm smart enough."

"You look good, too."

You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.

"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."

Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.

He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.

Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.

He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.

He clears his throat. "Good morning."

Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."

"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."

"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.

"I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.

"Okay, well... I had a good time."

"I did too."

Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.

"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"

Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did I do it well?"

"I think so."

You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"

"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.

"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.

"I'd like that."

You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.

Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.

Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.

One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.

"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"

"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.

"Enjoy."

"You too, you going somewhere nice?"

"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."

There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.

"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."

He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.

You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.

"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.

"Work doesn't break your heart."

"That, too."

"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.

"Not one for relationships," you shrug.

"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"

"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."

Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."

"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.

"Yeah?"

You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.

"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."

"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.

"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"

"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."

Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.

You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.

You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.

"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.

"That's a good start."

He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.

"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.

"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.

"Of course."

"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.

"Their loss."

He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.

"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."

"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.

"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.

"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"

"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."

"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.

"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.

"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.

"Need to fuck you."

He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.

"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.

"Can I be on top?"

He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.

"Oh, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.

"What?"

Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.

"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."

His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."

You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.

"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.

"Mmmfuckyes..."

You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.

"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"

"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.

"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."

"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"

"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.

"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:

"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."

"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.

"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.

You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.

"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."

He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.

"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."

You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."

The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.

"Faster, please, Marcus."

He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -

The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.

"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.

Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."

"I didn't know I could do that with a man."

"You haven't before?"

You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.

"I'm honored. Was it good?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"So fucking good."

You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.

"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't."

He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.

"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.

"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."

Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.

Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.

It is, in short, the perfect set-up.

Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.

You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?

He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.

You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.

When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.

You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."

"My pleasure."

The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.

In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.

"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."

Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."

"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."

"Does your family support your choices?"

You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."

"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"

"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."

"Wow."

"Exactly."

The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

"No problem."

"You have any plans for tonight?"

He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.

You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.

"You missed me that much?"

"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.

Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.

Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.

"Lemme get that."

Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.

"Thanks."

You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.

"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.

"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"

"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."

"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"

"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."

"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you maybe... want to do something?"

"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"

"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."

He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.

That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.

Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.

You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.

You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.

Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/

You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:

Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.

You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.

It is what it is. Early night for me.

He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.

Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.

Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)

You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.

I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.

The reply comes almost immediately.

I'll be back before you know it.

Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.

You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.

You up?

You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.

It's two am.

Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.

"I'm outside."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door."

You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"

"Just open?"

Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.

"Hi."

"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.

"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.

"Did I... fuck this up now?"

You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.

"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."

You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.

Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.

"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."

"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.

"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."

"That's just because you haven't unpacked."

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."

"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."

“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.

“I had to try.”

You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.

“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”

His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.

“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”

You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. Teresa.”

“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you���ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.

“I don’t want to burden you with that…”

“I want to know, Marcus.”

He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.

You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.

“What a cunt!”

Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.

“You know I’m right!”

“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.

“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”

You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.

“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”

He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His stare is suddenly relentless.

“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”

You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”

He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”

“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”

You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.

“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.

“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”

“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.

The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.

“Happy Christmas, baby.”

The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”