#and also he is gorgeous. look at him!! look at that fucking smile!! the man is glowing🥰

[luvybun]

i can't stop thinking about joshua as your sugar daddy who just can't say no to you... like, yes, he'll buy whatever you ask him to buy, but ALSO he'll fuck you wherever you want

(cue exhibitionism heheheheh)

౨ৎ anything for you, sweetheart - sugar daddy!hong joshua x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 genre: pure smut, slight fluff ᡣ𐭩 cw: use of pet names (princess, baby, my baby, etc), reader calls joshua daddy, a lot of dirty talk about joshua being older than reader, implies power imbalance, cream pie, piv sex without protection (don't do this), fingering, exhibitionism, almost getting caught, mirror sex, fucking in a bathroom ᡣ𐭩 words: 1.2k ᡣ𐭩 notes: omg you get me anon

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. any names, images, or references to real individuals are purely fictional and do not portray or represent their real-life counterparts in any way.

꒰୨୧꒱ 18+ content, MDNI ꒰୨୧꒱

"are you sure you don't want anything else, sweetheart?"

you could think of a couple things you want, none of which you can say in such a public space, so you end up just shaking your head to the man beside you in line. the two of you didn't go out shopping a lot, but whenever you did joshua always splurged on you. to be fair, he splurged on you even if you weren't physically going out shopping.

joshua pays for your new bracelet, and the two of you leave the store. he carries your bags for you as you walk around, looking for your next store. you know that people are staring - a young woman hanging onto the arm of a handsome older gentleman is bound to make people stare - but you've been through this for long enough to stop caring. actually, it's a bit of a turn-on for you now.

while joshua is innocently unaware, you've been rubbing your legs together since the car drive here. your panties are completely soaked through, and you can feel them sticking to your skin. all because of the thought of joshua taking you somewhere in the mall you're in right now.

joshua pulls you to another store, excitedly pointing out a cute dress. "this would be gorgeous on you, wouldn't it?"

it's a shorter sundress. all you can think about is how easily he can flip the skirt of it over your ass while he's pounding you in the changing rooms.

"you think so?" you ask innocently, but the grip you have on his bicep is growing stronger.

he looks at you for a moment, no doubt studying your flushed face, and then he smiles and leans down to press a kiss on your temple.

"i'm not embarrassing you, am i?" he asks softly.

"why would you be?" you glance up at him with a twinge of worry in your heart.

joshua carefully brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. "because such a beautiful girl like you is with an older man like me. i know that people are staring, does it bother you?"

"you're handsome, shua. that's why they're staring," you assure him.

he smiles, and it sends butterflies through your stomach. the ache in your core is growing more and more unbearable. so, when he goes to hold your waist, you jump slightly.

"are you sure you're okay?" he murmurs in your ear.

"i'm..." you trail off as joshua's fingers gently start massaging your hip... he knew what he was doing. "daddy... i need you."

joshua smiles as soon as he hears your pleading whispers, immediately leading you to the nearest bathroom. the walk is quick, but excruciating. he sneaks you in through the bathroom door before following you, locking the door behind him.

his lips are immediately on yours, as he's pushing you up against the wall and working quickly to get his hand under your skirt and into your panties. his other hand pulls up your top over your chest, revealing the lacy bra he bought you last week. as his fingers slip in between your folds, his lips move to kiss the swell of your breasts.

"naughty girl," he murmurs against your skin. "getting this wet in public... does daddy turn you on this much?"

"yes, god yes!" you whine as one of his fingers easily slips inside your pussy. "more, daddy, please!"

joshua chuckles as he plunges in a second finger, and your hands go to stable yourself against his shoulders. he's working you open quickly, scissoring his fingers as he's pulling them out of you.

"did my princess work herself up? did you think about me fucking you in the car earlier? maybe in the changing room?" he whispers in your ear and you nod and whine. "such a good little slut, always thinking about the next way to get my cock inside her."

"i really want your cock, daddy, please, please, please-"

he pulls his fingers out of you, but before you could complain he turns you around and presses your chest against the wall. you hear him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants before you feel him start to line up his thick cock with your aching hole.

"my baby gets what she wants, right?" he grunts as he pushes inside you.

a moan slips out of your mouth, and joshua quickly goes to cover it with his hands - shushing you as you whine about it. "it's okay, baby... sshh... we just need to keep quiet, don't we? wouldn't want anyone trying to come in here to see me fucking your pretty, young pussy."

"daddy-" your moan is muffled by his hand, but joshua takes the opportunity to slip one of his fingers into your mouth. you can taste yourself on him.

his hard cock is ramming into you relentlessly, and if it weren't for his finger, that you were so eagerly sucking on, you wouldn't be able to keep your mouth shut. he was hitting you in all the right places, right where you needed him. which is why you got so whiny when he stopped his movements. suddenly, joshua grabs your arms and hooks both of your elbow-bends under one of his arms - keeping you up from the wall. without pulling out, he turns you around to face the mirror.

your mascara is smudged, and so is your lipgloss. your tits are hanging out of the bra, and your legs are visibly shaky. "look at how pretty you are, princess. taking my cock so well..."

"th-thank you, daddy." you give him your best fucked-out smile before he starts pounding into you again.

your tits are violently bouncing with each movement, and joshua's free hand goes to grab one of them. he squeezes them roughly, and pinches your nipples, making you gasp. you bite down on your bottom lip hard to try to contain your noises - but the noises of his balls slapping against your wet pussy are loud enough.

you hear a sharp knock on the door, and your heart drops - but your pussy clenches. "almost done!" joshua responds in a matter-of-fact tone.

he doesn't stop fucking you, and you're growing closer and closer to your orgasm. "daddy- we're gonna get caught-"

"thought that's what you wanted, baby, wasn't it? didn't you want everyone to see how good i fuck you? how perverted you are for sleeping with an older man?"

you moan out loud, and joshua doesn't stop you. you can hear footsteps echoing away from the door - but you don't care. the only thing you care about now, is cumming. as if reading your mind, joshua brings his hand down to your clit and starts rubbing tight circles over the bud.

"want you to cum with me, princess," he murmurs. "cum around my cock so that i can cum inside that pretty pussy of yours."

"yes, yes! cum inside me, daddy!" you whimper.

the coil in your stomach snaps as you take a final look at yourself, completely at joshua's mercy. at the way you were spasming, joshua came soon after you - burying his cock deep inside you to make sure that not a drop spilled out.

your head went fuzzy after that. but you know that joshua pulled your panties back to their place, that he cleaned up your face, adjusted your clothes, and that he carefully but quickly led you back to the car. in the car, he put his jacket over you as you practically sank into the passenger seat.

"thank you, daddy," you repeated with a pout, and pulled the jacket closer around you.

joshua started the car and started driving. "anything for you, sweetheart."

[ashtcnirwin]

even though [a drum fill] is not in the record, i [use it live to] inform the band that "here's the energy, go", like "build up, bring the fucking heat", like let's do it. i do that a lot [...] you want to communicate with the band without using your voice [...] like, you want your singer to just be having an excellent time and not being confused about where they're at, 'cause you're the anchor and the indicator for things that happen onstage

[illubean]

Sex Ed !

Characters: Satoru Gojo Type: NoCurse!AU, Oneshot, Gn!Reader? (will explain in warnings), NSFW reader discretion advised

i got the initial concept from this post by @reignpage and added my own twist ^^ also I'm lwky a little embarassed by this so uhh yeah..

Warnings: NSFW, might be considered monster fucking?, reader has alien anatomy and therefore has parts that resemble both female and male reproductive organs because it's my fanfic and I said so, Gojo a bit of a loser perv

Satoru Gojo never expected for a giant space rock to land in a forest trail near his home. He especially didn't expect to come across it on an evening stroll, only to realize that this thing wasn't a rock at all.

Curiously, Gojo climbed down into the crater created by the initial impact of the thing. Upon further inspection, it seemed to be some sort of metal pod, a large tinted window shielding him from seeing what could be inside.

Before he could step closer, the glass window popped open, teal smoke seeping from the inside as a person crawled out of it.

Wait, a person!?

As the smoke cleared and the figure stood to their feet, he noticed the faint glow emitting from your skin as well as the two, long antennas sprouting from your head. You were clad in tight garments that only really covered your private bits.

Your outfit didn't leave much to the imagination.

Gojo was slack jawed at the sight before him. There was a totally gorgeous otherworldly species standing mere feet from him on a random tuesday afternoon. This was a nerd's biggest dream!

Your large eyes blinked open as you took in your surroundings before your gaze landed on the snowy haired man nearby.

You blinked at him a few more times before your clueless gaze morphed into a wide smile.

"EARTH!"

Finally breaking out of his tranze at the sound of your voice, Gojo closed his mouth and straightened his posture.

"Umm yeah, this is Earth.."

Suddenly, you were far to close for comfort, nearly touching noses with the shocked man, studying every detail of his face.

"Human!" you say excitedly, poking a finger into his chest.

Stepping back, you bring your hands up to gesture to yourself.

"Me Y/n. From (insert fake planet name here)!"

It was obvious that your knowledge of human speech was limited. Gojo didn't really know what to do in this situation, thinking of ways to talk to you when his eyes landed back on your space pod ship thing.

"You can call me Toru. Maybe I can help fix your ship?"

Your body stiffened at the word "ship" before you took off to frantically search for a strong, sturdy object. After finding a sizable rock, you ran back towards the previously mention vehicle and raised your weapon of choice above your head, bringing it down to repeatedly smash the control panel.

Gojo watched in shock, confusion evident on his face while you dusted off your hands and turned back to face him.

"They track me and take me back," you explained, expression souring at the thought. "Me stay with Toru?"

Gojo didn't really know what he was getting himself into, but what he did know was that he couldn't deny you when you had such a sweet look on your face.

"Sure, I guess you could stay with me."

It's been months since Gojo met you. In that time, he attempted to teach you grammar and about different things that you had questions about. You were learning fairly quickly, but there were still times where you would slip up and use certain words incorrectly.

That's alright though, it makes you, you.

You spent most of your days lazing around Gojo's home, reading different food labels or the back of his video game cases while you awaited his return from work. Soon you began to grow bored, running out of things that piqued your curiosity in the finite space. Noticing this, Gojo decided to introduce you to something he might grow to regret later.

The internet.

Your white haired companion was oh so nice enough to write down the pin to his pc down for you, allowing you to use it however you wished while he was away.

Typically you played simple games like snake or scrolled through coolmath, occasionally searching for and downloading random images like "8 leg water creature" or "cool galaxy wallpaper".

But today, it seems Gojo forgot to close one of his tabs before leaving.

Twitter

With a curious gaze, you mindlessly clicked away, scrolling through random threads and looking through different tags. One thing led to another and you ended up under a specific tag which you had no clue what it meant.

NSFW.

While scrolling through, you were met with various different displays of the naked human body, some even of multiple humans interacting with each other in ways that were vaguely familiar, but still enough to fill your mind with questions.

At the familiar sound of Gojo's keys jiggling in the door knob, you bolted down the stairs and began dragging him up towards his room before he could even get a word in. Ignoring his questions and protests momentarily, you stop in front of his computer and point to the screen.

"What that?"

The man's eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he looked to the screen to see that you've managed to discover Twitter porn.

Quickly he shut off the monitor as you stared up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Uhhh, that's nothing!"

"Tell meee," you whined, yanking on the sleeves of his hoodie and shaking him lightly, urging him to explain what you just saw.

"Well, when two people love each other very much-"

Never did Gojo ever think he would be giving someone the sex talk, let alone an alien that quite literally fell from the sky not too long ago. A very attractive alien, at that.

"And that's how babies are made. Some people just do it for fun though..."

Your face lights up at the word 'fun', immediately alerting Gojo.

Damn it, he shouldn't have mentioned that part.

"Let's do, Toru! Let's have sex!"

Satoru has never felt this embarassed before. He was sitting against the headboard of his bed, cheeks were dusted a shade of pink as he avoided looking at you, settled between his legs and staring at his crotch so intensely. And the worst part was, he was the only one naked.

What kind of ecchi shit is this!?

You watched in awe as his shaft began to stiffen under your gaze, looking at it from all different angles, fascinated by the human body. Grabbing his length, you moved it up and peeked under his balls as if looking for something.

"Only one hole?" you asked, taking your finger and tracing a line down from his balls to his asshole, gently prodding at the entrance.

He yelped at the sensation before swatting your hand away, finally looking down to meet your wide eyed, inquisitive gaze.

He huffed in embarrassment before muttering a response.

"What does that even mean? But yes, human men only have one hole.."

You got up from your position between Satoru's legs, shimmying off your shorts and shamelessly presenting your, now naked, lower half to him.

You sat back with your legs propped up and spread open, revealing something resemblant of a human vagina and a large, blue, tentacle like apendage mounted where the clit should be.

Satoru couldn't believe his eyes. You looked like a scene straight out of some pervy manga that he read on occasion; never did he think that it could be real.

"All my people have same parts. Male and female."

Satoru's boner quickly became painful, the lewd image of you sprawled out in front of him causing all his resolve to snap. Without a second thought, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you on to your back, pushing your thighs to your chest and positioning himself at your entrance.

"You said you wanted to have sex, right? Then let's stop wasting time."

You yelped as he slammed balls deep into you, the slick sound of plap! plap! plap! punctuating every trust. Your juices coated his cock making it impossibly easy for him to reach all the way inside of you.

Letting out a string of whines, your large pupils were practically heart shaped while your skin began to glow a faint shade of blue.

You've never felt sensations like this before.

Satoru wasn't faring much better. A buzzing heat settled across every inch of his skin, balls growing impossibly tight upon feeling you. Not only your sloppy hole drooling around his cock, but your length wiggling between your bodies.

The appendage secreted a syrupy substance, the color matching that of your luminescent skin, which clung to the both of your tummies which created sticky strings that kept the two of you together. Satoru adjusts his position, letting your legs fall to his sides and wrapping his arms around your waist in order to pull your front flush to his. Without warning he kisses you, swallowing your mewls and relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours.

Despite not completely understanding what was going on, you accepted it, back arching up into him while your hands go to tangle themselves in his ivory locks.

"Fuucckk baby, feel good? 's your Toru making you feel good?" he asked, one hand coming up to grab your face as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"Mmfh, Toru! I...I feel...hot!"

The glow of your skin began to intensify and your whole being felt as if it were set ablaze. Satoru's cock caressed and kissed places you hadn't even known existed before, causing the coil inside of your core to tighten.

"Yeah? You feel hot right here?"

The large hand that was once gripping your cheeks was now resting beneath your belly button, applying minimal pressure that was still enough to evoke a loud moan from you. You nodded profusely in response to the man's question while his pace intensified.

Your senses were overwhelmed with pleasure, and not knowing what to do you wrapped your legs around Satoru and tightened your grip on his hair in response. A shiver runs down his spine and his hips stutter at the sensation. His bodyweight slumps into you, face burring itself into the crook of your neck. Your touch had him feeling weak.

With you tugging on his hair and the insane grip your other worldly pussy had on him, Satoru wouldn't be able to last much longer.

"Feel funny," you said, meekly. He felt your body stiffen underneath him, instinctually trying to clamp your legs shut around his hips.

"Relax for me," he cooed, planting soothing kisses up the side of your neck and underneath your jaw. "'ll take care of you, okay? Promise."

Trusting his word, you try relaxing back into the mattress while he continues to plow into you. Your mewls and moans began to increase in volume until your body reached its peek, juices gushing around Satoru's length while more spurted against both of your tummies.

Feeling your cunt practically weeping around him set Satoru over the edge, his own release mixing with yours and dripping to pool in the bedsheets underneath you when he pulled out.

Both of your spent bodies lied still, your blue glow settling into something more faint while the both of you panted.

"How was it?" Satoru asks you, suddenly feeling shy. You stayed silent, which alerted him. "...Y/n?"

Before he could sit up to check on you, with tremendous speed you picked up his lean body and slammed him onto the mattress underneath you. A wide smile was spread across your face while your energy buzzed with excitement. The poor guy was barely able to comprehend what happened before you spread his legs and positioned yourself in front of his puckered hole.

"Me turn!"

I am not confident in my smut skills at all bear w me...

[i-dared-myself]

Heads

Hyunjin x reader

Requested ‘sequal’ of this.

In which your hopeless romantic blunders come to an end

18+

After another terrible date, you stumble into your apartment. You barely manage to kick your shoes off before you sink to the floor and cry.

Is there really no one decent out there? Why do your dates feel the need to point out your flaws? Why are they all such assholes?

You dump your purse next to the door, along with your jacket. It’s future-you’s problem, and future-you is going to call now-you a bitch.

You remove your makeup, and return to your living room. Turning on a stupid romantic film is what you need right now, so you do it.

You gather your pyjamas and bring them to your living room, peeking at the television. The love interest has the protagonist in his arms, and this is what you need in your life.

But alas, you only attract morons, apparently.

“I could offer you a deal.”

You whip around, shrieking in alarm. The man grimaces, covering his ears with his hands.

“Who the fuck are you?” you demand. Your eyes flick to the kitchen, where your knives are (obviously) located.

“Hyunjin.” He offers you a small bow, lips tugging up at the corners. His dark red hair falls around his face before he tucks it back, eyes glinting. “Love god, at your service.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Really? Prove it.”

He seems taken aback, and frowns slightly. “Prove it? How?”

“I dunno.” You shrug and take a miniature step to the kitchen. “You’re the love god.”

Hyunjin rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, considering your words for a moment. “I don’t need this contract.”

“Contract? Are the you devil or a love god?” You snort and shake your head. As you feign amusement, you continue to shuffle backwards.

Hyunjin entwines his fingers behind his back, cocking his head. “I’ve been called both. And I don’t think I need to prove myself to you. You’re the one who’s lonely and unloved.”

You wince. “Harsh. Okay fine, what do you have for me?”

He chuckles, gliding forwards until his chest is a hair’s width away from yours. If you take a deep breath they would brush together.

“I can give you undying affection and passion unlike anything in those… tasteless movies.” Hyunjin flashes the television a look of disdain before returning his attention to you. He lifts a hand to lean it on the wall next to your head, leaning even closer. “What do you say?”

You swallow thickly. What he’s suggesting is everything you’ve ever wanted.

“And what do I have to do in exchange?” You gaze up, right into his eyes. They’re half-lidded and his eyelashes frame his gorgeous eyes.

“Nothing.” Hyunjin smiles wryly. His other hand is brought up to gently caress your cheek. “Just a small, teeny-tiny, little thing.”

“What is it?” 

His lips part to speak, and you barely hear the words coming out of his mouth. But you do. And they cut through the haze in your head.

“You have to play a bit of a game with me,” he simply says. “Doesn’t that seem like fun? Then you can have your happily ever after.”

“What kind of game?” you ask him warily as he spins around and drapes himself across your couch. The knife is forgotten and the only thing at the forefront of your focus is what he could give you.

“We flip a coin. If it’s tails, you get your true love. If it’s heads, you die.” Hyunjin looks smug and pleased with himself. He holds a hand up, and a coin gleams between two elegant fingers.

“I… die?” you repeat. Suddenly this doesn’t seem like such a good idea. 

“Well, there’s a chance you’ll survive.” His expression shifts and he looks away. He’s still toying with the coin. “Anyone I kiss dies. It’s ironic, considering who I am. The only one that can survive, is-“

“Death,” you finish. “Love-hate relationship with them? I get it.”

Hyunjin blinks. “What? No. Don’t interrupt me, either.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, not wanting to risk his wrath. Does he only kill people by kissing them? Or does he also stab them? Either way, you don’t want it.

“The only one who can survive is my true love.” Hyunjin curls his fingers to get you to approach, patting the couch next to him. “Ready?”

You hesitantly sit, watching as he flips the coin. It lands on the table and you both peer down at it.

“Heads,” Hyunjin croons, slowly raising his gaze to yours. He scoots closer to you as your heart sinks.

“Get it over with.” You sigh and cast a hateful look at the coin.

Hyunjin’s hand comes to the back of your head, cradling it gently. He pulls you closer to him, his grip firm and his lips soft as they lower to yours.

You kiss him back, because why not? You have nothing to lose at this point.

His head moves and his lips part. You accept his tongue slipping into your mouth as he guides you down until your back hits the couch cushions.

Then he’s hovering above you, eyes wide. You’re waiting for the inevitable end. The last thing you’ll see is his stupidly pretty face, and you can’t be mad about it.

“You’re not dead,” he observes.

“You’re smarter than you look,” you tease, mind reeling with what this means.

If you’re not dead, and he’s surprised at this fact…

“I’ve looked for you for so long,” Hyunjin whispers and buries his face against your neck. His teeth graze the skin there. “Can I fuck you, please?”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

“Please?” he begs. “I’ll make it so no other man can pleasure you. None of those shitty men will make you happy like I can.”

You hum. Maybe this a little hasty, but you’re just glad you’re not dead.

“Words, pretty girl.” Hyunjin lifts you into his arms.

“Yes, you can fuck me,” you tell him. Then you’re being dumped on a bed of smooth sheets. “What the-“

“This is my room.” He gestures around to your surroundings. There are paintings hanging on the walls and big windows that overlook… clouds? 

“Okay then,” is all you can say. 

Hyunjin grins and snaps his fingers, and then suddenly your clothes are gone. His have been removed as well, and he crawls across the bed to stare down at you.

“No other men are like me,” he promises silkily. A finger is plunged into you, quickly followed by another. You fist the sheets at the stretch, feeling him scissor them out.

“Please.” You grind down on his hand. “Please, Hyunjin!”

He coos and runs his hands through your hair. “Oh, you’re not cumming until I say.”

“Why?” You gasp as his fingers in your hair tighten and wrench your head up. “Hyunjin!”

“Face down, ass up, pretty girl.” Hyunjin manipulates you into the position he wants. He sighs heavily and tosses his head back. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

You moan as he enters you, squeezing around him. You claw at the sheets as he rolls his hips experimentally. “Just-“

He shushes you as he thrusts. Strands of his hair stick to his face. “Gonna marry you and everything.”

You squirm back against him. “Y-Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Hyunjin reaches down to circle your clit. “I’ll fill you up anytime you want. You’ll be like this every day, just for me.”

“Just for you,” you agree. You can feel yourself flutter around him as he continues muttering. You’re getting closer and closer.

Hyunjin forces your back into an arch, at just the angle he wants. This way, his thrusts hit the spot that makes your eyes roll back, and you’re babbling out pleas to cum. 

“I wanna see that face as you cum.” He presses harder to your clit, grinding hard against you. “I bet it’s just as pretty as the rest of you.”

Your mouth falls open as you fall over the edge. He works you through it, thrusts stuttering until he spills deep inside you.

Hyunjin pulls out, smiling at you gently. His hair frames his face as sweat shines on his body. “I’ll clean you up, then get you some water.”

You blink dazedly. “Sure. And cuddles.”

He stretches out, waving a hand to form robes on the both of you. “Anything you want, pretty girl.”

Tagslist:

@velvetmoonlght

[cartoonhorses]

Beauty & Bitterness

OOC! Jimmy Zare x female! Reader

warnings/triggers : Takes place on Earth, arguing between Jimmy and reader, slightly ooc Jimmy.

word count : 1k+

authors note : This is my first-ever fic, so i’d love to hear any suggestions or feedback for improvement.

Also, I did not read over this afterwards 💔 There will definitely be grammar mistakes

MDNI

Jimmy had always been rough around the edges. The kind of guy most people would pass by without a second glance. He was just, odd. His hair stayed messy, his jawline was scruffy, and his old and tattered clothes reflected a life that didn’t concern itself with appearances. It was safe to say that most people kept their distance from him. But not you. You saw something in him that nobody else did.

You were the complete opposite of Jimmy, everything that he wasn’t. You were put together, well-groomed, and polished. When you entered a room, heads turned without fail. You had this effortless beauty, you were noticeable and just all around dazzling.

So, when people found out the two of you were dating, they were totally flabbergasted! You, a radiant, captivating young woman, with an older disheveled man? It was the kind of pairing that caused whispers.

Jimmy knows you're way out of his league when you two begin dating. Initially, It didn't bother him. In fact, he felt like he won the lottery. However, when you guys started going out in public together more frequently, he noted how people stared, how they whispered. That's when it became harder to shrug off.

Jimmy had always prided himself on being tough. He’d grown up in a world that taught him to keep whatever emotions he had buried. But being with you, it felt impossible. You brought peace into his messy world, and he found himself craving your warmth like a man who’d been living in the cold his whole life.

But now, sitting at the bar, listening to those men practically tear him apart, Jimmy felt that familiar knot of anger in his chest tighten. “I mean, just look at him. Did he even try to make himself look presentable?” Jimmy’s grip around the cold glass of liquor tightened, his knuckles turning white. He knew they were talking about him, the disdain in their voices was familiar to him.

But Jimmy took a deep breath, he told himself to ignore it, to let it go. After all, he’d heard worse before. But then they spoke up again, "His girlfriend it gorgeous too. But it makes me wonder, why him? I mean, seriously… what is she even doing with a guy like that?” Jimmy felt his blood begin to boil, they were talking about him like you deserved better, like he wasn’t enough for you. And God did that piss him off.

