#I still feel like shit but not nearly as bad as last night

[shima-draws]

Currently feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, hope you all are faring better than me lol

[astralleywright]

Marisha's comment about how Relvin is one of those parents who ended up with a child they didn't know what to do with really gets to the heart of it, i think, and is such a good way to tie the fantasy element of Imogen's powers into things more tangible. because there are really a lot of parents like Relvin in real life, who have a child with the person they're happily married to and never expect to be left alone with the kid. or who expect a ""normal"" (read: cisgender and heterosexual, able-bodied, relatively neurotypical and obedient, etc.) child and end up with one who's ""difficult"", who demands more or different of them than what they believe they signed up for. and that's not entirely entitlement on a parent's part- many cultures' common frameworks of parenthood and child-rearing do not include space for these children. it makes sense that Relvin was unprepared. raising any child is difficult, and raising a child whose needs you were never taught how to accommodate, who the world is so cruel to, is even more challenging.

and yet. and yet, the person who bears the brunt of the harm in these situations will always be the child. they're the ones who have to live every moment of how the world treats them, without the support that their parent is supposed to provide them. and when asked to care for his child even when she turned out to be ""difficult"", Relvin couldn't. for entirely sympathetic reasons, of course. he tried, in his own way. i don't think he's a bad guy. but he's let his own broken heart bleed onto his daughter. he hasn't been able to give her much else.

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

imo everyone on earth should be talking about Him (don't want this showing up in the tag even though it's not a diss) but everytime i go to the tag and there's only like 3 new posts i'm like. oh yeah almost no one cares except me and like 5 other ppl on here

i ran out of tags KFHSJENNXN i don't think that's literally ever happened to me before anyways don't read them because it's just me being insane as per usual

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[ssahotchnerr]

okay so, I really don't like angst so I'll go with jealous!Hotch 🤭

Something like when Reader is at Jack's soccer game and Idk, a dad flirts with her? But when Jack sees that she's talking with someone who isn't Hotch, he calls her "mom" in front of the dad who's flirting with her, (bc he's jealous too 🤭) but Hotch hears him and he's kind of moved, but someone is flirting with his girl so he gets all jealous and starts like kissing her or something in front of the man? And the night they end up at his home, with Hotch showing her that she belongs to him 🤭

(feel free to change anything, don't worry, also, sorry for my bad english, it's not my first language 😭)

keeping score

🤭 minors dni cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, unwanted advances, suggestiveness, allusions to sex, small praise, dominant!jealous!possessive aaron 🦋 wc; 1.5k

early saturday mornings - grass still slightly wet from the dew, the sun slowly rising higher into the sky (threatening a hot day), sat alongside a soccer field - you couldn't imagine another place you'd rather be.

as aaron was the coach, you spent majority of jack's game sitting alone. it was a small price to pay; you were more than happy to cheer on jack from the sidelines, and to check aaron out as much as you wanted.

but most importantly, attending his games made you feel like you were a part of the family. the hotchners were closed off and let very few people in, and so your attendance here only solidified your role in both their lives. that aaron planned on keeping you around, and that jack trusted you. your role in his life wasn't to someday replace his mom, but rather you were just another person who simply loved him. you loved him like he was your own, and he knew it.

"mornin'," a voice pulled you from your thoughts; a familiar face amongst the other parents on the team, but you didn't know him by name.

you offered a quick, friendly smile, "good morning."

he set up camp near you, setting his foldable chair down and getting settled a few feet away. you paid him no mind, resuming your attention to something more worthy of your focus, such as how attractive aaron looked in the jeans he was wearing. and the game, obviously.

however, you could feel him peering at you from time to time, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

ten minutes or so passed before he spoke again, "so, big soccer fan?"

your eyes followed jack, who was dribbling the soccer ball down the field. your heart swelled with pride as he successfully kicked it to a teammate, "not until recently."

"me too." he offered you a look that he probably thought was slick, while you kept your gaze straight forward. "i'm always looking to score, if you know what i mean."

his words instantly caused your cheeks to burn, along with your whole body. it was clear he was objectifying you, with no good intentions in mind.

you didn't bother replying. hopefully, that would be a clear indicator for him to leave, or to leave you alone.

but he still chose to linger. and while he wasn't speaking, in your peripheral you kept noticing his head turn, gazing in your direction. his eyes were nearly burning a hole into you.

"shit." he swore as he suddenly stood up, picking up and moving his chair even closer to yours, "the grass is eating away at my chair. must've been that damn rain last night."

it hadn't rained last night.

the unsettling feeling he was causing you only grew, but again you didn't dare to say anything. the uncomfortableness only eased when the whistle finally blew, signaling halftime. this meant a water break and a small snack for the kids, and it meant aaron and jack would soon be joining you for a moment.

as expected, jack hurried towards you as soon as one of the other moms distributed him his snack, but paused abruptly as he reached you, his eyes scanning between you and the man. a confused expression filled his face, his bottom lip sticking out into a pout. it was the same one he produced whenever aaron gave him the fifteen minute warning for bedtime.

"mom," jack inserted himself in between the two of you, a small package of fruit snacks in hand, "can you open these for me?"

you froze for a spilt second, touched and surprised. you've been a constant in both aaron and jack's lives for almost a year now. but that title, was a first.

"of course sweet pea," you coughed a bit to clear your throat, and to stop the tears from surfacing, opening it for him.

"you did good out there kiddo," the dad spoke again, flashing a smile.

your fists clenched at that one - you knew he was trying to impress you, and you hated how he had decided to use interacting with jack to his advantage.

just wait until you find how he's the coach's son.

while you were furious, jack ever so slightly rolled his eyes, such an annoyed expression almost humorous for a child his age, choosing to focus on his snack and leaning comfortably against your shoulder.

and a minute or two later, aaron joined.

as aaron approached, his face nearly pulled into the same expression as his son's as he analyzed the visual in front of him. only his was accompanied with a more hardened, possessive aggressiveness.

"hi sweetheart," aaron greeted you, leaning in to kiss you once you were on your feet. it wasn't a chaste peck either, but rather more showy. his fingers grasped onto the waistline of your pants, pulling you flush to him. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, still recovering from the unexpected heated kiss, looking down at jack who also was glued to your side, offering protection of his very own. you gave him a smile, ruffling his hair gently, "i think we've got a soccer star on our hands."

"speaking of," aaron started, straightening his torso and squaring his shoulders, making him appear taller. "jack, why don't you join the others. they're taking turns aiming at the goal before the game resumes."

with a nod, and after handing you the empty wrapper, jack ran off to his teammates. aaron was still holding his menacing glare, but dropped the entire expression suddenly.

"how are you feeling?"

"feeling...?" your eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"you're not too sore today, aren't you?" his eyes darted behind you, a rather confident, fiery glint within them. "i wasn't holding back last night, was i?"

oh.

"and now that i'm thinking about it, i don't think you've ever been that loud either."

aaron had always been a stickler for pda; any displays were kept to quick kisses, hand holding, and any suggestive comments were kept to a murmur, meant for you and you only. even when you tagged along with him to bau outings, such as a bar on a saturday night, he held back. anything more was private, and aaron preferred it that way - him being the only one to witness you in such a vulnerable state, was something he took gratification in, and only added to his overall pleasure.

so this, was something else. he wasn't speaking loud enough for all to hear, just enough for the man in question. your back was towards him, so you had no idea how he was reacting to aaron's words.

"i'm fine." you managed, your body also reacting immediately.

aaron's lips found home behind your ear, again conscience of his volume - just loud enough. "good, because i'm not done with you yet."

aaron's hand slid up to the small of your back, but not without stopping on the curve of your ass first - again he wasn't subtle about it, making sure it was noticeable.

and it had to be working, for the man hadn't uttered a single word.

"and actually, sweetheart." another glare pointed behind you. "would you mind helping me at the bench for the rest of the game? i could use an extra set of hands."

"of course." you blurted out, complying without a second thought.

"good girl," he was heavy on the emphasis, patting your hip affectionately. "c'mon."

you were visually flustered as you leaned down to gather your belongings, especially when aaron's hand rested on the small of your back as you did so. your eyes lifted to the man, who was avoiding all eye contact, staring off into the field with a flushed face.

once you straightened up aaron took your hand, leading you away.

"thank you." you mumbled as your hand slid up his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze.

aaron's jaw clenched. "i fucking hated the way he was looking at you."

"you wouldn't like what he was saying either." you mumbled, causing aaron's nostrils to flare in anger. but to calm him, you changed the subject, heat filling your cheeks again, "and you."

a pleased, closed lip smile graced his face. "what about me?"

"what was all that?" you teased, stomach fluttering. you already knew the answer, but it was something you wanted to hear from him again. "i've never heard you, so..."

he chuckled softly, an almost embarrassing undertone to his words. "vocal?"

"yeah." you blurted out, blinking. "it was hot."

aaron shrugged, satisfied but still agitated. "he was devouring you, practically undressing you with his eyes."

"well, i don't think he'll be trying anything again."

"i know he won't," aaron's eyes darkened as his overly confident demeanor resurfaced, his lips pulling into a smirk as one of his fingers tapped your neck, "especially when he sees you next week. because you won't be covering up those marks."

[lemonlover1110]

𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] The Grand Proposal

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Summary: Toji has been stressing about this for the past week. He needs it to be perfect. He wants to tell his grandchildren about how grandpa was romantic and thoughtful once upon a time- He wants to set the standard high for them. Grandpa loves grandma like no other.

Chapter Warnings: Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Does my tie look okay?” Toji feels ridiculous asking the question to his four-year-old but today is a very special occasion. It’s one of the most important days in Toji’s life, and he can trust that his son will tell him the truth.

“You’re too tall.” Megumi can’t reach all the way up to the tie, so Toji picks the little guy up and puts him on the bed. Megumi gets his grubby little hands on the tie and fixes it. He crooks his father’s tie, even though it was perfectly fine before– In Megumi’s eyes it looks perfect, which is what matters. Toji’s too nervous to even notice it, blindly accepting the judgment from Megumi.

“I think I’m ready.” Toji says, until Megumi’s hand rubs against the stubble on his face. Toji sighs, feeling pathetic for the way he acts tonight. “Okay, I have to shave.”

“Yeah, you don’t want her to say no.” Megumi responds, sitting down on the bed as his father walks away.

Toji is taking deep breaths, trying his best to calm down. He’s nervous, a feeling that rarely comes to Toji but when it does, it’s bad; it consumes him as a whole. He’s proposing to you tonight. After a year of dating, Toji decided that it’s time. 

A year is not a long time by any means, but Toji just knows that you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with. It’s undeniable, after all, it’s destiny. He just knows that you’re the woman he’s supposed to be with, and he doesn’t want to waste another minute.

Maybe it’s too soon, and he should hold off on the question. You’ve barely talked about marriage anyway, you’ve just talked about the fact that you do want to get married eventually. He can’t back down now, he already spent money on the proposal so he’ll try at the very least. 

His hands are shaky as he puts the shaving cream on his face… He’s done this before, why does he feel so nervous? Granted, last time he proposed to a woman it was a spur of the moment decision, not a very detailed plan. He didn’t have time to think about it and back down like he does now.

“Am I coming with you?” Megumi barges into the bathroom, and Toji nearly cuts himself, startled by the little one.

“You’re staying with a friend.” Toji answers, and Megumi pouts. He wants to be included, not stay behind and hear about the spectacular night you and his father had. Why can’t he be included?

“I’m more fun than you.” Megumi says, and Toji laughs. There’s no doubt in Toji’s mind, but this doesn’t require Megumi and his way of providing entertainment. “I’m not going to bother you.”

“You still have to stay behind, Megumi.” Toji responds, and the child pouts. Megumi stomps away, and Toji rolls his eyes. What a dramatic child. “You’re going to have fun! Don’t throw a tantrum.”

Megumi somewhat helps Toji calm down his nerves. At least he gets a laugh out of the child’s attitude. Toji swears the child doesn’t get the attitude from him.

“Are you ready to go, Megumi?” Toji yells as he pats his face dry. He shouldn’t be asking the question when he’s not even close to being ready, but it’s easier to focus on someone else when you’re in Toji’s shoes. There’s no response which can only be one thing: Megumi’s too mad at Toji to care.

Toji walks out of the bathroom to get the rest of his shit together. He’s running behind, he promised he’d be at your door at seven but he’s going to be at least ten minutes late. He feels like he’s lost his head– Oh, he’s praying you accept because there’s no way he can propose again. He absolutely hates this feeling, he has no idea where to go and which step he should take next.

“I promise I’ll behave.” Megumi is following behind Toji, trying to convince his father to let him go. He just wants to be a part of this very special night, not be left behind with some loser. Toji ignores the child that follows behind like a lost puppy. 

“Where’s my cologne?” Toji mutters, running around trying to find it. He’s lost his head. It’s not where it usually is which leads him to believe that the little bug that keeps pestering him is hiding items. He could go without it, but you often mention how he smells so good that you could just eat him. He’s trying to get everything in his favor tonight, so he can’t go off without the cologne. “Where did you put it, Megumi?”

“I don’t have it.” He claims, but one swift look at the child tells Toji all he needs to know. Toji begins to walk to the child’s bedroom, and the moment he steps into the room he notices a plushie that’s out of place. He moves it to the side to find his cologne and as well as the ring box.

“Megumi, what did I tell you about lying?” Toji sternly speaks, looking at the child that’s less than half his size. Megumi looks at his feet in shame, not because he feels bad but because he’s been caught.

“To only do it when it helps you.” Megumi responds, barely audible for the man. Toji doesn’t care to discipline the child too much, he’s running out of time. He’ll deal with Megumi later.

“I have to get going.” Toji looks at his watch, realizing that he should be out the door by this time. But he can’t leave Megumi alone at home, and Megumi isn’t ready yet. “Megumi, if you aren’t ready within the next five minutes, I’m leaving you home alone.”

“Okay…” He hates the hint of attitude that’s in Megumi’s voice. The child couldn’t care less. He doesn’t take Toji seriously, and Toji can’t stand it. 

“You know what happens when a child your age is left home alone?” Instilling fear will surely work. Toji is fighting back a smirk when Megumi shakes his head. “A big ugly monster comes and takes them.”

“Uglier than you?” Megumi says, which makes Toji sigh. Perhaps he should be offended, but he’s used to Megumi’s mouthiness at this point. It’s just another night for Toji. 

“Yeah, uglier than me and meaner as well. Now get ready.” Toji responds, though his tactic is not working. Megumi is unbothered, and Toji can’t afford to waste another second. It’s fine, Megumi isn’t really doing much, so he’ll be fine in pajamas.

“We’re leaving.” Toji picks the child up and carries him to the car. Megumi is kicking his feet, trying to break free from his father’s grip– To no avail, Toji is much stronger than Megumi. “Any chance you had of coming with me perished.”

“What does that mean?” Megumi asks while kicking his feet in the air. “Let me get my toys!”

“No, you made your choice. You wanted to be a brat, and now you’re going to Gojo’s place in your pajamas, with no shoes and no toys.” Toji feels a twinge of empathy for the child but he’s too irritated to let Megumi go back inside. Toji is running late, and tonight he wants you to have no doubts about him. He’s the perfect man for you, he has to showcase that in every possible way.

“I’m gonna run away!” Megumi yells, though he can’t do much when Toji holds him. Toji rolls his eyes. He knows that the neighbors hear how his child yells from the top of his lungs, but they know Megumi is a tad bit overdramatic. 

“Right before your fifth birthday? Please do me the favor so I can sell your gift.” Toji responds which instantly calms Megumi down. That threat works like a charm, perhaps he should’ve led with that. “Gojo better tell me that you were an angel or else.”

“I’ll behave!” Megumi claims, needing his birthday gifts to be safe. 

That was all it took for Megumi to behave for the rest of the night.

Toji’s hands are sweaty as he knocks on your door. His heart is about to beat out of his chest… All for what, a marriage proposal? Toji, a man that’s conquered many hearts because of how charming (and manipulative) he can be when he sets his heart on something. This shouldn’t be hard, he shouldn’t be nervous.

“Toji!” You exclaim as you open the door, looking as beautiful as ever tonight. He’s about to crap himself, he can’t propose. Your hands meet behind his neck before bringing him down to peck his lips. Your nose goes to the crook of his neck, and just as he expected, you tell him, “You smell so good, I could eat you.”

“I’m not opposed to that.” Toji chuckles as you press a subtle kiss on his neck. He pulls you into his embrace, hands resting on the small of your back. “You’re looking stunning tonight.”

“When am I not?” You reply with a laugh. You close the door behind you, and intertwine your arm with his before walking out. “Where are you taking me tonight, big boy?”

“It’s a surprise.” He tells you, and you squint as you look at him. Something is up with him, Toji doesn’t do surprises. “You’re looking at me funny.”

“What’s up with you?” You question, and you swear you see his cheeks turn pink. But Toji? That’s unlikely, your eyes must be deceiving you. You look away, knowing there’s no possibility that your boyfriend is blushing.

“There’s nothing up with me. Jumping to conclusions already?” He tries to play it off, which gives it away. There’s something up with him, and you’re going to figure it out.

“How’s Megumi?” You ask him, and Toji can say a lot but he decides on sighing. That’s all he needs to say, you know that the little guy can be stubborn. “What did he do this time?”

“Wanted to join our date.” He chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh as well. You’d let the child join, you’re always happy to have Megumi with you… But Toji knows best. And you do appreciate not having to watch your mouth and being able to be as affectionate as you want to be with Toji.

“Poor little guy, you should’ve let him join.” You’re clearly joking, but Toji can’t help but roll his eyes. Megumi is such a cockblock that he should be studied by scientists, it should be impossible. Luckily he got rid of the child for the night. 

“Can’t thank Satoru enough for taking him off my hands tonight.” Toji says, and you’re fighting back on smiling as you think about what tonight has in store for you. It’s going to be fun, that’s what you can gather from this.

“I’ll thank Satoru if you make tonight worth it.” You wink at him, and he should make some sort of remark that’ll make you chuckle, but he feels as if his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He’s going to do it. He’s going to propose…

“Yeah…” He lets out an awkward laugh. You get to his car, and he opens the passenger door for you. You kiss his cheek, muttering a thank you before getting into his car. He takes a deep breath as he shuts the car door, muttering, “Tonight is going to be unforgettable.”

“Woah… This place is…” You’re sitting across from Toji, holding the menu in your hands and staring at the high prices. Toji has never taken you to a place this expensive before, and it makes you wonder what he has up his sleeve. “Nice.” 

“Yeah, I want tonight to be spec– Nice.” He corrects himself before he gives it away. And then it hits you. Perhaps you should’ve known the moment he took you to a place where there is valet parking, but what matters is that now you know.

You thought it was next month, but apparently it’s tonight since Toji is going above and beyond. Your second year anniversary with Toji. Many questions pop into your head as you try to figure out how you’ve forgotten this very special night… And how did Toji even remember?

“Happy anniversary.” You smile, trying to play it off. It totally hadn’t slipped your mind. Toji looks puzzled as if he’s trying to figure something out. Your mind lands on his gift. A non-existent gift that you very obviously do not carry with you. You decide to lie, “I do have a gift for you, but it’s back at my place.”

“Happy anniversary.” He’s forcing himself to smile. He forgot that? How did he forget it? He had it marked on his calendar but guesses with being in a rush about a proposal and whatnot made it slip his mind. “I do have a gift for you as well.”

“What is it?” Your interest is piqued, and you really don’t want to wait till later to find out. You’re not as patient as you claim to be.

“What’s your gift?” Toji responds, and you roll your eyes. You haven’t figured it out yet, therefore you can’t give him a response.

“Fine, leave me guessing.” There’s a hint of attitude in your tone, something that Toji doesn’t care enough to fix. He has bigger issues right now. “What can I order? I know you’re not made of money.”

“That’s kind of rude.” Toji points out, holding back on laughing. You aren’t wrong though, but tonight is special. He wouldn’t take you to a place he couldn’t afford. “I brought you here because I can afford it. Order the whole menu if you want.”

“Really?” You raise a brow his way, and Toji clicks his tongue. He puts his hands up defensively before saying,

“You got me. Don’t order the whole menu, I don’t have that kind of money.” He laughs, and you chuckle. 

“Thank you for bringing me here, dear. This is a very lovely place.” You reach over, and take his hands into yours. You feel just how sweaty his palms are, and you wonder why. It’s definitely not hot for him to be sweaty. “Toji, are you nervous?”

“Why would I– You know, I think we should celebrate.” Toji has to do it now, he might die if he waits till dessert. He’ll call over the waiter, and proceed with the plan that he had. He got the idea from some article on the internet, putting the ring in your drink and whatever follows. It’s not particularly romantic but for Toji it’s perfect. Toji’s charming, not romantic.

“Celebrate?” You question before remembering your anniversary. You feel bad for forgetting when he’s clearly put effort into tonight. You can fake it though. “Of course, let’s celebrate.”

Toji flags down the waiter, telling him to bring out champagne. Toji doesn’t drink, but tonight he'll make an exception. You also know he doesn’t drink, which makes you suspicious. Tonight is not an ordinary night.

“Two years already, huh? When are you proposing?” You tease him, and he nearly chokes on his own saliva. His eyes are wide and you feel the need to clarify. “I’m joking, babe. You don’t have to react like that.”

“React like what? I’m fine.” He says, and you’re having a hard time believing him. He’s nervous about something, it’s written all over his face. “You have to stop reading into things.”

“I’m not.” You respond, knowing that there’s something up with Toji. A man that’s usually stoic looks almost nervous. You won’t push him to give you an answer though, that surely won’t work with Toji.

“Finally.” Toji’s eyes glimmer at the sight of the glasses on the table. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself to speak. To give the small speech that he wrote down with Megumi’s crayon. A small speech that he lost because Megumi poured a glass of water on it– But it’s fine, he memorized it. 

“Cheers.” You grab the glass in front of you, and clink it with Toji’s. You furrow your brows, noticing that the liquid in Toji’s is shaking. He’s shaking. “Toji, are you okay? Are you cold?”

“They keep the place chilly.” He tries to laugh it off. He’s giving it away. Though he says it’s chilly, he’s sweating. But before you can question it, Toji chugs down his drink. There’s something wrong with him. He prompts you to drink as well, “It’s gonna get warm.”

“I’m not in a rush.” You look at him inquisitively. You love Toji, and you’ve gotten to know him pretty well. But you can’t know what’s going through his mind by merely looking at him. You grab your drink slowly, and bring the glass to your lips before taking a long sip of the champagne. Drinking from a glass has never been as awkward as it is now, feeling Toji’s eyes watching your every move.

“Toji, this is the last time I ask, what the fuck is up with you?” You ask, getting frustrated with him. He’s acting odd, and you wonder if you did something wrong. 

“Look at the bottom of the glass.” He instructs you and you frown, grabbing the glass and inspecting the bottom of it. There’s nothing. Perhaps it’s because there’s some liquid, but apart from bubbles you spot nothing. 

“What?” You question, and Toji loosens his tie. “Did you see something weird?”

“Is there nothing at the bottom?” Toji asks, and he almost loses his shit when you shake your head. His eyes are wider than you’ve ever seen, and suddenly the man stands up from his chair. He bites down his tongue before saying one simple word, “Bathroom.”

Before you can utter a word, Toji’s gone. What an odd man he is tonight.

Toji looks around the place, trying to find the dumb waiter that he tasked this with. The instructions are very clear, how could he mess that up? Toji’s eyes land on the waiter, and the poor man begins to tremble when he sees Toji’s terrifying glare. A predator has spotted its prey, and the prey is too slow to run away.

Toji grabs the waiter by his collar, dragging him from the kitchen to the back of the restaurant in a matter of seconds. Toji is pinning this twenty-something-year-old against the wall, making the poor man almost cry out to his mommy. Toji feels like he’s doing some shady business again.

“Where the fuck is that ring, boy? You know how much that cost me?! I’ll sell your intestines to make you pay.” Toji threatens; a threat that holds no weight, but sounds so natural as it rolls off Toji’s tongue. 

“I-I don’t know, s-sir. I promise I put it in.” The waiter stumbles over his words, absolutely terrified of Toji. It’s a scary scene, specifically with how ravenous Toji looks. Toji’s hungry for blood, and he’s staring at the perfect target. 

“Where the fuck is it? That damn ring cost me an arm and a leg.” Toji’s anger couldn’t be more clear than now. It’s absolutely terrifying for any bystander, and of course, the poor man that is pinned against the wall. 

“Whose?” The young man is closing his eyes, scared that these moments might be his last. The grip on the collar tightens, Toji getting angrier by the second.

“You want to joke around with me? Is this funny to you?” Toji spits out, and the poor boy frantically shakes his head. Toji finally let’s go, letting out an annoyed sigh. “Get me your fucking manager.”

“Yessir.” The young man responds, body nearly falling to the ground as he struggles to find balance. At least Toji let him go. He’s alive, and he should be grateful.

“That took you long enough.” You chuckle, watching as Toji sits across from you once again. You want to ask if the reason why he was acting weird was because of a stomach bug, but Toji looks mad. 

“Must’ve eaten something bad.” Toji mutters, as if upset. Though you understand having a stomach bug is not enjoyable, you don’t particularly understand why he looks mad. 

“Do we have to go? Our celebration can wait.” You reassure him, but Toji shakes his head. He sighs. 

“We have to celebrate our anniversary.” He responds, but you don’t want him to put his well being at risk to celebrate the date. Your celebration can wait until he gets better. Your hands reach over to grab his own, giving them a squeeze.

“I don’t want you to sit through a celebration while you’re feeling ill.” You watch him avert his gaze. You know he’s upset about this, and you think of how to make him feel better. You chuckle before confessing, “I forgot about our anniversary… I thought this was just going to be one of our usual dates but here you go, going above and beyond. So don’t feel bad if you want to cancel all of our plans, and call it a night. We can just go home, and I’ll make you tea to help your upset stomach.”

“I guess…” Toji is a fool. Putting a ring that expensive in a glass of champagne? For you? That man should’ve carved out your name on a mountain and asked you to marry him at the bare minimum. This place– The proposal and the restaurant is too trashy for what you deserve.

“I have to talk to the manager, will you give me a second?” Toji asks, and you furrow your brows. Was the incident in the bathroom that bad? You won’t question it. You don’t want to embarrass the man. 

Toji comes back within five minutes, extending his hand for you to take. Without a doubt, you take it and leave with him. You’ll go anywhere that Toji wants to take you.

“You know–” You begin before shoving a fry into your mouth. Toji decided to take you to eat fast food before going home. Though he’s supposed to be sick, you’re both eating fast food in his car. Luckily he’s parked outside of the place, so in case an emergency does come up, he can run inside. “I’m surprised you remembered our anniversary but I didn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Toji questions, reaching over and taking one of your fries since he already ate all of his. He eats fast– One thing about Toji, he’ll make sure he doesn’t have to share. You glare at his hand, and almost slap it away.

“That I’m the one that’s usually great at remembering dates.” You answer, and Toji tries to recall today’s date. Tonight he just got extremely lucky… In that sense at least. He’s calling it quits on tonight’s plan. He’ll perfect the proposal over the coming weeks. “But you know what they say: a broken clock is right twice a day.”

“Did you just compare me to a broken block?” He’s slightly offended by the question, but the glimmer of mischief in your eyes makes him chuckle. As revenge, he reaches over and takes a couple more of your fries.

“Hey! Stop eating all of my food!” You scold him, and he fights back a smirk. He puts on a show of eating your food in front of you, showing off that he’s taken your fries and you can’t do anything about it. “You shouldn’t even be eating this with your stomach.”

“My stomach is fine.” He assures you, but you can’t take him seriously. Toji could be dying on a hospital bed, and he’d still reassure you that he’s completely fine. With how long it took him to come back from the bathroom, you doubt he’s okay.

“Are you sure? Because–”

“What do you think about getting married?” Toji cuts you off, not wanting to talk about an upset stomach or his shitting habits. You can’t help but giggle at the way he changes the conversation, especially from something so ridiculous to a serious matter.

“Why? Are you proposing?” You tease, and Toji rolls his eyes at your reaction. You chuckle before answering truthfully, “I’d love to get married to you someday. Anywhere, any time.”

“Good, because you’re stuck with me for life.” Toji tries to joke, but it sounds very serious. He’s joking but at the same time he isn't. Not that you mind being stuck with him for life.

“Hmm… How about we go to the courthouse tomorrow and get married?” You propose and Toji begins to choke on the fry that he stole from you. He quickly grabs the soda and drinks like a wild man, while hitting his chest. You’re worried for a millisecond before you burst out laughing.

Toji coughs up his fry while the sound of your laughter fills up the car. Your hand goes to his back, caressing it as he calms down.

“Glad– That my– Near death experience is funny to you.” He’s still coughing. When he calms down, he’s glaring at you. A glare that many find intimidating. But you find it amusing, knowing Toji isn’t going to do anything.

“Could you imagine? Death by fry? I can’t decide if that’s an amazing or a pathetic way to go.” You say, and Toji rolls his eyes again.

“Fine, let’s go to the courthouse tomorrow and get married.” Toji agrees. It definitely takes the weight of proposing off his shoulders. 

You shake your head. “I was joking.”

“Like hell you were. I know how you women are. You’re joking, but you’re actually dropping hints.” He does air quotes, and you glare at him. The difference between you glaring at him, and him glaring at you is that he actually feels a twinge of fear when you look at him badly. He begins to laugh, putting his hands up defensively, “I was just messing around.”

“Like hell you were, punk.” You sound so serious that it scares him. Before he can even defend himself, your hand goes to his bicep and you proceed to lightly pinch him. He cries in pain, and you let go before leaning over to kiss the same spot. 

You proceed to apologize in a high pitched voice, “Sowwy for hurting you, baby.”

“Okay, say it again but in a normal voice.” Toji replies, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m only apologizing with the baby voice. Take it or leave it.” You cross your arms, acting as if you have the upper hand in this situation.

“Leave it. I have enough with Megumi.” Toji responds, making you click your tongue.

“Are we picking up the little guy before going home?” You ask, and Toji hums in response. He almost forgot that his offspring is with your best friend for the night. 

“Yeah. He’ll kill me if we don’t.”

You hum along to the tune of one of your favorite songs as Toji drives back to Gojo’s place. You tried to joke around with Toji some more, but after the drive started, he stopped paying attention. He looks pensive, and you wonder if it’s the same thoughts that were affecting him earlier.

“Oh, look, it’s raining.” You point out as if Toji hadn’t turned on the windshield wipers. You just want Toji to say something, but he’s suddenly gone mute.

Toji’s thoughts are about Megumi. The little cockblocker is going to spoil his plan. Megumi has kept his mouth shut for a whole week after finding out the plan, Toji knows the little guy isn’t going to hold it for much longer. 

“Are you hot?” You ask as Toji lowers the air conditioning. He takes off his suit jacket at the red light, unable to contain the heat. It’s pretty cold out, but he’s acting a little odd tonight.

Before you know it, you’re outside of Satoru’s apartment complex. Your hand goes to the door handle, but before you open it, Toji speaks up, “Stay here. It’s raining.”

“I want to say hi to my little guy.” You say, but Toji shakes his head. He’ll refuse to let you out of the car.

“You’re sleeping over tonight anyway. I can’t protect both of you from the rain, and the last thing I need is you both being whiny babies because of a cold.” Toji responds, and you pout. Toji will let you figure out your own feelings while he goes to pick up Megumi. 

“Stupid Toji.” You mutter when the car door shuts. At least he’s doing this to keep you well, but you can’t help but think this has something to do with his weird behavior. You begin to mock him, “You’re sleeping over anyway. Dumbass.”

You begin to turn up the temperature, freezing with the air conditioning on. But you feel a twinge of remorse while you do it, knowing that he’s going to be hot when he gets to the car. You turn the air conditioning down again, opting to take his jacket instead. 

You put it on, and begin to feel his pockets. Maybe you’ll find some change… It’s not like Toji is going to notice a few coins missing. What’s his is yours, and what’s yours is yours. However the saying goes. A smirk comes to your lips when you feel something cold, “Bingo.”

“Huh?” Your expression quickly changes, your eyes becoming wide when you see that it’s not a coin. It’s something much more expensive. Something that answers everything. Why he took you to an expensive restaurant, why he was acting so weird, why he suddenly remembered your anniversary (though it hits you that it’s not the date, you assumed wrong).

You stare at it for what feels like forever. It looks like it’ll fit perfectly. You exit the car, not caring that it is drizzling out. You can withstand some water, what you can’t stand is sitting in the car alone with your own thoughts for another second. He’s coming out of the building, holding an umbrella over Megumi’s head. 

“What are you doing out?!” Toji yells when he sees you outside of the car, wearing his jacket. He frowns, until he sees you hold something up. He doesn’t have to squint to see what it is, and he begins to freak out immediately. “Snoopy! Why were you going through that?!”