You were well aware that Jimmy never handled insults well. His anger would simmer in his chest, slowly building until it boiled over like a pot left too long on the stove. But instead of lashing out at those who had pushed him to that edge, he tended to turn that anger and fury onto you.

Later in the night, as Jimmy drove you home, both of his hands sat on the steering wheel, the weight of the evening’s events (which you still had no clue about) hung heavily between you two. The car ride was silent for the most part, punctuated by your attempts to explain how great of a night you had. Jimmy only hummed in response, an unspoken frustration radiated from him.

Finally, as he pulled into the driveway of your home, he turned to look at you. “You didn’t notice how everyone was looking at us tonight, did you?” He asked, his voice was deep, cutting through the silence like a razor. It caught you off guard. The small smile that lingered on your lips slowly faltered, confusion written over your face.

You blinked, “what are you talking about?” Your tone came out soft, a stark contrast from his.

Jimmy let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. “Don’t play dumb, okay? You know exactly what I’m talking about. Those guys at the bar. They were laughing at me—at us. They think I’m some kind of fucking charity case. That you’re just slumming it with me for fun.”

Your heart sank as his words hit you. “Jimmy… I don’t know what you’re talking about… But, I don’t care what they think,” You said softly. “You know I like you, so why does it matter to you about what they think?” You reached out to place your hand on top of his, but he pulled away like a scared animal.

“Yeah, well, maybe you don’t care, but I do!” he snapped, his voice was rising. “Do you have any idea what’s like to stand next to someone like you? To be with someone like you? Someone who’s got it all together, who everyone wants to be around. And you wanna know what everyone’s thinking, ‘What’s she doing with him?’”

Your mouth parted slightly? Having the urge to speak but not finding the words. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I chose you, Jimmy,” You attempted to say firmly. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks because I see you! I see the man who comforts me when I cry, the man who—”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” He interrupted, his voice breaking. “Maybe you shouldn’t have chosen me.” His shoulders began to sag, anger slowly draining out of him and leaving behind exhaustion. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not good enough for you.”

Your chest tightened at the sight of your boyfriend being so vulnerable around you, it was definitely a sight you weren’t familiar with. You leaned over from your side of the car, cupping his scruffy face in your hands. “Jimmy, listen to me. You’re what I want. Since the moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted you. And I don’t care what those idiots at the bar think! They don’t know you like I do.”

For a moment, he just sat there, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to find some truth in your words. Slowly, his hands came up to rest on yours, his grip was tentative but steady. “I’m scared…” He admitted quietly. “Scared that one day you’ll realize they’re right and… and you’ll leave.”

You weren’t used to Jimmy showing this much emotion, hell, he wasn’t even used to it! It made the years that pricked in the corners of your eyes finally spill down your cheeks as you pressed your forehead against his. “I’m not going anywhere, Jimmy,” you whispered. “I love you, and everything about you. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you.”

And for the first time in a long time, Jimmy let himself believe you.

[kenziebluex]

The Broken Heart That Makes Us

!!!PLEASE READ!!!

TRIGGER WARNING: Degradation, Dub-con Elements, Mind-Manipulation, Blackmail

Note: To those of you who still think this is a comfort story. (Its is we promise just not right now lol)

(Btw this is Kenzie taking the reigns for the first time because I don't know how to use tumblr! If you see any errors...no you didn't.)

Story Description: 

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.  

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Read on ao3: TBHTMU

Chapter 6:

“Miss! Miss!” You stopped mid-typing to see the bouncer trying to catch your attention. 

“Are you going inside?” You dabbed the tears on your face with the underside of your thumb. You nodded hesitantly and he scanned the metal detector around your body before allowing you to pass through the red rope. 

As soon as you passed through the club doors, the talk you had with Gojo was put on the back burner although it still ate at your mind and heart. You were determined to have the night you came for and that meant selfies, a signing and a five-minute yap sesh with your favorite actress. After confirming the large crowd that waited in a new line to see the actors in the VIP section, you made a beeline to the opened room housing the bathrooms to freshen up your face for pictures. 

The bathroom was empty, likely because all of the patrons were either in line or on the dance floor. The bathroom itself was strange, hidden in a separate back room with a single stall and door latch. As you stared at your puffy, red eyes in the mirror, you were able to take time to try to get yourself together. It didn’t work. Staring at yourself only reminded you of the pitiful situation you were in. Breaking up over a phone call? Didn’t even have the balls to talk to me about it. Blocked my fucking number?! 

You would laugh if it weren’t so pathetic. You felt played but you also felt stupid. Nearly all of your eye and cheek makeup was washed away while the only thing that remained were your lashes. You said ‘fuck it!’ and concluded that you will only be getting pictures of your favorite actress instead of with your favorite actress tonight. 

You yanked the bathroom door open and booked around the corner to emerge from the room. Your exit was blocked by a large chest. You stepped to the right and the stranger followed and your path was blocked. You stepped to the left and he mimicked you again. 

He wore a black suit with an open blazer and a white button down. Black trousers that covered over black low heeled boots. Mocking feline slit eyes stared down into yours and long back flowing hair that cascaded down his shoulders. If Gojo reminded you of the shining sun, this man would be the midnight moon. 

You laughed awkwardly looking up at the gorgeous man in your path. The same man that stared you down at the street intersection the other day. 

“So…were you planning to meet the actors like this?” He looked down at you. A humored smile gracing his lips. He shifted his weight and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

You laughed to yourself again, patting your eyes dry once more.

“Oh no. Haha. I didn’t plan on taking any pictures tonight.” You answered  but pleased that he cared that you were crying alone in the bathroom. You gave him a gentle smile.

“I meant to say that you’re dressed like a slut.” He spoke elegantly, fiercely contrasting the vile words he just spoke to you. 

“What the hell?! Who do you think you are?!” You stomped your foot and balled your hands to your side. Your shoulder purse hung down your arm as you felt your despair turn into rage.

Swiftly, he pinched your chin and forced your head to face up to him. He clawed your waist and hauled your chest into his.

“I’m a man who turns dreams into reality.” Venomous words continued to spill from his lips. He used this thumb to caress your chin slowly.

“Fuck. You.” You spat as you squirmed to release yourself from his grasp.

He whipped you around and held your neck up with his large hand, forcing your head back against his shoulder. His other hand dragged down to your hip and pressed his hardening member in between the split of your ass. 

“Is that what you want, princess?” He hissed. Your mouth dropped open in a gasp. He tightened his grip on your neck and you raked your hand on his on your neck and the other on your hip. His long black hair curtained over your shoulder as he leaned down to speak to you. He slowly started to knead his cock in between your ass, violently grazing your clothed pussy.

Dizzy from the tears and lightheaded from crying, you couldn’t stop a long moan from escaping your mouth. A wet tongue traced against the back of your ear. He curved your hips upward in an uncomfortable arch to better rub against your core.

“Do you want me to fuck your problems away?” He whispered low and dangerously. A small whimper escaped your lips as you nervously started grinding against him. You wanted to feel something…anything. You fastened your hand around his wrist to pull him into the bathroom. If you were going to have a rebound you might as well make it worthwhile.

“Do it. Fuck me until I can’t think anymore.” You leaned over and allowed him to push you up against the sink, his hips locking you in place while he yanked his blazer off. You held your body up with your hands while you were bent over the sink. The handsome man was pleased with your compliance.

“Did you wear that see through green dress for attention? Pathetic.” He began unbuttoning his dress shirt. Your chest heaved. You were having a hard time having a full grasp of the situation. A part of you is telling you to run but the other part is telling you that at least somebody wanted your body. You wanted to feel wanted, you wanted get fucked and you were drowning in sadness too much to care about the consequences. 

“I don’t know who you wore that for but the person fucking you senseless tonight is me. Remember well and be grateful, princess.” He fisted your dress and pulled it to your upper back exposing your underwear. Your legs tightened as the cold bathroom air ghosted your core. 

He discarded his shirt and it fell to the floor. It was obvious that he worked out. You felt it when he pulled you against him. His arms were toned and his body chiseled. You figured that if he weren’t here as a fan, he definitely could pass as one of the actors. 

You were facing forward, forced to see the mess that is your face and the wicked pleasure in his darkening brown eyes. You were at war between your head and your heart and you wondered if you could fuck the pain away. Is that what you wanted? You weren’t sure if you were in the right headspace to make those decisions. But you hoped that he could fill a hole within you, despite the cruel words that he said. 

Your eyes hooded and he dug a strong palm into your hair and dragged your head up and back.

“What are you going to do?…” You inquired softly. In your head, you already knew the answer. You tried your best to keep the shakiness in your voice from being obvious. He chuckled and hovered down, head next to yours and gazed at you through the mirror. 

You felt two fingers trespass through your underwear and down the slit of your pussy. He split your lips apart and started stroking the entrance to your hole. Heavy sighs escaped your mouth, your fingers balled into fists. Tears pricked your eyes as your mind wandered back to how Gojo used to touch you.

“How bold. You're wondering what’s going to happen when you’re already this wet for me?” He nibbled your ear. Your eyebrows furrowed. You are letting this strange man bend you over the sink. You wondered if it was going to hurt. He didn’t owe you any gentleness whatsoever but even then, you still craved it. 

“Ah! Ahhh~” You squealed as his two fingers speared your hole. He thrusted them in and out at a relentless pace. The tears idling in your eyes finally fell as he pulled screams from your lips. He pulled your head back to keep you from falling forward, forcing you to watch him pierce you over and over again.

“Did you think I was going to be gentle? You’re so arrogant for thinking you deserve that much.” He let go of your hair and you fell forward, almost bumping your head into the mirror. He yanked your underwear down your feet and helped one leg out to spread your legs wider. He knelt down and pawed your ass with both hands and leveled his mouth to your clit.

He parted your pussy with his thumbs and took a long lick from your clit to your entrance. A long low groan fell from your lips.

“You sound so fucking dirty.” The words went in and out of your ears. He felt heavenly like he was an expert with his tongue. He slapped your ass before tasting circles around your cunt and used one hand to fiddle with your clit. You bit your lip to keep another embarrassing moan from escaping you and then he slapped your ass again. You gasped. 

He hummed as his tongue breached your core and started roaming around your insides. You squirm so much that you thought you would collapse to the ground. He held your hip steady to keep you from moving. 

“Don’t come until I say so.” He ordered, replacing his tongue with his two fingers and thrusting in you again. You cried in desperation as your nearing climax was denied. He moved fast and used his tongue to egg you on, clearly to test your will power. You were too tired to compete but you were desperate for praise. You listened. 

You scrunch your eyes and tried to fight off your climax. Your head bowed into the counter of the cold sink as a brood of moans spilled from your lips. 

“Come for me, princess.” He spoke so languidly you could get drunk off his words. You took in a deep breath and your walls fluttered around his fingers. A strained scream was ripped from your chest as he forced your climax out of you.

The man chuckled darkly.

“Mmm~. Will you milk my cock like that too?” Before you had time to come down from your high. The man already pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles. You froze at the reflection of his cock that slid against your lips. It was not as long as Gojo’s but it was much girthier. You haven’t been fucked since Toji and damn sure haven’t had a cock almost as big. You started internally debating your options.

“Are you on IUD?” He asked and you blinked twice, still not done resolving the internal conflict inside your head. He dug behind your hair and choked from behind your neck. He pinned you to the sink as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your head started spinning even more and you struggled to breathe as he repositioned both hands at your hips.

Your million thoughts were replaced with a sharp pain as the man didn’t even practice gentleness before plunging into you. Your pussy swallowed a third of him and you yelped out in pain. He groaned and threw his head back. He echoed a low fuck and paused. He leaned forward into your back again and forced your head up to witness him taking you from the back.

“Or do you want to be known as the bitch that got pregnant from a one night stand.” You opened your mouth to protest as he snapped his hips back and then front forcing you to take all of him. You cried out from the pain that quickly morphed into pleasure. You held your palm against the mirror to prevent his violent hips from striking your head against the mirror. 

He let go of your hair to wrap an arm around your waist and then snaked the other around your chest to latch to your shoulder. He started thrusting into you in quick succession. His cock bullied its way to your cervix while his balls drummed against your clit. Slapping noises rung  across the room as your mouth falls open, sustaining loud moans. He buried his head into your shoulder and deep groans rumbled against your ear.

The loud boom of the music in the nightclub blurred as all you could hear were your desperate screams and his hisses and moans. Each time he pulled out of you he snapped back quicker than the time before. He was relentless and punishing but your body was too busy chasing ecstasy to care. He pinned your hips once more and pulled himself out of you. You gasped at the disconnect.

He turned you around to face him and picked you up to sit on the sink counter. You leaned your back into the cold mirror, as he prepped to enter you from the front. You ground against his cock, begging him to enter you again. 

“Beg for it.” He ordered. You snaked your arms around his shoulders and toyed with his long black hair. You grazed your hand through his scalp and dragged his head back. Your loose bangles falling up and down your arm as you toured through his  long black locks. He moaned deliciously, telling you that he liked it. You pulled his face to yours.

“Give it to me.” You demanded breathlessly. He took your lips into his and he sucked against your tongue. He used the same ferocity to pierce your core again with his swollen cock and started humping into you once more. He latched his hands to your hips prone to keep you still. Your eyes screwed shut as you were approaching your breaking point again. You moaned into his mouth.

“Oh god! Oh god! Please-!”  You said a prayer into his ear over and over desperate to once again meet your euphoria. He slapped a palm against the mirror, next to your head. He started pairing silent grunts with a slew of curses as his pace slowed but became more violent. His cock pulsed within you and he hissed. He hiked your loose knee over his other elbow to spread your legs further as his thrusts became sloppy. 

“Nnnghh…hahhh~….What’s it going to be?” He bit out as it seemed like he was nearing his breaking point. Before you had time to respond, you reached your climax first, your head buried into his shoulder and screamed Bloody Mary praying desperately that the IUD you installed a few months ago was working its magic. Your spasming walls pulled him with you as he shoved his cock deep and released into you. You milked him for all of his seed as a long moan coated his lips. When he was finished he pulled out of you. 

You were still shaking from your climax as he knelt down once more and began sucking at your core that is overflowing with his cum. Your legs and knees fought against him in overstimulation as he came back up and clawed you by the back of the neck. He kissed you and spilled all of his cum from his mouth into yours tasting the mixture of your climax and his. 

He let go of your lips and used this thumb to force your mouth shut.

“Swallow it.” He commanded and you hesitated but complied. He started to get dressed but you were still sitting in the sink. Frozen and your mind in a limbo.

Your head cleared and you were no longer thinking. Your pants became rapid and you became paralyzed with worries. One word came to your mind…

Panic.

✿❀○❀✿

The entire ride home was silent with your eyes glued to the road. You felt like you broke every traffic law while racing to get back home and into the comfort of your own bed. Tonight was a bad idea, terrible one even. But you felt liberated. You got fucked hard just like you planned and you’ll take your wins where you could get them.

The only regret you have is not being able to get the autograph that you came for. After that session, you were far too embarrassed to even greet your favorite actress in that state. Hair disheveled, makeup smeared and reeking with sex from head to toe. Even trying to exit the club was challenging but you held your head up and walked out with as much confidence as a fucked out woman would have.

The clock on your phone displayed 1:07 am. You dropped your keys on the kitchen counter and peeled your false lashes off. Megumi’s lights were already off. You left the lashes on your bathroom sink and pulled a few makeup wipes to clear off as much makeup as you can with what little strength you had left. 

You leaped into the shower hoping to come out a different woman than you came in. But everything remained. The numb pain in your heart pulsed through your entire body. You felt hollow.  You didn’t bother to throw on much more than a satin silk nightgown and face planted into a large pillow. You cuddled the pillow tight, attempting to replicate the feeling of warmth and comfort and curled your body into the fetal position. 

Your phone rang.

To your dismay, you didn’t waste another moment to pick it up to view the contents

Text Message Notification

Mr Blue Sky

“Hey…I know I’m a colossal fuck up. At the time, I just thought that it would be better if I just kept my distance from you and allowed you to hate me. I have too much baggage and emotions that I’m not sure are fully healed. Everytime I feel like I’m growing closer to someone…I self-sabotage every relationship I’m in out of fear. But ending the call like that… It wasn’t me and I was sick to my stomach thinking about how that probably made you feel. I love you and I panicked. I was too overwhelmed with my own thoughts and trauma that I hurt you and…I’m sorry. I wanna talk. Tomorrow is Saturday, right? Let me make it up to you. After dropping Megumi off at home…I’d like to see you and to talk to you. I still want to kiss you. I don’t want everything to end like this…”

Reply

You clicked your phone off and threw it off the bed not remembering that it needed to be charged. Or you didn’t care. You buried your head into your pillow knowing that sleep won’t be coming easy tonight. ‘You’re too late.’ You cried to yourself.

taglist: @beetusbritt ❤ @nousija ❤ @notleclerc divider by @cafekitsune

❀ follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀

art credit 1: ig: arekushisu (commission do not use)

-kenzie & des

[witchyliterature]

just saw the valentines event ooo

aizawa with “can’t get you” by jaehyun 💗

a million times yes!! (btw this song is so fucking good omg) gosh lowkey had fun writing this but wtv, i hope you like it, sorry it’s quite long 🙁 (2.4k words…) but yeah! gender neutral pronouns and no mention of any anatomy or anything like that. reader is hella cheery and giggly. mention of age gap and mention of hawks bc i love him. i use first names for everyone bc like idk makes it more intimate (maybe im crazy idk). fluff only, lots of mentions of aizawa being old(and one all might old joke) (also implied all might x inko sos thought it was funny)i think that’s it, if you really don’t like this or wasn’t really what you thought it was don’t hesitate to tell me and i will happily rewrite! just put it in the requests so i can see it ❤️ thank you for this again!!!

can’t get you; shouto aizawa

in which this old man cannot stop fawning over you and your glow, you’re stuck on his mind and etched into his soul - thank goodness his friends can help him finally confess.

glimmering rays peaked through class 2A’s windows, the summer heat circulating through the room making the students and their teacher groggy alike. the petals of cherry blossoms could be caught wafting around aimlessly, as if looking for a host to reside on. the chirps from the birds indicated that it was an early morning, their melodies playing a symphony for U.A.

shouta wanted so badly to crawl into his sleeping bag, but he knew that he, at least, had to get through one lesson before rewarding his fatigued body.

“the science behind your quirks is very important for executing them, for instance, someone like-“

a knock from the door interrupted him, he looked from his position into the sliver of glass in the door, only to see you.

shouta freezed up at your appearance, why were you are his door? is this it? are you coming here because you feel the same way he does? does he smell? do his classmates smell?

as his head filled with uncharacteristically ridiculous notions, you had already opened the door, saying a quick hi to his students, you were always cheerful like that, never failing to flash a smile and a wave to anyone.

that smile has been ingrained into his being, if you were to rip out his heart and dissect it, the matter of his soul would be like a mosaic of you, fragments your of that included your smile, your eyes, your cute yet hard to miss laugh. shouta’s mind was a documentary about you, one that he binged religiously in hopes of reliving his desire to be with you, even if it’s only for a minute, even if it’s only a figment of his imagination.

“-outa? hello, did you hear me?” you laughed, snapping him out of his daily programmed thoughts of you.

“h-huh? y-yeah sorry, what did you say?” shouta slightly stuttered, a small blush on his cheeks which he hide as he turned his head away in embarrassment.

i mean, for god sakes he was damn near forty and was blushing heavily because you were standing a little too close for comfort. he’s acting like he’s 16 again, but even then, he never acted like this around anyone else.

you really were special to him.

“i was just asking if i could take some paper for 3A, we’re doing a mind map project!” you asked, already making your way to his drawers on the side - you knew shouta would say yes, he’s never said no to you.

“yeah sure, do what you want. you baby that class too much though, they should be patrolling.” shouta feigned nonchalance, even though he would run the ends of the earth just to give you anything you’ve ever wanted.

“oh stop! i want them to be comfortable with their identity as a hero first before going onto the streets.” you giggled, a wad of A3 sheets in your arms now.

“you damn hippie, by the time they get onto the streets, they’ll be too lazy to do anything.” shouta sighed, while he respected you as a teacher and the love of his life with an ethereal face, gorgeous body and flamboyant personality that contrasts his doom and gloom, he truly was worried of the third years not understanding the importance of patrolling with you prolonging it.

“it’s not like they’ve never patrolled, i still make them do it once a week. it’s just, an incident happened with one of the students which made them lose their confidence in their skills. so i’m making them do a self love mind map!” you beamed.

shouta starred at you, amazed at your emotional intelligence and your ability to make everyone feel better within seconds. maybe that was your quirk, being the face of positivity and making old men become love sick fools that would kiss your feet.

“wow y/n! you’re so cool!” ashido laughed out.

“we never get to do anything like that!” grumbled denki.

“literally all we do it’s train.” hanta sighed

“i wanna be as positive as you when im a hero!” izuku called out.

“silly, you guys already are hero’s!” you giggled.

“stop making this so positive, they’ll get complacent and think that this is the peak of hero life.” shouta grumbled, pretending that your radiance wasn’t the reason he fell for you in the first place.

“you grumpy old man! anyways, i need to go before my class starts causing mayhem, bye 2A, bye shouta.” you smiled before leaving the class, shouta’s eyes never once leaving you as you walked away.

his heart was beating faster than ever before, his hands became clammy as hell- fuck, was it that hot in here? he’s now tugging on the cloth around his neck.

“sir, you’re blushing like crazy.” denki giggles, causing the class to start laughing at their teacher.

shouta turns more red in response, rolling his eyes to cover his embarrassment but his students could see right through them.

“shut up y/n- wait, i mean-“ sadly, after he said that, it was over for him.

the class’s laughter rose to volumes even present mic couldn’t reach, with a mixture of whistling and ‘oooh’s thrown in to further taunt him.

“quiet down.” shouta used to his quirk, his eyes turning red and his hair flying around.

the class immediately quieted down, they know that shouta was not the one to be played with.

shouta, kayama, yagi and yamada sat in the staff room, the three of them joking about whatever nonsense their kids were up to while shouta stayed listening, pretending to annoyed by the chatter while a small smile rested on his face.

“-and then, out of no where, young bakugou punches young midoriya, and i was just shocked because where the hell did he even come from?!” yagi’s face looked dripped in stress as he told this story, kayama and yamada laughing along heartily while shouta chuckled softly as he remembered that story.

“lord, class 2A sure is something! i honestly thought something naughty was going on between them.” kayama smirks as she says that.

“dude what, they literally go at each other heads all the time! ever since they came back from summer holidays, izuku has been hurling back all of katsuki’s insults!” yamada rebutted.

“enemies to lovers, bully to lovers and rivals to lovers is all im hearing right now!” kayama says in a sing-song tone.

“trust me, if you want something that may happen, you should look between young uraraka and young midoriya” yagi says with a lower tone.

they all (minus shouta whose been knowing this would happen) gasped.

“you guys haven’t noticed? izuku always starts blushing like hell and stuttering anytime ochako comes around him.” shouta adds on.

“i’ve never noticed it!” kayama says disappointedly.

“it’s hilarious, she could come up and say hi and he freezes up while looking down at his work or some shit.” shouta laughs.

“who freezes up?” you came out of nowhere.

shouta freezes up again, it’s honestly like he can’t escape you from both his mind and real life.

a pink dust starts sprinkling itself on his cheeks as he looks straight ahead, not trusting himself to look at your beautiful face without having a full on panic attack.

“u-um we were just talking about izuku and ochako.” shouta mutters while leaning back in his chair, pretending he was simply relaxing instead of panicking over you speaking to him.

yagi, yamada and kayama all look at each other before starring between the two of you, looking at shouta suspiciously with his sudden ‘wannabe cool boy’ demeanour.

“oh! not to be a gossip but you wouldn’t believe the things i’ve heard about them.” you giggled, talking a seat. next to shouta.

you were so close, your mouth was practically next to your ear (you were not that close, he’s just imagining things).

“well you better spill!” yamada cackled.

“you’re so loud.” shouta rolled his eyes.

“i think it’s nice how loud he is, no room for confusion!” you smiled, there you go again, making the best out of everything.

shouta looked at you, smiling at you as you spoke about how you heard about some party and izuku taking ochako somewhere or whatever, he really didn’t care for that, seeing you speak with so much passion, joy and compassion really just made him fall in love with you even more.

“but who knows?” you innocently say as if you didn’t drop the biggest development for the izuocha-teacher-movement.

“young midoriya has game!” yagi laughed

“you’re an old man, respect yourself.” shouta replied.

“he’s right though, i didn’t know he had it in him to make a move at a party nonetheless!” kamaya smiled.

“well anyways, i really want to try this lunch place, will anyone come with me?” you asked.

“i will.” shouta said almost immediately which didn’t go unnoticed by the others.

“are you sure? it’s quite far and i don’t have my car so you would have to drive.” you mentioned, knowing that shouta was lazy as hell. getting him to do a task not listed in his job requirements usually needs an army.