“Megumi, get in the car.” Toji hands the umbrella to the child, a task that Megumi is happy to take over. Toji walks over to you, attempting to snatch the ring out of your hands.

“What is this?” You ask, and Toji refuses to answer, focusing on getting the ring from your hands but you begin to move around. You can’t help but giggle as you watch a very frustrated Toji try to take a ring from you. “You won’t get it back until you answer.”

“Then…” Toji restrains you, grabbing both of your wrists. It’s an awkward position, one arm over your head while you hold the other in front of you. “We won’t move.”

“So much for not getting me sick.” You mention, and you know that he fights back a smile. You look into his eyes, seeing the uncertainty that consumes them. Toji was hoping tonight he’d have the perfect proposal, and when he realized that everything was going south, he backed out. Your heart melts at the thought of your big intimidating boyfriend getting worried because of this. 

“Will you give it back?” He’s talking to you as if you were Megumi. 

“I do–” You begin. “I’ll hold that for the ceremony.”

“Huh?” Toji lets go of your wrists, and you proceed to place the ring in the palm of his hand. You kiss the tip of his nose before pressing your forehead against his. Toji laughs, relief washing over him. “I didn’t even ask the question.”

“What are you waiting for?” You ask, and Toji pulls away. 

He gets on one knee on the wet asphalt, holding the ring that nearly cost him his intestines, with the most genuine smile on his face. His eyes are brimming with love. He had a long sappy speech that he copied off the internet. Something overly romantic. Something disingenuous to his character.

“Will you marry me?” 

“Yes.” You nod excitedly, and Toji slips the ring on your finger before getting up from the ground and picking you up. He kisses you once. Then again. And again, and again. 

“Eugh!” You both hear that makes the kissing stop. Megumi is waiting for you two to finish to properly greet you– One thing you notice, the umbrella is gone.

Toji sighs. Great, everyone is going to be sick for at least a week.

At least he’s getting married soon.

[envy-of-the-apple]

older reader?? SAY NO MORE

you're a confident, popular, charismatic lady in your 30s. you catch a pretty, barely-not-teenage gojo at a bar about to get roofied and rescue him.

you're neither a paragon of moral virtues but apparently you do still have some maternal instincts because you take him aside, help him sober up, and give him a stern but well-meaning lecture about watching drinks, staying safe, etc. maybe he gets a headpat and a caring look while you do this.

that's where you thought this would end but to gojo had absent parents and is starved of all forms of affection, including maternal, so he absolutely cannot let this end here and he will exploit his prettiness, his pitifulness, AND your maternal instincts to the max.

if wires get crossed and he manages to get you to bang him (and hopefully feel so guilty about taking advantage that he can get you to stay with him) then even better!!

omgggggyou know me so well-

(Warnings: manipulation, guilt-tripping, large age gap but both characters are 21+, implied non/dubcon, implied drugging)

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Bad Night

When you open your eyes, your head is pounding.

Last night is a blur, but you get the big picture. You drank too much, and you brought someone home.

He's a cuddler, pressing you against his bare chest, a long arm wrapped around your naked body. It'd be a cute way to wake up if you weren't so sweaty and already in a bad mood.

You're debating on how to kick him out when he shifts behind you. He yawns, one hand reaching up to draw circles on your waist.

"You wake up pretty early."

It's not a stranger's voice. You know him.

You turn your head, almost afraid to look. He gives a sleepy smile.

"...Satoru?"

"Mornin'." Taking advantage of your shock, he gives a quick peck on your lips.

It's a jumpstart for the memories of last night to kick in. Satoru had invited you out, you had a bad day at work and you took the offer, you took shot after shot, one thing lead after another and then-

Shit.

"What's wrong?" He asks, and you doubt you're managing to hide the horror off your face all that well. His usually carefree attitude melted into concern.

"Feeling' alright? I wasn't too rough last night, was I?"

When you open your mouth, the only thing that comes out is a strangled 'I'm fine'.

"That's good." He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. "I was worried I hurt you or somethin'. Last night was perfect, by the way. Everythin' I dreamed of, baby."

Baby. You want to throw up.

"Oh, you must be hungry." Satoru frowns, clicking his tongue. "Uh, wait here, I'll go whip somethin' up."

Another kiss, this time on your cheek, before he's sliding off your bed. He's naked. You squeeze your eyes closed when he starts to put on his pants. You keep them closed until the door shuts behind him.

What the fuck did you just do?

You know what you did. You just had sex with someone more than a decade younger than you. You can't even remember it, but the evidence was all around you. Your panties laying crumbled on the floor. The ache between your legs. The bitemarks on your chest, your legs.

You fucked up.

Satoru was by chance You weren't supposed to talk to him, let alone meet him. You were at the right place, at the right time. You happened to catch smug asshole putting something in the oblivious kid's drink. You happened to grab it right before Satoru could, before dumping it on the asshole's face.

Looking back, it wasn't your finest moment. You nearly got the police called on you, but ever since that day, Satoru clung onto you like Velcro. He didn't leave you alone for the rest of the night. You thought your lecture would have embarrassed him enough to leave, which kid wants to be scolded by a thirty-year old? If anything, that might have sparked his admiration for you.

He was determined. Before you knew it, Satoru was everywhere. He spammed you with texts everyday, when he couldn't call. He'd constantly invite you to places adults way past their college years should not be going. Despite your absolute refusal to visit his dorm, you found yourself reluctantly letting him into your house, picking him up from parties when he was too drunk to drive. He'd told you things he'd never told anyone before.

You knew what was happening, you weren't stupid. And unhealthy infatuation. Young, starved for attention, eager to please. You saw the signs, you tried to set boundaries, but you thought you could help him somehow. Your savior's complex grew too big...you thought you could help him.

And then, you ended up sleeping with him.

It wasn't illegal. You knew he was over 18, at the very least. You still feel nothing but nauseating disgust. When you looked down at your hands, they felt dirty.

You needed to fix this, somehow. You needed to tell Satoru that this was a mistake. Rip the band-aide off, nice and clean.

You ignore the crumbled clothes on the floor: your flimsy dress, Satoru's shirt. Instead, you go to the closet and pull out baggy pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. You needed to hide as much skin as possible. To preserve the remnants of dignity you had left.

You stayed in the bathroom for ten minutes, practicing what you were gonna say over and over again. I'm sorry, it was a mistake, I was drunk, I took advantage of you, it's not your fault. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

When you step outside your sanctuary, you smell something that makes your stomach growl.

Satoru's standing over a sizzling pan with a smile on his face. He knows his way around your kitchen because he's been here before, doing homework on your countertops. You feel sick all over again.

"Hey." He pouts when you inch closer. "I told you to stay in bed, didn't I? Silly." He reaches over, pinching your cheek in affection.

You swallow and you finally manage to steel yourself.

"Satoru, we need to talk-"

"And done!" Satoru cheers, setting down a plate. "Hungry? You gotta' be, right? We did a whole workout last night." You cringe at his choice of words, wishing he'd stop mentioning your biggest blunder.

When you don't move, he picks up some food with his fork, hovering it close to your lips.

"C'mon. At least try it." He urges. "I promise it's good. Please?"

You look into his baby blue doe eyes. Wide and earnest and eager. When you accept the offering, he glows.

He feeds you like this, one forkful at a time. When you ask why he isn't eating, he just shakes his head.

"I don't think it'll stay down." He admits. "I'm so happy, it almost feels like I'm dreaming."

You clear your throat. Hopefully, you can steer this conversation into something more productive. "Satoru, about last night-"

"Did you like it?" He suddenly asks.

"What?"

"Last night." He says with a sheepish smile. "Did-did you like it? Was I any good?"

You stare at him, utterly bewildered. "I-"

"It was my first time!" He blurts out with clear impulsiveness, and your heart stops. "I-I was pretty nervous. 'Had no fuckin' idea what I was doing, but it looked like you liked it. Right?"

He looks at you with those wide eyes, filled with genuine sincerity and you want to throw yourself off a ledge because not only did you not remember having sex with him, you don't remember taking his virginity.

You were a horrible person.

"It...was a nice night." You mutter quietly.

He beams again, it does nothing to assuage your guilt.

Fuck this all. You needed to put a stop to this. You needed to stop stringing this poor kid along. You needed to be the bad guy.

But, like always, Satoru makes the first move.

He rounds the countertop, coming to a stop by your chair. Satoru kneels to the floor, taking your hands within his owns. If it were anyone else, you would have melted.

Not him. Anyone but him.

"I meant what I said yesterday." He quietly says. "I know you still think I'm young, but I'm 22. I'm more than old enough to treat you the way you deserve to be treated." Oh God. When you turn away, he's reaching out, placing a hand on your cheek. You're forced to stare at him.

"Thank you for giving me a chance." He smiles. "I-I always thought you'd never see me that way, but then you said you liked me too and-"

"Wait wait, hold on." You interrupt. "What?"

He suddenly looks unsure, his gaze darting around. "At the bar last night. I confessed, and you said it back."

That doesn't sound like you. If anything, when you're drunk, you're annoyingly honest. You've never seen Satoru as more than a kid how could you have said that to him?

But he can't be lying. Not with those eyes. Eyes that were suddenly starting to fall like dying stars.

"Oh..." He trails off. "Did you not mean it?"

He handed you your chance on a silver platter. It was a mistake. I was drunk. I've never seen you like that. I took advantage of you.

You can break his heart, here and now. You take in a breath.

"No." You smile. "Of course I meant it. I...really really like you, Satoru."

His smiles returns and he's leaping up. You can't stop him from kissing you, but he's quick, flitting away just as quickly to give you a hug.

"I'm so glad." He whispers. "I'll make you happy, I promise. I'll do anything for you."

You pat his back, still in a daze.

Satoru is smart. He's a physics major, he's got to be smart. You just need to pretend to date him for a while before he realizes that you're too old for him. Then, he'll leave you for someone his age.

He'll snap out of it eventually, right?

[soangelbaby]

ও need your kids ; jensen ackles

“. . . have a baby by me, baby be a billionaire . . .”

jensen grips your hips, lifting you slightly off the bed to remove your white lace panties. “you want my babies huh?” he smirked, lining his dick up at the slit of your already leaking pussy. he didn’t slide in immediately, instead he teased you, brushing his tip lightly against your soaking folds. you didn’t answer, just reached up gripping his shirt, “jensen—fuck please..” you moaned as you watched him play in your juices. he always went for games, always made you beg, with him nothing ever came easy. why would this be any different?

“please what baby? tell me what you need, i can’t read your mind.” he snickers, his hands travel up your body, stopping just at the curve of your waist. his eyes were locked on you, he loved the sight of you so desperate and needy for him, so vulnerable, he could keep you like this forever. “please nut in me, fill me up, want all of you.” you breathed out, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. jensen let out a low chuckle before leaning down to kiss you sloppily, he moved down to your neck sucking on your sweet spot. your polished nails clawed at his back as you felt his dick at your entrance again, but this time he slips in—no warning.

“f-fuck yes, jensen.” you moan out, feeling his dick veins rub against your walls, you could hear how wet you were for him, each thrust drawing everything out of you. his face was still buried in your neck, nipping and biting at the skin there, you were sure a hickey was already forming. “that’s it, take it all. let’s see if i can finally knock you up this time, yeah?” he groans against you, your stomach does flips as you let his words sink in. you wanted it so bad, no—you needed it, needed to see his cum leaking out of you, needed to milk him completely until he had nothing left to give, you wanted every single drop.

“mhm, baby—ugh—need all of it.” you arch into him, his dick repeatedly hitting your g-spot. his pace is brutal, relentless, there’s nothing soft about the way he’s fucking you, like he’s trying to bury himself so far you’ll never get him out. his fingers press against your lower belly, feeling every inch of himself there, how deep he’s buried inside you. “you feel that, baby? feel how deep i am? you’re gonna take all of it.” his voice low, thick with possession as he spreads your thighs wider for him, nearly behind your head. you nod, lips parting, but no words come out—just a breathy, wrecked little whine. your hands gripping his arms, fingertips leaving little crescents in his skin as his dick twitches inside of you. your legs lock around his waist and his thrusts become harsher, more punishing.

“shit babydoll, so tight and swollen for me.” jensen growls into your mouth. “tell me how bad you want my seed baby, tell me how bad you want me to make you a mommy, gonna fucking ruin you for anyone else.” his hand slips down between you to trace lazy circles over your clit, making your hips jolt. the added sensation is enough to send you over the edge, your entire body trembles beneath him, drawing a loud throaty whine from you. “there it is, such a good girl. taking my dick so well, this pretty pussy is all mine.” his weight is firm, pinning you in place as he ruts into you with reckless abandon. his lips drag along your jawline, breath hot against your skin—and then you feel it. the warm liquid shooting into you, coating your walls, and a guttural moan escapes jensen’s lips, rumbling against your skin. your walls clench around him, keeping his nut inside, it flooding you, spilling so deep into your spent little pussy.

“now get ready for another one, i’m not pulling out until i know it stuck kay? you wanted me raw, right baby?”

☆ rini’s note ; thought of this listening to 50 cent last night, it’s a little rushed and not really proofread js bc i was excited ???? idk enjoy or don’t ;) tho likes + reblogs are so so appreciated!

[not-neverland06]

big bad wolf

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: inspired by the fact that Hugh Jackman thought wolverines were just a type of wolf and no one corrected him. Rusty because I haven’t written smut in a while so you guys aren’t allowed to talk any shit. Plus, I’m too much of a wimp to be like extremely explicit, but these prompts ( one, two, three) together were too good to pass up. 

SMUT 18+ (my slight monsterfucker tendencies might shine through in this one)

Summary: Logan's told you a million times not to take the path through the woods. You never listen, of course. Now there's a monster on your tail and you're all alone. (part of my Halloween Palooza)

You never should have taken this path. You knew it was going to happen, Logan had warned you, and you still didn’t listen. Now, you’re in the middle of the woods, completely turned around and on the verge of tears. God, why do you never listen?

You put your groceries down and pull out your phone. Through the thick spread of leaves, you get minimal moonlight. You’re surrounded by shifting shadows and rustling undergrowth. Everywhere you turn is a monster waiting to leap out at you. 

When you were little you were petrified of the dark. You hated the shapes you saw lurking within it. You’d outgrown that as an adult, but now, you can barely breathe as your eyes dart all around. The childish fear is returned with a vengeance and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

You flip open your phone, squatting on the ground and trying to conserve your body's warmth. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since you left the house. Of course, Logan had told you to bring a jacket too. Did you listen? No. 

You were only going out to get some chips and dip, you really didn’t think it would take so long. But then you’d got caught up talking to one of your friends and before you knew it, it was pitch black outside. You should have just called Logan at the store, asked him for a ride. Now, you’re staring down at the flickering screen of your flip phone and about to sob as you see the bars disappearing. 

“No fucking service, of course,” you hiss and shove the phone back in your pocket. The battery’s nearly dead anyway. You doubt it would have lasted long enough for a phone call. You run a stressed hand over your face, trying to calm your breathing down. 

You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that everything’s okay. That the shadows are just shadows and you’re scared. Then you hear it. 

It’s a low noise, something out of your worst nightmares. There’s an immediate spike of adrenaline as an inhuman growl echoes through the night air. You swear you can feel it inside your chest. It rumbles through the animal, bursts through clenched fangs, and makes the hair on your neck stand on end. 

You glance over your shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream. You don’t see anything, you can’t. You just barely make out the branches shifting nearby before you’re leaping to your feet. You almost call out, see whose there, but that feels like the last move every bimbo makes in a horror movie. 

So, you do something arguably worse. You abandon your groceries and purse and bolt. Immediately you can hear its pounding footsteps chasing after you. You do scream now, there’s no point in swallowing it down. It’s like the terror is ripping through you, making you stumble over every branch and rock in your path. 

You know it's faster than you. You can hear how easily its keeping up its stride behind you. This feels like a game to it. It's just teasing you, dangling freedom in front of its prey before it closes its drooling maw around your neck. 

You trip over an enlarged root and go flying forward. Rocks scrape across your arm and you let out a short shriek of pain. The flesh tears easily on the sharp points and the metallic scent of your blood fills the air. It comes to a sudden stop a few feet away from you. There are no thoughts in your head besides the voice screaming at you to RUN!

It tells you to keep running. If you stop it will catch you and it will kill you. This is no longer a product of your imagination. This is real and it is hungry for you. You scramble to your feet, boots slipping along the muddy forest floor. You dig your fingers into the earth, feel the dirt slide under your nails, and launch yourself forward. You nearly flip your feet over your head but you manage to keep yourself steady. 