“it’s fine, i’ll go anywhere with you.” shouta spoke softly, causing everyone, including you, to look at him skeptically.

“shit, as in, well- i just meant that uh…” shouta fumbled over his words, his face turning even redder than before. he truly believes this is karma for making fun of izuku.

“alright honey, i’ll meet you by your car in 10 minutes, still got a few things to set out.” you laughed it off.

shouta’s eyes widened at the nickname and stared at your figure as you walked off, admiring your every move as though you were magnetic, his heart beating ferociously with every step you took.

“ok, now, what was that!?” yamada asked demandingly as soon as you were out of sight.

“oh my god, you’re so loud.” shouta deflected.

“you aren’t getting out of this one aizawa sensei, you’re in love with them!” kamaya’s eyes glistened as she said that.

“no i’m not, can a man not have friends?” shouta sighed and lied like nobody’s business.

“LMAO, nice one, you defo wanna bang them sho!” yamada teased, causing shouta to blush like crazy.

“i’m actually just speechless, i’ve never seen you get so… pathetic.” yagi stifled a chuckled.

“who the hell are you calling pathetic? do you not remember the incident with izuku’s mom?” shouta smirked.

“my bad.” yagi kept silent as the others looked at him skeptically once more.

“we will definitely come to that later, but gosh can we get back to how he was blushing like crazy when they first came!” kamaya spoke with an amazed tone.

“oo! or when he stuttered and stared at them the whole time?” yamada added on.

“or even when he said ‘ill go anywhere with you’ as though they were leaving forever?” yagi cackled.

“you guys are annoying, i don’t like them or whatever you guys think. i think of them just like anyone else would.” shouta replied, rolling his eyes.

“alright then, hawks did mention wanting to ask them out. makes sense as well, they are more closer in age than you two are.” yamada smugly replies.

“what? where did you hear this?” shouta replied instantly, his eyes widening.

“LOL got you!” yamada laughed loudly.

“yeah alright whatever, you chronically online fool.” shouta huffed out in annoyance.

“you should ask them out! they are always talking about you anyways.” yagi advises.

“they do?” shouta looked at yagi curiously.

“yeah, always asking what you’re doing or just mentioning you in conversation. i tried to ask if they were into you flat out but they deflected the question so i dropped it.” yagi continues.

shouta looks straight ahead of him, his brows furrowing in confusion as he thought about what yagi was implying.

did you, want him?

fuck, just thinking about it makes his heart swell and turns the background chatter into a cheesy romcom song.

“look at how you’re blushing! come on, it’s clearly that you’re both into each other so ask them out! for once you can spend valentines with someone that’s isn’t a cat.” kamaya giggled.

“i enjoy my single life thank you very much, but i will ask them out.” shouta replied.

the three of them started cheering for him as he thought deeper about what was about to happen, in 10 minutes, you could either be his or a forced distant memory.

fuck, he really was too old for this shit.

you two finally arrived to the place, it was a fancy ramen place that looked as though it would be more popular during the night scene - however this made it so now, during the day, it was practically empty, more intimate.

honestly, it was like the universe was just egging him on.

even the interior had romantic undertones, with all the valentines decorations and romance inspired special dishes plastered everywhere that he lowkey wanted to try with you.

you both took your seat in a booth across from one another and you took a look at the menu already set out in front of you on your table.

“this place would be lovely for a date.” you hummed out cheerily

shouta looked at you confusingly, what the hell was that supposed to mean?

was this a date?

“well, if you want it to be then..” you answered back bashfully.

“shit, i didn’t mean to say that out loud. wait, what?” shouta was processing too many things at once.

“y/n, are you… do you..?” shouta couldn’t find the words to say it but you knew exactly what he was trying to say.

“depends on how you feel about me.” you leaned forward onto the table, more confidence slipping into your system even though you were a nervous wreck on the inside.

shouta’s eyes widened upon realisation, his breathing quickened slightly as he took in everything happening. this was it, this was the moment he dreamed for, this was his opening to finally get the dream - no - reality that was now within reach.

“alright, well here goes.” shouta clears his throat and puts down his menu, you follow suit.

“y/n, i’m gonna be honest here, you’re someone i cannot stop thinking about. it’s like, you’re in my system or something, it’s annoying as hell but i’m not all that bothered. i like thinking about you, you make me feel… i don’t know what the word is but it’s new, fresh and beautiful. i guess i’ve been into you for a while, which i think has been quite obvious and you’re honestly the only person i’ve ever felt like this for, so im not completely sure what im doing here. but when im with you, you make me feel fuzzy and warm and all the weird things that make you happy and shit. i guess, what im trying to say is that i… love you y/n. probably have for a good year or so. so, please, it would be my pleasure to take you out on a date or something.” shouta spilled all of his feelings in front of you, leaving you shocked with his proclamation.

shouta’s heart was there on a platter, beating violently as the inscribed words that he had just spoken out were spilled out like ancient secrets.

you reached over the table, grabbing his cloth to pulled him closer to you and pressed his lips onto yours, all in a flash.

at first, it was still, you both were absorbing each others warmth, until shouta finally started moving, his lips guiding yours as they stayed stuck onto one another. almost as though your lips were two opposite poles that stayed stuck together.

your lips matched perfectly, fitting like two puzzle pieces intricately designed to only accept each others shape. everything felt so right, the same feeling you get when you fit the last block in a wooden box - completion.

the sound of lips smacking as shouta gently put his hand of your face, both your eyes fully close and immersing in the moment.

after a hearty moment, you pulled away slowly whilst opening your eyes. shouta’s eyes were half lidded and drunk on you.

“i love you too shouta, my favourite grump.” you giggled.

he rolled his eyes in response but smiled because finally, everything was in place.

he got you out of his system, and into reality. you were finally his and his only.

[psalmsofpsychosis]

You: power couple

Me, An Intellectual: Alfred and 13 years old Bruce giving each other military salute before Alfred follows Bruce to basically their deathbeds, knowing full well that Bruce is leading them both to where devil dares not look but he'd rather die besides Bruce than live safe on his own anyway

[mymarifae]

millies everywhere died

[ohworm-writes]

I want to state, for the record: Julian Kostov is so fucking gorgeous it makes me self-conscious.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐌𝐎 𝐁𝐎𝐘! ❞

❝ COME ON, FUCK ME, EMO BOY!! ❞

✧ pairing: emo boy! choso kamo x f!reader ✧ summary: saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? ✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, emo boy! choso, sex toys (vibrators, clit sucker), multiple orgasms, semi-exhibitionism, public sex (sex in the back of hot topic, sex in a changing room), fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), big dick choso (but honey, that dick was 11 inches), also mahito + yuji make appearances, art by @/SS_utr3n. ✧ wc: 5.3K

It had been a while since you had stepped into a Hot Topic (a while meaning three days or three years, take your pick). But this had been the third time this week you had been to this specific Hot Topic, and now you were sure the manager of the place had your badly taken picture and description scrawled in some notebook as a potential shoplifter. 

But it wasn’t the merchandise you were looking to pick up. 

It was him. 

You saw him when you were browsing the clearance rack, knelt down, evaluating whether you needed another blind box item that will inevitably not contain the character you were looking for (but on the plus side, it was on sale?), when you heard a deep voice speak. 

“Excuse me,” you glance up as you spot him — and you swear your breath gets stuck somewhere between your windpipe and your lungs, because you don’t breathe while this man kneels down next to you to place more items on clearance. Spiky black locks tied up messily on either side, fringe bangs falling in front of his face as he bent down, a tattoo across the bridge of his nose and was that — dark purple eyeshadow around his eyes — and his eyes — god, his eyes were gorgeous, a deep dark brown — and you swore, was that a hint of purple in his irises? 

He was everything that your teen self had wanted — the same guys whose profiles you had looked at growing up and thought were so hot. You caught a glance at the My Chemical Romance t-shirt as he stood, in black jeans, as he catches you staring, “Can I help you find something?” His tone was casual, but he was curious — probably curious why you were staring at him with wide-eyed saucers. 

“No, no, sorry, I—” no, don’t tell the hot Hot topic worker that he is hot — first of all its confusing, second of all— “I just wanted to say, I like your t-shirt,” 

Fuck. out of all the things to say — I like your style, I like your fit, I like your hair — you had to pick the most generic ass comment. 

He only nods, but you catch the barest upward twitch of the corner of his lip, “thanks,” 

And that’s all it took — you now needed to see him smile. 

Over the next few days innocently shopping at Hot Topic, you find out his name is Choso from one of the other workers, Mahito, calling his name. His hair is usually in those buns, but one of the days his hair was down, and you heard him complain that his hair ties had snapped. 

And his hair looked so good down, his long inky locks fell past his shoulders, but this was your chance to talk to him — “i have some extra hair ties, if you want them,” you offer him a few hair ties, “I overheard you talking with the other worker, I hope you don’t mind,” 

And he shakes his head, his lips quirked in that almost smile that makes your heart squeeze. 

Fuck. 

“Not at all, thank you,’ and his fingers brush yours as he takes the hair ties, and you turn to leave, but his voice stops you, “what was your name? I didn’t catch it last time,” 

You tell him, smiling, “Your name is Choso, right? I saw it on your nametag,” and he’s biting his lip, tilting his head in question, as you flush, cheeks burning, “I’ve noticed you a couple times when I’ve come in— not in a weird way, I just—” 

“I’ve noticed you too,” and finally he’s smiling — and you know he’s got you, you know you’re fucked. 

And you do get fucked — in the back of Hot Topic during his break. 

It had been a few weeks of you two talking and flirting, until finally, during his break he’s got you snuck into the back to show you the merchandise they haven’t put out yet. And you scoff when you come across a bullet vibrator, “you guys sell these?” 

He shrugs, “They started to in the last few years, not a lot. They don’t want the parents to become too outraged, but just enough,” And you snort, turning the bullet over in your fingers curiously, “have you never used one before?” 

And your cheeks burn, as you bite your lip, “No I never have,” and the next question stumbles out as a joke, “why? Wanna help me learn?” And you want to bite your tongue, but you’re too busy with the foot in your mouth to do so, and before you can apologize he speaks. 

“I would,” 

And your eyes snap to his, and you realize how close he’s standing, his eyes not filled with humor but something else — lust? — and his lips curled in a small smile. 

Fuck. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little quieter, love,” he’s murmuring in your ear, pressing kisses to your neck, as you’re pressed between his firm chest and the metal storage rack, fingers laced as you held on, the vibration between your thighs the only thing ringing in your ears. 

But how can you be quiet? 

The bullet vibrator is pressed right against your clit, and his thick fingers are parting your folds, so close to sinking into you, his deep voice whispering in your ear, hot breath against your neck. 

And the coil in your stomach is only growing tighter and tighter, and your squeals only grow more and more insistent. His fingers sunk into your mouth, “suck,” he ordered, and your cunt twitches at the demand, as you do, sucking and licking messily on his fingers, “good girl,” 

And he clicks the button of the vibrator again, increasing the vibration, making your eyes widen, a gasp around his fingers, “so responsive,” he groans, as your legs grow weak, and he’s stepping forward to steady you, but it also settles his dick between your ass. 

He’s huge. 

The bulge presses into you, drawing a hiss from his lips as you lean back against it, “Trying to tease me, sweetheart?” And he’s pulling his fingers from his mouth, a string of spit connecting from his fingers to your lips, “don’t forget who’s teaching you,” and he sinks his spit soaked fingers into your needy cunt, making your back arch into his body, “so tight, despite the vibrator,” he hums.

“Choso, please—” and he starts to fuck his fingers in and out, the squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears mixing with the buzz of the vibrator — you’re already so close, “I'm—” 

“Cum for me,” he’s grunting, as his fingers reach even deeper inside you, dragging against your walls as he curls them, finding that one spot that has you seeing stars. And your moan as you cum is stifled against your own palm, as he only maxes out the vibration and fucks you through your orgasm, “one more for me, pretty, you can do it,” 

“No, no, Choso, please too much, can’t—” and he only presses sweet kisses to your neck, and how are you already close — you just had orgasmed, but the coil in your stomach is growing tighter by the second, and you’re nearly crying when you cum again, your slick dripping down his fingers and the vibrator as he eases it from you, and then splatters onto the dirty tile floor of the backroom of Hot Topic.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he’s tilting your head back and around for a kiss. And you catch a glimpse of the glint of your release on his black painted nails as he presses the pads into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his digits and sucking them clean, “that’s it, clean up your mess f’me,” and his other hand is wiping the tears from your eyes, “so pretty when you cry — can’t wait to make you do it again.”

Your cunt twitches at the thought, your cum still dripping down your thighs, “Again?” and he’s pressing another sinful kiss to your lips, “You didn’t think this would be our only lesson, did you?” 

And it wasn’t — the next lesson was spent in the fitting rooms, during a particular dead early afternoon in the store — and he had you spread on the fitting room bench, your black jeans pulled down to your ankles, as his head found its way between your thighs. You could barely hold back your whimpers as he pressed all too hot kisses to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, burning already with his warm breath. It was too much. 

He was too much. 

“How’s that feel?” dark eyes flicking up to meet yours, half lidded with lust, as he watches your panting face, your head against the wall of the fitting room, “use your words, love,” 

“Too good, Cho-so,” the last syllable of his names escapes your lips in a gasp, as your cunt twitches as his lithe fingers tease you through the soaked material of your panties, “please, please, need you,” 

“What do you need?” and his fingers pull away, as his lips press a kiss to your puffy clit, pulling a whine from you, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Please, just—” and he’s tugging your panties aside, cool air rushing over your all too hot pussy, “please just touch me — with your fingers or mouth—” 

And his tongue drags over your messy cunt, and god, it feels too good — but a twinge makes you pause, and when you feel it draw a circle around your clit, you realize what it is — he has a tongue piercing. Your fingers thread their way in his black locks, resisting the urge to grab at his hair buns. 

He grunts, vibrations against your wet cunt, as you pull him impossibly closer to where you needed him most, his nose bumping against your clit, “you smell so good — how’s that possible?” and your eyes squeeze shut as his hands press your thighs further apart. 

That’s when you both hear the click of the entrance, and the door swinging shut — shit, the door — he forgot to lock it. Forgot when you had pulled him into a kiss right when he was ready to take a lunch break, all other thoughts had flown out of his brain once he let those doors swing shut and your lips had met his — well, left his brain and flooded southward. He also didn’t think a customer would be persistent enough to try the door and wander in when the doors were shut and the closed sign was hung up. 

“Choso, should we—” and the footsteps draw closer — and fuck — did you get wetter? And tighter — his moan is muffled against your walls, “Choso, stop, we—” 

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, dark, half lidded eyes look up at you, your essence and his spit soaking his lips and dripping down his chin. And the footsteps are receding, the sounds of the shuffling and clinking of clothes hangers on racks in the distance, but all you can hear are the sounds of the wet, needy squelch of your cunt, “you aren’t being honest — but you are down here,” and his lips find your clit, sucking lightly, making your head jerk back, “want them to know how good I make you feel,” his lips leave your clit with a small pop, before murmuring against the soft skin of your thigh, “be quiet for me, baby,” and his tongue slips back into your cunt. 

He’s nearly slurping your juices up, his tongue tasting every inch of you, deliciously dragging against your twitching walls with his piercing, as your toes curl and your mouth parts in a muffled moan, one hand clamped over your mouth, and the other digging into his scalp. How could the person not hear you? How couldn’t they hear the wet squelch of your cunt as Choso fucked it with his tongue? How couldn’t they hear your badly swallowed moans and the sounds of your heart pounding out of your chest — and if they did, they certainly didn’t care enough to stop browsing through the fucking store. 

And you’re close, so fucking close, and you don’t hear the footsteps drawing close to the fitting rooms because your ears only can hear the wet suck of his mouth against your clit or the press of his tongue in and out of your folds, your thighs twitching under his grasp, fingers pressed into your flesh, “Choso, I’m so—” 

“Cum f’me, need to feel you cum around my tongue,” he sucks on your clit hard, teeth grazing the sensitive spot, and you cum, hard, your hand forsaking your lips to find purchase on his head, squirting all over his face as you did, soaking him along with the bench of the fitting room. And you can’t help the whimpers and moans that left your lips, as he lapped up your release without a care. 

And you slump against the wall of the fitting room, body still buzzing from your orgasm, as he finally pulls his tongue out, glancing up at you. Your chest heaves as you watch him lick your cum from his lips and chin, before wiping the rest away, and your eyes drift downward to the erection he was palming. And your fingers unconsciously reach for it, when your hear a door slam shut making your both jump. 

You cover your mouth — the customer, and Choso’s eyes meets yours, as the two of you break out in a laugh, “Fucking lock the door next time,” you sigh, covering your burning face with your hands, as Choso chuckles, lips curled in a smile.

“So there’s going to be a next time?” he tilts his head, and you flush. 

How could he go from eating you out like a desperate man without water to this innocent puppy? “Not if you don’t lock the door,” 

“It’s their fault for coming in when the doors were closed and there was a sign that said closed in big letters on the door,” and you shake your head, as he draws closer, “now, I have twenty minutes of lunch left — so where were we?” 

And you push him towards the changing room door, “Go lock the door first,” and he relents, chuckling. 

“Just for that, I’m going to look for the clit sucker I couldn’t find before.” 

~~~~

The two of you had fallen into a pattern. 

And you had become a regular at Hot Topic. You hung around him as he stocked the shelves, did inventory, price re-labeling, and even as he spoke to customers. You watched other customers speak to Choso, even flirt with him, but he never cracked a smile. Two girls were very persistent, but they deflated as he walked away after answering their questions, brushing past you, his hand brushing against your ass discreetly. Heat rushes to your cheeks, your head snapping to him as his lips curl when your eyes catch his gaze. But even so…

You still were just as clueless of where you stood with him as you were when this started. 

“You two have been pretty hot and heavy lately, huh?” you nearly jump out of your skin, as Mahito smiles knowingly at you, leaning against the counter with a shiteating grin. 

“What are you—” 

“Please, like we don’t know what goes on in the back during breaks?” he raises an eyebrow, as you bite your lip, “plus, never have I seen that gloomy guy smile, much less as much he does with you,” 

“Really?” your eyes find him again, as he crouches and lines up blind boxes on one of the shelves — but you can’t help the nagging question circling in the back of your mind — why hasn’t he asked you out yet? The two of you have hooked up, in and out of the store, but he still hadn’t asked you on a date. Even in the last few weeks, the two of you hadn’t even spent any real time together, except for your visits to the store -- he hasn't even taken you into the back. For all you know, you’re one of many people he’s bedding. Even if he doesn’t seem the type. 

“What? Trouble in paradise?” Mahito pulls you from your thoughts, head tilted and all too eager, “what’s wrong?” 

“No, it’s—“ he cuts you off with a look, and you relent with a slight pout, “he just hasn’t asked me out yet, I’m just wondering what he’s thinking—“ 

“Well, I definitely don’t think he’s seeing anyone else,” he hums, “but he does tend to go straight home a lot when you’re not around. Maybe something is going on at home?” And then he’s pushing you towards him, “no time like the present to find out,” 

“Mahito—“ 

“Choso! How about you and your favorite regular go for a quick walk and get us some drinks from the food court?” He grins, offering some money,  “be a doll, won’t you?” 

Choso sighs, “Fine,” and he brushes past you, taking the cash, before glancing back at you, “you coming?” 

You glance between the two of them, before following him out of the store. You both walk in relative silence, slipping past customers, as you reach the food court. Choso orders, paying with the cash Mahito gave, as he passes you one of the drinks, “Choso, can I ask you something?” 

His eyes slide to you, “Of course,” and god, his eyes stop your thoughts in their tracks — he’s so unfairly gorgeous, funny, sweet — you didn’t want to screw this up. You open your mouth to speak when you hear a voice. 

“Big bro, that you?” A rush of pink hair and energy is wrapped around Choso all of a sudden, “I didn’t think you got off until later,” it’s a teen boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen, his arm wrapped around Choso, and a varsity jacket on — this was Choso’s brother?

Choso cracked his rare smile, “I don’t get off until later, Yuji, but I came to grab a drink for Mahito,” and Yuji’s gaze slides to you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there,” he smiles a thousand watt smile, “I’m Yuji Itadori, Choso’s brother,” and he’s glancing between you and his brother, before his mouth falls into an ‘o,’ “are you his girlfriend?” 

“Yuji—“ Choso starts, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, as you stifle a laugh, “I thought you said you were going to study at home with Fushiguro.” 

“I wanted to see you when your shift got off — I thought we could have dinner together,” Yuji pouts, and Choso cracks in an instant, his lips curling. 

This boy had his brother wrapped around his finger. 

“Ok, but don’t goof off. Make sure to study,” and Yuji nods. 

“Nice to meet you,” and he leans in to whisper, “treat my brother good, ok?” And you flush, before nodding, as Choso raises an eyebrow, out of earshot. 

“I will,” 

“Cho, tell Mahito to fuck off for me,” and he’s off again, gone as fast as he came.

“Sorry about that,” Choso sighs, still a smile on his lips as he watches his brother in the distance, claiming one of the food court tables for himself and his friend, as he sits down next to a black haired boy, assumedly Fushiguro, “didn’t know Yuji would be here,” 

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” and he bites his lip. 

“It’s relatively new — we’re half brothers, but he just came back into my life. He doesn’t really have any other biological family. His grandfather just passed, and he’s staying with a teacher whose decided to foster him,” the two of you begin to walk back to the store, his gaze fixed downwards at the tacky mall carpeting, “he’s been staying with me for the last few weeks, while his foster father went on a vacation to Malaysia,” 

And now the pieces were clicking into place, “And that’s why you’ve been going home a lot lately,” and his dark eyes find yours with a tilt of his head, “I mean, you just haven’t had a lot of time lately,” you can’t meet his gaze, “it must be a lot to have a teenager staying with you.” 

“Yeah, he eats everything in the house, and he’s staying in my living room, which leaves little in the way of privacy,” and you can still feel the prickle of his gaze on you, “but I could use a break,” and you finally look and see a soft expression on his face, the same insecurity you had reflected in his gaze. 

No time like the present, right?

“Well, should we maybe go on a date?” and his cheeks flush a pretty red, all the way to the tips of his ears, “we’ve done plenty of other things that a couple would do, like—” 

And he’s shaking his head, “I know, I know!” he’s the one who can’t meet your eyes now, chewing his lip, “I’d like that — I get off my shift tonight at eight, I told Yuji we’d hang out, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind postponing—” 

“We can always do it tomorrow, I don’t want to keep you from your brother,” and his lips curl into a smile, “he’s a good kid,” 

“He is,” and his fingers find yours again, “I can tell Mahito that I’ll lock up tonight, and maybe after I do, we could—” 

“Have another lesson?” 

And eight o’clock rolls around far too slow, but Choso definitely isn’t moving slow when it’s only the two of you. 

He’s pulling you into the back again, the door swinging shut behind the two of you, his fingers tight around your wrists as he’s pulling you into a bruising kiss, forcing your lips to part with a gasp, his tongue flicking against yours. The smooth surface of his piercing grazes against your tongue. 

And his fingers find the back of your neck, deepening the kiss impossibly, as his other hand slips down the curves of your body, pulling you against him, his clothed cock brushing against your aching cunt. 

Fuck. You had almost forgotten how big he was. 

And when you hear the zipper of his black jeans, you nearly melt against him, “Choso, please—” 

“I have to get you ready first, love,” his fingers find their way to the front of your jeans and undo the button, tugging the fabric down to your ankles. Cool air raises goosebumps across your skin, the pads of his fingers press against the wet patch of your panties, and he’s groaning, “but maybe I don’t,” 

“Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, as he’s walking you backwards, into one of the racks, his fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs. And two fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, joining your jeans, pooling around your ankles, “nearly ready now, but I still have to loosen you up,” his fingers tease your outer lips, dripping with your release. 

One of his finger’s slips in with practiced ease, making your hips jolt against his hand, your fingers curling around the metal bars of the rack in front of you. His finger was so much thicker and longer than yours, his digit toyed with your walls, teasing and stretching until he drew a soft groan from your lips. He was the only one who could make you this desperate, his lips pressed against your neck, the heat from his body has your mind reeling with pleasure. 

“Mmm, Choso, more—" and he’s adding another finger inside your still all too tight entrance, making you whimper, as the intrusion is all too much after a few weeks of not having him inside you. 

“So greedy,” he murmurs, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in your ears, “you’re practically sucking me in, but it’s still not enough for you, is it?” his tongue drags against the outer shell of your ear, his piercing against your skin, before his mouth envelops your earlobe and sucks. 

His fingers are fucking you open, your eyes screwed shut as the tips brush against that spot, heat flooding your body. And you don’t hear the shuffling of his other hand through a box, until you hear the sound of sucking, “Choso—“ and he’s pressing the sucker against your clit, your mouth falling open as pleasure rips up your spine, the sucking sensation with the lewd noises of your pussy being finger fucked is too much. 

You cum all over his hand, your hand clamping over your mouth so no one hears your moans — and your legs quake as you come down from your high, as he eases his fingers from you, “so pretty,” he murmurs, and you can feel his dark, lidded eyes on your drenched cunt, watching your sticky release cling to his fingers, purple painted nails glinting in the low light. 

And he’s leaning forward, kissing down your back, as he turns you around gently, so your back is pressed against the rack. You kick off your underwear and pants. You’re still panting, chest rising and falling as his fingers press to your chin, lifting it so you meet his gaze, as he sucks his fingers clean of your cum. Heat pools again, as his fingers undo the leather belt and he’s tugging his jeans and black boxers down to his knees, his erection springs out, slapping against his stomach. 

Your mouth runs dry. 

Fuck, he’s even bigger than you thought. 

Ten inches? No, maybe eleven. How was that even possible? That shit would break you — but fuck — your cunt twitches — you kind of want it to break you. 

“Like what you see, Princess?” you lick your lips in response, and in a trance, your fingers are reaching for him, curling around the base before you slowly start to pump him. You’re rewarded with a moan, a noise that goes straight to your cunt, as your fingers move faster, trying to find the right rhythm. Pre-cum leaks from the top, as you tease his tip, before stroking back up the length of it. 

And he’s a beautiful mess, his pale features flushed a gorgeous red, as he presses his hand against his mouth so his moans wouldn’t resonate. And his pre-cum drips all over your fingers, slipping down your wrist even, as you lean forward to lick it off your own skin, while you meet his gaze. 

His head lolls back, eyes screwed shut now, and your fingers drift to his sack, stroking and teasing while your lips find the tip, sucking lightly before your tongue drags over the length of his cock. And god, he’s going to blow his load now, if you keep doing that, from the way his hips rock against your touch. 

His fingers weave into your hair, nails digging into your scalp, “Baby, ngh, it’s too good—fuck—” he’s so close, twitching in your mouth as you suck him from tip to base, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, “shit, I can’t—” and you suck hard on his cock, massaging his balls, and he’s gone — he’s pumping his cock into your mouth as his cum spurts down your throat, as you swallow it all too greedily. You pull away with a pop, a string of cum and saliva connecting you to his dick still, before you wipe it away. 

He’s leaning against the rack, chest heaving as he watches you with lust blown out eyes, sweat sheen on his face, “Haa, baby, s’good f’me,” and somehow he’s still hard, as you rise to your feet, thighs pressed together, your eyes fixed on his cock, “you don’t have to—” 

And he’s still so sweet — his eyebrows knit together as he’s examining you with concern, but you’re only shaking your head, as you press a sweet kiss to his lips, “I need you, Choso, please,” and he’s nodding, lips meeting yours in a heady kiss that steals your breath, and he’s made you brace yourself against the rack, fingers curled around the cool metal. 

Your folds are exposed to him, slick and dripping, even wetter than before, “You liked sucking me off that much, love?” he murmurs, kissing your neck, before he’s dragging the tip of his cock against your needy cunt, “I’ll go slow,” he assures you, as you nod. 

He’s sinking into you inch by inch — and not even halfway, you already feel like you’re ready to burst, “So big, Choso, I—” and he’s murmuring quiet reassurances, as he’s parting your folds, the pain drawing a gasp from your lips, as he finally bottoms out. 

“S’good, baby, so tight,” he’s moaning, You’re taking deep breaths, pain ebbing with each second that passes. Choso pressing sweet kisses to your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt to tease your perked nipples, mixing pain with pleasure. Tears burn at your tear ducts, as you breathe shaky breaths, and finally pain ebbs away, and pleasure grows in its place.

“S’full, so big,” you pant, growing more needy by the second, he’s reaching places you’d only dreamt of — his leaking tip kissing your cervix, “move, p-please—ah!” 

And he does as you say, pulling ever so slowly out before pushing back in, grunting as he does as your tight cunt adjusts to his size and length — bullying your insides in a way no toy could ever compare to. You swear you can feel every inch, every curve, every vein as he rocks into you. 

“So pretty f’me,” he’s moaning, stifled by his bitten lip, as your walls only seem to pull him back deeper each time he pulls out,  “so perfect, take me so well,” he’s murmuring, as he teases your tits between his thumb and forefinger, “pretty cunt made just for me, isn’t that right, Princess?” 

“Yes, yes, Choso,” and his pace only grows faster, just as his groans grow louder. 

“No one else can fuck you like this, make you feel this good, can’t wait to feel you cummin’ around me,” he’s panting, his fingers tweaking your nipples, squeezing, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously again and again, “feels s’good, so wet and warm for me—” his hand comes down on your ass now, making you gasp, your cunt squeezing around him. 

Drool slips from your mouth, as you get closer and closer to cumming — the telltale flutter of your walls, “Choso, I’m coming, I can’t—” 

“Cum for me, let me fill you up,” and his fingers reach around to press a vibrator to your clit, and you’re cumming, falling apart on his cock, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. The squelch of your cunt and the way you squeeze him has him falling apart, spurting and painting your walls. 

The two of you slump forward, your legs nearly buckling, as you cling to the rack, before he’s easing both of you back onto a bench in the stock room. Your quiet pants fill the silence of the room, as he eases himself out, groaning as you both watch your mixed releases leak out of your cunt. 

“I don’t think I can walk after that,” and he chuckles in your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry you,” and you laugh, his favorite noise in the world, as you slowly turn, making him groan as your soaked pussy grinds against his dick. 

“So then you can lift me up when I drop it?” your lips are curled in that same smile that had him hypnotized from the moment he saw it, and he can only reply with a bruising kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, as you sunk yourself onto his dick again. 

God. He needed to buy you tickets to Warped Tour. 

~~~

The next time you show up to Hot Topic, you weren’t showing up to buy any merchandise. 

“Hey emo boy!” you call out, making Choso turn with a smile on his lips — the one especially reserved for you. 

“Hi baby,” he murmurs, kissing you softly, his arm around your waist, “I’m almost done. I just have to punch out.” 

You lean in, words whispered against his ear, “And then you’re gonna come fuck me?” 

You were picking up your boyfriend. 

He smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist, before kissing you again, “You know I will.” 

note: i couldn't find who made this incredible art that i used after searching and searching, so if anyone knows, please let me know so i can credit them above in the description. this fic has been a long time coming since that silly blurb i wrote after watching one too many thirst edits of choso. edit: i found the artist: its @/SS_utr3n on twt!!!

tag list: @uroldall, @jlovesfrogs, @existential54321, @staryukis, @samistars, @chosoilysm, @astroholic, @emii4evr, @rose1238, @butterflieskeepcominback, @divinely-yourz, @fishii28, @seresukuin, @misalsmistake, @xkaidaxxxx, @cappric, @famebydefinition, @theatergeek, @sousblogga, @averagelonelypotato, @timesnewreader, @chrvstxl, @darylthekidd, @merelydaydreaming, @notafan77, @naughtygobbo, @smiley-babe, @butterflieskeepcominback, @entirelytoooobsessed, @acenanxious

[peachylynnie]

you make him lose his cool

word count: 900-1k per lead

synopsis: in which you provoke them, and they love it. (inspired by kiss of life's igloo)

contains: fem!reader x lads men (separate, non!mc), established relationship, downbad men, NSFW CONTENT MDNI (i'm talking grinding, oral sex implications, etc), song lyrics, and cursing.

a/n: i feel hot whenever i listen to this song. i hope you do too while reading. i'll write for caleb once he's officially in the game since i'm not familiar with him yet. enjoy! do not plagiarize or translate. lads men do NOT endorse plagiarism. reblogs & comments appreciated.

lads masterlist | tagged: @vvintqz (ik this is technically the reader teasing xavier but u said to tag u when i write xavier so i hope u enjoy)

sylus

Glass room, perfume, Kodak on that lilac (alright)

Slipping on my short dress, know he like that (like that)

there's nothing like getting ready in sylus' bathroom. not because of the sheer size of it (it takes at least a day to explore his residence), but because of how good you look in the mirror right now. you can't help but smile as you step back to get a full look at yourself.

sylus went all out for tonight's auction.

he gifted you a tight-fitting ebony dress, its gorgeous silk straps accentuating your shoulders perfectly. he also gifted you a pair of evening gloves, its velvet fabric wrapping around your arms flawlessly. of course, the dress came with priceless jewels and heels. as you twirl in front of the mirror, the scarlet gems on your ears glimmer, and the cherry kitten heels on your feet click. oh, you look so good, you can kill.

but what seals the deal is the neck accessory he got you.

an intricate, black choker made out of lace. fucking lace. a scoff leaves your mouth when you notice the ruby medallion hanging at the center. his taste is as clear as day.

as you reach behind your neck to clip the choker, the man of the hour walks in. you meet his eyes through the mirror, your hands still at the back of your neck. "sylus."

"miss," he acknowledges in return, an unmistakable smirk appearing on his lips. his eyes trail down your figure. "you look stunning."

"thanks," you giggle as you hook the choker clasp. "you don't look bad yourself."

and you're absolutely right. although he has his usual dress shirt on, his outerwear is completely new. a gorgeous red blazer, adorned with inky brush strokes, sits proudly on his shoulders. moreover, his accessories are new (he's never worn any before). cuffed around his right hand is a sleek platinum watch, spotlighting his forearm deliciously. hanging from his left ear are silver chains, shining unashamedly. you can't help but bite your lips as you admire your lover in the mirror.

yeah, sylus went all out tonight.

catching the hazy look in your glittered eyes, he tilts his head before grinning, "like what you see, sweetie?"

you roll your eyes playfully before returning to the sink. "yes, actually. didn't know you were capable of wearing something other than black."

sylus chuckles as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. "i've worn colors other than black before."

"if you're talking about the two outfits that have the belt around the sleeve," you list nonchalantly as you pick up your lip gloss. "they don't count. they have black on them."

"i'm talking about the red cardigan, sweetie," he counters smoothly, eyeing the lip gloss in your hand.

"ah." you run the wand over your parted lips, enjoying the feeling of gloss on them. "touche," you say, bending over the sink to see if you missed a spot. you do, however, miss the way sylus' fingers tighten around his arms when your dress hikes up. smacking your lips together, you lift the wand to reapply. "but you barely even wear that. so that doesn't count either."

sylus hums, barely paying attention to what you just said. his eyes are transfixed on the wand. he's mesmerized by how it travels across your lips, slathering them with sticky, shimmery syrup, leaving him thirsty for a taste. not to mention the sounds leaving your lips whenever you press them together. sweet, squelching sounds that have him pressing against you in mere seconds, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

at first, you were taken aback by his sudden proximity. but after feeling something prod at your back, you smile amusingly before placing the wand down. "i'm assuming," you swiftly turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes widening as you pull him closer. "there's been a change of plans." you slowly lick your lips, collecting some excess gloss. as it drips from the tip of your tongue, you ask with a tilt of your head, "how late are we going to be?"

that's it.

sylus crashes into you, his tongue desperately trying to lap up the excess gloss. his hands haphazardly roam all over your body before lifting you onto the sink, pinning you down as his lips smear your lip gloss everywhere. you moan, trying to match his fervor. the sinful mixing of breaths, saliva, and gloss floods your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around him and bring him closer to you. he welcomes the action, gasping and grinding into you.

by the time he pulls away for air, both of you are left panting like dogs, mouths and chins smothered in sheen.

your eyes never leave sylus' as you wipe your chin, a string of gloss and saliva hanging prettily from your gloved palm. with a groan, he dives into your neck and sinks his teeth into your collarbone. you throw your head back at the pain, whimpering when he soothes the spot with his tongue.

but when sylus traces a finger up your back, you freeze immediately.

why?

oh, because he's unzipping your dress.

"sorry, sweetie," he chuckles into your perfumed skin, savoring your surprised reaction when he drags the zipper all the way down. "we won't be late."

you look at him in confusion, barely processing the silk straps falling off your shoulders.

he leans in and whispers into your ear.

"we won't be going at all."

xavier

your starlight of a boyfriend collapses onto the bed, his legs hanging off the edge and his pants dangling pathetically from his ankles.

Heart attack, IV when I walk the street

Vitamins that D, I'm good, I'm healthy

you giggle at the sight, wiping your lips clean of his release. as you rub a drop between your index finger and thumb, you notice the texture's a bit thick, almost like jelly.

"xavier," you call lovingly, rising from your knees and crawling on top of him. he barely responds; his eyes are screwed shut with beads of sweat trailing down his face, neck, chest, legs, everywhere. shit, what did you do to him? he can't get his chest to stop heaving, his mouth to stop watering, and his ears to stop ringing. he can't do anything. not with the way you looked so pretty on top of him, especially after making him release so intensely in your mouth.

"xavier," you repeat as you cradle his face, making his dazed eyes meet yours. "when was the last time you drank water?"

"water?" he pants. "i'm not sure. why do you ask?"

"well," you show him your fingers. he gulps, flushing a deeper shade of red. "this tells me you haven't been drinking enough water."

you get up to retrieve some water from the kitchen. xavier whines at the loss of contact. although he tries to stop you from leaving, you easily slip out of his weak embrace (he literally got his life sucked out of him; cut him some slack). after you reassure him with a kiss on his forehead, you open the door. "i'll be back soon."

he responds with a whimper before closing his eyes. before he knows it, he falls asleep.

not even five minutes have passed when you return to the room, a glass of water in your hand and a packet of vitamins in the other.

"xavier?" after placing the items down on the nightstand, you sit on the bed to admire the view. there he is, sleeping soundly with his shirt unbuttoned and pants unbuckled, his chest slowly rising up and down and his cute nose scrunching every so often. you almost feel bad when you wake him up. almost. as much as you like watching your boyfriend sleep, he needs his water and vitamins, considering how much energy he uses to fight wanderers.

"wake up, xavier," you coo. "you need your vitamins."

he stirs, peeking one eye open to look at you. cute, you think. "i'm too tired, angel." he whines before closing his eye again. "i'll have some later."

"come on," you chuckle. "at least drink some water. you're dehydrated."

hoping to keep him awake, you litter his face with kisses, repeatedly pecking his adorable features. his droopy eyelids, his button nose, his fluffy cheeks, his moist forehead, his small chin—not a single spot is missed.

his little laughs repay your efforts. before you can continue your bombardment of kisses, his arms wrap around your shoulders, successfully pinning you down to him. you're surprised by how quickly he replenished his strength.

"you're trapped," he points out cheekily. "now we can both sleep."

"xavier," it's your turn to whine. "you need to drink some water. besides," you try to get up but fail miserably due to his tight embrace. "you need to scoot up, and i need to lay down properly if we both want to sleep." still no signs of letting you go.

you sigh before poking at your boyfriend's waist, causing him to yelp.

he immediately lets go of you, rubbing the spot you just touched. taking the chance to escape, you stand up and reach for the glass and vitamins.

"meanie," he pouts. "i thought we agreed to not tickle each other for today."

"that's because you try to tickle me all the time," you retort playfully, opening the packet of vitamins. "besides, i only tickle you as a last resort. unlike you, i'm nice." you pop the vitamin in your mouth and bring the glass to your lips.

"as if." he yanks up his pants and crosses his arms. "last time i checked, being nice means letting your boyfriend sleep peacefully," he quips as he turns away from you, hoping his grumpy little act will coax more kisses from you.

instead, a hand comes into his view and grasps the sheets. furrowing his brows, he shifts back to ask what's wrong but is startled to find your face hovering above his. 

"angel, what—"

you press your lips into his, your free hand gripping his chin. on instinct, xavier opens his mouth, expecting your tongue to greet his. however, his eyes widen when he feels something pour in. oh. he greedily swallows the water and vitamin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

you pull away abruptly, a drop of water trickling down the corner of your lips. before he can say anything, you grab the glass of water and drink from it again, your hooded eyes never leaving his. xavier groans at the sight, his chest heaving for the third time today. and it's barely afternoon. oh, you're going to be the death of him.

he's sure of it when you return to his lips, water flowing into his mouth so sensually as his tongue reaches out for more. this time, you rest your entire body on top of him, allowing him to grab at your hips and thrust upward, desperately rubbing against your clothed core and seeking any type of friction that could relieve him of this growing desire you satiated with your mouth less than ten minutes ago. he never wants to drink water alone ever again.

“a-angel,” he moans when you pull away again. “why?” 

“you need more water, xavier.” you tease with a lick of your lips. “gotta make sure my boyfriend is hydrated, ya know?”

with that, you go to stand up and reach for the glass. however, the room spins as xavier pins you down, your positions switched and your wrists restrained above your head. your eyes widen, realizing you might've pushed your boyfriend too far. 

"angel," dark, cerulean eyes burn into you before glancing at the glass. “that's not enough water.”

rafayel

(heads up, reader doesn't have to be mc but they know about rafayel's identity as the sea god and he calls you his beloved bride)

Yeah, white tippy-toe summer, I make him go dumb, duh

He doubled down on that text, says that I'm the only one

rafayel isn't sure how he got here.

you, on top of his bare chest, nibbling at his neck and dragging a finger down his clenched abdomen.

"c-cutie," he stammers. "someone might see."

he's not wrong. you're at the beach after all. but it's a private beach, one the artist rented for a date. so really, what's the harm in pinning your boyfriend down in the sand and showing him how much you appreciate him?

"you're the one who said this place was private, raf." you giggle before sinking your teeth into him, eliciting a moan. "besides, we both know why you suggested a date at the beach. don't tell me you forgot." you trail your finger along the waistband of his swim trunks. he jolts, his half-lidded eyes meeting your misty ones.

of course, he didn't forget. but considering the current, scandalous situation he's in right now, his memory is a bit hazy. as you twirl the drawstring with your index finger, rafayel bites his lip and tries to remember how exactly he got here.

last thing he remembers is you excitedly texting him about your package coming in.

a package, pft. no big deal, right?

wrong.

he almost dropped his phone when you sent him a picture of the package, more specifically, you wearing its contents.

a gorgeous two-piece swimsuit in the color of his hair. fuck, lavender has never looked so good on you. the way the tight, skimpy fabric hugged all the right places, making you seem so so malleable. the way you posed in front of the mirror, your face bridling with innocent excitement but your body positioned so so temptingly. shit, he hopes this exhibition ends soon because his slacks feel suffocating all of a sudden.

it wasn't long before he spammed you with a hurricane of texts consisting of flattering emojis and praises about how you're the only one he'll ever love (dramatic but heartwarming) and how he would love to take you on a date at the beach as soon as this stupid exhibition is over so you can swim in your new set to your heart's content (totally not because he wants to see the real thing).

yeah, now he remembers. he got himself into this situation. you even tried to stop him.

"uh," he recalls you hesitating through the call. "aren't you tired from your exhibit?"

"nope," he immediately answers, causing you to raise a brow. "not at all, cutie. i'm in tip-top shape. what better place for us to test your swimsuit than the beach?"

"us?" you repeat amusingly. "since when was testing a swimsuit a two-person thing?"

shit, he got caught.

"raf," you giggle at his silence. "if you want to see me wear this in person, you can always just ask, you know?"

"w-what?! no!" he acts as if you insulted his artwork. "i just thought it'd be a good opportunity for us to go on a date and to test the quality of your swimsuit! what if one day you go into the water and it gets untied or something? what if i'm not there to protect you from prying eyes? you can never be careful enough with swimsuits, especially shipped ones!"

"uh-huh," you drawl skeptically. "i'm sure a triple-knotted bikini will SOMEHOW get untied by the waves."

"come on, cutie," rafayel whines. "i know a perfect, private place! i'll even bring the food, the blankets, everything! please?" (he purposely emphasized "private" because no way in the seven seas is he going to let anyone look at you in a bikini)

you sigh before observing yourself in the mirror once more. the bikini DID look good, and you DID buy it for future swimming dates with rafayel. might as well, right? besides, you can't say no to him, especially when he begs so cutely like that.

"fine, raf," he remembers you giving in with an endearing sigh. "send me the address of the beach once you're done. i'll stop by your place to pack your swimming trunks."

and here you are, resting on top of him and drawing figure eights with your fingertips IN his swimming trunks.

he would laugh at the irony if it weren't for your provocative actions. you were the one who brought him his swimming trunks, and now, you were the one making him wish you didn't bring them so he could see how pretty your fingers looked right next to his—

yeah, he definitely got himself into this situation. he has no one to blame but himself for his predicament. it's his fault he's currently twitching and throbbing underneath you as you breathe into his neck and tease doodles into his thighs.

"oh fuck, cutie—" rafayel jerks his head back when you suck on his adam's apple. your mouth felt so good. you felt so good. 

after pulling back with a 'pop,' you trace the red mark with your free hand, admiring your artwork on your artist of a lover. unfortunately for him (fortunately, really), this causes him to squirm uncontrollably. the simultaneous stimulation from your right hand on his thigh and your left hand on his neck was just too much for the lemurian. he swears he's this close to bursting all over the sand like a messy, wet bubble. 

suddenly, you stop, withdrawing both of your hands from his body. 

"c-cutie?" he lifts his neck to look at you but finds himself confused as to why you're sitting up. though, his confusion is quelled when you reach behind your neck. 

oh. 

your hands come into view, each one tugging on the strings of your top.

oh fuck. 

he doesn't even see your top fall. no. he's completely frozen (and hard) when you lay back down on him, smushing your now-exposed chest into his abdomen, allowing him a view that brings roses to his cheeks. (he can feel your nipples rubbing against him).

"oh, god of the tides," you purr with a smirk as you press your ear into his chest, relishing in his rapid heartbeats. "you promised you would test this swimsuit with me." before he can deny your reminder of his mistake from the earlier call, you grab his hand and bring it to rest against your swimsuit bottoms, causing his breath to hitch. "won't you make good on your promise?" 

rafayel swallows shakily before nodding. 

"anything for my beloved bride." 

zayne

doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, reduced to this.

Mm, yeah, I make him lose his cool

Yeah, I make him go mmmmmm ah! ah!

a red-faced mess, losing his cool in a rocking chair, thanks to his lover shaving his chin on his lap.

his lover, who just so happens to be wearing a nightgown, a silk, sapphire nightgown with lace ruffles and ribbons that drove the man insane.

to make matters worse (better), your bare thighs were on either side of his hips, caressing and stroking him whenever you would move to shave his chin.

don't even get him started on the fact that you're sitting right on top of his crotch. he prays to any merciful soul out there that you don't feel him growing down there-

he inhales sharply when you reach behind him for a towel, your chest mere millimeters from his face.

"you okay, zayne?" you ask with faux concern.

"yes," he clenches his jaw. it's taking him everything to not dive in and lick, suck, bite—anything to relieve him of this torment. "please hurry."

"hurry?" you pout with a tilt of your head. "but why?" you lift his chin to wipe some excess shaving cream. "do you not want me to shave you?"

"no, darling. it's just—" his hands fly to your waist for stability when you place the towel back in its place. shit, every time you lift yourself onto your knees to reach behind him, the chair moves more and more, resulting in a pattern where when he leans back, you press into him, and when you lean back, he presses into you. it's not helping that this pattern deliciously resembles a certain rhythm in bed.

"it's just?" you repeat to him, stroking his jaw to inspect for stray hairs.

he doesn't say anything. how can he? he can't just spill about how badly he wants to kiss your sweet lips, squeeze at your delectable chest, rip your enticing nightgown apart, and take everything you have to offer. no, he can't. not when you approached him so innocently with a cute smile on your face after he came home, asking if you could shave him. (he almost fell to his knees when he saw what you were wearing). not when you look so beautiful gazing at him from above, handling his skin with addictive yet gentle touches, and glowing underneath the moonlight from the open windows. shaking his head, he grips your waist with renewed resolve.

"it's nothing," he closes his eyes. "please continue." he would rather drink alcohol than misinterpret your innocent intentions.

except there was nothing innocent about your intentions at all. you admit, it's fun to tease zayne like this. the way his lips would chase after your fingers whenever you traced them, the way his eyes would falter whenever you leaned in, the way his breath would hitch whenever you moved your hips, oh it all made you feel wanted. and who could want more than a gorgeous, capable doctor who looks at you as if he's going to die if he can't have you?

you. you want more. you WANT him to have you, take you, right here on this rocking chair. you thought teasing him with a few shifts of your hips and some purposeful closings of distances between his face and yours would relay the message. but no. he's either completely oblivious or has the will of a steel that's been fortified ten times over. because even though he's made it incredibly clear that he wants what you want (his blushing cheeks and shortage of breaths are hard to miss), all he's done is sit there and take your teasing.

you frown, retracting your hand. what's it going to take for doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, to give in?

a lightbulb flashes in your head.

"hang on, i missed a spot," you lie, lifting yourself up once more to reach for the shaving cream next to you. "i'll make this quick."

and with that, you slam your hips down.

he groans out loud, eyebrows furrowing and fingers tightening around your hips. he still hasn't opened his eyes though.

"are you sure you're okay, zayne?" you ask innocently, twisting left and right. "i'm worried about you."

"w-why," he starts hoarsely, his fingers gripping for dear life, trying to stop you from moving so damn much. "why would you be worried?"