You can’t hear the steps behind you. The beat of your heart pounds through your head, drives you forward, and discombobulates you all the same. Blood rushes so quickly beneath your skin that you can feel your vessels swelling with the warmth of your terror-fueled adrenaline. 

You’ve never felt so inferior before, like a rabbit desperately trying to escape the hungry jaws of a wolf. Your legs are moving faster than they ever have, you’re bounding, racing, leaping through the forest. You move through it like you were born in it, anything to escape whatever was following you. 

You no longer remember the way home or what home is. You can only focus on right now. You don’t notice the dark shape running alongside you, or how easily it keeps pace. Not until it’s barreling into your side and you go slamming into the ground again. Your head nearly bounces against a rock but something slides underneath it, stopping the impact at the last second. 

Something rough grips at your face. You’re still blind, blood rushing so hard beneath your skin, you’re practically blind with panic. You bite down, taste flesh, and hold on until blood rushes into your mouth. The metallic tang of it is like poison against your tongue but you don’t let go. 

“Release!” He orders you like a dog. His voice is so thick with anger and hunger that you barely recognize it. But something clicks in your head and you unlock your jaw from his palm. “The fuck have I told you about taking this path?” Again, his voice is so thick with volatile rage that you barely register it. 

“Sorry,” you sob out, shoving at his chest and scrambling to sit up. But he keeps you pinned to the ground, one hand clamped tightly around your neck and the other pushing down against your stomach. You can feel something hard against your thigh but you pay it no mind, still struggling to catch your breath. 

You take in deep, heaving, gasps of air and the moon shifts overhead. It gives you just enough light to see Logan clearly now. You nearly choke at the sight of his face. His lips are peeled back, sharpened points of teeth causing blood to bead along his lower lips. His beard seems scruffier than normal and there’s a golden glow to his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” You stutter out, glaring up at him. You’ve seen him angry before. But you’ve never seen him quite so animalistic. “Logan?” You whisper his name hesitantly and it only makes him look more pissed off. You shrink back, though there’s not far to go with him holding you like this. 

His hips shift down and you bite down on your lip so a pathetic whimper doesn’t escape you. His head tilts curiously, gaze raking over your heaving chest and then down to the too-short shorts you’d put on earlier. 

He gives you a look of astonished disbelief, “You fuckin’ kidding me?” 

The hand on your stomach drifts down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s trying to do. “Logan, wait-” Too late. He rips the shorts down your legs and his eyes widen. The sneer of his lips finally melts away as he sees the clear wet spot in the middle of your underwear. 

You don’t even get a chance to defend yourself before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over. Your hands struggle for purchase on the slippery rock in front of you. You try and glance back at him, but he buries a hand in your hair, tugging harshly, and forcing your face forward. 

“Logan, please,” you whine, thoroughly humiliated as he sits behind you, silently examining your battered form. You’d tripped more than you thought while you’d been running from him. The adrenaline has just barely waned enough for you to feel the bruises forming. But he has no sympathy for your plight, if anything your tears seem to egg him on. 

“What have I told you about taking this path?” You bite your tongue, a sudden refusal to answer raging forth. He’s got you half-naked on your hands and knees after chasing you through the woods. You shouldn’t have to be scolded like an imbecile on top of that. 

He leans over you, the weight of his body pushing forward, your arms strain to keep you both up. You grit your teeth, still keeping your mouth clamped shut. He chuckles, the noise so low you feel it rattling through you rather than hear it. “I could hear you.”

His hand drifts down your bicep, wraps around your front, and rests over your breasts. “Could hear how fast your heart was beating. It’s still about to come out of your chest.” You suck in a sharp breath, keeping yourself from arching into his touch.

His nose lingers against the side of your head, dipping towards your neck and inhaling deeply. Your face wrinkles in confusion as he practically smells you. “I can smell how terrified you were.” His hand suddenly jerks your head back and you can’t help but yelp. There’s a smirk on his lips as he finally gets a noise from you. 

You can feel the desire practically dripping down your thighs at this point. All you can think about is how powerful he is. How hungry he is for you. You want him to devour you, completely wreck you. 

He releases you and without his support, you slump forward, neck bowing awkwardly. You try and right yourself but one of his hands grips your neck so tight you can feel the blood rushing up into your face. He pins you there and the only warning you have of what he’s about to do is the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. 

He thrusts into you and your jaw drops. You inhale the dirt beneath you and it tastes remarkably like blood. He pushes your cheek further into the ground and you grunt as tiny little pebbles have their taste of your flesh. 

Had you not been so wet, you doubt you would have enjoyed a second of this. But, because his chasing you down like something feral made you more aroused than you have been in months, you let out a pathetic moan beneath him. It borders on the thin line between pain and pleasure. But each rough thrust inside you blurs the line until they’re indiscernible from one another. 

Your fists curl up, mud sticking in the lines of your palm as he takes you like you’re nothing more than a toy. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how used you feel. But you relish it. Relish in how crazy you make him, to the point that he’d lose his mind and use you like this. 

He’s like a fucking animal. Taking what he wants from you with no concern or care to whether you like it or not. He’s panting and grunting behind you, you don’t understand the insults spewing from his mouth because there’s blood rushing in your ears and you feel like you might pass out. 

The adrenaline and residual terror from earlier are building into one explosive moment inside you. Your fingers tremble with it, your limbs burn from the volatile feeling and you can’t help the noises being forced out of you.  It doesn’t take much longer for you to combust. 

Pleasure rushes through you, makes you numb to the world around you. A dulled tickling feeling rushes through every part of you. Your arms go limp and he’s quick to wrap a hand around your waist, keeping you upright. He presses into your lower back, arching it until he’s hitting the spot inside you that causes aftershocks of painful pleasure. 

Your core throbs as you pulse around him. Sucking him deeper until his hips come to an erratic stop and he spills inside you. You keep your forehead pressed to the cool earth beneath you. You never actually managed to catch your breath before and now it just feels like you’re five seconds away from hyperventilating. 

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, he curls around you and helps you to sit up. His voice is a low whisper, “You alright?”

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and giving him a shaky nod. He laughs and pulls you to stand up. Your legs were limp from running earlier, now they’re practically boneless. He keeps you propped against him and pulls your shorts back up. 

He buttons his jeans and straightens. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He cups your chin, tilting your head to examine the scratches on your cheeks and tutting at you. His fingers tighten to the point of pain and he jerks your face up to meet his eyes. “You gonna come down this path again?”

After that, yes. You completely would. He sees the look on your face and rolls his eyes. He leans down, tossing you over his shoulder and groaning. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You like it,” you taunt, tugging at his shirt for balance. 

He shakes his head but you know he’s smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Same time next week?” You tease as he goes back for your groceries and purse. 

“Don’t push it,” he snaps. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[krirebr]

Still Life 1

Pairing: Alpha Curtis Everett x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~2.8k

Summary: Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad...

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending), past abuse (not Curtis), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, physical scarring, extreme sexism, adult themes, explicit language, All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me this time!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Well, this is for all of you who thought you'd seen the worst angst I could possibly do. Sorry for how much this one's gonna hurt!

Big thanks to @paperweight91 and @bigtreefest who both read so much of this and helped with structuring and world-building. And huge thanks to everyone who showed so much enthusiasm for this idea. I'm so excited to share this story with you!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Nzzzz Nzzzz Nzzzz

Nzzzz Nzzzz Nzzzz

It took a moment for Curtis to pull himself out of sleep enough to realize the incessant noise was his phone vibrating loudly on his nightstand. It took another moment for him to pull himself together enough to answer it. “Hello?” he croaked.

“Morning, Curtis,” a harried voice came through from the other end. “This is Yona from the Omega Welfare Center. I'm so sorry to call so early, but we've had kind of a crazy night here and we're in need of several emergency placements.”

That had him waking up. “What happened?” he asked, seriously, sitting up in bed.

She sighed, all of her exhaustion coming through. “A traditionalist compound a couple hours away got raided by the feds and ATF. They prepared for some omegas, but… There were a lot more. Kids too. It’s been all hands on deck at all five omega centers in the state. We’re over capacity, so we’re just trying to place anyone we can immediately.”

“Shit,” Curtis mumbled to himself. Traditionalist communities popped up on the news every once in a while, populated mostly by alphas on a power trip. But this one sounded bigger than most. He looked at his clock. It was just past five. “I’ve got room for one,” he said. “And I can be there in an hour.”

“Thank you, Curtis. I’ll see you soon.”

Fifty-five minutes later, Curtis was checking in at the center, his second coffee clutched in one hand. He’d been volunteering there as a foster Alpha for about three years. Mostly short-term placements. His longest one was just over a month. He provided safe touch, grounding, and a sense of security to omegas who needed to get back on their feet. He’d help them through heats when necessary, never knotting them, but whatever else they might need. Often, it was just his scent. It made him feel good, to be able to help these omegas, offer a positive alpha experience to omegas who hadn’t had many.

He’d worked with a few different case workers during his time. Yona had been the main one for the past year. He’d never heard her sound like she had that morning.

Even just at the front desk, he could sense how much more chaotic it was here than usual. He could hear babies screaming beyond the office door, endless anxious chatter. The entire building reeked of omegas in distress. It made his nose itch and his skin crawl.

After a few minutes of waiting, Yona came and got him. “How bad is it?” he asked the omega as she hurriedly led him down the hall. 

She showed him into a small meeting room as she answered, “Really, really bad. I’ve never seen anything like it. None of them are talking, but from what we can gather, most of them have spent their entire lives in the compound. No IDs, no papers. Figuring out who they are has been nearly impossible.  And as terrible as it may have been, their whole world was ripped apart in the last twenty-four hours. No one feels like cooperating. We hope you might have better luck as an alpha.”

“You think they'll talk to me?” 

She shakes her head. “Just the Omega we're placing with you. They've all been taught never to trust outsiders, but they've also been raised to see Alphas as the ultimate authority. So, it's worth a shot.”

He nodded, slowly. “What do you need?”

“Just basic identifying information for now. So we can see if she even exists in any sort of governmental system. Then we can go from there.”

“If you don’t have any information, what makes you think I’ll be a good fit for her?”

“Honestly,” Yona said, with a helpless shrug, “you only have room for one and she doesn’t have any pups. That’s it. Listen, I know this isn’t how we normally do things and I’m so sorry I’m just throwing you into it without any preparation, but we’re really desperate here. They’re all high needs, high risk. There’s no existing support network for them, and there are more of them than we have room for. So we called all of our most experienced, most dependable alphas first thing this morning so we can focus on the ones we have room to house here. I know it isn’t fair to you but–”

“Hey,” Curtis interrupted. “It’s ok, I understand. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out, a small fraction of the tension she’d been holding bleeding out of her shoulders. “Ok, I’m gonna go bring her in.” 

She slipped through the door and Curtis leaned against the table in the center of the room as he waited. He took a deep breath and tried to focus on putting together a to-do list. He had two sets of nesting supplies always ready, one with his scent and one without. In the next few days, he’d try to figure out if there was anything else this omega wanted for the nest. He’d gone grocery shopping the day before, so his pantry was stocked, but he’d see if there were any favorite comfort foods he could grab in his next shop. He needed to rearrange his work schedule, push back some deadlines so he’d have time to get the omega settled. He had no idea what they’d be bringing with them, so a shopping trip for toiletries and clothes would probably be necessary. Depending on the omega's state, maybe he'd be able to get the shopping done on the way back to his house. He glanced at the time on his phone. Shit. Depending on what was open.

At movement right outside the door, he stood at attention. Yona came back in with you right behind her. He took a good look at you. You wore a rumpled long-sleeved floral dress that went down to your ankles. It was faded like it’d been washed too many times. Your eyes were fixed on the tennis shoes you wore, which had probably been white at one point, but now were discolored and looked like they didn’t fit quite right. 

There was a little hand-written number ten pinned to your dress. He wanted to raise a judgemental brow at Yona, but if none of you would say your names, he supposed Yona and her team had to come up with some way to keep track of you all.

He had to stifle a gasp when his eyes landed on your neck. There was a large bite scar over your mating gland. Unlike the neat and pretty, well-healed ones he was used to seeing, yours was deep and jagged, red and white, scar tissue bubbling up where your flesh had clearly been torn. This didn’t look like a mating bite. It was the sort of bite meant to inflict pain. What sort of alpha had you had??

Your eyes stayed on the floor, your expression blank but your scent said so much – panic, sadness, terror, relief all jumbled together. He wanted to reach out and touch you, his alpha instincts were going haywire, but he kept his hands to himself. 

“This is Curtis,” Yona said to you. “He's the alpha who's going to look after you until we can get all this sorted.”

You didn’t react at all, just stood there, stiff as a board with your eyes on your shoes.

He stayed where he was, conscious of giving you space. “It’s very nice to meet you,” he said, as gently as he could. Then, with a glance to Yona, “Can you tell me your name?”

Your face scrunched up and the fear in your scent spiked but you didn’t say anything. He sighed. Shit. He really didn’t want to have to use an alpha command with you right now. That could be disastrous for any dynamic he tried to build with you. But they needed this information. He really, really hoped you wouldn’t make him force you.

“Omega, what’s your name?” he asked as firmly as he could, hopefully without scaring you. “I need to know.”

You closed your eyes tightly and he thought he saw the smallest little head shake. There was another moment of silence and he looked at Yona nervously. But then, you said it. So quietly he almost didn’t catch it. But you said it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yona frantically scribbling it down, but his focus was completely on you.

He tried to keep his sigh of relief to himself. “That was so good. Thank you. You’re doing so well,” he said, keeping the praise soft, hoping you could scent how pleased he was with you. “When were you born?”

You gave up your birthday a little more easily, but you left off the year. 

“That’s great. Thank you. Do you know how old you are?” he asked, maintaining his gentle tone, knowing it was possible that you didn’t.

For whatever reason, it was that that finally got a reaction out of you. You looked up at him, so he could finally see your eyes, and snarled, “I’m not stupid!”

There was a beat when no one did anything. Curtis and Yona just stared at you in shock. The snarl was frozen on your face until it suddenly disappeared and your eyes got wide. Before he was able to process any of what was happening, you’d dropped down onto your knees. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Alpha. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Alpha, I’m sorry.” You just keep repeating that in a constant stream, your head tucked to your chest.

Repeatedly mixed into that jumble was a number. It took Curtis a few moments to realize it was your age. You were answering his question. He quietly repeated it to Yona, then dropped down to his knees as well so he could be closer to your level. “Hey, hey. You’re okay. You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re right. You aren’t stupid. I can already tell how smart you are. It’s okay. I’m not mad.” He wanted to reach out and touch you, wrap you in his arms, even, comfort you however he could. But he was too afraid that that’d make you panic even more. That was a boundary he couldn’t cross. Not yet. He stayed down there, whispering reassurances to you for as long as it took for you to stop apologizing, and a few extra minutes for your breathing to calm down. Once you seemed like you were back in the present moment, he moved to a crouch. “Think you can stand up for me, honey?”

You nodded, but you were back to keeping your eyes downcast. “Yes, Alpha.”

He wanted to tell you that you didn’t need to call him ‘Alpha,’ that ‘Curtis’ was just fine. But that could wait until you were a little more comfortable. Once he had you home, maybe. He could already tell that picking his battles was going to be important.

“Thank you,” he said as he stood up to his full height, and you did as well. “You answered my questions so well. You gave me exactly what I needed.” He looked to Yona to see if there was anything else.

“Do you have any questions for me or Curtis?” she asked you.

You shook your head, emphatically, hunching your shoulders. The room filled with the scent of fear again.

“Okay… that’s fine,” Yona said, and he could tell how much she hated this. “Well,” she turned to Curtis, “I’ll go get the paperwork and then you two can get home. I’ll be right back,” she said to you, then left the room. 

This was happening too fast. In normal circumstances, you would have already been at the center for a few weeks, at least, with access to mental health professionals, life skill classes, and support groups. He’d be the last step before going back to the real world. You’d be ready to spend time with an alpha. Ready to work through processing positive physical attachments. Ready to learn how to share space with someone who wasn’t a threat to you. You’d be ready to slowly take steps into the world, with him there to support you.

You had backed yourself into the corner now. He could see the way every single muscle in your body was trying not to cower. You weren’t ready. You were nowhere near ready. But with all the resources for at-risk omegas pushed to their limit by this raid, what would happen to you if he didn’t take you? As insufficient as it might be, his help could be all you’d be able to get. This wasn’t how it should be, but he’d do everything he could for you.