"oh, i don't know," you smear shaving cream all over his jaw before trailing your fingers down to his neck. "you just seem so…" you slowly trace a heart on his collarbone, eliciting a pretty gasp from him. "out of it."

zayne's eyes jerk open, glaring at you with unprecedented focus. you smile cheekily before pressing yourself deeper into him, eager to bear witness to what he'll do and say since he finally opened his eyes.

though, your smile doesn't last long. in an instant, his hands pin yours behind your back, causing your back to arch and your lips to part.

"i'm starting to think," he secures your wrists in his right hand and brings his left to his face, wiping away the mess you made. "you're doing this on purpose."

you grin. finally. he finally got the message. unable to hide your excitement, you lean in next to his ear and whisper, "what are you going to do about it, doc-tor?"

he inhales sharply, yanking your wrists.

"perhaps," he growls. "it's time you get a taste of your own medicine. prescribed by yours truly."

[neo-nomatrix]

CAN’T TOUCH ME LIKE GOJO

what gojo does when he’s jealous

cw - gojo uses red as a punishment, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, riding, teasing, kinda toxic gojo idk, bratty reader, rough gojo

Gojo was making you mad, beyond livid. He had brought you to this stuffy gala full of his balding colleagues and ditched you! You found solace in the bar holding an aperol spritz staring at your husband. He was beautifully dressed cream suit with a million dollar smile as he talks to his coworkers about business.

He hasn’t even thrown you a glance since he left your side. Normally you would still be next to him acting as arm candy but for whatever reason he left you to drink your sorrows. You assumed you would be stuck there for another hour or two with nothing to do. Until Hiromi Higuruma approached you. A man you had no idea was even distantly related to Gojos company.

“Mrs.Gojo, a pleasure seeing you somewhere besides with Satoru,” The man teases.

“Hiromi! Are you here to save me from this awful night?” It seems the lord has answered your prayers.

“You’re not enjoying yourself? Doesn’t Gojo normally keep by him at all times?” He asks, taking a seat next to you.

“Something’s up with him I guess, I’ve barely seen him all night and it’s horrible!” You complain.

“Oh sweetheart, how could he possibly treat someone as pretty as you like that?” He moves a piece of your hair out of your face and stares at you.

“I know! I mean he invited me here, and then has the audacity to leave me,” You pout to him.

“For the record, I would never treat you like that,” he smiles at you.

You look over at Gojo and he still isn’t looking in your direction. You decide to tease both the men a little more.

“Really? Do you promise ‘Romi?” You give him your best doe eyes and touch his bicep.

“On my life, sweetheart,” You both smile at each other.

In the corner of your eye you see a head of white hair coming toward you. Panic sets in but you can’t help but rub your legs together. You continue putting your hands on Higurumas chest to further instigate the situation.

“Babe, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Gojo pulls the back of your stool so you can’t touch Higuruma anymore and he wraps a large hand around your waist, “Higuruma, you’re also here.”

“I was just talking to your gorgeous wife Gojo. After you left her alone to talk to those gross executives,” Higuruma says.

Gojos jaw clenched and he squeezed your waist. His look of disgust apparent on his face.

“I think it’s about time my wife and I leave. Should I call you a cab Higuruma?” Gojo says.

“I’ll be alright,” Higuruma laughs.

Gojo pulls you away from the bar and quickly takes you away from the party. He ignores everyone asking where he’s going or trying to talk to him. Immediately as he reaches the car he opens and slams the door for you. He doesn’t speak a single word on the way home, despite your efforts to start conversation.

As you reach your home he’s immediately getting you through the door and up the stairs, he shoves you onto the bed as he removes his jacket. You hear him muttering swears under his breath.

“Do you enjoy being a slut who pisses me off? Hm? I mean really, what possibly do you get out of this?” He starts to undo the first few buttons of his shirt before he grabs your chin.

“I asked you a fucking question,” He growls at you.

“You left me! You left me all alone! I don’t know what you wanted from me, to just sit there twiddling my thumbs until you came back?” You argue at him, giving a big pout.

“What I don’t want is for you flirting with that piece of shit in front of everyone? You know how embarrassing that is, not only for me, but for you?!” He slips off his boxers to reveal his semi hard cock.

He pulls you up and puts you on your knees. He’s on his back and your face is inches away from his cock. But before you can wrap your lips around him something stops you. A force you can’t describe, red. He activated his repelling force to punish you.

You’re confused, upset, even angry at him. His usual punishment involves him overstimulating you but apparently not this time. You try to get past the barrier, using all your might to touch his cock. Yet nothing works, he’s the strongest after all.

“What did he call you?” He asks you, releasing red for you until you almost touch him, then activating it again.

“Sweetheart…” you whisper to him.

“And you fucking let him. That’s the part that pisses me off the most. I know he can’t have you, fuck, he knows it. But it doesn’t seem like you do,” He says back, piercing blue eyes scanning your face.

You crawl on top of him, the barrier between your pussy and his cock still apparent. You try desperately to grind down on him to no avail. Tears start to form in your eyes but Gojo doesn’t seem to care.

“You want it inside you, sweetheart? Or do you want ‘Romi?” He mocks you.

“YOU! I just wanted your attention, promise! I got so mad you left me by myself. See?! All i want is you,” You whine as Gojo smiles at you.

In a moment the red hue turns blue and you get sucked down onto his perfectly aligned cock. You’re stuck to him like a magnet. His size makes you scream and want to pull away, but you can’t. As soon as you pull away you’re sucked back onto him, you thought torture wasn’t supposed to be addicting.

“Fuck Higuruma, fuck him and all the stupid guys there. You thought i wasn’t paying attention to you? I wanted you so fucking bad I had to stay away or else you’d be on the floor with my cock inside you,” He grunts, hands gripping your waist.

“Toru! It’s too much!” You’re full on sobbing at this point, legs shaking and body sweaty.

“You don’t want him right? It was just to make me mad, right baby?” He asks you desperately, his hair falling perfectly in front of his eyes.

“Yes! I just wanted you to fuck me, I swear,” You squeal.

His hips rut into your sloppy cunt as both of you moan and pant like two bunnies in heat. His fingers expertly tease your clit and he sucks blue and red hickies on every part of your body. He’s holding you as close as possible. His thrusts get sloppy and his moans get slutty.

“Gonna cum inside you baby, gonna fill my pussy up everyone’s gonna fucking know you’re mine,” He says in your ear.

“I’m gonna-“ Before you can even finish your sentence you pulse around his cock cumming so hard you see black.

He follow not long after, spurting hot ropes of cum inside you. He gets as deep as possible to ensure nothing slips out. He releases the technique and you fall on top of his chest, breathing like you just ran a marathon.

“Holy shit baby, that was so good,” He says, smiling.

“Yeah… i wanna take a bath,” you look up at him.

“Okay my love, just promise me one thing. Never make me jealous again.”

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[st4rbwrry]

𝒟𝑅𝐼𝐹𝒯𝐼𝒩’ 𝒩 𝒦𝐼𝒮𝒮𝐼𝒩’.

✧｡˚ eren’s over just being your best friend.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 8.7k fem!reader, lowercase intended, girly girl reader, friends who rlly like each other, smoking, drifting, fluffy scenes, eren is super soft for reader, dirty talk, unprotected sex, car festivities, kissing, neck biting, bits of roughness, multiple orgasms + overstimulation, choking, ass hits, cunnilingus, daddy kink, pet names ex. ꒰ baby, pretty, luv. ꒱ , praise, sub/dom, thicq!reader, goofy loving cutesy shit, minors do not interact! comments & reblogs are appreciated.

"i'm outside."

why is that text always terrifying to receive? it's the quickest way to make your heart fall to your ass in milliseconds. you can't help but roll your eyes and suck your teeth because he's too early, or maybe you were too late. it's only nine thirty so you're confused why he's here already. dropping the puffy makeup brush in your hand, you stand up from your brightly lit royal vanity with intricate carvings in the pearl-toned wood. slipping your painted white toes into a pair of hot pink teddy bear slides to make your way out of your bedroom and towards the front door for this asshole. 

eren gets smacked in the face with your prettiness the minute you open your door, smelling like marshmallows and looking like a fucking bratz doll. your beauty stuns him every time. the six-foot-three man before you rests his weight against the wall on the outside, one arm stretched above as he leans over you with a wicked smile on his deadly gorgeous face. he's wearing a white graphic tee with pink graffiti spray painted on reading killer alongside a lavender nissan 350z. it's old merch connie was testing for his line. he also makes eren's shirts for his auto shop. 

eren's also attired in black slim jeans and beat up 550 new balances, his signature racing shoes. his silver chain on his neck dangling as he kisses your forehead, the move so slick. you've noticed he liked to touch you a lot, give little indications of affection. kissing your hand, your cheek, your face overall. he grabbed your ass a lot, and it's so excessive you have to give him a hard swat and a death glare to actually make him stop. 

"hello, eren," the way you say it has annoyance laced in it. turning away from him and walking away with that salacious sway your hips have. eren tongues his inner cheek, chuckling as he enters your home and shuts the door. he forgets how quick you walk, literally speed walking to your room since by the time he gets there you're already back on your powdered white tufted ottoman doing your makeup. riiverdance by beyoncé plays softly from the small speaker you kept on your windowsill so the music travels better. 

"damn, i can't get no kiss? you fussy with me already." eren remarks, looking below him to see the fluffy black cat brushing up against his leg, scooping her up with one hand and petting her as he takes a seat on your bed. 

"no. . aht aht! outside clothes, off the bed!" you're snapping your fingers at him as if he's your cat, eren swiftly raising his ass off your bed, blinking slow. 

"where am i supposed to sit, woman?" 

"the floor like always."

"tryna get cat hair on my shit," eren sucks his teeth, sinking down to the ground and groaning when your cat scrambles to get out of his hold, never liked being touched for long periods of time. 

"you literally decided to pick her up knowing you're wearing white. that's your fault." 

you were right but he couldn't resist holding her. that's his daughter. he's not giving you the satisfaction of being right though. manspreading, eren cocks his head to the side to watch you closely. you can see his entire reflection in your mirror, quickly glancing his way and ignoring the way he slowly licks his lips and knocks his legs in and out, unbeknownst to you, to chill his dick. 

"so fuckin' gorgeous," eren smiles, those bright white teeth making you wanna fold immediately. eren loved watching you do your makeup. eyes softening for you. he found it so mesmerizing. you surely didn't need it but it made you happy so it makes him happy. "you wearin' that white on your waterline like i like. that jus' f'me?"

you pucker your lips. "mhm, nah. i just like it. i do nothing for your gratification."

"ouch," eren holds his tatted hand to his chest, shock overcoming his features. "keep hurtin' my feelings like that 'n your ass won't have a ride tonight. or no food."

that last line alarms you more than anything. one thing you didn't play about, and he knows this especially. . . is your hunger. you honestly haven't eaten much all day. working a shift at the hospital and only having a salad on your break wasn't filling at all. you all talked in your group chat about how saturday's the perfect day to go drifting tonight and grab some chinese at your favorite restaurant in town. your check hadn't hit yet but eren being him since he likes you so damn much offered to pay for you. you declined, as usual, but he didn't give a fuck about what you said, you were coming either way. to be honest, he missed your little sweet ass. a lot. you've been working mostly overnight shifts, being a SPT wasn't for the weak. and he's been busy at the shop fixing and selling cars. your days apart, aside from texting and facetiming made him want to be in your presence. he felt complete with you. you had to know that.

"if you gonna play with me about my food then ima just head to bed right now and starve," you basically threaten him. eren hated when you don't eat enough, makes dumb jokes about how you'll 'lose those thick ass hips of yours.' the boy will make it his mission to grab you something quick. he's your food and weed dealer. also your personal chauffeur, absolutely loving when you're his passenger princess.

"don't be fuckin’ dramatic, brat. i'm playin'. you know i got you," he stands back to his feet to come by you, pressing his midsection to your backside, where you can also feel the outline of his dick, trying your best to ignore the way it makes your face heat up. teasingly, he starts sliding his warm hands over your shoulders and down to your waist. cautiously, you eye him, having a hot wave of panic hit you when he begins tickling your left side. your most sensitive side, mind you. you screech and twist your body into a curling position trying to escape his attack. 

"eren! get the fuck off me, bro!" he's laughing hard at your attempt to twist and yank away from his grasp, screeching and biting his arm which he flinches from and moves away. 

“oww, fuckin’ gremlin,” he hisses dramatically, as if you’d stabbed him. “next time smile when you see me at that fuckin' door. gimme a 'hey, daddy' with it, too. it'll make my dick jump."

"your dick jumps for me enough."

eren’s eyes meets yours in the reflection of your vanity mirror. he shrugs nonchalantly, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“well,” he begins, dragging the word out as he takes a step closer to you again. “you wanna see it?” 

you roll your eyes, his voice dropping lower, becoming more intense as he continues. “know you wanna see it again.” 

“says who?” you raise your brow, testing him. 

by again, he means accidentally when he was showering at your place and forgot to grab his boxers before he went inside your bathroom, thinking you were sleep when you were in fact up reading on your phone. wanting to laugh at the memory of him turning red in the face and trying his best to shield his dick with his hands. making a snide comment about how badly you wanted to stare at it. 

“you heard me,” he states simply, his gaze never leaving yours in the mirror. he's leaning directly over you, forehead nearly touching yours. his presence is overwhelming, filling the small room with his raw masculinity. this is a regular thing by the way. his constant teasing. waiting for you to let up. 

“okay, daddy,” you grin mischievously.

“mhm,” he kisses his teeth, and at the same moment his phone vibrates in his pocket. eren fishes for it, checking a text from connie. 

"connie’s outside, you done?” 

“you rushing me now? i don’t like this rennie tonight,” you tsk, shaking your finger like a disappointment mother. standing to your feet, you brush out the curls in your head by running your fingertips through them. 

you do look so pretty tonight. wearing an oversized pink greenbay packers jersey with a flowy white mini skirt, eren watching as you enter your walk in closet to fish for some white socks to scrunch at your ankle, and the same pair of sneakers he currently wore. my little twin. 

“sorry, i’ll be on my best behavior.” 

you smile, standing on your tiptoes and pinching his cheek, eren liking the view a bit too much, trying to fight the urge to grab your hips and pull you close. “such a good boy. now, let’s go!” 

“wait, i want a kiss, wife,” eren smiled, trying to lean in before you pull away and shove your hand in his face. 

“leave me alone, pervert!” 

connie’s goal tonight was to show off the enhancements he added to his neon green scion frs, the car humming outside of your house when you go to say hello to him. he mentions that he’s going to swing by to pick up his girlfriend before he meets the two of you there. she didn’t live too far so he was able to make it before you two did, eren always having to make a mental note not to drive like a dickhead when you’re in the car. knowing your nerves are bad. they’ve gotten slightly better though since you’re with him all the time. 

you loved drift meet up’s because it was a free car show to see all the cool ass cars, most of the models popular in japan. men and women in groups drinking and bumping music as they interact. it’s illegal as hell where you live but sometimes everyone’s able to get away with it if they don’t act too much like jackasses. this spot was mostly secluded from open roads or police. 

eren walks alongside you, his arm loosely draped around your shoulders as you both make your way  to the forefront where cars currently span in action. his car wasn’t parked too far, planning on performing a show himself in a little. the adrenaline pumping through the crowd as drivers send their vehicles skidding around corners and spinning donuts in the dirt your favorite, and his. connie arrives not too long after, eren going up to talk to him before you’re locked in, excited for him. 

“i need to teach you how to drift one of these days. i gotta see your pretty ass behind a nissan 240sx or sum,” he says, pulling you closer into his side so you can hear him over the noise. 

“that’s specific,” you laugh, looking up at him while chewing your gum, rocking with him. 

eren grins down at you, his hand tightening slightly around your shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. “what can i say? i have a type.” 

“you sure do,” your voice trails off, focused on connie’s loud car screeching and swinging before the crowd around you. cheers vibrating your ears like a concert. the feeling like a movie. you don’t notice that eren keeps his eyes on you the whole time, admiring you as you jump, clap, and scream from excitement. pulling your phone out to record your friend. 

removing yourself from his arm, you notice the cars currently in the circle beginning to depart and make way for others. “con’s!”

eren shakes his head as he watches you bolt towards connie’s car, jumping up and down like a kid, bending low to give him a high five. “that was fucking awesome!” 

“yeah, fuck with me!” he continues to slap his palm with yours. you look over to his girlfriend in the passenger seat, reaching over to twinkle fingers. 

“hey girly!” luna smiles, tucking her long dark hair behind her ear since it blew everywhere from the wind. 

“hiii!” you giggle. 

“shit was good, i taught you well,” eren approaches, their heavy hands interacting, shaking before snapping their fingers. 

“yea, whatever. you always want full credit, asshole,” connie sucks his teeth. 

“oh my god, we should totally drift each other!” luna suggests. connie whips his head in her direction. 

“wha—who said you driving my car?” connie blinks, flabbergasted. 

luna goes to hit his arm playfully. “cabrona, i meant she can get in the car with eren and yall do yall lil’ thingy thing.” 

“oooo, yayyy!” you approve instantly, clapping your hands together and turning to eren with puppy eyes. “oh, please?! i wanna shotgun!” 

“be my guest, sweetheart. but don’t try to hang your head out the window again like a damn dog, or else,” his voice drops low, a warning lacing his words as he gives you a knowing look.

“mhm, i make no promises,” you wink, racing towards his car. 

connie laughs at eren’s strained face, his friend knowing deep down he loved it. connie knew a lot you didn’t know. like the fact that eren’s madly in love with you, and has been ever since freshman year of high school. it’s not secret to anyone, really.  as eren approaches his parked car you bounced impatiently beside, he opens the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to climb in before walking over to the driver's seat. the interior of his black r34 gtr is pristine, everything from the leather seats to the carbon fiber accents shining under the sunlight. you loved when he picked you up just to take you for a ride. he works on cars practically all day given he owns an auto shop, detailing and adding enhancements being his daily thing.

he’s getting his hands dirty and his mind fried from mechanical work. he customized this car to make it his own, his name written in japanese on the right corner of front window, a front spoiler splitter, apexi gt specthe which makes his exhaust sound like fucking gunshots, which terrifies you. on top of detailing the body of the car with giant dragons painted silver on either side of the vehicle. standing out to the crowd uniquely. 

eren makes his way inside of the vehicle, big hands gripping the steering wheel as he adjusts his legs in his seat, your eyes locking there momentarily before he inserts his key into the ignition, firing up the extremely loud engine. an anxious smile shows on your face once you see everyone yelling over the power of his car, having been in it a million times, you still hated the sound, triggering your sensory overload. but, you loved the thrill. swallowing, you turn to him, balling up his shirt on his hip to grab his attention. 

“promise me you’ll be safe,” you look up at him, worried.

a soft smile tugs at his lips as he sees the concern in your eyes. he reaches out, brushing a stray curl of hair from your face with his thumb. “don't worry, princess. i'll take care of both you and my baby here.” 

“i’m trusting you,” you whisper, biting your lip. “don’t hit anybody, i don’t need you going to jail. and please don’t hit connie, because he will kill you if you fuck up his car.” 

eren smirks, his hand dropping from your face to gently cradle the back of your neck. his grip is firm yet tender. “now why’d i risk traumatizing my girl like that?” 

you suck your teeth and pull away from him, crossing your arms. he only sets his hand on your thigh now, and you let him. “aren’t you going to start driving?” 

eren laughs heartily, his hand tightening around your thigh as he does. he revs the engine, feeling the power beneath them rumble in anticipation. his eyes flash dangerously in the dim light of the cars. “promise me something, too?” 

“what?”

“we’ll finish playing mommy and daddy when we get home?” he grins. 

“oh please, you know you can’t handle me,” you tease. such a bad habit you two have. joking too damn much. but by this point, from his end especially, you’re aware none of it is a joke. 

eren raised a brow, feeling threatened. “oh, i can’t?” 

“nope. and you’re too scared to admit it,” you taunt, fluttering a kiss in his direction. 

“mhm,” eren kisses his teeth, he gives a curt nod, as if making a mental note. “ima hold you to that.” 

“drive the damn car, eren.” 

ignoring the warmth in your chest from his flirting, he finally shifts the car into gear. with a roar of the engine, he accelerates onto the street, leaving behind a cloud of smoke. malice at the palace by BONES is bumping through the stereo system as eren expertly maneuvers his car around the road, each turn and drift executed with precision. the sound of the engine reverberating through the car sends a rush of adrenaline through him. you hated to admit how fucking good he looked right now, your hand gripping onto his bicep as you giggle each time he executes a perfect drift, tires screeching, watching connie’s car across from his spin around each other. part of him hopes to impress you. and clearly he has by the huge smile on your face. you’re like a kid in a candy shop, eyes lit up. 

“i’m doing it!” you yell, eren watching as you climb up on your seat, skirt rising from the wind blowing, your ass hanging out making his eyes go wide. 

“꒰♡꒱, sit your ass down.”

“woo!” it’s too late, now you’re banging the palm of your hand on the outside of the door, staring at others who hollered back at you, your curls flying in the wind. the people screaming and cheering louder the more you raised your upper body outside of the window, being sure to secure yourself. eren’s hand instinctively clutch onto your ankle. 

“goddamit,” he groans, but couldn’t help the feeling in his heart from your pure laughter. you’re enjoying yourself, that makes him happy. but your safety is important. given that, he slows down just enough so that it feels safe for you not to jolt and fall out of the car. despite your reckless act, he couldn’t help but marvel at how fearless you truly are.

connie’s car slides vertically next to eren’s, taking your chance to reach out and graze your fingers with luna’s as she leans her body outside of the window like you do, the two of you screaming like fans of your favorite superstar. the adrenaline pumping through your veins is exhilarating. 

eren’s hitting on the brakes, causing the tires to yell and the car to skid sideways. with a swift move of his foot on the gas pedal, eren launches his car into a perfect 360-degree spin. the car gracefully arcs around its axis before smoothly coming back onto its original trajectory, all done. the world outside blurs into a whirlwind of colors and shapes as you scream into the wind, lowering your body to take your seat in your original position. 

“that was sooo fun!” the sound you make is the cutest, giggling and bouncing your legs, full of energy now. he adores the glint in your eyes, but he also couldn’t hide the upset on his face. 

“i’m sure. next time, listen to me when i say don’t hang your body halfway out the fucking car. you’ve never done that before, what if you flew out?” the sudden change in his tone takes you aback. 

“i can take care of myself,” you retort, your defiant words making him clench his jaw. 

“not saying you can’t. i’m telling you don’t be so fuckin’ reckless,” his hand moves from the steering wheel to smooth down his face, keeping himself calm, despite the current situation being anything but serene. he doesn’t mean to ruin your mood. surely didn’t want to cause an argument. he just needed you to understand where he was coming from. “don’t die trying to show off.” 

“don’t die trying to protect me.” 

“꒰♡꒱ . . cut that big girl shit, seriously.” 

“aren’t we meeting our friends to get food? let’s go.” 

connie did mention they’d be grabbing food right after, eren clenching his jaw and pulling his attention away from you. he tries not to keep you at these events for too long, sometimes things get rowdy and guns are drawn and he wouldn’t allow either of you to be around that. shifting his car back into drive, he pulls away from the scene to trail behind connie. you hated the current silence of the car, picking up your phone to distract yourself from any conversation. as you pull up next to your group, onyankopon popping up a minute after, eren kills the engine and opens his door with ease. he rounds the car, opening the door for you. you give a quiet ‘thanks’ before speed walking away to luna. eren sighs deeply, sucking his teeth and locking his car, pulling a puff bar from his pocket and leaning against his vehicle to calm himself for a minute. 

“you okay? you look sad?” luna frowns as she holds your hand, ready to cross the street to enter the chinese restaurant. 

you make an awkward expression, not really wanting to make it a big deal. “nothing, i’m just hungry! also kind of have a headache from the whiplash.” 

glancing beside you, you see eren approaching onyankopon, shoving his keys into his pocket while simultaneously colliding their hands for a handshake, hearing the small ‘yo, wassup’ from the pair before you turn your head away, luna pulling you along with her. the five of you find a booth inside of the almost empty restaurant given its close to closing, being one o’clock in the morning and all. you take the time to catch up with luna since she’s been busy with esthetician classes and try your best to avoid eren . . even if he’s sitting directly next to you. this act can only go for so long before the two of you catch glances repeatedly, still making little interactions with the group together if you had to. you didn’t want everyone knowing that you two had a small fight. was it really a fight? you were fine, at least that’s what you liked to tell yourself. 

time passes and onyankopon is the first to leave, mentioning he has to get up early for work and saying his goodbyes. that leaves luna and connie to cuddle up next to one another in the booth, your eyes studying the way his arm is draped around her shoulder while he listens intently on everything she says, bopping her nose with his finger as she giggles cutely. you smile faintly, looking down at the food you’re playing with at this point with your chopsticks. 

eren glances at you as he finishes his plate, a finger pressed to his temple as he leans his elbow on the table. you feel his glare, turning his way to see what he wanted. his eyes holding a certain intensity that only you seem to understand. “come take a ride with me.” 

you continue to fiddle with your chopsticks, swallowing air. “where are we going?” 

“i need to talk to you about something.” 

you’ve dreaded this. unsure of what was going to come from him when you two were alone. you’re not sure if he’s still mad about earlier, his reaction when luna brought up your car moment laced with irritation, like he wanted nothing to do with it. honestly, there was nothing more to talk about. he knows you don’t like confrontation, so you hoped he wouldn’t make an entire conversation about why he feels the way he does. a simple apology should’ve sufficed. the anxiety is pumping through you now, wanting to groan from his seriousness. one thing you’ve learned about eren was that he was big on communication. if something bothered him or he felt like certain things needed to be talked about, he’d take that chance to fix it. when he’s serious about something, it gave you goosebumps. 

his gaze lingers on yours, the flickering candlelight on the table casting an enchanting glow on his features. you swallow, nodding. “okay.” 

“we’re gonna go,” you grab the couples attention across the booth, connie and luna sitting up the moment you and eren stand. 

“awe, okay boo! it was nice seeing y’all,” luna waves to both of you. eren’s patting his pocket for his keys, pulling out his wallet to set cash on the table for the both of you. 

eren smiles. “you too, love. i’ll see you tomorrow, con.” 

“bet, see you. y’all be safe.” 

the car shifts into gear and pulls out onto the quiet street, the sound of heavy wind encasing the vehicle the only thing you could hear, blurring out the world. eren drove possibly fifteen minutes to a spot only the two of you go to. it’s secluded, parked under a giant tree in a grass field high on a hill that overlooked the city night. it’s surely a romantic destination. the two of you go here whenever you need to rant about life or just escape. it’s been your spot since high school. the slow melody of rnb fills the interior, creating an intimate atmosphere. the two of you sit for a moment, eren fishing for his puff bar to take a few passes before you finally say something. 

“can i?” you ask, voice an almost hushed whisper. gesturing towards the object. 

“yeah,” he’s handing it your way, clearing his throat before leaning back into his seat, smoothing both hands down his thighs before adjusting comfortably, closing his eyes momentarily. 

eren takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. “lemme start by saying i’m not mad at you.” 

you blink, shifting your body so all of your attention is on him so he feels important. you tend to stare off into nothingness during these moments. 

“yes, are you stubborn as fuck and it pisses me off at times? absolutely. you know when it comes to you, shit like that makes me anxious. i have that urge to protect you, and it’s always been like that. so don’t think i’m being immature by wanting to care for your safety. i know you’re grown, and you carry yourself well. but sometimes i need for you to just listen when i get gut feelings about shit.” 

“i know, and i apologize,” you reply almost instantly, the thought being on your mind the entire dinner, but unable to let the words pass. “i do appreciate how you care for me. i was just having fun and didn’t want my mood to be ruined. it was dangerous, anything could’ve happened.” 

despite his uncertainty, there's no denying the sincerity in his gaze; a raw vulnerability that contrasts sharply against his usual confident demeanor. struggling to say what’s really on his mind at the moment. “you still have that bad habit of never wanting to be corrected.” 

“yeah,” you lower your head to your thighs, fiddling with the fabric of your skirt. “still working on it. i tend to be too aggressive when i want to be right.” 

“i’m glad you understand. but, that’s not what i wanted to talk to you about.” 

you look up. “what is it? did something happen?” 

eren takes another deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to reveal. his gaze never leaving yours as he prepares to lay his heart bare. “look . . i’m g’na be straightforward with you. i don’t need you to take this as something that has to be figured out immediately. i’ll give you the time and space you need to think on it if you’re feeling the opposite. but. .”

his cheeks flush slightly under your scrutinizing stare. it’s clear that whatever he's about to say is far from easy for him. he’s scaring you. “me and you, we been close since kids. i have love for you for life, but i need you to know that it’s been hard just being your friend. my emotions are consuming me, and being around you all the time is only making it more difficult. i see myself being with you, being in love with you. . for a long time now.” 

the confession hangs heavy in the air between you both; raw and vulnerable, yet undeniably true. his heart pounds loudly in his chest as he waits for your reaction, bracing himself for either acceptance or rejection. either way, he’d stand by what he felt. and if you didn’t feel the same, it would hurt, but he would respect your boundaries. you’re unsure why you’re not . . surprised? he’s always been extremely affectionate with you, much more than a best friend should be. wasn’t necessarily fond of seeing you with other men or hearing about who you slept with. you told each other everything. had sleepovers. shared beds, and at times when you fell asleep before him, he’d brush a finger along your cheek and admired your beauty. 

"my dream is to get you that big ass loft you want with the tall glass windows that overlook the city. decorate it how you want, be my pretty fuckin housewife that gets to stay home and do whatever you want. shit, start your own business. i'll pay for it all. i'll take care of you. i want you to myself, always. never wanna leave you. wanna get your name tatted on me. kiss you all day. cuddle, watch your favorite movies and shitty supernatural tv shows. run you bubble baths 'n fuck you real good every time i come home. buy you that wolf gray kia k5 with pink interior you've been wantin'. send you on vacations. buy you all the sanrio plushies in the fuckin' world. want you to be mine, ꒰♡꒱."

" eren. . . "

"i'll even learn how to cook for you, princess. 'n you know i'm bad as fuck at that shit," eren chuckles, raking his fingers through your hair. you laugh with him, tears in your eyes. "but i'll learn for you so i can always make you some authentic udon ramen or birria tacos, all that good shit you love. cause you're my girl 'n you deserve it all."

eren's hands move to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him. his fingers trace small circles on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. his touch is gentle yet possessive. a tangible manifestation of the love he's been harboring for you. each stroke of his fingertips against your body feels like an exploration, a journey into the depths of your being that only he has access to.

“talk to me,” he bites his lip, lips nearly brushing your own, unable to help the pure attraction towards you. it’s stronger than ever right now. 

“i feel the same way,” you lean in, moaning from his touch, his hands on you all the time, though somehow now they make you weaker. “i just didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

eren’s breath hitches, a combination of shock and relief consuming him. “why the fuck would you think that?” 

your shoulders shrug shyly. “i don’t know,” your voice drags quietly. “sometimes shit like that doesn’t work for everybody. and we have a great friendship. i didn’t want us being together to fuck up the vibe.” 

“we not everyone,” he states, brushing a curl from your pretty face. “and we act like we date anyways. wouldn’t be no different.”

you recepriocate the act, brushing a few brown strands of hair that fell in front of his face, locking eyes before your lips press against his in feverish kiss. his tongue parts your lips, exploring the warm cavern of your mouth with a passionate intensity. his hands roam freely over your body now, one tracing delicate patterns on your lower back while the other slips beneath your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin underneath. every touch is filled with desire and longing, a testament to the depth of his feelings for you. the heat in your face blows higher, as if the ache to kiss him was a distant dream. to finally taste him was something you hadn’t known you needed. both of your hearts are pounding in your chests, every beat echoing the intensity of your feelings for each other. 

“you have no idea,” he whispers huskily, pecking your lips. you moan, body melting into his touch. you could slip through his fingers like puddy, this center console blocking you. “how much i want you.” 

“show me then.” 

eren’s eyes darken with desire. his hands slide down to grip your ass, climbing over the console to reach for the recliner on your seat, your flushed face heating up from the close proximity, his hair brush along the apples of your cheek, his smell intoxicating. you giggle when he goes to remove the headrest of the chair, banging his hand into the seat so it’s completely flat and you’re resting on your back. eren hovers completely over you, bringing his body to the passenger side, squeaking when you feel his hardness brush against your clit, a clear indication of just how much he wants you. taking your lip between his teeth, he gives it a playful nip before trailing hot kisses down your neck, going to capture your lips in another hot kiss, rolling his hips into yours making you gasp. you trail your hands underneath his black shirt, hands sliding up his broad backside.

“i need you,” you whimper, knees disconnecting to spread yourself for him, scooting higher up the seat. your desperation makes his control slip further. 

“fuck,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire, tracing along the curve of your waist before dipping lower to tease at the hemline of your skirt. “you’re making it hard for me to keep my shit together.” 

“lick me up,” you whimper, pushing your hips down so your core presses against the bulge in his jeans, eren keeping down the moan in his throat, studying you. your thumbs slip into the band of your skirt, trying to indicate that you wanted them off. “please, m’dripping.”

“fuck,” he whispers again, this newfound sense of lust you had enrapturing him. “anything for you, baby.” 

his hands slip beneath your skirt to explore the softness of your thighs, smoothing over your ass as you raise your hips so it’s easier for him to pull off your skirt, his mouth watering at the bare sight of you wearing no panties. you’d slipped off your sneakers, the balls of your feet digging into his shoulder blades as he pushes you further up the chair for both of your comfortability, craning his neck between the plush of your heated thighs. he breathes in your scent, moaning into a kiss he places on your inner thigh. 

“c’mon—ah!” your breath is taken from you for your impatience, eren’s mouth circling around your clit for a quick feel before he’s lowering his tongue to taste all of you. locking his eyes with yours as you thread your fingers through his hair to push away, deciding to remove the hair tie from around your wrist to tie his hair onto the back of his head. 

the taste of you on his lips drives him wild, craving this for years on end. eren groans from the sweet taste you leave on his fat tongue, his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. eren growls in approval at your submission, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you closer to his mouth, swallowing down your clit, sucking on your pussy to hear you make those pretty noises he’s only heard once in his life. accidentally, of course. maybe catching you fucking yourself coming up the stairs without your knowledge, wanting to surprise you with food while the two of you studied for finals. he’s always kept that to himself, knowing you’d be extremely embarrassed by it. of course, he didn’t know it’s because you couldn’t stop thinking about what he wore in p.e; a black deftones muscle tank he cut as a crop top with gray sweatpants, his hair pulled into a manbun with his skin glistening in sweat from the insane weather out. dark ink around his skin making your mind run rapid. 

he releases his mouth momentarily, popping off your clit lewdly to murmur, “you are fuckin’ drippin’.” 

your back arches into his embrace, craning your neck as you rock against his face, eren grinning wickedly at your muffled sound, his tongue delving deeper into your folds. he laps at your entrance, thriving for every drop. his hands move to spread your legs wider apart, giving him better access to feast on your needy cunt. you hum in ecstasy, the sensation from the metal ball of his tongue piercing flicking your clit, using it to tease and torment you. his dark eyes watching you like prey, squirming and gasping from every suck. 

“fuck, baby,” he moans. “you’re so sensitive.” 

his hands move to cradle your ass cheeks as he pushes your ass up to fuck his face better, pussy glistening under the moonlight. his tongue continues it’s relentless assault, curling and connecting his tongue with your aching cunt feverishly while suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. your hands stretch to grip onto the door handle, moaning when his hand goes to smack the back of your thigh. eren growls at your helpless moans, his tongue delving deeper into your slick folds, slithering inside of you to prep you. his hands pinning your legs wide allows him unrestricted access to your throbbing cunt.

“wet n’ pretty ass pussy, baby. so, so pretty. jus’ like you, right?” he groans against you, increasing the pressure on his tongue, thrusting it in and out of you rhythmically. his free hand moves to play with your clit, rolling the sensitive nub under his thumb as he devours your pussy. 

without waiting for a response, he resumes his ministrations, his tongue plunging back into your dripping cunny while one hand continues to toy with your clit. his actions intensify as he listens to your desperate whimpers. his tongue laps at your slit greedily, drinking down every drop of your sweetness, thumb working overtime on your clit, rubbing up and down mercilessly.

“stick your fingers in me,” you whine, the brokenness in your tone only making his dick harder. he’d rather shove his dick in you, but he wouldn’t deny what you pleaded for. 

eren chuckles darkly at your plea, and within a second, his ring and index fingers are slipping inside of you, eren curling them upwards, searching for that sweet spot deep within your pussy.

“like this?” he sputters against your clit, your juices encapsulating him. your inner thighs tremble from the switch up, biting your lip and nodding. “fuck you up real good? ‘till you cream on me?” 

“y-yesss, f-fuck,” your sobs overtake you, his tongue continuing it’s relentless assault on your sensitive bud, licking and sucking it into oblivion. eren hums in agreement, his fingers pumping in and out of your soaked cunt. he watches his fingers pump harder into your quivering cunt with furrowed brows, mumbling expletives to himself in fascination, your cunny squelching and sinking them in each time they threatened to pull out. 

“ima sink my dick in your shit, fuck. i’m too fucking hard for you,” he groans against your clit, pace quickening, the combination of his fingers fucking into you while his tongue circles around your clit pushing you closer to the edge.

“keep fucking me, baby. fuckin’ love your tongue.” 

eren loves your cries so much it’s hurting his dick bad, his fingers pumping harder into your twitching cunt, begging for you to cum. you’re drenching his fingers. he removes them when he notices your hand is cupping underneath his jaw, pulling his face in deeper and swaying your hips, the balled up expression on your face reading all he needed to know. you stretch your legs high, clamping your thighs shut and wrapping your arms underneath the curve of your knees to angle them towards your chest. eren licks his lips before sinking his tongue deep into you, thrusting his tongue like he’d use his dick.  

making a noise of approval, you grip onto his hair while maintaining your position, yanking his head back and forth, screaming as his face clashes with your pussy, tongue fucking you open until you finally cum. your tummy caves in, lifting your head to press into your knees as you catch your breath, streaming out praises of ‘yes, yes yes, baby,’ as he continues to fuck you on his tongue, uncaring of you drenching his nose and chin. 

while you take time to recuperate, eren’s leaning his head up to clean his face with the back of his hand, licking off the remainder as he reaches down to unbutton his jeans, slipping them down to his thighs and giving his dick a few slow strokes, the sight of it, thick and long, glistening with precum is enough to make anyone drool. eren holds onto it teasingly, keeping it just out of reach as he watches your reaction. “knew you wanted to see it again.” 

you cover your face. “shut up.”

with a lustful gleam in his eyes, he lines the throbbing tip against your wet slit, sliding it up and down to gather your arousal before he’s grabbing the back of your neck to look into your eyes, heavy body hovering over yours, trying his best not to lean all of his weight onto you. granted, that’s exactly what you wanted, to be suffocated under him. feel weak, submissive. 

“tell me you’re okay.” 

you nod, eyes slowly closing, unable to keep focus. “yes, m’okay. it’s okay.” 

the feeling of being sheathed within your tight pussy makes him shudder, removing his hand from your neck to balance his body by gripping onto either side of the leather seat after locking your legs flat. you reach for the recliner to level the seat up a little more, eren kissing your forehead. you drag your body lower so it’s easier for him to move, shivering from the full feeling he gives you, and that’s only half of him. 

“fuck,” he gasps, grinding into you slowly so you’ll adjust. you swivel your hips, teeth biting into your lip as you stare at the sharp cut of his jawline, emerald eyes clamped shut. “that’s it.” 

with each heavy thrust, eren can’t help the animalistic groans emitting from him, the deep baritone of his voice making your clit pulsate harder as he fucks himself deeper into you. your skin clapping as he pounds into you hard, hitting your spot and making you cry for him. he wheezes within the crevice of your neck, both of your moans colliding within the small enclosure, vibrating over the music flowing from his speakers. he’s fucking you faster with each thrust.

“s’so good, f-fuck,” the wind gets taken from you with every harsh pound, grunting beneath him and taking it all. he felt so fucking good, you couldn’t believe you waited this long just to let him fuck you. too many opportunities missed. for good and wrongs reasons though. 

“that’s it, you’re such a good girl,” his mouth gives you a chaste, sloppy kiss to your pouty lips. everything he does makes you want to cum. heavier and stronger than the last. he’s a fucking trip. 

“i’m your good girl?” your bottom lip is pulled into your mouth, teeth baring as you smile drunkenly. 

“ ‘course you are,” he kisses you again, prolonging it this time, your body slipping lower giving him the chance to fuck you even deeper, stretching you open and stuffing you full. you can feel him all in your tummy, your brows furrowed. “better than that. you’re my baby.” 

“i’m your baby?” the drag out of a whiny tone as you grip onto his chin to keep his eyes on yours has the man before you crumbling. 

eren practically whines from the way you speak to him, molding your frame into his seat from the strength he fucked you with, listening to your pussy cry for him. “you’re my baby.” 

“my pussy loves you,” you move with him, your tight cunt squeezing him, feeling that warmth build up in your stomach. 

“it does, huh. tell me how much, love.” 

“loves it so fucking much, daddy.” 

“that’s what i wanted to hear,” he hisses, groaning and fucking you faster, straightening his legs so he gets a get angle, hitting into you with all his weight. “oh god, baby. you feel so fuckin’ good.” 

“yeah, daddy?” you whimper, biting your lip. 

“yes, babydoll,” eren groans in agreement, cursing to himself as he slips his dick out, the two of you gasping from the disconnect, eren lifting himself from you. “bend over.”

you use the seat to turn yourself around, hiking yourself further up to give his big body space to settle behind you. you keep your thighs pressed together, shifting your ass back against him and arching your back low. you jump when he lands a heavy swat to your ass, hissing as his fingertips grip your flesh and bounce your ass back, mesmerized by how it moves. he draws his hips back, flexing his dick to make it jump into the right position to easily slide within your wet opening, the angle allowing him to hit deeper within your pussy than before. 

“unh, sshit,” eren moans, hands grabbing either side of your hips and tugs you back, your ass clapping amongst his toned abdomen. your forehead is connected with the seat, mouth agape as you feel the swell of him slip in and out of you, eyes scrolling to the back of your skull. 

“sshit, you’re so deep, ah!” 

his thrusts become more forceful, hitting even deeper within your pussy. with every stroke, he feels himself getting closer to release. eren growls, his canines grazing your skin as he leans in to bite your neck, your filthy whine only serving to heighten his arousal. he continues to thrust hard into you, each movement sending you both closer to breakage. 

“g’na cum, baby,” eren whimpers, rolling his waist into you, that pressure in his lower abdomen threatening to break. 

“noo, don’t cum yet,” you whine, shaking your head pleadingly. “n-not there yet.” 

“i won’t. won’t cum yet, baby,” he hisses in response. “wanna wait for daddy? so we can cum together?” 

“mmnh, wanna cum with you, baby,” your head nods drunkenly, sightly blurry. your body aches from the lack of space in the car, but it felt so good to be overpowered by him. drilling his dick into you harder. 

“take it f’me, ꒰♡꒱.” 

“i’m taking it, baby. for you.” 

“moan f’me,” his lips get closer to your ear, eren’s eyes squeezing tight, jaw wide as he fucks your pussy open. 

“m-moaning for you, babyy-ah!”

“fuck it back f’me, act like you wanna get fucked,” eren growls in pleasure, his thrusts continuing.

“i’ll fuck it for you, fuck it for you,” you’re straight up sobbing now, rolling your ass back to meet his rough strokes, dripping down your inner thighs. you’d never been fucked this good before in your life. could have possibly been the chemistry, or the longing for him. “ooo-mnmg, i feel it.” 

eren smirks, his hands moving to encircle your throat. his grip tightens slightly, cutting off your air supply, his clothed chest on your back and the coldness from his silver chain tickling your flesh. “eren, ima cum again. k-keep it there.” 

your body shudders beneath him, waves of pleasure crashing as you feel your orgasm breaks through you, pussy clenching tightly around his cock and whimpering vehemently in his face, sobbing from your inability to withhold your orgasm as well as the overwhelming way he fucked you. 

“ren,” you weep, reaching your hand behind yourself to try to push his hips away. but he doesn’t budge. eren grips your wrist to bend it still behind your back, slowing his movements the last motive. 

“you came without me, baby. bad girl,” he tightens his grip on your wrist, giving an open mouthed kissed over the side of your face. 

a small cry fell from your lips. "s-sorry. fuck, rennie . . please.”

"please, what?” he grits his teeth, the shortest hairs in front sticking to his forehead while the others threaten to fall loose from the small bun on the back of his head. the silver bracelets on his wrist clanking as he yanks you back to meet his aggressive thrusts. 

"please, eren—s-slow. i’m sensitive.” 

"that's not my name. what's my fuckin’ my name, ꒰♡꒱?" he grunts dominantly, pressing a harsh kiss to your temple, knowing what he needs.

"s-shit—daddy, please!” 

despite your pleas, he keeps fucking you mercilessly, his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy with ease. the sensation of being buried within you is too intoxicating for him to stop.

“jus’ a little more, baby. please take it a lil more,” his hand lands heavily on your ass, slowing his thrusts a bit for your sake and to feel your pussy constrict and beg to swallow him deeper as he shifts his hips slightly back, the tip of his dick kissing your entrance before he’s shoving it back in. circling his hips, ass flexing and becoming apart of you, pushing him towards another climax. 

“ooo, you fuckin’ me so good.” 

“ ‘cause it’s you, ‘cause i love you.” 

with a final powerful thrust, eren buries himself deep inside you. his cock twitches within your pussy, reaching in between to pull his dick out just in time, spurting his cum directly on your backside. your scream is deafening, covering your mouth and grinding your ass back as you cum again, unsure how that’s fucking possible. your body betrayed you, acting as if you’ve never been fucked in your whole life. but, truth be told, you’ve never gotten fucked that deep, or that good. 

“fuck!” eren’s tone is deep, stroking his dick while his other hand held your ass, thrusting into his hand to draw out every ounce of cum you wanted out of him. eren nearly collapses onto you, panting heavily as he recovers from his orgasm, slowly softening but knowing he can go another round. maybe at your house this time.

he kisses your neck softly. “are you okay, love?”

you nod, heaving, mouth dry. trying to regain your vision. “y-yeah. m’good.”

before rolling off of you, he gives you another kiss before he’s climbing back into the drivers seat to pull his pants back up, fishing for a wipe inside of his center console. 

you’re laying on your stomach now, cheek resting on your arms as you catch your breath, eren smiling down at you, kissing your spine as he wipes up his mess. “so pretty, baby.” 

that makes you weaker than anything he’d just done to you, hiding your face within your arms, still looking at his gorgeous face. he loves you so much, it’s always been clear. you hate how long it’s taken you to realize that. 

“i don’t have to think on it,” you suddenly say, eren staring intensely. your lips curve into a smile. “i know i love you too. for a while now.” 

the sparkle in his eyes makes your heart absolutely melt. “for real?”

you nod. “yeah. my dream is to get you that big ass loft you want with the tall glass windows that overlook the city. decorate it how you want, be my pretty fuckin housewif—”

“shut. the. fuck. up,” eren sounds out, smushing your lips together so you wouldn’t see the redness in his face. of course you’d mock him. you giggle into his mouth, squeaking when he goes to tickle your hip, eren laughing when you turn to hit his arm. 

“seriously, eren, i hate that shit!” 

“blah, blah, blah. love you too.”

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[wheresarizona]

but he’s the one I want

summary: All you needed was to see if your dad’s friend, Joel, had a spare key to your father’s house. Instead, you get railed within an inch of your life on Joel’s couch. 

His brown eyes squeeze shut. “Lord help me,” he says under his breath. A second passes, and then he’s looking at you. “Fuck it—I’m already goin’ to hell.” Joel’s large palms grab your face, pulling you in to crush his lips against yours, muffling your surprised sound. 

pairing: DBF!Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller/College Student f!reader (no physical descriptions)

rating: E (18+!!! No y/n, DBF!Joel Miller, slightly possessive Joel Miller, pre-Outbreak, age gap, explicit consent, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, spit as lube, overstimulation, sex on stairs, body worship, slight body insecurity, getting caught, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, Die Hard is a Christmas movie debate) 

word count: 11.5k+

a/n: Alexa, play “But Daddy I Love Him” by Taylor Swift. I don’t know where this came from (daddy issues), but I hope you enjoy it! Reader is freshly 21 in my head, Joel is 35 (it’s months before his birthday), and Tommy is 29. Let me know what you think! Big shoutout to @devineconjuring for going on this journey with me and betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Main Masterlist

Knock, knock, knock. 

It’s a Friday night; the sky is dark, but the porch light is on. You hug your jacket a little closer to your body to stave off the chill in the air as you wait outside the front door for someone to answer it. A masculine voice calls out, "Comin’!" Footsteps thud on the hardwood floor as they head your way. 

Seconds later, the door is cracked open, and you’re met with the home’s owner, Joel Miller. Just the sight of him in his jeans and navy blue t-shirt has your heart rate picking up in speed, the man looking as handsome as ever. 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees you. 

"Hey," he greets. "What are you doin' here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

University of Houston—go, Cougars!

You smile. "Three-day weekend—I have Monday off. I thought I'd surprise my dad since it's his birthday." 

The confused look doesn’t disappear. "I coulda sworn he told me they were goin' to Vegas to celebrate a few days ago." ‘They’ being your father, stepmother, and your teenage half-brother.

“Well, I guess it slipped his mind to tell me they were going out of town. He must be getting forgetful in his old age.” 

The relationship you have with your father is… complicated. It’s not bad by any means—you get along and love each other. He just wasn’t very present when you were growing up—he lived in Austin while you were with your mom in Houston, only seeing him a few times per year. Now that you have a car and your mom moved out of state last year with her new husband, you occasionally made the three-hour drive to your dad’s to visit and do your laundry free of charge. It was also where you now stayed on your breaks from school.