Yona came back in and he watched her take you in, sighing at your state. He knew she was thinking the same things he was. “Ok,” she said, handing him the packet of forms to sign. “No changes since last time. You know the drill.”

He nodded as he grabbed them and sat down at the table, getting to work signing where he was supposed to. As he did, he felt your eyes on him as the scent of your apprehension filled the room.

Yona called your name. “Let’s go outside for a minute while Curtis finishes up.”

You both left quietly. This, too, was part of normal procedure. She was asking if you were sure you were comfortable leaving with him, telling you you had the option to say no, getting your verbal and written consent, and giving you cards with all the emergency numbers on them. He was afraid this situation might stretch the legal definition of informed consent. Based on everything he’d seen so far, he couldn’t picture a scenario where you’d say no. 

Nothing about this felt good, but everyone’s hands were tied. And he knew that he’d do everything he could to keep you as safe as possible.

A few minutes after he’d finished signing the last page, you and Yona came back in. A worn knapsack hung from your fingers. It was small, confirming Curtis’s suspicions that you didn’t have much in the way of clothes. Alright, that was priority number one.

Yona had a thin folder in her hand that she immediately passed to Curtis. “The regular information, along with her schedule of appointments for the next few weeks, both doctor and therapist. And the card for the agent in charge of the investigation into the compound, in case anything pertinent comes up.” Then she turned to you with a small box. “I’ve got a couple packets of suppressants for you. Do you want them or do you want Curtis to keep track of them for you?”

Your eyes cut to him suspiciously then flitted back to the floor. “Alpha,” you muttered.

“Okay,” Yona said, handing the box to Curtis as well. Then she clapped her hands together, her face set in grim determination. “I won’t keep you any longer then. I’ll see you both next week.”

On the way out of the center, Curtis was all too aware of the way you walked exactly three steps behind him, one step to the left. That wasn’t just old-fashioned, it was archaic. He’d never seen an omega do it in real life.

At his truck, you looked at the truckbed in a way that made him worried you might try to ride back there, so he opened the passenger door for you and waited for you to get in. He resisted the part of his alpha instincts that wanted to buckle you in. And after a gentle request, you did it yourself.

As the two of you hit the road, he reached over to turn the radio on. He tried to move slowly, but you still flinched. “Want some music?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t respond, so he found an oldies station and left the volume low. His plan for the day had shifted a bit. You definitely weren’t ready to go shopping. That was fine. There was nothing that couldn’t be delivered.

About five minutes into the drive, the strong scent of your tears filled the cab. He looked over at you. You were huddled against the door, as far away from him as you could get. Your face was pressed against the window, so all he could see was the back of your head. But he could hear your sniffles and he could smell your distress.

It took everything in him to not pull over right now and reach over to comfort you. Pull you into his arms. Rub soothing circles on your back. But he knew that would do more harm than good. His touch wouldn’t be welcome. Yet. You weren’t ready.

And god, he wasn’t either. He wasn’t ready for any of this. But damn it, he was going to try.

Tag List is open!

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[badolmen]

Debating whether or not I tell my advisor/prof for my class today that I’m just. Too burnt out/not feeling well enough to come in person today but I know he’s gonna ask/I have the ability to attend remotely but I don’t have the discussion questions done/submitted but like girl I am at my fcking limit

[thriftedtchotchkes]

hi idk if u remember me but i literally love u okay anyways

so literally just dbf!joel saying “sweetheart i need you to be quiet” and ”baby i’m gonna cum if you don’t shut up” and maybe covering her mouth at some point 🤭

have a wonderful day and thank u sm for ur time 🙏🏾

hii love, ofc i remember you! tysm for sending this in ♡ accidentally got inspired by my dinner last night, oops. hope you enjoy!!

does your mother know?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, close family friend!joel, language, smut, rough sex, unprotected piv, age gap, mild exhibitionism, old man joel can't keep it in his pants at family dinner

word count: 1.7k

Friday night dinner wasn’t supposed to go like this.

One hand buried in your hair and the other slapped over your mouth, muffling every moan and sigh you make while Joel fucks you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom of your family home. 

He'd arrived late with a charming, drawled apology and immediately made the mistake of taking the seat across from you. If he'd sat literally anywhere else, he might've been able to ignore the perfect curve of your tits in the lowest-cut shirt he'd ever seen you in, or your constant need for the salt and pepper shakers, conveniently placed right in front of his plate. 

Every time you leaned over the table, he was reminded of the fact that you’d decided to forgo a bra. Whether that was for his benefit or yours, he was doing his best not to find out. 

Not after your parents had taken the time to invite him here, insisting that he eat a home-cooked meal for once, knowing full well he's been surviving off TV dinners ever since Sarah left for college.

“That’s kinda rude of me, huh?” you smiled sheepishly after giving him a particularly revealing peek, but the look that followed was downright sinful. "My bad, I just didn’t wanna keep interrupting your dinner by asking you to pass the salt. Figured it’s been a while since the last time you ate."

And you were right. It had been a while since he’d tasted anything as sweet as you, that satisfied him the way you do, but you already knew that. It’s why you were baiting him—because you know he can’t resist you.

Still, he tried. He really did, but the Southern gentleman in him couldn't refuse dessert or the hefty glass of wine your mom poured after he'd finished helping her clear the table. So, when he'd found himself trapped between your familiar warmth and the armrest of the couch, he should've known there'd be trouble.

When you'd casually gestured a little too widely during the story you were telling and splattered half the glass across his flannel and jeans, he should've gone to the bathroom to treat the stains alone instead of accepting your apologetic offer to help.

He should’ve known better. 

But the second your doe eyes lock with his, roving over his body like the lovely dinner your mom made wasn’t nearly enough to fill you up, he realizes he does know better. He just doesn't give a shit.

And that's why you're bent over the sink, taking his cock like you were made for it, and making the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. You either don’t care enough to stop, regardless of whether your parents can hear you or not, or you’re too blissed out to notice. But he does.

“Sweetheart, I need ya to be quiet,” he grits out tightly, barely audible over his hips slamming into yours and the filthy squelch of your pussy around him. “Don’t want us gettin’ caught, do ya?”

You can’t respond, or even nod, with his hand still held firmly over your mouth, so you whine your acknowledgment into his palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you try your best to do what he asked. 

You’re clearly struggling. Those muted, stuttered whimpers grow louder every time he buries himself to the hilt, and he almost wants to remove his hand and let the sounds of your pleasure echo around the room, so everyone in this house knows just how good he’s making his girl feel. 

“I know, baby, I know. Feels good, don’t it? S’hard to keep all those pretty noises in when you’re takin’ so much, but I need’ya to try,” his lips graze your ear with each growled word. 

Another pained whimper passes your lips through the cracks between his fingers, and he accidentally bucks into you harder than he means to. Christ, he’s never heard you sound like this before. So needy. He shouldn’t, but he wants to hear more. To feel your chest vibrate with it, watch in the mirror as your mouth parts around even just one perfect, drawn-out moan.

The hand buried in your hair trails down your neck, beautifully elongated as your back arches to take him deeper, and snakes around your body. He tugs down the front of your shirt—that flimsy fucking tank top that's been teasing him all night—to cup your breast and, fuck, you like that. Your pussy grips him in response, clenching intermittently while he roughly tweaks your nipple between two calloused fingers. 

You’re tight, almost too tight for him to keep up his merciless pace if he wants to last much longer, and so goddamn wet. You’re seeping right into the wine-stained fabric of his jeans, making an even bigger mess than you started with.

“Look at ya,” he mumbles, slowing to watch in awe as his cock drags against your entrance, reappearing slicker with every thrust. “So fuckin’ tight...and sloppy. You’re makin’ a mess of me, sweetheart."

You shudder under his rapt attention, at the sheer want in his voice, but despite the obvious effect of his words, you’re still staying quiet, just like he told you to. You’ve been such a good girl, so he decides to take a risk and reward you. 

“M'gonna let go, alright? But ya gotta keep bein' good for me," he leans down to press his lips between your shoulder blades, his hand dropping from your mouth to settle on your waist. "Don't need'ta be silent, just need'ya to keep it down. Can ya do that?"

You gasp as his slow, deep thrusts still and he presses flush against your ass, grinding into you languidly as he waits for your answer. 

"Y-yeah...yes, yes," you reply weakly, cold ceramic digging into your breasts as you pant heavily into the sink. "Keep going—p-please, just fuck me."

"That's my girl," he breathes raggedly, and he's a little ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten at the soft timbre of your voice. 

His pace abruptly picks up, and then he's forcing you onto his cock again, his hips slamming into yours with a steady, wet thock-thock-thock that's probably louder than you've been all night. But he doesn't stop—you feel way too fucking good to stop, and he likely couldn't even if he tried.

In the back of his mind, he tells himself that your parents are probably doing dishes by now, and whatever he's doing to their daughter upstairs is getting drowned out by running water and clattering dishware. 

He continues to repeat the shitty lie to himself as he yanks you up, pulling your back flush against his chest and wrapping an arm around your stomach to hold you in place. The abrupt shift changes the angle of his hips so he’s fucking up into you instead, and it feels...indescribable. 

He's hitting something he wasn't able to reach before, a sensitive spot impossibly deeper inside you that has your pussy squeezing him, gushing down his cock, and he's—

Fuck, he's not going to last long. 

"Mmph...fuck—there, Joel, there. So, so fucking close, please, need it harder."

Christ, and you begging him to fuck you harder isn't helping. His hand drops between your legs to your swollen clit, slipping through the slick mess to rub tight, insistent circles into the hardening nub, and the heady friction has your thighs quaking almost immediately. 

"S'good...feels soso good," you slur deliriously, teetering on the cusp of your orgasm. "Wanted you so fucking bad all night...ngh, should've fucked me right there on the table—"

Joel cuts you off before you can finish, pushed a little too far past his limit.

"Baby, m'gonna cum if ya don’t shut up," he grits through his teeth, still pounding into that spot, still rubbing hard and fast swirls into your clit, and he can feel how close you are.

"F-fuck, me too—m'so close. Fill me up, please."

That sends him over the edge. You barely have time to gasp in a breath before he shoves you back down, lifting one of your legs up to the side so he can sink even deeper as he practically mounts you on the edge of the sink.

"Fuck yeah, I'll fill ya up," he groans, drawn-out and wrecked, as he empties inside you, thick spurts coating your convulsing walls. His hands greedily roam your body, caressing every inch of bare skin he can reach. "Send ya back downstairs to your momma and daddy with my cum leakin' out of ya. Filthy fuckin' girl."

Three more achingly deep thrusts, and then you're cumming hard, exploding hot and wet around him, already feeling him start to drip out of you and down your thighs. Your entire body seizes, desperate not to make a single sound while he fucks you through your orgasm, but then Joel meets your eyes in the mirror.

The warm chestnut of his eyes has been completely overtaken by his blown-pupils and he looks a little wild, like he's about to do something you'll both regret. Then, he does. Without warning, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard, sucking a bruise into your skin he knows you won't be able to hide, and the squeal that erupts from your chest is high-pitched enough that you know everyone in the house heard it.

The thought alone stokes the heat already starting to build in the pit of his groin again, and the sight of his cum leaking out of your pussy in thick globs when he pulls out only fans the flames.

"M'takin' you home, sweetheart. Gonna fuck ya the way you deserve," he mumbles into your marked skin, and you tremble in his arms, whimpering softly through an aftershock. "Then, you can scream as loud as ya want—"

"Everything alright up there?" Your mom's voice filters up the stairs. "What, did one of y'all fall into the sink?"

Joel noses into your hair, chuckling before he responds.

"Just finished."

[octoberautumnbox]

Consider: Yubin who's your seatmate and is very professional in school but every night at 10pm you get the raciest, sauciest, spiciest nudes from her with no warning

Hell Week

tripleS Gong Yubin & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, that's p much all anyone needs to know i think

Word count: 5.5k holy shit

a/n: jeez howd it get this long :nolookk: oh btw i took some liberties with the prompt not that u care heres the fuckin yubin fic :DDDD

~~~

A hand lays itself on your shoulder, the sudden contact nearly making you jump. You turn around and find Yubin clutching a book to her chest with a gentle look on her features. Gesture over to the chair across from you, all the while trying to get your heart rate back under control. 

“My bad, didn't see you were locked in.” She gets into the chair left of you anyway and turns her book to the same page as yours. “How's it going?”

You stretch and groan to let out as much of your tiredness as you can, paying just a bit of mind to everyone else in the library doing pretty much the same. “Dunno. Around twenty minutes ago I accepted I'm retaking this class. What's up with you?”

She giggles while her eyes scan across the paragraphs talking about desert flora and types of precipitation. She rests her cheek on her palm, “I still have a bit of fight in me, but I'm losing hope. I was hoping I could borrow some from you.”

“Sorry, Yubin,” you whisper with every ounce of sympathy you had, “fresh out.” You return to your own book, yet all you do is run your eyes over the same page over and over without much staying in your head. 

A cursory look over to your left shows you scholar-mode Gong Yubin: focused, sharp, and serious. Not that it ever got in the way of you two being friends, but when she gets like this, you know better than to underestimate her–she's capable of plotting the downfall of kingdoms if she set her mind to it. 

However, at the same time, you notice her distress, then immediately notice how well she hides it. It's the same slight crease of her eyebrows in freshman orientation, after midterms in Linguistics 103, and when she finally stopped putting off Geology 102. The realization dawns on you: the situation is dire now that she asks for your help while she's like this, so how could you let her down now?

“Bet you I can score higher,” you challenge her. You have no good reason to issue such a proposition, but if it means giving her support how it matters, whatever embarrassing thing she'll make you do is more than worth it.

It piques her interest and a smile pulls up the corners of her lips. She side-eyes you with an excitement she didn't have just two minutes prior, and you know it worked. “If I win,” she announces as loud as she's allowed to, “make me thick tofu stew. The right way.” 

“Really? That's it?” Then you rebut with just as much fervor, “If I win, you do three of my essays in comparative lit next semester.”

“Now hold the fuck on,” she stumbles, her eyes grown wide and her smile grown toothy, “if you're gonna raise the stakes like that, I need to think of something else!”

Your phone and hers vibrate at the same time, and your screen reads “Get your ass over to Geog.” You both pack your bags and head off to your last Geology class before finals together, and as your book takes its place in the darkness of your backpack, “Fine, but I get to change mine too when I hear yours,” and the spring in her step as you walk tells you it's mission accomplished. 

~~~

In hindsight, it really wasn’t all that bad. The class review session your professor held that day helped you nail down just enough of whatever the fuck sleet might be, and while you're certain it isn't flying colors, your grade at least wouldn't be red. 

Coming out of the exam room, you spot Yubin just seconds before she finds you, and your good deed pays for itself as she skips to approach. 

“Got a good feeling?” There was no point in asking other than that you had to hear it from her, though the wide grin on her face was proof enough. 

“Yeah, I think barely,” she sways cutely from side to side, “and don't think you're off the hook!” She hits you light on the arm, and the most shining feature you can’t ignore is her eyebrows without any sign or symptom of the crease. 

“Not over ‘til the fat lady sings, Gong Yubin,” though you know she's already won. “Three whole essays against… Haven't you decided yet?”

“No, not yet, but the bet is still on!”

You relent, “Fine, fine. Anyway, Nakyoung’s treating the gang to drinks tonight. Wanna come?”

“Nah, busy. Laundry and stuff.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot, and you can tell she’s giddy about what her grade is going to turn out to be. It’s a sight for sore eyes, especially ones that have seen too many grainy tectonic plates and water cycle diagrams. “And why do you insist on full-naming her?”

“I know someone whose name sounds the exact same. As far as I’m concerned, our Nakyoung’s the other Naky.” You place your hand on the small of her back and lead her away from the doorway, and she walks with you without a second thought.

“Mean. You’ll have to introduce me to this first Naky, then.” You slide into rhythm with her gait, and it hits you just how relieved you are for Yubin’s worries to be over. 

It seems such a waste, you think, that laundry is the only thing keeping her away from celebrating, so as you walk out of the Social Sciences building, you bargain one more time: “We’ll be there all night, so just come by when you’re done. I speak for everyone when I say we want you to come, please?”

She giggles again, “I’ll see what I can do. It’s not like I don’t wanna be there, either. Plus,” she admits defeatedly, “we’re getting the results later, and God knows I’d rather not be alone when it comes.” 

~~~

“Hey, where's Yubin?” Nakyoung slings an arm around your shoulder and shoves another mug of beer into your hand. It's a welcome gesture, and it takes all of two and a half seconds for you to down half of it. 

“She has laundry,” you nearly shout back your reply above the music. “Said she'll drop by if she has time.”

Nakyoung makes to yell another reply right into your ear, but decides to pull you away into one of the quieter booths in the bar. “She's a goody-two-shoes, no? Laundry, oh please. Kaede hasn't done laundry in two years.” She takes a gulp of her own beer and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“Hey. She studied her ass off for that test. I made a bet with her and it looks like she has high spirits, but I honestly dunno what I'd do if she fails.”

Your friend takes your chin up with her finger and you realize how pensive an expression was sitting on your face. “This is Gong Yubin. You know she'll kill it.” Nakyoung flashes a confident smile, and it reassures you almost more than your own trust in Yubin herself. “You drunk yet?”

“Nah, not getting shitfaced without Yubin.”

“Cute. You know she likes you too?” 

“Go fuck yourself, Nakyoung. Go steal Seoyeon's boyfriend while you're at it.”

“I wish; she has him under lock and key. But I wouldn't really mind both of them,” she muses, eyeing Seoyeon in the middle of the dancefloor. 

Just then, the devil strolls in through the front door. “Hi! You weren't kidding, it's really loud in here,” Yubin exclaims with her hands shielding her ears as she adjusts to the noise.

She takes Nakyoung's seat–you whip your head around and find Nakyoung at the dancefloor, with Seoyeon grinding against her–and picks up Nakyoung's old mug. She takes a careful sip and ends it with a relieved ahhhh, before setting it back down and getting to business. She leans in like keeping a secret, though she can't hide her toothy grin. “Have you seen your grade yet?”

“It's out?!” You fumble for your phone, and the second it lights up, cold runs through your veins–the email notification is the first thing at the top of the screen. Meanwhile, Yubin calmly slides her phone across the table to you. She asks “I read yours, you read mine?” with the sweetest smile on her face, again with the slight crease on her eyebrows.

Calm your nerves, silence the alarms blaring in your head. You know she did well, absolutely certain. However, it still doesn't soothe you enough; not until you see the grades for yourself. So, as your thumb hovers over her email, your heart nearly beats out of your chest, only to see–

“You got 87 percent,” Yubin states in the blandest, matter-of-fact tone you've ever heard. Her eyes move left and right over the same spot on your phone, making ultimate certain that she's reading it right. Once she is, her tone softens just enough, “Yeah, 87 percent. Wow, that's good,” she sighs with relief, “... Hard to beat.��

Now her turn, you peek at her score. doing the same making sure, and then some. When you read it for the fifth time, you kick yourself mentally for being so worried and having such little trust in the genius that is Gong Yubin. “Goddamn, 95 percent.”

Her eyes widen like sinkholes as her hand flies to cover her mouth. It almost doesn't matter that you hand her back her phone; she snatches it back anyway. Her disbelief chips away at itself with every run through of the email she reads for herself, and when she's finally done, returns her shocked gaze back to you.

“You were that scared of three essays?” you joke. The beer tastes sweeter now that your worries have gone, and as if all six septillion kilograms of the world is off your shoulders. 

“No, three essays is easy,” she taunts, but immediately her voice takes on a gentler tone, “so I win, right?”

You scoff at her haughtiness, but your relief triumphs over all. “Yeah, whatever. What do you want?”

“... I wanna go home. This is enough excitement for one day.”

“Alright, let me take you. Tell me in the cab what you want for winning, though?”

“Sure,” she says with a tiny smile.

~~~

“So,” she declares. She catches her breath, and her face is overcome with a subtle red flush, “about the bet.”

“Yeah, about the bet.”

“I want…” and she hesitates. The cab runs over a mild speed bump, and the resulting sway seemingly knocks her completely out of focus. She gathers her resolve once more, as if every time she tries to speak she drops it and has to pick it up again. 

“You want…?”

It's a good couple minutes of her breathing heavily, and your concern shows itself for her and whatever she has planned for you.

“Is it illegal? What could possibly be so bad that you're hesitating this much?”

“No, no, shut up. I'm working on it.” She takes one last deep breath, even placing a hand on her heart to steady it. “I want… a cum tribute.”

“... A cum tribute.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to…?”

“I'll send you a photo. And do it on that.”

“You want a photo of–”

“Video.”

“You–video?”

“I want a video. Of you. Cumming on a photo. My photo. I'll send it to you.”

There's no way the cab driver doesn't think this is weird. Then again, he has an earphone in, so he might not be listening in at all. You get the feeling Yubin doesn't care either way, completely focused on you. 

“... Alright. You want it this bad, fine.”

“Good. Um,” she follows, “sorry in advance. It's gonna be my first time… taking a photo like this.” She refocuses her attention to the buildings whizzing by outside as she says it, the telltale sign the conversation is over. Still, it lingers in your head for a little while: Yubin's first time. 

~~~

“Look, I'm sorry,” she sighs, “just come up with me? Please?”

You're standing with her outside her dorm, all the while the meter ticks away in the cab. The driver waits expectantly inside for you to get back, but Yubin's fingers wrapped around your sleeve make for a very difficult decision. 

“Okay, okay, just let me pay the cab driver,” you concede, but as soon as you sum up the fare, Yubin snatches it from you and brings it over herself. She and the driver exchange a few words, ending with her waving him off and him leaving her in the dust. She waddles back with her signature grin: the one that tries and fails to hide her excitement. 

“Can I just ask why you want it so bad?”

She shakes her head, “Nope. Now shush,” as you both make the now-silent trek up the four flights of stairs to her floor and room. 

Upon entering, you immediately notice it's nicer than most dorm rooms: huge space, carpet floors, a big window, and two double-size beds, not to mention its own bathroom. It makes you stop and wonder if you ever glossed over any signs that Yubin or her family might come from old money.

“Uhh, give me a few minutes to get ready. The bed on the right is mine, make yourself at home. WiFi password by the light switch. Kaede doesn't like her stuff messed with, so steer clear.” Yubin then disappears into the bathroom, and you lay yourself down on her bed. You're made aware of how you sink comfortably into the memory foam, and of the disarming fragrance that wafts from her bedsheets and pillowcases. She's always smelled like this, you recall, but it's rather nice, you finally admit. 

“Hey,” Yubin attempts. She sits on the edge of her bed next to you, wearing a set of pajamas and no makeup at all. You always knew Yubin was a pretty girl, God knows how many times she's been asked out, but seeing her like this is new; her allure draws you in with a smile and an embrace. Shit, was Nakyoung right? Do you like her? 

“So… How do you want me?” She avoids your eyes and touches her fingertips together, a blush forming on her cheeks. 

“Do you… Do you have a tie?”

Her ears perk up, “Yeah, hold on,” and she retrieves a thin, striped necktie from her dresser. She places it around her neck, her fingers delicately maneuvering the fabric into an intricate-looking knot, and when she's done, she presents herself to you. 

“Take off your top, Yubin,” you tell her, and she hands you her phone with the camera already on. Point it at her, making sure the flash is off, and start taking pictures one by one. 

She pushes aside the tie and fiddles with the top button. It's effortless how she undoes it, and she pulls the collar apart to show you more of her. She unbuttons the next, then the next, all the while showing you her smooth skin. With half the buttons undone, she shows off her chest, showing nothing but skin underneath her top.

You take a moment to catch your breath, swallow your spit. “Are you sure about this, Yubin?” 

“Yeah… Just keep going, please.” She undoes her fifth button at the very bottom, revealing her midriff and making you salivate. Must be heaven to kiss her there, when she snaps you out of it, “Are you still taking pictures?” Am I that distracting?” Look up to her, find her with the same sweet smile on her face but with a new blush decorating her cheeks.

Her last button is her fourth, and it's undone before you know it. She keeps her pajama top on a little bit longer, covering her chest a little bit more, and finally she shrugs it off one shoulder. It's nothing but everything all at once, and the split second your self-control wavers is the exact moment you leap in.

You drop her phone somewhere on the mattress; both your hands grip her shoulders as your lips capture hers. She leans into the kiss, wrapping her fingers on the back of your neck, and tiny moans escape her amidst smooches that get louder the hungrier she gets. 

Pull the top off her other shoulder, and she finally strips it all off. However, you can't even enjoy the sight, not yet, as you draft down from her lips to her slender neck, leaving a trail of kisses on your way. She runs her fingers through your hair before holding you in place, all the while leading your free hand to her chest. 

She sucks air in through her teeth, “That's really good, just like that…” she moans as her head tilts to allow more access to her neck. The scent of her shampoo fills your nostrils and you feel yourself getting addicted, but not as much as to the softness of her skin. 

She pulls you down onto the bed, and you find yourself leaning over her. Yubin lies under you, watching you intently and waiting for what you'll do next. Her tie sits right in the valley of her tits, and it drives you wild. Take a nipple in between your teeth while you fondle her other breast. She breathes heavy in pleasure, wordlessly asking for more and more of your attention and love. Her fist closes on your hair as she pushes you further onto her chest, her other hand hopelessly tugging on your pants.

It's all the message you need from her: your pants go, then your underwear, then everything else. Your cock stands hard in her sights, and the way her fingers wrap around your length is nothing short of heaven. 

“Do… do you wanna do it with me?” Her question is purely innocent, without a single hint of malice in her voice. She rubs your shaft slowly, sending waves of tantalizing pleasure throughout your whole body.

“Do you have condoms?”

“... Kaede will forgive me.” She crawls down the ladder, picks out a square plastic wrapper from her roommate's dresser, and hurries to get back to you. The smile on her face as she comes up the ladder again is one of, if not the most beautiful things you've ever seen. 

You guide her as she puts the condom on you, and the sensation of her fingers gently unrolling the rubber along your length only makes you more impatient. Finally, you hook your fingers on the garter of her pajama bottoms, and she lifts her hips to accommodate you. The fabric slides off her so easily, revealing her long, smooth legs that she seems desperate to have you in between of. 

“Go easy, okay? I told you…” 

“Yeah, your first time. I'll take care of you,” you reassure her. Line up your throbbing cock against her slick heat, feel her palm on your cheek, watch her flash that killer smile again. She bites her lip, and while you know it isn't on purpose, it makes her look sexier all the same. 

Slide your cock into her, making sure to go slow. She shuts her eyes harder with every inch she takes of you, and when she moves her hands to your forearms and grips tight, it reminds you like a looping cycle: “Go easy, go easy.”

So you go slow and steady, staving off your lust for the woman giving herself to you. Each thrust into her sex is careful and calculated, though by the second you feel your calculations going awry. She pants at every good spot in her cavern you happen to drag across, earning her little admissions of newly found pleasure in the form of mewls and moans like a song you’d never tire of. 

“Faster, please…? You’re so–ugh, fuck…” And the way she pleads flips a switch in you; plant your elbows into the memory foam on either side of her head while she takes your face in her hands. Yubin pulls you in for a kiss and it means the world to her when you grow careless with your lovemaking.

“Fuck, fuck, not too fast, just right, mmm,” each time you push into her cunt. The way she mumbles sweet nothings into your ear, the way she holds on for dear life and leaves scratches all the way down your back, she takes up every single thought going through your head: Yubin, Yubin, Yubin…

You scarcely notice how she's scratching your harder, gripping you tighter, grinding against you faster–it’s much too late to finally hear her warning, “I'm close, I'm close, oh fuck, fuck, aaahhhh!” as she explodes with you still inside her. Her pussy clenches around your cock in all the best ways, and you savor the feeling as she rides out her orgasm. Her knuckles turn white as she grips you by the shoulders, though all you can see is how her tits bounce with every jerk that runs through her body. Yubin's eyes roll to the back of her head and her mouth hangs open, a prolonged, deep moan gracing your ears as she ambles closer and closer to spent. 

Take a moment, let her breathe. Every gasp of air in her lungs is like a blessing, and each one steadily brings her from beyond heaven back to you. Her hands fall to her sides as she pants out her delirium and replaces it with tiredness, and once she's stable she flashes you that killer smile again. It pulls on the corners of her mouth, showing the tiniest amount of teeth, though her eyes are nowhere near open. Plant a kiss on her cheek, then her neck, then receive her giggles once you stay and rest right on her pulse. 

“You good? Still alive?”

All she can do is nod, having had every last ounce of her strength sapped. She lays motionless under you, save for her chest rising and falling with her breathing, and you know she looks to you for comfort and security. You take another moment to bask in her afterglow; she's never looked more gorgeous. 

“Hey,” she whispers, and you swear it's the most tired you've ever heard her, or anyone for that matter. “You good?”

“Yeah, I'm okay. Are you sure you're good?”

“Yeah. Thank you.” She pulls you back down and plants a kiss on your cheek. Her lips linger for a second, as if she's taking in your scent made hers. You stay like this for a good while, just enjoying each other's presence, relishing in the warmth of a body that gave itself up for the other. You don't even notice when you slumped over onto the mattress beside her, but her head on your chest felt like the rightest thing in the world.

“We're not done, by the way,” she prods.

“What? Why not? Aren't you tired?”

“‘Tired’ isn't part of the bet. I still want that tribute.”

And you remember, you have a job to do, a debt to pay. It’s between your common sense and your lust for the hottest girl in the world right now, and there is a clear winner. 

Pull back from her, off of the bed, and plant your feet on the floor. Firm and resolute, tell her: “Fine, on your knees.” The flush on her face deepens to an igneous red, and she scrambles to the floor in front of you.

“You're so pretty, Yubin,” you muse as you point her camera back to her face. Make sure the flash is off, and once you push the big red button to record, your other hand immediately takes her cheek and guides her to your tip. 

Yubin's eyes flutter shut as she inches her lips closer and closer to your cock. The first contact is heavenly; just gentle kisses and licks from a complete novice pretending to be an expert at this sort of stuff. The way her tongue glides over your shaft, the way she plants kisses all over your cock with the tiniest sucks, the way she does all of this with her eyes gracefully shut makes for a killer video for her to get off to later. A blowjob from a girl like this comes once in a lifetime, so you resolve to give her everything she'd ever want from a tribute like this. 

A moan escapes you, and she picks up that she's doing it right. With your subconscious approval, the hand on her cheek pulling further her in, she takes your tip in her mouth. Her tongue works overtime in running all over the head, paying special attention to your slit, making absolutely sure her spit coats wherever she can reach. She takes in more and more of your shaft, pressing her tongue on the underside of your cock as she does, all the while her cheeks hollow out like her life depends on it. 

Tiny vibrations from her throat only add to the pleasure, sending shivers up your spine and your hand to the back of her head. For the first time, she opens her eyes, and the sight is something to behold: she looks up at you with the biggest, roundest, most pleading eyes, the epitome of cuteness if not for your cock she oh-so-diligently services to get what she wants. 

Yubin takes you in just a bit deeper, slightly turning her head and savoring the way your length fills her mouth, when you hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag. She pulls back abruptly as a tear forms in the corner of her eye, and you have half a mind to pull out entirely to make sure she's okay. Instead, she never lets you–she takes your cock again, shooting you another pleading look before she shuts her eyes and bobs her head onto your cock again and again. 

Luckily, you pick up on her message; Snake your fingers through her hair, grab a fistful, make her yours. A moan rises from her throat once again, and she steadies herself with her hands on your thighs in preparation. She's ready. 

Pull her in as far as she can take, and it's a good most of your shaft before she gags again. Offer her no breathing room, bob her head onto your cock over and over, all the while more of her slobber coats your length, some of it falling off her lips and onto her chest and lap. She never fights, only takes–soon the gagging is replaced by an obedient, rhythmic gluck-gluck-gluck than you're sure even she'd find hot if she could think straight. Instead, her phone picks up every sight and sound for her to enjoy later, while you both enjoy each other now. 

It's everything all at once: the sight of Gong Yubin's plump, sexy lips around your shaft, the feeling of her tongue relentlessly dragging over every inch of your cock, the sound of your tip meeting her throat again and again while her groans fight their way out. “Yubin… I'm close,” you confess, but with her eyes still shut and her tongue still going crazy all over you, you don't think she heard. So make the decision yourself: yank her hard off your cock, rub your shaft right against her delicious lips. Once she exits her daze, she takes your dick in her hand and rubs all across the length. Tears fall from the corner of her eyes and her lips give off the slightest tremble, but she's resolute in what she wants to earn from you. 

It takes no time at all until you reach your limit. It's the best handjob anyone has ever probably given, but it's that one last kiss from her, right on your tip, that sends you over the edge. One last groan, one last jerk, one last tug of her hair, and your orgasm hits. Your cum shoots out in ropes, all landing on her face and tits. She's determined to receive everything from you, so it's only right to give her exactly what she wants. She shuts her eyes again, but her mouth stays wide open to catch whatever she can of it–she never stops jerking you off even as your cum falls onto her eyelids, her nose bridge, her forehead, her chin. Yubin savors every moment and every drop, burning the memory of bliss into her mind as you coat her face with your love. 

Your orgasm finally dies down, and you realize just how much she squeezed out of you. You're sure no one has ever looked lewder, your cum smeared all over her face, yet she proves you wrong when she picks up a fingerful of it to take into her mouth. She licks her lips, apparently loving the taste, while you love the sight of her acting so sultry for you. 

Stumble back onto the bed, take Yubin with you. Both of you are out of strength, breathing heavy, and in the middle of processing that you just painted her face with cum–that she asked you to paint her face with cum. You barely notice the stars swirling in your eyes, but your sense of the situation comes back just quick enough to avoid things getting awkward. 

“I think I wanna shower, so you should wash up first,” you mumble, still staring at her beige ceiling, and you can feel she's panting and doing the same without even seeing her. 

Wordlessly she gets up and her carpet-muffled footsteps grow quieter as she heads to the bathroom. A door shuts, a handle creaks, a shower gushes to life. Your brain sits idle, making no attempts to form thoughts other than acknowledging the shower turning off and on while she bathes. It's calming in its own way, you suppose–taking a bath is one of the normalest things in the world–as if what you just did with her was a close runner-up. 

An unknowable amount of time passes, and a fresh, citrus-scented Yubin emerges from the bathroom again. She dries her hair with her towel as she makes her way to her hair blower, but not before shooting you a gorgeous smile and a head tilt to the bathroom to let you know it's your turn. 