Joel opens the door a little wider and crosses his arms over his chest, your eyes moving from his face to admire the broadness in his shoulders and the muscles in his forearms. Having his full attention on you makes the nerves in your belly flutter around like a bunch of butterflies were let loose. 

“He’s not much older than me,” Joel says. His eyebrow lifts. “Are you callin’ me old?” 

The man in question happens to be one of your father’s best friends—or so you’ve been told. In all of the visits to your dad’s growing up, you could count the number of times you saw Joel on one hand. Over the past year that you’ve been coming to Austin regularly, you’ve had much more interaction with him, which has led to you developing a little bit of a crush. Who can blame you, though? He’s gorgeous—the chocolate-colored eyes, the hair that looks so soft, that perfect nose, and those kissable lips. 

“If the shoe fits,” you reply with a shrug and a smile. 

“Kids these days,” Joel grumbles under his breath, shaking his head. “Did you come by just to call me old?” he asks. 

“Oh, no. I was expecting at least one person to be at my dad’s, so I didn’t bother bringing my house key. I’m here to see if you possibly have a spare I could borrow—I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number.” 

Maybe he’d give it to you now…

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I don’t.” 

Hot and a sweetheart—how is he single? Is he single?

You frown, feeling annoyed that you drove all this way to Austin for no reason. You should’ve called ahead, but that was your mistake, assuming your family would stay in town for your father’s birthday. “This was a waste of gas,” you muse. “Love that for me. Well, it looks like I’m heading home, or maybe I’ll get a cheap motel room. Thanks anyway, Joel. Have a nice rest of your night!” You do a little wave at him. 

You start to turn, but stop when he says, “Wait,” and you face him again. He opens the door wider. “It’s too late for you to be drivin’ all that way, and there’s no reason you should pay for a motel when I’ve got a guest room you can stay in. You can get a good night's sleep and leave tomorrow mornin’ when the sun’s shinin’.” 

Again, a sweetheart—why hasn’t anyone snatched him up? Or have they?

“Are you sure?” you ask. 

He finally offers you a friendly smile and moves to open the door all the way. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I was feelin’ lonely anyway with Sarah gone at a sleepover. It’ll be nice to have some company that isn’t my brother.” 

Lonely? Nice to have some company? That sounds pretty single to you. Your night just got a lot more interesting. “Thank you so much! I’ll do my best to be better company than your brother.” 

With that, you make your way inside, toeing off your shoes next to a pair of his work boots.

“That won’t be too hard,” Joel says as he shuts the door. 

You stop in the entryway because you’re not quite sure where you should be going since you've never actually been inside his house. You only know where he lives because your father once asked you to drop something off here. 

“Let me get your coat and bag.” You hand him your small purse, and he moves behind you, helping as you shrug off the long jacket you’re wearing, which he hangs up on a nearby coat hook with your bag. “Oh.” He stops in his tracks, and you look at him, seeing his widened eyes staring at your body. “Were you plannin’ on goin’ out tonight?” 

You glance down at your outfit, and you can understand why he’d make that assumption at the sight of the cute little black dress you’re wearing—it only reaches mid-thigh and has a V-neckline to show off your breasts.

“Not going out—it’s laundry day. I do my laundry when I come to Austin, and this was literally the last clean thing I had.” Your eyes lift to see his glued to your chest, and you think that’s an interesting development. “I have spare clothes I keep at my dad’s that I planned on changing into.” 

It’s the truth, and you’re a little thankful this was your last clean outfit. You can only imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been coming over here in a ratty old T-shirt, granny panties, and your Spongebob Squarepants pajama pants. 

He clears his throat and looks away. A rosy blush appears on his cheeks as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I can put my jacket back on,” you tell him, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“No, no.” He meets your gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s fine—do you need to use my washer and dryer?” 

“You’re already being nice, letting me stay over. I can wash my clothes at the laundromat when I get home.” 

“It’s really no big deal.” 

“Thank you, but I’m good.” 

“Okay.” His hands go in his pockets, and he seems to get very interested in the short console table against the wall, staring at the contents lying atop it—a stack of unopened mail and what you assume are his keys and wallet.  

“So, what were you doing before I interrupted your evening?” 

“Oh—” He looks at you again. “—I was watchin’ a movie. Would you like to join me?” 

You smile. “Sure—lead the way.” 

He takes you to the living room, where a movie is paused on the television, and lets you know you can sit anywhere. Your choices are one of two armchairs and a maroon leather sofa, and you choose the sofa while he heads for the kitchen. 

“Would ya like a beer?” he calls out on his way to the other room. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond because a second later, he’s back at the doorway to the living room with a confused expression again. “Wait, are you old enough to drink…?” 

The question makes you smile. “Yes, Joel. I’m old enough to drink.” 

“Legally…?”

You giggle. “Yes. I can legally drink. You wanna card me?” 

“No.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Beer?” 

“Sounds great.” 

“Okay.” He nods. 

As you sit on the couch waiting, you become very aware of the situation you’re in. You’ve spoken to Joel one-on-one a handful of times over the last year, but it always happened at a barbecue or a holiday party—places where there were other people around—you’ve never been alone with Joel. This is new territory, and you’re not entirely sure what to expect, especially considering how he was staring at your chest. 

Would you fuck him if given the chance? Yes, zero hesitation. Do you think you have a chance with him? Maybe, and that thrills you. Just two things are working against you: your age and the fact he’s your father’s best friend. Those are two hurdles you’re not entirely sure how to get over, but you’re definitely game to try. 

Your conversations were always friendly in the past, and you’re proud to say you’ve made him laugh a few times. You think you could possibly charm him. What you know for sure is he’ll need to be very aware that you’re interested; otherwise, he won’t even fathom trying anything with you—thank god you’re wearing this dress. Nerves are swirling in your tummy at what could happen tonight, and you’re eager to see where things go. 

Joel returns with two open bottles of beer, handing you one, and you thank him as he takes a seat right next to you. He leans forward to grab the remote and hits play before sitting back and taking a drink. 

He’s so close to you that you get a whiff of his cologne—it has a spiciness to it and some citrusy notes that, when combined, smell amazing. It makes you think he took a shower when he got home from work today—and, suddenly remembering he’s a contractor, you imagine him shirtless and sweaty while using a hammer. The thought causes your mouth to go dry, so you lift your bottle to your lips for a sip, focusing on the TV. 

It’s easy to figure out what he’s watching when you see Josh Hartnett in clothes from the 1940s. 

“Pearl Harbor?” you ask, now holding your drink on your lap, picking at the label with your fingernail. 

“Yeah.” His head turns your way, his beer resting on his thigh. “Have you seen it?” 

Meeting his eyes, you answer, “Oh, yeah.”

He frowns. “Because it’s a girly movie?”

“Um, kinda? The guys are pretty easy on the eyes, and the story is interesting. I wouldn't say it’s super girly. Sure, it’s a romance, but there’s so much action and drama about the war in it.” 

“The back of the DVD said nothin’ about it bein’ a romance.”

“Are you enjoying it, at least?” you ask. 

He sighs and looks back at the television. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then enjoy it! If anyone asks what we watched, I’ll tell them Die Hard.” You lightly pat his thigh closest to you, feeling the muscles tense under your palm. 

His gaze returns to you. “You’ve seen Die Hard?”

“Yes. A few times.” 

Because it’s your dad’s favorite movie. 

His upper body slightly turns your way, his arm going behind you on the couch. The closeness and the attention he’s giving you make your skin heat. 

“I want you to settle somethin’ my brother Tommy and I disagree on—have you met Tommy?” 

“Once.” At a barbecue. He didn’t catch your attention like Joel did. “What am I settling?”

“Do you think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

“What…?”

“Tommy is fuckin’ convinced that Die Hard is a Christmas movie, and I say it’s just another action flick. A good one, but definitely not a Christmas movie.”

It takes you a second to process what he asked. 

“I mean,” you start, “it takes place on Christmas Eve, at a Christmas party, and I’d say it’s a Christmas miracle that John McClane happened to be there to save the day. So, yeah, it’s totally a Christmas movie.” 

“You’re fuckin’ with me. Just ‘cause it takes place on Christmas Eve at a Christmas party doesn’t mean it’s a Christmas movie.” 

You point the neck of your beer at him. “You forgot John McClane being a Christmas miracle. Makes sense to me that it’s a Christmas movie.” 

He takes a deep breath. “So, are you tellin’ me that—what the fuck is that movie called?” His eyes leave you as he thinks, trying to remember the name. “Lethal Weapon!” He looks at you again. “So, you’re tellin’ me that Lethal Weapon would also be a Christmas movie? Have you seen that one?” 

Yep, with your father. 

“I have, and yeah, it’s a Christmas movie. You’ve got drug dealers using a Christmas tree business as a front, Christmas is mentioned all throughout, they use a bunch of Christmas songs, and it ends at Christmas dinner. Absolutely a Christmas movie.” 

“Say you’re messin’ with me, darlin’. You know what a Christmas movie is, right? 

“Yeah, you’ve got the heavy hitters—It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol—then those stop-motion ones that are delightful. I’d put Die Hard and Lethal Weapon in the same category as Home Alone.”

“Why the hell do you think Home Alone is a Christmas movie?” 

“It’s set during the holiday season, and there’s a ton of Christmas imagery and music. Plus, you’ve got Kevin going on a similar journey as the main character in It’s a Wonderful Life where, in the end, he realizes how much he loves and needs his family—sounds pretty Christmas-y to me.” 

His jaw clenches, and it’s seconds before he inhales deeply and looks back at the TV. 

“Son of a bitch,” he sighs, shaking his head. “They’re fuckin’ Christmas movies.” He takes a long drink of his beer. 

You grin. “They are indeed,” you reply and pat his thigh again. 

His bottle lowers, and he looks over at you. “Even though you somehow made a dumbass like Tommy make sense, you’re definitely better company than him. He’d never let me live this down.” 

He’s visibly relaxed, and you have, too. The fact he’s enjoying you being there has calmed your nerves, and you’re having a great time talking to him. Plus, he’s nice to look at.

“Then it’ll be our secret,” you say. “Like how we’re totally watching Die Hard right now, and not—” Your eyes go to the TV, and they widen. “—the one sex scene in Pearl Harbor.” It’s nothing too risque and honestly kind of lame. 

Joel looks, too. “They’re just rollin’ around on the ground…” 

“It’s PG-13, Joel. I don’t know what you’re expecting from a movie where they can only say fuck once, and titties are prohibited.” 

His head turns your way. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he says, and when your eyes land on his, you find that he’s smiling—your heart skips a beat. 

“A good something or a bad something?” 

“A good somethin’.” 

You share his expression. “You’re something else, too.”

“A good somethin’ or a bad somethin’?”

“A very good something.”

His eyes darken, and suddenly, his attention returns to the movie. Joel clears his throat, then chugs the rest of his beer, leaning forward to set the empty bottle on the coffee table. 

When he sits back, his arm is still behind you on the top of the couch, and he scoots the tiniest bit your way to have your bodies touching. 

It’s clear that there’s a shift to the energy in the room, and the tension becomes palpable—he likes you, and you think there’s a possibility he more than likes you with how close he is. The thought has your heart pounding, and you’re unsure what to do next. You’ve only been with boys your own age, and Joel is so much older and more experienced. 

The panic has you blurting out, “Are you seeing anyone?” Then, backpedaling, “Not that it’s any of my business, so don’t feel obligated to answer.” 

He looks at you, and you keep staring at the TV, almost wishing the floor would swallow you whole. 

“Why do you wanna know?” 

“I’m nosy.” 

He huffs in amusement. “You only wanna know ‘cause you’re nosy?” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“No other reason?” 

“Can’t think of any.” 

“Okay—no, I’m not seein’ anyone. What about you? You got a boy back in Houston worryin’ about you?” 

“Nope.” 

“Really?” The genuine surprise in his voice has your head turning to see the matching expression. 

“What’s so shocking about that?”

He frowns. “I beg your pardon, darlin’. It just doesn’t make much sense that someone as pretty and fun as you doesn’t have a line of boys waitin’ their turn to take you out.” 

Those butterflies in your stomach are flapping around again. 

“Not really.” You shrug. “Plus, the guys my age usually only want sex but aren’t very, um, giving, if you know what I mean.”

Now he looks grumpy. “Selfish boys,” he grumbles, and it makes you smile. 

“So, not an issue with someone older like you. Good to know.” You squeeze his thigh and keep speaking so he can’t reply, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you single?” 

For some reason, he can’t look at you now, focusing on your hand. He reaches across his body to grab yours with his larger one, staring at your fingers. He lets out a long, weary sigh, his thumb rubbing against each of your dark blue-painted fingernails. 

“Women don’t particularly like that Sarah is the most important person in my life and my top priority…”

“But she’s your daughter, she should be your top priority.” 

“That’s the logic, but they want me all to themselves and don’t like sharing.” 

“Joel?” 

His face lifts to meet your gaze. 

“Yeah?” 

“You’ve dated some truly shitty women.” 

He smiles. “I guess I have. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve given up on datin’. It’s just a waste of time.” 

“That is such a shame.” 

His dark eyes get even darker. “You’re trouble.” 

“Why am I trouble?” 

His eyebrow arches. “Your daddy would kill me.” 

Your brain short-circuits for a second as you take in the statement—he’s into you, he’s really into you. Now, what are you going to do?

“Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask and move to put your beer on the table. When you sit back, you cuddle a little closer into his side. “You were worried about me driving home in the dark, so you offered me your guest room—we watched Die Hard, then turned in for the night. You’re a stand-up guy for keeping your friend’s daughter safe.” 

His eyes move from yours to your mouth, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face—his palm is so big his fingertips almost reach the back of your head. He starts leaning in, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought that he’s going to kiss you, and you stop breathing when his lips are only a hair’s breadth away from yours.

And then he pauses. 

“Tell me why you really came here tonight,” he rasps. 

That confuses you, your brows pulling together, and you sit back to see his face. “I did? I needed to see if you had a spare key to my dad’s house.” 

His eyes are on yours. “Bullshit—there’s no way this just happened to be the last outfit you had.” He looks directly at your tits. 

“It is if you wait super last minute to do your laundry, and I told you, I have other clothes at my dad’s. Why do you think I came over here?” 

His gaze goes back to yours. “With that dress you’re wearin’ and how you keep lookin’ at me, for a lot more than needin’ a key.” 

“You thought I came over here to seduce you…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Wow.” You gently pat his cheek. “You think I’m way bolder than I actually am—me coming here and the outfit was not premeditated.” You shake your head. 

His eyes round, and you’d think he was burned by how quickly his hand leaves you and how he moves away a little to put space between you. “Fuck, have I been readin’ this wrong?” 

You scoot to have yourself against him again. “The assumption I came here specifically to seduce you was very wrong. But you’re right that I definitely want you to fuck me, Joel.” 

“Shit,” he breathes out and scrubs a palm over his face. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.” 

Turning his way, you rub your hand along his jeans-covered thigh. “No, I’m not,” you tell him. “Stop thinking, and kiss me.” 

His hand lowers. “Not thinkin’ is gonna get me killed.” 

“Not thinking is going to get you a blow job and pussy.” You press your palm between his legs over where you can feel he’s already hardening. “Hell, I’ll sweeten the deal—you can come anywhere you want.”

His eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you smile. His reaction makes you brave. 

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we’ll go back to watching the movie and pretend nothing happened. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and we’ll go as far as you’re willing to go.” Your hand moves up to hold his cheek, and it’s a good sign when he leans into your touch as you stare into his eyes. “But I’m going to make myself crystal clear, Joel. I want you—badly.  You’re beyond sexy, and the fact you’re older and have a lot more experience than me is a big turn-on. I’d love to know what good sex is like for once and maybe have you teach me some things.” You shrug your shoulder. “It’s up to you, though. Just know I’m more than willing.” 

His brown eyes squeeze shut. “Lord help me,” he says under his breath. A second passes, and then he’s looking at you. “Fuck it—I’m already goin’ to hell.” Joel’s large palms grab your face, pulling you in to crush his lips against yours, muffling your surprised sound. 

This kiss is unlike any you’ve experienced before. You’re used to overeager boys practically shoving their tongues down your throat the first chance they get, yet here’s Joel claiming your lips—you can feel his every want and his desire for you with how thoroughly he kisses you. The soft pillow of his mouth moves with yours, his scent filling your nose—hints of the beer he drank and his spicy cologne imprinting this moment in your mind. Your eyes flutter closed, and your head goes dizzy from the arousal igniting in your belly. 

Just one kiss and you know you’re ruined for anyone else. 

His arms go around you, and he mouths at your chin. “Come here,” he says against your skin. “Get in my lap.” 

You do as you’re told, bunching up the bottom of your dress at your waist and moving to straddle his thighs. His hands go under your clothes to grab your ass, and he’s so surprised to feel bare skin he leans back with the confused expression you’re becoming intimately familiar with. 

“You really didn’t come over just to fuck me?” he asks. His palms wander, and you know he’s discovered your thong when he hooks a thumb under its stretchy waistband—they were the last clean pair of underwear you had. 

“I really didn’t.” You’re curious about something. “But if I had, what are the chances that I would’ve succeeded…?” 

“With this dress and a little convincin’? Pretty good.”

You smile. “Really?” 

“Yeah. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful and smart. I know this is a bad idea, and it’ll probably bite me in the ass later, but I’m so fuckin’ lonely, and you’re just too damn temptin’ to pass up.” 

The truth is clear in his eyes and makes you kiss him—your fingers comb into the hair at the back of his head, finding it softer than you thought it’d be. It starts off slow and tender, just lips to lips, until Joel deepens it, the tip of his tongue making it past your lower lip. Hearing that he’s lonely tugs at your heart, and you want to do everything you can to make that loneliness disappear. Things start to heat up, and all you can do is follow his lead, moaning as he explores your mouth with his tongue. With his palms on your backside, he helps you rock your hips, grinding yourself against his hard cock beneath his jeans, rubbing your clit just right to fan the flames growing in your core. 

When you finally need to come up for air, his hand grips your chin to turn your head as you pant, Joel kissing and nipping at your skin from the base of your neck up—tingles wash down your spine when he nibbles on your jaw. He gently bites your earlobe, and you gasp when his hot breath tickles your ear. 

He huskily whispers into it, “You want me?” His hand fondles your breast. 

“Yes.” 

“I can touch you?” 

“Anywhere.” 

“I need you to be a good girl and tell me when you do and don’t like things—understand?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good girl,” he purrs. 

The way those two words make your cunt clench has you moaning, ”Fuck.”

He easily unzips the back of your dress, tugging the garment up and over your head, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. You’re sitting astride his lap, the dark pools of his eyes taking in your mostly naked body, his big hands massaging your bra-covered breasts. It’s surprising that being under his gaze, you don’t immediately feel self-conscious, and you think that has to do with how he’s looking at you—the desire and appreciation clear as he admires you.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nodding towards what he’s touching. 

“Yes.” 

He sits up straighter, and it’s quick work for him to get your bra off, it landing on top of your dress. He’s focused on your tits, holding them in his palms, weighing them. He leans forward, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and the sudden shock of pleasure has your breath catching in your throat, your fingers grabbing handfuls of his shirt for something to hold onto. When he grazes his teeth over the stiff bud, your entire body shivers—your panties have a wet spot from your pussy leaking your arousal for him. He gives your other breast the same attention, leaving your skin shiny from spit when he comes off of it with a wet pop to look at you. 

“Lie down on the couch, baby.” He pats the empty seat next to him. “Your head all the way at the other end.” 

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You scramble out of his lap, the couch’s leather creaking as you crawl over to where he instructed and sit back on your elbows to see what’s happening. Joel grunts as he gets up to stand, watching in interest when he squeezes the noticeable bulge at the front of his jeans. His arm goes behind his head to grab his shirt, pulling it up and off of his body to bare his torso. 

At seeing so much of his golden skin, your jaw goes slack—his freckled chest is so broad, tapering down to his trim waist, his abs showing a little bit of muscle definition you think is from doing manual labor and not working out. Your eyes fixate on the happy trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Sure could get used to you lookin’ at me like that.” 

That has your attention snapping up to his face, where you find him smirking, and you close your mouth. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, your eyes darting away from him. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, darlin’. Makes me feel pretty fuckin’ great about the shape I’m in.” 

You look at him again. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re in great shape and so hot—you’re really down to fuck me?” You point at yourself. 

He kneels on the sofa by your feet, his hand on the back of it to steady himself.

“Darlin’, if I didn’t know your daddy, and you were a stranger I met in a bar, I’d bring you home in a heartbeat. I feel like a real lucky son of a bitch that someone as young and pretty as you has any interest in an old guy like me.” He lifts one of your legs and gently kisses the inside of your ankle, the sweetness of it making you melt a little. 

“Oh, I’m very interested in you.” 

“Is that so?” he asks and spreads open your legs. He crawls over you, and you lie back, Joel nestling his hips between your thighs for you to feel how hard he is as he dips his head, kissing up the column of your throat—the nerves in your stomach flutter wildly. 

“Yes,” you whisper and need to touch him, wrapping your arms around his torso to press your palms against the warm skin on his shoulders—his body shudders, a rumbling groan coming from his chest. 

You squeak in surprise when his lips are suddenly on yours, kissing you hard. 

He takes over all of your senses—he’s all you see, he’s all you feel, he’s all you taste, he’s all you hear, he’s all you smell. It’s him, and him alone—his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his weight on top of you. Your fingers thread into his hair, moaning as he takes over your very world, reveling in this feeling of being wanted. 

His lips leave yours, both of you breathing a little heavier. His teeth gently sink into your chin before kissing along the underside of your jaw. 

He speaks into your skin, his words muffled, “I’m very interested in you, too. I shouldn’t be, but I am.” His mouth ends up at your ear, and he quietly asks, “Can I eat your pussy?” 

“Oh.” The question surprises you. “I’m usually the one who asks. Do you want me to blow you first?” There was always a quid pro quo when it came to oral. 

His head lifts to look you in the eye. 

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?” 

“You’ve been with some truly shitty boys.” 

It makes you laugh, and he smiles. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” you reply. 

“It should always be ladies first—may I?” 

What a gentleman. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Good,” he says and pecks you on the lips. 

He doesn’t immediately move off of you, and it catches you off guard. Instead, his mouth blazes a trail, kissing down your body—your neck, your chest, and your belly. This is when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head. Joel is getting up close and personal with your imperfections—your scars, stretch marks, cellulite, all those little details you normally kept hidden in the safety of dark rooms or under shirts when you hooked up with someone. Now, you’re basically naked, the lamp is on, and he can see it all, which makes you feel uneasy. 

He kisses just above your belly button, then below it, going lower and lower until he places one last kiss on your panties, over your mound. He sits up on his knees, tracing the lines and curves of your thighs and hips with his large palms while he drinks you in as you lie there—you have to fight the urge to cover yourself, unable to meet his gaze.

The silence is broken when Joel speaks. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” 

Your eyes seek out his face where you don’t find any deception, but you have to ask, “Really?” 

“Really.” He nods. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

His attention goes to the apex of your thighs, and the pink of his tongue swipes along his bottom lip as if he’s imagining how you’ll taste. He strokes the pad of his thumb over the visible damp spot on your underwear, his other hand squeezing his cock that’s straining in his jeans. 

“I bet you have the prettiest pussy, too,” he says, and gets his fingers under the elastic waistband on your panties, pulling them down and off your legs, the air cool against your now bared skin. He shuffles back a little, then bends forward, spreading your lips open with two fingers as his face hovers over it. You think your heart might beat out of your chest with how fast it’s thudding, your skin feeling so hot. “I fuckin’ knew it, such a pretty pussy,” Joel murmurs. He circles your clit with his thumb, and the pleasure has every muscle in your body tensing and your eyes closing. “You’re gonna taste so good.” 

He loudly groans as he drags the flat of his tongue along your cunt, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

“Oh, god,” you moan, your body squirming at how good it feels. 

Joel has to pin down your hips with an arm across them to keep you still, his face buried in your pussy. He goes straight to the source, lapping at your entrance to taste your arousal while the tip of his perfect nose rubs against your bundle of nerves, his facial hair prickling your skin. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

You’re fucked. 

It’s not even a minute in, and you can already feel your orgasm taking shape low in your belly, the muscles beginning to wind up. If you thought the first kiss ruined you, you know you’re ruined by how eagerly he’s eating you out—who knew this could be so good? You have to wonder how you’ll ever be able to fool around with anyone else when Joel is all you’ll be able to think about or compare it to—this is the only moment doubt invades your mind. You feel like this is all a mistake, but it’s quickly squashed by how unbelievably horny and curious you are. 

His mouth lifts, and you whine at its loss. “Gimme a second,” he pants. “I gotta see how tight you are.” That’s when one of his thick fingers presses to your soaked opening, and he slowly starts to push it inside. 

The slight stretch makes you gasp his name, your fingers clawing at the sofa’s maroon leather.  

“Christ,” Joel says. “You’re squeezin’ me. With how fuckin’ tight you are, I’d think this is your first time.” 

You sit back up on your elbows and open your eyes to look at him. 

“You just have massive fingers, and it’s been a while.” 