~~~

Leaving the bathroom yourself, you find a dark bedroom, save only for a yellow lamp shining against a nearby wall. Yubin is sitting up in her bed and scrolling on her phone, and once she spots you, she beckons you over.

“Look, funny,” she whispers with a giggle, and she shows you a clip of a guy much too excited about a truck looking like Optimus Prime. 

“Yeah. Hey, listen, I'm pretty tired,” you attempt. In no way is this a lie, and you're sure she's tired too. You bet she wants nothing more than to finally go to sleep and end what should be a perfect night on a high note. 

“Totally,” she agrees, “come on in. It's cold.” She lifts up the covers and looks over to you expectantly. Not that it dumbfounds you, but it throws you for a slight loop; she literally just said it was cold. 

“Wh– I'm heading out, is what I mean. You should get your rest, too.”

Yubin's eyes take on a softer expression, “Oh, you're not staying over?”

“... Did you want me to?”

“Yeah…?”

Your eyes lock with hers for what seems like half a second and a million hours at the same time. You're stuck in place, still in a stalemate of a staring contest with her, and you're not sure even she knows what the two of you want out of the situation. Her expression turns into one of concern, and her arm holding up the covers falters just a bit. Fuck, you think, window's closing.

Make your choice, have no regrets. Get in the covers with her, and she lets them drop to snuggle up to you. Once the both of you settle, her head on your chest and yours on one of the fluffiest pillows in the world, she blurts out quietly: “You fucked up, you know.”

She navigates to her gallery and finds your video of her, and skips to a part near the end. “Your dumb ass stopped recording just as you were about to cum.” And the video did show that: Yubin rubbing your cock, eyes shut, tongue out and ready for your load, and the video stops. 

“Shit, sorry–” 

“This wasn't the bet. I wanted a cum tribute, not a facial. You need to send me a proper one,” she muses, “or take a proper video.”

Now that stuns you. You wonder how interesting her ceiling is for you to stare at it so much, but she snaps you out of it partway through by snaking a hand up your shirt and settling it right above your heart. Reciprocate–it only feels right–wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her even closer. An exhale from both of you, and one last exchange of words: 

“Okay. Tomorrow?”

“Can you go again that soon?”

“If it's you, of course.”

“Don't guys need to recharge?”

“... I'll handle it.”

~~~

[whowantshota]

DADDY'S HOME —— kim mingyu

in which your husband comes home late on valentines. but it's okay, he has his ways of making it up to you.

warnings ☆ MATURE CONTENT AHEAD. smut, husband!mingyu, somno, gyu is pussy whipped, kim mingyu x afab!reader

i get off work late today :/ 

c u ltr, ok?

You frown at the texts, irritability rubbing your thumb against your temples. 

This is not the first time your husband has texted you that he’d be late from work, oh of course not. You understand—-sometimes, his schedule is tight and that makes work the temporary number one priority. You obviously mean more to Mingyu than his paycheck.

Or so you thought. You groan, flopping back onto the couch miserably. Mingyu has come late at night at least twice a week for the past month now, so it should be a normal occurrence. At least, if tonight wasn’t Valentine's.

Yes, today was the commercial holiday that pisses about off half the world. And funnily enough, Mingyu had only sworn to you three major things in his life. One, good dick. Two loving you. And three, that he’d never miss Valentine's day. 

While the last one was mostly a long inside joke from before you got married, you’re still glancing worriedly at the clock. 9:30 and you’re still holed up alone in your apartment, a box of chocolates with his name on it set on top of the kitchen table. 

Mingyu hadn’t promised you a dinner date at a restaurant tonight —you both knew that wouldn't fit with his schedule. But he had promised to cook you something romantic, pour you a glass of wine, and then fuck you till you see stars. 

And being very honest, you think you would’ve loved that much more than a night out. Loved it so much, by the way you’re sneaking your hand into your panties. Pushing one, two fingers in; but it's never good enough—it'll never be Mingyu. 

So you quit early, stand up because you're tired of waiting around. He’ll be home tomorrow. You can wash up now, clean up and see him later. It’ll be fine. You can celebrate then, right?

★ . *- .

Mingyu didn’t think he’d be making up Valentines like this. When he thought about it on the way home, he had pictured at dinner out at your favorite restaurant, or flowers and an even bigger gift basket than the ones he had already bought for you. 

But, you didn’t hear the crack of the door, or the creek of the apartment floors when he walked in. You didn’t even hear when the loud thunk! when his work bag hit the floor. Or when he sets down the heart shaped pendant Joshua had picked out on top of a pink gift basket he had planned to give you much earlier.

He realized then, that you would not be waking up for a while. You were tired, basically passed out. He does feel bad for making you wait so long, but shit, he swears his cock never throbbed as hard as it did when he caught the sight of your sleeping figure curled up in bed. Only in a small tee and new pair of panties he got you a couple of weeks ago. Fuck, you look perfect.

So he went, took a shower and got dressed before laying next to you in bed. You murmur something when his arm wraps around you, snuggling into him. But you don’t wake up.

“Pretty,” he mumbles, slowly running his thumb over the skin of your cheek. He pokes you a couple of times with a finger. You look so cute—eyes shut with your mouth partially open. You might’ve been drooling even. 

His hand dips down to your torso, rests on your hip. He was nearly starting to fall asleep too, blinking in a poor attempt to keep himself up too. And right then, you just had to shuffle, pushing back against him. A small noise slips past his lips when the curve of your ass pressed against his clothed, semi-hard cock.

Poor Gyu, stuck in bed while you’re sound asleep. How’s he supposed to take care of that? He feels his cock twitch again, grip on your hip tightening just barely.

It wouldn’t be a problem if he just helped himself, right? Inhaling, his hand moves a bit further, hooking around the bottom of your panties. He prods against the warmth of your entrance pushing a finger in.

Fuck, you’re so wet. He can hear the sound of your slick when he presses another finger inside. It’s almost as if your cunt is begging for him to fuck you. And it’s only right that what his lovely wife and her pretty cunt wants, they get. 

Mingyu pulls his fingers out, sucks on it. Moving slowly, he climbs until he’s hovering over your still figure. There’s a tight feeling in his core, dick hard as pulls the crotch of your panties to the side. He pulls the waistband of his sweats down, groaning when cold air hits his cock. He spreads your legs a little wider, teases himself against your pussy.

Mingyu sees Heaven when the tip slips past your entrance. Swears he could cum on the spot. You’re so warm, so soft. It’s not his fault, you’re the one who lured him into this trap.

He can do a little more than the tip. You haven’t moved yet, still partially twisted one way with your legs spread wide for him. You were just made to take his cock, weren’t you?

He should have been making up Valentines with a picnic date in the park. Should have been thinking about what he’ll cook you for breakfast tomorrow morning, if he’ll deliver it to you with a card and a rose.

Instead, he’s got you trapped under him on the mattress, seemingly so passive and docile as you sleep, not conscious of the fact that he’s got you stuffed with his fat cock. He wonders if you’re dreaming about it now. You’re not necessarily a deep sleeper, so he’s surprised you don’t wake up when he bottoms out.

He doesn’t know what to say, can’t even speak. You feel so good, too good. Cunt wrapped around him, clenching. He’d kiss you if you were awake right now, but you’re not so he’ll settle with what he has. He fucks a soft thrust into you, watching for your reaction. Your breath catches, but you don’t do more than that.

“Perfect. You’re just perfect, baby.” He groans, pulling out until the tip before he forces himself back in. You let out a moan, arching so slightly. Mingyu thumbs your nipple through your shirt, speeding up the pace of his strokes.

He dips his head to press a kiss to your sternum, lips skimming and peppering kisses along your collarbone next. 

You twist just barely under his hold, eyes fluttering open. You’re still coming to, blurry eyes barely making out the sight of Mingyu’s body caging over you. Whining, you bite your down on your lip when you feel the stupidly fat cock slowly fucking into your cunt.

“Hey baby,” Mingyu murmurs, now kissing the side of your neck. Your whimpers get louder, and you move one arm and snake your it over his shoulder. He groans when you clench on him, sucking harder on your skin. “Don’t worry baby, daddy’s home.”

Tiredly, you rub your eyes with your free hand. There’s pleasure building in your stomach rapidly, and you start to force yourself to sink deeper onto his cock. “Gyu– daddy, please.” You cry, fucking back on him. 

You hear him hum in response, but you can’t answer. Not when he’s picking up the pace of his strokes, pushing hard, deep thrusts into your tight cunt. “Yeah baby? Come on, tell daddy what you need.” He teases, pushing your legs back before moving to grope your ass cheeks with his big hands.

Now that you’re awake, Mingyu tightens his grip, fucking into you harder. “Need Daddy to help you cum, hm?” He says, voice playful. As if he wasn’t the one whimpering and fucking himself into your pussy moments ago. 

“Couldn’t help it, you looked so good.” He murmurs. His hips are starting to buck into your sloppily, You mewl, nodding. Pretty sure you might even be drooling but you couldn’t give a fuck. Everything feels too good, and you’ve got no idea what’s going on. Mingyu says something you can’t hear, kisses along your jawline before he presses his lips to yours.

You can barely make out the “Happy Valentines.” he whispers, cumming too hard. Your cunt clenching around his dick, mouth falling open. He wants to spit in it, call you a slut, but he can’t when he feels you pulse around his cock. 

Gyu’s eyes roll back, and he lets out a low hiss, warm cum filling up your cunt. His body flops over yours, sweaty chest pressing to the front of your shirt. You run a hand through his hair, kiss his nape softly. “Someones late,” you joke, voice breathy.

“I know. ‘M sorry.” he says, moving down so that his head lies on your chest. He loves the feeling of you tugging on his hair slightly, ruffling his hair.

He looks up suddenly, disheveled but handsome as ever. “I’ll make it up. Wine and spa?” 

You laugh, seeing the way he pouts. He looks like a giant puppy, cuddled up into you. You love it, love it so much you’re not even remotely bothered by the mess on cum or the fact that he still hasn’t pulled out. Pushing his hair back with a hand, you kiss him on the forehead once more. “Sure. Happy Valentines.”

didn't realize that even tho it's still valentines in my country, it's late in other places :( happy valentines! not beta read

[aquasoftware]

Sex tapes. ୨❤︎‬୧

wc : 654/fic type: Drabble || cw : fwb! Gojo x f!reader, s*x tapes duh, masturbating, pwp, he’s a lil needy n attached, whimpering, no shame, profanity, jealous! Suguru, cocky gojo, baby used once, a sprinkle of fruitiness at the end & Mdni. Lmk if I missed sum + RB 2 support!

Fwb! Satoru, who hasn't even touched porn ever since hooking up with you, nothing else hit the same. Besides there was no need anymore, especially since he had a little album in his gallery displaying all the sex tapes you had together.

So whenever Satoru couldn't sleep at night, he'd grab a lotion bottle standing idle on his wooden nightstand, untying his batman-pajama pants, letting his rapidly throbbing boner free as he instantly placed it in his smooth, soft hand, slowly pumping his cock while a heavy sigh laced with such deep yearn for you streamed from out of his rosey pink lips.

The other hand nearly had a mind of its own, eagerly searching for his favorite sex tape in the collection, one he seemed to watch repeatedly so much that if it were a song on Spotify, it'd reach his number one on wrapped by the end of the year.

No shame; even while his best friend Suguru was visiting his small apartment for a few days, Satoru's phone had been turned at max volume, bright blue eyes cemented to the screen, watching how your plump pussy lips split open as your walls desperately sucked him in.

He gulped as he stroked his aching girth faster, letting his thumb swipe across a few sensitive veins, taking an extensive inhale at the touch, wishing it was yours, biting his lip at your faint scent still lingering around his room.

"Fuck, Y/n, I wish it was you touchin me, baby.." Satoru panted out heftily as if he just did the most excruciating exercise; even at max volume, it got tough to hear the tape since the lewd wet sounds from the lube on his dick grew louder.

The breezy summer air from the opened windows attacked his lean build, but he didn't care; his crave to nut thinking about you was deeper. Your dramatic moans and whimpers off of the lengthy video aroused him even more, causing him to stroke faster with a horrifying grip.

"Aah, shit, I need you so bad." He whined, biting his lip, while the tape showed him relentlessly pounding into your fertile hole. It almost made him call you, except he wasn't willing to awaken you.

A deep, warm pool in his stomach almost became damn near uncomfortable as Satoru's sore hips began to buck intensely into his quivering hand, stroking at a diabolical speed, his voice harshly trembling, feeling like he was so close.

His head fell back, letting stacks of ear-piercing aroused curses slide out of his lips, sensing everything going numb as if his brain turned on autopilot.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," Satoru's blue eyes became as heavy as a brick, while his girthy cock throbbed immensely as if he had two heartbeats in his body "I'm coming, baby." He whispered, recognizing that feeling of his massive balls tightening.

Suddenly, deafening choked sobs sprawled out throughout the room, echoing as insanely thick ribbons displaying generations of seed oozed out of his tip and onto the screen.

Stopping at a perfect moment too, where it paused at your mouth being stretched wide open, he moaned one last time, slightly patting his tip on the iPhone, nearly forgetting the walls are thin, especially because an irritated Suguru couldn't sleep due to a special someone masturbating all night.

"Satoru! If you don't mind, I'm trying to sleep." Poor Suguru aggressively rolled his eyes at all the commotion, giving a deep yawn from the lack of rest.

"If you wanna be next orrrr... Join next time, me and Y/n fuck, just say that." The white-haired man's smile was as smug as a Cheshire cat, spurting his little frisky jokes to his best friend as usual, to which Suguru didn't even respond, or at least Satoru couldn't see that his reply was a flushed-out face, hoping his jokes would become a reality.

8/15/24 5:47 pm masterlist.

[coquettepascal]

like tiramisu

summary: nothing beats summer vacation like a secret relationship with your dad's best friend, right? wrong! what really beats summer vacation is trying not do jump joel's bones every time you're alone.

tags: 18+, smut, fluff, beach fic, age gap (it's dbf!joel, imagine what you want), dbf!joel, misuse of sunscreen, semi-public activities (not sex), groping, massaging, reader has a dad and brother, overuse of the word pretty, nicknames like pretty___ and baby, oral sex (f!recieving), she/her pronouns for your pussy, joel gets blueballed, fluff, joel and reader are very much in love, established relationship, secret relationship, stereotypical oblivious reader's!dad, mention of food poisoning (nothing graphic), slight grumpy!joel, soft!dom joel (ish)

a/n: woo!! i did it :D this is my submission for @hellishjoel's hot dilf summer challenge (link to the masterlist.) i'm a big fan of their work so i'm just happy to participate. tysm for this opportunity!

(3.6k, not beta read.)

Every year you travel to the coast with your dad and brother, enjoying a week at the tail end of summer to really relax. This year, your brother got sick, and so Joel took his place.

Like Joel, your dad’s best friend. You know, the one that you slept with a month ago one night after everyone went to bed? Joel like kind-of-your-secret-boyfriend-Joel. Simple situation really, you don’t know why you nearly shit yourself when Joel was standing in your driveway dragging a suitcase behind him. 

But, as Joel does, he’s made this easy. It shouldn’t be easy to be separated from him, but it’s made the small moments you can get with him better. Besides, you still get to see him in his handsome glory, all tan and broad and…

The not-easy part is not jumping on him every time your dad turns around. 

—

“Why is this so much more expensive than ice cream?” Joel asks you, eyes squinted as he peers at the chalkboard that hangs above the gelato cooler.

The family in front of you orders and literally pays with a 50 dollar bill, still not getting anywhere near a justifiable amount of change back. Joel squints at the board harder and you smile up at him. He needs glasses, you’ve been telling him this whole trip. 

“Having trouble?” You ask teasingly. Joel’s head turns, face already scowling, but then the employee behind the counter is asking for your order before he can tear you a new one.

Joel is still scowling at you as he shells out 25 dollars for 2 “adult size” cones. 

“S’not necessary to spend this much money on vacation, darlin’, we’re already relaxed,” He grumbles as you walk out of the air conditioned business, back into the beachy heat outside. 

Innocently, you lick up a drip of the tiramisu flavored gelato that drips down the cone. Joel’s eyes narrow more, clearly not appreciative of your behavior so far today. His face eases up when he takes a bite out of his mango sherbet, cooling his flamed temper. 

Your hand snakes into his free one as you walk down the beach, back to where your things are. It’s a quieter day on the beach, luckily. The past week you’ve spent with your father and Joel has been a hectic race for who can find a good spot on the beach, who can find a good spot to sit and eat, and who can find a good spot where the three of you can be left the fuck alone. 

Today you’ve found a good spot, tucked away behind some larger rocks. It kind of looks like it could be dangerous to be there when the tide comes in, but it’s out far today. You’re fine, you’re with Joel, and most importantly, the two of you are alone. 

Your dad ate some bad shrimp last night at dinner and has a horrible case of food poisoning. He assured both of you that he’d be fine on his own, to go enjoy the sun. 

God knows you both will.

You hop over to the blanket you had laid out, cowering under the shade of the rainbow umbrella Joel had bought earlier in the week. He claimed it was so you wouldn’t get heatstroke, but you have a feeling it was more for the sake of his skin. 

As you kick off your sandals, Joel sits down beside you under the umbrella, slurping obnoxiously at the remnants of his mango cone. Most of yours is still intact, though a bit melty. It’s something to marvel at, how Joel can inhale any food of any temperature in the blink of an eye. But it makes up his soft tummy, the one you can rest your head on later when you want to soak up the sun. 

“Do you wanna try mine?” You ask, noting the hungry eyes he’s giving your gelato. He nods and so you lean over to him, extending the cone.

And just as he leans in to take a massive bite, you jerk your hand, smearing tiramisu gelato onto the tip of his nose. 

“Oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling back, “that’s not fucking funny.” 

But it is funny. Seeing the white cream smudged on his nose, tangled in the bristles of his moustache. You can’t help but laugh at him. 

“That’s what you get for trying to chomp half of my treat!” You point out.

Joel’s head tilts at you, as if to say “really?” 

“Okay fine, I’ll fix it,” you huff. Passing your gelato to your free hand, you lean forward and suck the tip of his nose into your mouth, slurping off the remaining mess. 

Pulling back with a pop, you see Joel’s horrified face. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He groans, wiping your saliva off his face. 

Joel gives you a look, clearly expecting some sort of repayment for the ridiculous stunt you just pulled. Begrudgingly, you hand the rest of your cone to him, but only because you really should put on sunscreen.

—

The sun beats down on you as you lay against Joel’s chest and belly, his legs spread to make room for you. He’s wearing black board shorts that cut off around his mid-thigh, leaving more skin exposed. Joel didn’t wear these ones yesterday, or any day previous. It was just the same red shorts that went down to his knees. But today, he matches you and your black two piece. His thick thighs firmly frame you, keeping you in place. 

“You need to reapply your sunscreen, sweetheart,” Joel hums, blindly pawing the blanket for wherever you tossed the bottle earlier. 

Streams of sunlight bathe you where you sit, the sun no longer blocked by the rainbow umbrella Joel insisted on. You planned on tanning anyways, so you don’t mind as much as Joel seems to. He grabs the sunscreen and his sunglasses, tossing them on. 

Your chin is tucked to your chest, crunched as Joel leans over you more, opening the cap of the lotion. The liquid is so cold in comparison to the warm sun rays that blanket the two of you, a near-pained hiss escaping you.

“Don’t be a baby,” Joel grunts, working the sunscreen into your abdomen.

His hands work your soft flesh so gently, his calloused palms spreading the protective lotion carefully. Joel’s thumbs dig a little harder as he feels your hip bones beneath his hands, making you protest weakly. You know what he’s doing, taking this private opportunity for his own gain.

“Joel,” you warn whinily, squirming. 

His hands grasp you in place, holding you while the cords of muscle on his forearms pop. 

“I said don’t be a baby,” he repeats slower this time, his voice rumbling in your ear.

“We both know you’ve taken worse.”

Yeah. Yeah you do know that. It doesn’t shut you up anymore, whining as he reaches to massage your thighs, his hands slipping to your inner thighs fast. You can barely process his touch there before he’s sliding his hands back to a more appropriate spot, your arms. He’s keeping it PG for the most part at least. The nagging fear of your dad suddenly showing up despite his illness lives in the back of your mind. 

Joel massages your wrists and the palms of your hands, thumbs pushing the flesh soothingly as he murmurs in your ear about how soft you are, how perfect. 

He was keeping it PG, but he’s getting selfish now. The orange sun is painting your skin in a way that’s making it hard for him to think, and it’s been so long since he’s had you alone. Your eyes glaze over as he drips more lotion into his palms, rubbing it between them slowly. 

“Don’t wanna forget your chest, would hate for my pretty girl to burn,” is all the warning you get.

Joel’s arms loop beneath yours, his wet palms sliding up your abdomen and then beneath your swim top. Big hands envelope the starting swell of your breasts, coming upwards and smothering your sensitive skin in sunscreen. His name slips out again, choked and surprised, but this isn’t unwanted.

You miss Joel. Even as he’s been here with you for this whole week, you miss his kisses and his touch. Sleeping in the same room as him, but in separate beds, has been awful. To hear him snore without feeling the vibration of it on your own skin has been treacherous. 

So you’re letting him have this, because as much as you hunger for him, that man is ravenous.

His thumbs rub over your nipples, most of your top bunched up on his knuckles now. Joel’s voice is low in your ears, talking soft like you aren’t in total privacy on the beach. Everything is flying now, his mouth uncontrollable as he tells you how good you feel, how much he missed you. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, all week you’ve been so gorgeous, darlin,’” 

And then the kisses start. Hot down your neck, his scruffy face trails, tongue tracing the bitemarks he leaves occasionally. 

“Joel– Joel no marks,” you remind softly.

He obliges with a grunt, clearly unhappy with the situation. Sometimes he can get away with little marks, ones like on your inner thighs or your tits. But not here on a beach vacation, not so close to your dad. 

Joel continues to kiss you regardless, tilting your head so he can awkwardly meet your lips as he gropes you, massaging the lotion in as if the sun would ever hit any skin below your swimsuit. The atmosphere is only getting hotter as he touches you, the sun blazing against your skin as Joel rolls your nipples between his fingers, making you cry out.

You want more, you need more.

You can feel him hard against you, slightly digging into your back. Sex on the beach is a terrible idea. Public indecency, sand in places it shouldn’t be… but it’s so tempting when you feel how badly he wants you, how badly he missed you. 

Desperately, you turn in his embrace, his hands slipping out of your top, leaving you exposed. You shove your face against his hungrily, feeling as his sunscreen greased hand cups your jaw, gentle even when he’s starving. You open for him easily, letting his hungry tongue taste where he wants. He tastes like waffle cones and tiramisu, you want to lick him clean. You breathe heavily when he slips off your mouth and kisses the side of your face.

“S’a good girl, lettin’ me miss her,” he says into your skin.

Your mouth feels rubbed raw, your nipples are buzzing, and the sun blazes across your back. Everywhere feels warm, his lips, his tongue, your skin, your cunt in these bikini bottoms that stick to you in the worst way. You want Joel’s fingers, spreading you open however he wants. 

Joel is so good at taking care of you, so good that he can hear the rambunctious group of people coming before you can. Hands tug down your top and flip you back around before you can realize.

“You’re alright, s’okay, just some people,” Joel says, sounding anxious himself. 

Just some people. Not anyone you know, just some people.

The two of you quickly switch back to how youwere, your head on his chest while you rest between his thighs. One of his hands rests on your abdomen as he squeezes you affectionately between his legs. It’s really frustrating, watching as the group of people sets up not too far down from the both of you. So much for your private spot on the beach, and potential sex. 

He shifts beneath you, the bulge in his swim shorts uncomfortable. Joel has settled for rubbing his thumb against the smooth skin of your tummy, catching his breath still. 

“You can sleep, baby. Jus’ enjoy the sun, okay?”

The last thing on your mind is sleep, you’re more focused on the conch shell in his pants, but whatever. The sun is warm, and you’re with Joel. His hand stills on your belly, a warm weight in an attempt to soothe you.

-

It works, you fall asleep as the sun sets, and wake up when the cool night air shivers past you. Joel has managed to snake out from under you, using an unused beach towel to make a pillow for you. He’s packed everything up, sans the towel pillow and the blanket you lay on. Everything is ready to go, he’s just been waiting for you.

You watch from where you lay, as he dips his toes in the water. His broad shoulders are covered by a white, linen, shirt, highlighting him across the shore. Something about this is so right, to be on vacation with him, to be taken care of by him. Laying back, eyes staring into the inky night, you wonder what would have happened if the two of you hadn’t stayed up late that night, chatting and flirting. How long would you have gone without feeling loved, and like you belonged? 

Being Joel’s girl is more than that, even if no one knows you’re his, you have come to know yourself through him. His hands brushed away the sands that blurred your eyes, you’re seeing clearly for what feels like the first time ever.

Your love for him crashes down on you hard when he turns, walking back to you with a soft, dorky, smile. That’s your man, that’s your stupid old man, and he loves you.

“You ready t’go, darlin?” Joel asks, clearly relieved you eventually woke up.

With a nod, you walk as a pair back to the hotel. Joel insists on carrying everything, claiming he “don’t need” your help, even as he grunts.

-

Entering  the lobby of the hotel is a reminder that you have to be normal again, you and Joel are just getting along swell, and not seriously infatuated with one another.

His eyes bear into you when you step into the elevator, you can feel his eyes on your back as you press the button for your floor.

“What?” You ask, stepping back to lean against the railing.

Joel’s mouth seems to be dry as he responds, eyes tracing something on your stomach.

“Your tummy,” he manages.

You look down instantly, concerned you’ve managed a sunburn despite Joel’s efforts. Instead though, you find a tan line. A tan line in the shape of Joel’s hand, where it rested as you slept. Ghosts of Joel’s lips and teeth on your neck from earlier murmur across your skin, misting tingles across your shoulders and chest. He wanted to mark you so badly, wanted to sink his teeth into you the way he should have been able to, despite your refusal. Now he has his mark, across your tummy in the shape of his hands, the ones that carefully nurture you. 

You can see how it’s making him tick, how his scruffy jaw is clenched as his eyes are entranced by the shape on your belly. He has to spend the rest of the evening, the last couple of days of this trip, with his mark on you. Joel has to do all of that and not jump onto you at every opportunity he can.

“Baby,” Joel breathes, but the elevator doors open, and your dad is right there.

Your arms instantly wrap around your middle, trying to hide away the Joel-hand shaped tan line. As sick as your dad was this morning, he’s looking miles better. There’s colour in his cheeks, that isn’t green, and he’s standing up.

“Hey kid,” he greets cheerfully, “I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better so I was gonna go out and grab a bite to eat.”

The elevator is so quiet, the doors try to shut and Joel slams a hand against it, to keep it open. Your dad looks a little weirded out, but just smiles. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” you manage to say, sounding like your lungs have been cut out of your chest.

In the few months that you and Joel have been “together” you haven’t been caught, or even close to being caught. This tan line on your tummy could have been the cat out of the bag, but thankfully your dad seems oblivious.

He steps into the elevator between you two, gently nodding at the elevator doors.

“Y’all gettin’ out? Both of y’look kinda sunfried,” your dad asks.

Joel manages to respond this time as the two of you hurriedly leave the confined space. -

He practically dragged you down the hallway and back to your room once the elevator doors shut, leaving your dad in the dark. Joel dumped all your stuff on the floor near the door, pushing you off him when you tried to kiss at him.

“Naw. Bed,” he had grumbled, making a vague gesture to your bed.

You both knew you had limited time, your dad would be gone for an hour tops. Joel had peeled off his shirt while you shimmied out of what little clothes you had on, your swimsuit coverup falling away easily.

Now, you lay on your back, and if you could look down, you would see the sweat that’s soaking his back and the mess of hair on his head.

But you can’t look down, you can barely move as is. Your legs, which are tossed over his shoulders, shiver, toes curled. You want to ask if he can breathe down there, but your voice keeps catching, repeating his name again and again. The bristles of his facial hair might be chafing, but everything is wet right now, your cunt, his face, your thighs. He’s suffocating in your flesh, opening his mouth to sloppily make out with your pussy, licking at your clit as he sucks it between his lips. It isn’t gentle, he’s fucking famished.

“Joel– Baby, please,” you manage to whimper. 

He probably can’t hear you with the headlock you’ve put him in, soft thighs trapping his ears. Joel’s face slides down further to push his tongue into you, making you clench and gush as his nose presses to your clit. Reaching your hand down, you lace your fingers against his curls, trying to pry him away, but he just won’t quit. Your fingers slip from his sweaty strands, slamming onto the sheets as he doesn’t let up.

“Missed you, missed her,” he rasps between kisses. 

Joel loves this, loves pleasing you. This isn’t submission, this is worship. He talks to your cunt like he knows her, like he’s dating her too. Gentle as he is, he knows where your aches and cricks are, knows how to massage them with his fingers and tongue. Joel takes care of you both, it’s what he lives for. 

“I know, I can feel it, I missed you too,” you babble, hands flagrant between his hair and the sheets.

He laughs softly into you, smiling. You tug him closer, grinding onto his nose as a tease. 

Joel focuses on bringing himself closer, arms snaking up beneath your ass to curl his hands around your thighs, fingers digging in as he pulls you closer. “Been so patient all week, need you t’come for me, please pretty thing?” He groans.

Nodding your head, you start to work with him. Again and again you roll your hips into his face. The two of you are fucking on borrowed time and Joel hastily promises you that he can take care of himself in the shower later, that he just needs to focus on you.

“Just need to taste you, remember your cunt in my mouth, please?” Joel asks.

You nod even faster now, huffing out air as your hips rise and he pulls you closer, tongue and teeth and nose buried in you. Every movement he makes begs for your release, begs for you to give him what he wants. His voice rumbles around your head, a voice encouraging this selfish feeling of pleasure.

“C’mon darlin, I’ve been waitin’ all week to have you. Let go for me, I’ve been patient.”

It sends you over, the mixture of Joel getting pussydrunk on you and the thoughts of him in your head. Your thighs lock around his head even harder, and he powers through without taking a breath for himself. Thoughts of times with him previous flash through your mind as you shiver, thoughts of what he’ll do to you once you’re both home make you gush. He laps it all up, his reward for being patient. 

When he pulls away, your essence is all over his face. Slicked through his facial hair and even on the tip of his nose, like tiramisu gelato. 

Unlike the gelato, you decide not to suck this cream off his nose.

Gently, you swipe a finger over his nose, cleaning it off with your own tongue.

“Thank you, baby,” you hum.

Joel manages to drag himself up your body, caging you beneath him while he smiles. Soft kisses are shared between the two of you, enjoying the peaceful moment where you’re finally, truly, alone. His moustache prickles your upper lip as he smiles and pulls away.

“Can give me your ‘thank you’s’ in a few days time, sweet girl.” He says, pulling himself down to kiss the 5 fingertips of the hand tan line he left.

Looking down at him as he kisses your belly, you hope you'll be exchanging thank you's for a very long time.