His gaze meets yours as he smirks. “Well, I’m gonna loosen you up with my massive fingers, and I think you’ll enjoy it.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. His head dips, flicking his tongue side-to-side against your clit when you feel the sudden pressure of his second digit pushing into you—there’s even more of a stretch and the delicious feeling of being full. You fall back on the couch, tangling your fingers into the brown waves of hair on his head, moans falling unbidden from your lips. His digits crook as they pump in and out of you, sliding along your upper wall when they press into something that elicits white-hot pleasure, making you keen and wiggle under the hold he has on your lower half.

Yeah, you’re totally and completely fucked. 

He’s relentless with his mouth and fingers as you careen toward your end, free-falling in the throes of pleasure. He’s really going to get you off, and you think you might be in love with him. Is that crazy? Falling for the guy you absolutely should not fall for—that you can’t even have any kind of future with—because it’d ruin both of your lives, especially his. 

Why does that make you want him more? 

You definitely understand now why Eve ate the forbidden fruit—the temptation leads to such sweet gratification when you give in. 

He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, sweeping his tongue around it, and you can hear the wet squelch of him fucking his fingers into your cunt. Your thighs are trembling—you’re so close, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter until it snaps, and you’re coming with an unintelligible cry. Your body seizes up, euphoria exploding out from your center, radiating to your fingers and toes. Joel removes his digits, his tongue taking their place to catch every bit of your slick he can get, groaning as he lets no drop go to waste. 

You’ve never come so hard, feeling a little floaty as you ride out your high, your chest heaving heavy breaths. With how shaky your arms and legs are, you’d think you were out in the freezing cold. 

Joel’s mouth comes off of you and he sits up, rubbing his hands along the outside of your legs. 

“Such a good girl for me,” he says. “Was it good?”

“Was it good?” you parrot back at him and push yourself up into a sitting position. “It was more than good, Joel—oh my god, it was amazing.” 

The bottom half of his face glistens in the lamplight, his shiny lips turning up in a smile. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.”

“You still wanna fuck?” 

“I think I will die if you don’t fuck me.”

He chuckles, and that’s all the answer he needs. He’s off the couch instantly, and you watch as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and gets his jeans undone, shoving them and his boxers down his legs so fast it makes you giggle. He’s balancing on one foot, peeling off his sock, and you finally get a good look at his dick—it’s hard and bobbing between his legs, the tip flushed red and shiny from precum, and your eyes round at how big he is. 

“Second thoughts?” he asks, taking off his other sock. 

Your gaze rises to his, seeing he’s frowning. “No.” You shake your head. “It’s more, ‘I sure hope that thing fits inside me.’” 

He crookedly smiles, his chest puffing up a little. “It’ll fit—I promise.” And he has the audacity to wink at you. 

Just as quickly as he got off the sofa, he’s getting back on it, kneeling in the space between your spread thighs. His attention is on your pussy, rubbing the tip of himself against your swollen clit and through your wetness. Nerves swirl in your belly, along with arousal, his free hand giving your hip a reassuring squeeze before he’s spitting on his fingers and slicking up his cock. He notches himself at your entrance, and your heart is in your throat as you hold your breath.

“Just relax, baby,” he says. “You can take me.” 

He slowly starts feeding his hard length into you, making you gasp when the fat head breaches your slick cunt, your eyes squeezing shut, your fingers digging into the couch’s leather cushions. A groan rumbles from his throat, and you answer with a drawn-out moan as he burrows his thick cock deep inside you, your tight walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. Full doesn’t even begin to describe how stuffed you are—he’s hot inside you, almost searing, and you can feel him pulsing. He bottoms out and goes completely still, his hands on your hips in a bruising grip.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he rasps. “You okay?” His thumbs stroke circles on your skin. 

“Yes.” It comes out as more of a squeak. “I just need a second.” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

Darlin’, baby, and now sweetheart when his dick is inside you? Is he trying to make you fall in love with him?

He bends at the waist, one hand on the couch holding up his weight while the other massages your breast, his lips wrapping around your pebbled nipple, the sparks of pleasure going straight to your pussy. Your fingers wind up in his hair; what he’s doing to you has you whimpering at how good it feels and only makes you wetter where you’re joined. He pulls each of your legs up to rest on his ribs while his mouth moves higher, kissing your sternum and up the arch of your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you squirm underneath him. 

His hands end up on either side of your head, his lips leaving behind a wet streak of kisses along the hinge of your jaw to finally ghost over yours—you can feel his breaths and smell your musk. He’s so close it wouldn’t take much more for your mouths to meet. 

His nose nudges yours. “Need more time?” he whispers. 

Enough has passed that you don’t feel as overwhelmed. You slide your palms up his back to his shoulders. 

“No,” you answer just as quietly. “You can move.” 

He pulls out almost all the way and pushes back in as his mouth claims yours, muffling your sounds when he sets up a rhythm of long, hard strokes. You’re gone—all rational thoughts go out the window, and the only thing you can think about is how his cock is moving in and out of you. It’s so distracting you’re having trouble kissing Joel back because your brain keeps screaming, ‘so big, so full, so good.’ 

You’re feverishly clutching at his shoulder blades, your nails leaving crescent moon imprints and scratches you’re sure will bleed on his golden skin, Joel moaning into your mouth. It surprises you when you feel the familiar tension of another orgasm making itself known deep in your core, the pressure rising with each thrust, the angle of them causing him to slide against spots you never knew existed, and you don’t ever want this to end. 

His lips leave yours, pressing his forehead to your cheek. He’s breathing hard, sweat beginning to bead on his skin as he keeps the same pace. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this pussy. Just wanna stay inside it until my dick is all it knows.” 

Your legs are quivering, your body is burning up, and you can’t get enough of how fucking good this feels. One time—one time—and you’re addicted, you’re drunk on the pleasure and will do anything—anything—for this to happen again. 

“It’s yours,” you gasp. “Oh, god, it’s yours!” 

His lips move to your ear, huskily asking, “It’s mine, baby? Your pussy is mine? I’m fuckin’ ya that good?” 

You’re so out of it and lost in the lust you start babbling, “Yes, it’s yours—fuck, ruin me,” you whine. 

“That’s what you want, for me to ruin your perfect little pussy?”

“Please—make me feel it. Make me ache to have your cock inside me again. Make me yours.” 

He growls, and you think you’ve said the wrong thing because he’s immediately pulling out, your eyes springing open in time to see him sit up on his knees. 

His big hands grab hold of your waist. “Flip,” is all he says, and you find yourself getting manhandled onto your front, Joel tugging you up onto your hands and knees. He wastes no time sheathing himself back inside you, pushing in so deep that your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.

Joel’s hips are flush against your ass, the full length of him seated all the way inside of you—you can’t think, your mouth open in a silent cry. He’s filling you to the absolute brim, and it becomes evident your cup has truly runneth over. 

He was right, though. It did fit. 

A shuddery breath escapes you. He only allows you a moment to get used to the new fullness before he’s pulling out until just the tip of him remains and snapping his hips forward hard enough it knocks the air from your lungs—this is how you learn what it’s like to really be fucked, and fucked good. 

His fingers dig into the skin on your waist, pulling you back as he thrusts forward at a pace that has you lightheaded, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids each time he presses against that heavenly spot inside you. 

Warmth grows in your belly, the sounds from the TV overshadowed by the filthy cacophony of skin hitting skin and the audible wetness of his cock working in and out of your used cunt—he’s grunting with each stroke, your moans stuttering from the onslaught.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks through gritted teeth, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust. 

It’s a struggle to gather your thoughts and form a response with how good he’s fucking you. 

A palm lands on the side of your ass in a loud smack, the sweet sting causing you to clench around him and whimper. 

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he says. “Is this what you wanted?” 

All you can gasp out is a single word. “Yes!” 

“Am I fuckin’ you good?” 

“Yes!” 

He’s pounding into you at a near-brutal pace, the fire inside you only getting hotter as each second passes. 

“Look at me,” he orders. 

It takes everything in you to turn your head and look over your shoulder. Joel is a sight to behold—a flush rising from his chest to his cheeks, the sweat on his skin making it glisten under the lamp’s light, and his hair sticking wetly to his forehead. His eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed over, his jaw clenched. 

He slows, his gaze on yours. 

“You wanna be mine?” he asks. 

“Yes.” 

The moment your answer leaves your lips, he’s blanketing your back, holding himself up with a hand on the couch, the other going under you to palm your breast and tweak your stiff nipple with his fingers. 

He lightly bites your earlobe, his facial hair scratching your cheek when he kisses it. 

“I’m gonna make you come,” he says through heavy breaths. “Then I’m gonna fuck you full of me—you want that?” 

A shiver moves through you, and you gulp. 

“Yes.” 

“Good girl.” 

His hand smooths down your front over your stomach to between your legs, where he starts circling your clit with two fingers. It’s like a live wire along your spine, electricity sparking in your core—that added to the sensations of his cock splitting you open and pushing in and out of you has you rocketing toward your release. 

“You gonna come for me?” His hot breaths fan over your ear. “You gonna let me feel you come all over my cock? Come on, let me have it—come for me.” 

Joel’s bent over you, fucking into you harder and faster, his fingers deliciously swirling around your throbbing bud as he grunts in your ear with every thrust, all of it driving you higher and higher to your end. 

You’re so worked up that it doesn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—the muscles in your belly pull tight, your orgasm ripping through you, gasping Joel’s name. He sucks in a breath when your pussy clamps down on him, then loudly groans, continuing to fuck you through your high, and doesn’t stop—his fingers keep up their assault on your clit, and his hips snap into you in quick, short bursts that extend your high. You come, and come, and come to the point your arms give out, and your body shakes and twitches from all of the pleasure coursing through it. 

When you think you can’t take any more, relief washes over you that Joel follows suit. With one last thrust, he buries himself all the way to the hilt inside you as he falls forward, his front framing your back, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder. He comes with a dirty, rumbling groan—you feel his dick thicken and pulse, hot spurts of his spend filling you. He grinds his hips, fucking it as deep as it will go, then stills.  

The movie’s ending credits are playing, hearing the music and your and Joel’s ragged breaths as you both come down. He’s at the same awkward angle as you, with your hips up and your faces down—his sweaty chest is pressed to your back, your bodies sticking together everywhere they touch. It’s not the most comfortable position, but with how your limbs tremble, you’re not entirely sure you can even move. 

You asked him to ruin you, and oh boy, did he deliver—you’re absolutely, positively ruined. It kills you that after whatever this night is, you’ll have to go back to subpar sex with guys who couldn’t find the clit if they were given a map and detailed directions. This is the second time tonight that you fear you’ve made a grave mistake hooking up with Joel, and the post-sex clarity is not helping the situation at all. 

What were you thinking?

That’s easy; you weren’t. Or, at the very least, you weren’t thinking with your brain. Your pussy took the lead on this one, and it looks like she’s gotten you into a bit of a situation. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when Joel’s arm wraps around your middle, and he turns you two onto your sides, the couch just barely wide enough to fit you both. 

“Tha’s better,” Joel slurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. His hand over your stomach feels around until he finds your smaller one, lacing your fingers together and holding it to your chest—oh, he’s cuddling with you. It’s unexpected and nice. You close your eyes and enjoy this taste of intimacy. 

Many minutes pass before he mumbles something you can’t make out. 

“I’m sorry,” you start and are immediately embarrassed by how hoarse and scratchy your voice sounds from all the sounds you made tonight. You clear your throat and try again, “I’m sorry—what did you say?” 

He turns his face so it’s out of your hair. 

“I asked if you wanna stay over,” he says. 

You smile. “Are you getting forgetful, Joel? You said I could stay over when I got here.” 

“Fuckin’ smartass,” he grumbles, and you giggle. “What I meant was, do you wanna stay in my room? With me,” he clarifies. 

“Only if you’re okay that I sleep naked—I’m not wearing my dress to bed.” 

“Was kinda hopin’ you’d be naked.” He kisses your shoulder. “But if you’re more comfortable wearin’ somethin’, I can get you one of my t-shirts—it’s no big deal.” 

“It baffles me that you’re single.” 

“Why?”

“Uh, because you’re incredibly sweet, amazing in bed, a great father, very handsome, hardworking, and just an all-around catch. If I had the opportunity, and you know, there wasn’t the elephant in the room—” The fact he’s much older than you and one of your dad’s best friends. “—I’d date you in a heartbeat. If you ever give dating a shot again, you’re going to make one lucky woman very happy.” 

“Fuck,” Joel groans, letting go of your hand to press his palm to his face. “What the hell am I doin’?”

That makes your stomach drop, and you frown—he’s regretting everything, and you can’t blame him. The post-sex clarity is a real bitch sometimes. 

“Stressing for no reason,” you reply. You’re pretty sure you can walk, so you get up from the sofa, ignoring how wobbly your legs feel and his come leaking down your thigh. “Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask, looking toward the floor for your clothes. “You let me stay the night ‘cause you were worried about me driving home in the dark.” You carefully bend down to pick up your thong, followed by your bra and dress. “We watched Die Hard,” you continue, straightening to stand. “Then turned in for the night to our respective bedrooms. You’re a real stand-up guy for caring so much about your friend’s daughter’s safety.” 

You can’t even look at him, focusing instead on the TV where the Pearl Harbor DVD’s menu is on screen. 

“Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” 

“Tryin’ to pretend nothin’ happened.” 

“You clearly wish nothing happened, so nothing happened—where’s the bathroom?” You need to clean up, and you’re tempted to just leave altogether. 

“Up the stairs, second door on the right—when the hell did I say I wished nothin’ happened?” 

“You didn’t have to. Your ‘what the hell am I doin’?’ was enough for me to get it.” You hug your clothes closer to your body. “Anyways, thanks for tonight. I think I’m just gonna use the bathroom and get out of here. I don’t want you to worry, so I’ll stay at that cheap motel by the highway.” The sign said it was twenty-something dollars a night, and you can swing that. You start heading toward the stairs. 

“Hey, stop.” You don’t. You keep walking, willing the unshed tears in your eyes not to fall. 

Why are you so upset? You’re well aware that this can only be a one-time thing. It was something fun and sexy where you got to fuck the older, unattainable guy you’ve been crushing on for a while. It wasn’t anything serious, and couldn’t be anything serious, because there’s no future for you two together. Not when he’s a good friend of your father’s. That kills any chance of having a relationship with Joel. 

What hurts is he regrets it and wishes it never happened—you’re a mistake, and who wants to be someone’s mistake? 

His heavy footsteps sound behind you. “Darlin’, stop,” he says again, and you continue ignoring him. Fingers latch around your bicep and lightly tug. “Please, stop for a second. Talk to me.” Finally, you do as he’s requested, standing still in front of the staircase. He turns you to look at him in his big brown eyes, his hands holding your arms. 

“I don’t wish nothin’ happened,” he says. “You were talkin’ about how if things were different, you’d date me, but since they are the way they are, you won’t. I was thinkin’ to myself ‘what the hell am I doin’ wishin’ you’d change your mind,’ when I know it’s for the best.”

“Oh—really?” 

Hope swells in your chest, butterflies fluttering around in your tummy. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Tell me you want nothin’ more to do with me, and I’ll grab you a towel and some of my clothes so you can wash up and retire to the guest room unless you’re truly set on stayin’ in a motel. In that case, I’ll pay for your room somewhere safer and much nicer, so I know you’ll be okay. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and I’ll take you up to my bedroom so we can shower, either together or separately, whatever you’re comfortable with. Then we can get into my bed where we can talk and figure things out.” 

It sounds like he doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing, either, and that makes you so happy you let your clothes fall to the floor to throw your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his. Joel groans, his arm sliding behind your back, hugging you closer to him, his other hand cradling your cheek. Suddenly, he’s backing you up until your heels hit the first step, and he guides you to sit on a higher one, Joel kneeling on a lower stair to be at the right height that his hips slot between your thighs when he lays you back. He licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. 

With how good he made you feel tonight, how wanted, you need more of him. There’s a looming fear in the back of your mind that this is too good to be true—that you’ll never be with him like this again, which makes you desperate for him. Your hand snakes its way between your bodies, taking his half-hard cock into your palm, slowly stroking it—a low rumble comes from the back of Joel’s throat. He gets his hand to the juncture of your thighs, sliding his fingers through the puffy lips of your sex, gathering your arousal and his come on his fingertips to rub at your swollen clit. 

“You’re mine,” he says into your lips. 

“I’m yours,” you answer. 

This is how you end up fucking on the stairs, Joel thrusting into you at a pace that has your toes curled and your fingers gripping his ass—your spine tingles from his mouth exploring your neck, mapping out the spots that make you gasp and moan, and you’re in heaven. 

A door slams shut on the other side of the railing, and your eyes fly open.

“Hey, Asshole!” a man calls. 

Joel’s hand covers your mouth, and you watch the intruder walk through the dining room to the kitchen without seeing you. 

“I brought over pizza so you can stop bein’ a sad and lonely sonofabitch!” 

Joel immediately pulls out and gets off you, using his strength to help you flip over. “Upstairs,” he whispers, tapping you on the hip, and you go as quickly and quietly as you can with Joel following. 

You make it to the second-story landing, and he grabs your hand, tugging you all the way down the hall into what you know is his bedroom by how it smells like him. He closes the door and locks it before beelining to his dresser, roughly pulling out one drawer from which he grabs a burgundy t-shirt, then another that he gets a pair of stretchy gray sweatpants. 

“Is this a dress?!” Is yelled from downstairs. “Do you have a girl over?! Who’d wanna fuck your sorry ass?!”

Surprisingly, the clothes in Joel’s hands are not for him; he shoves them into your arms and ushers you over to his bathroom. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, flicking on the light, the fan automatically turning on. “It’s Tommy. Stay in here, and I’ll kick him out.” Obnoxiously loud footsteps are coming up the stairs, and he has to take a deep breath, his eyes to the sky like he’s praying God will smite his brother right this second. “Lord, give me strength,” he breathes. 

“Where would you even meet a girl?!” Tommy asks from the hallway. “All you do is work—you never go out.” 

Joel pecks you on the lips. “I’ll be right back—stay in here,” he tells you again, and this time, he leaves, shutting the door behind him. 

There’s banging on the bedroom door, and your ears perk up as you put on the clothes. 

“Go home, Tommy,” he says. 

“Not until I know who this pretty dress belongs to.” 

“Give me that—it’s none of your fuckin’ business. Leave.” 

“Come on, Joel—we know the same people. Did you finally give in to Nikki? She’s wanted to go out with you for a long fuckin’ time.” 

“No, and it’s still none of your fuckin’ business who I have in the house I pay for. So, get goin’, or I’m gonna make you go.” 

“You can be a real dick, Joel. Why are you bein’ so fuckin’ secretive?”

“Do I ask about who you take home from the bar?” 

“No, but—”

“Exactly,” Joel interrupts. “I don’t give a fuck what you do in your spare time, and I sure as hell don’t need to tell you what I do in mine, so leave, Tommy—I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.” 

“With how fuckin’ grouchy you are, I don’t think you got laid at all—I’m gonna get goin’ ‘cause you clearly need the company of a woman. Bye, mystery woman with the pretty dress hidin’ in Joel’s bathroom!” he yells. “Hopefully you can cheer this fucker up! Enjoy the pizza!” 

It goes quiet, and you think Joel left the room, too. You can’t go anywhere, so you decide to take in your surroundings—the bathroom is cleaner than you’d expect from a single man, you have to put the toilet seat down when you pee, and as you’re washing your hands, you notice there’s only one toothbrush in a cup. 

You know you shouldn’t snoop, but you pull open the medicine cabinet and find an extra tube of toothpaste, some Tylenol, Ibuprofen, a thing of pain relief cream, then a shelf with a few medicine bottles that intrigues you—prescription pain pills, antidepressants, and heartburn medication. No red flags, but you’re a little worried about how much pain he’s in. You close the cabinet, and soft knocking on the bathroom door makes you jump. 

“You can come out,” Joel’s muffled voice says. “He’s gone.” 

Walking over to the door, you open it, Joel leaning against the doorframe in a white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants he must’ve put on before talking to Tommy. 

He sighs. “So, that was my brother.” 

“Seems nice—if I remember correctly, he’s younger, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That explains how annoying he is.” 

He smiles, and an amused huff leaves him. “Yeah, he’s annoyin’ alright.” 

“We have the house to ourselves?” 

“We do—I walked him out myself.” 

You grin. “Wonderful.” You grab a fistful of his shirt. “Because I think you said something about us showering together, and I’d like to do that right now, then go eat pizza—I’ve somehow worked up an appetite,” you tell him and pull him forward; he happily comes your way with a smirk. 

“Worked up an appetite, huh?” he asks, his eyes on your mouth. 

“Yes. No clue how.” 

He closes the distance, his lips almost touching yours, when he replies, “Let me remind you how,” and kisses you. 

An hour later, you’re walking down the stairs clean and in your borrowed clothes. 

“Can we eat then go to bed?” you ask, through a yawn. “I had classes today, and that long ass drive, plus all the sex. I’m so damn tired.” 

Joel’s behind you in just his sweatpants. 

“I’m fuckin’ tired, too. That sounds good to me.” 

The only lights on downstairs are the lamps in the living room. You walk into the dark kitchen, Joel flipping on the light as he follows, and you head for the stove where the pizza is, popping open the box to see it’s pepperoni. 

“I’ll grab us some plates,” Joel says, rubbing your upper arms. He kisses the top of your head before stepping over to a cabinet.

Turning around, you’re about to ask Joel where the cups are when the dining room light comes on, Tommy standing by the switch. You gasp in shock; Joel’s immediate reaction is to grab a knife from the knife block and get between you and the unwanted visitor—it takes him a second to recognize it’s his brother. 

“Goddammit, Tommy!” Joel shouts and slams the butcher knife onto the countertop. “Are you tryin’ to get yourself killed?!”

“No,” his brother answers, shaking his head, and he looks a little too amused. “But you sure the hell are! Her?!” He points at you and has the audacity to laugh. “Oh, god, Joel,” he says through his glee and grabs the back of a chair, his other hand on his chest as he chuckles. “Her daddy is gonna kill you—you’re fucked!”

Joel sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, perching a palm on his hip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he says. “I’m a dead man walking.” 

“You are!” Tommy calms down, and his shit-eating grin annoys you. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” he asks. “I mean, I know what you were thinkin’. I just can’t get over you not only robbin’ the fuckin’ cradle, but bangin’ your best buddy’s daughter. How long has whatever this is—” He gestures at you both. “—been goin’ on?” 

“It just happened tonight—I don’t need you lecturin’ me on right and wrong. I know it’s a fucked up situation.” 

A fucked up situation? Ouch. The comment has you crossing your arms over your chest, staring at the floor. 

“Fucked up is right, and I’ve got no fuckin’ idea how you’re gonna get out of it. Her daddy finds out about this, and he’s gonna shoot you deader than dead.” 

“I told you I didn’t want you lecturin’ me.” 

Tommy puts his hands up. “Hey, I’m not lecturin’. I’m just statin’ the facts. I wanna make sure you know this thing between you two could get you killed. You’ve got a daughter, Joel—what would you do in this situation?” 

“Woah,” you interrupt, moving to stand beside Joel—Tommy’s comment about Sarah is a fucking nuke you need to try and hopefully defuse. “First of all, I just want to point out that I am a consenting adult and can fuck whoever I want. Second, I need to set the record straight and say that my dad isn’t going to kill anyone. He’ll be mad as hell if he finds out, but he isn’t going to commit murder because, truth be told, he’s never given a fuck about my life choices. I’d also like to add that this is kinda his fault for not having me visit more often because now Joel and I are pretty much strangers, and this whole thing isn’t as bad as it sounds.” 

“It’s still pretty bad, honey,” Tommy replies, his attention turning to you, smiling. 

“Maybe, but it’s also nobody’s business who I fuck.” 

“Sure, but this person you fucked is one of your daddy’s best friends whose—no offense—way too old for you.” 

“Why does everyone keep callin’ me old?” Joel grumbles. 

Tommy looks at his brother. “‘Cause you are, you old man.” He suddenly looks like he just realized something. “Wait a goddamn minute,” Tommy says. “Joel, are you havin’ a midlife crisis? You’re around the age people have those, right? It’d make sense why you’d risk your life to fuck her.” 

“Get out, Tommy,” Joel replies, pointing toward the front door. “I’ve had enough of you.” 

His younger brother pouts. “‘Cause I called you old?” 

“Out.” 

“Fine.” He slowly starts walking toward the hallway that leads to the front door. “I’ll get out of your hair so the two of you can enjoy the rest of your night. Bye!” 

The door loudly closes as he leaves. 

Well, you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen now. Between the comment about Sarah and the other things that had been said, you wouldn’t be surprised if Joel ends this. You might as well cut your losses and get it over with to save yourself from more heartbreak. 

Your eyes are on the ground, the first tear falling down your cheek. “After all that, I know whatever this is is probably over,” you quietly say. “But is there a chance I can still sleep in your bed with you tonight? And if you’re willing, have you hold me?”

He turns and pulls you into his arms.

“Yeah, you can sleep with me,” he answers and kisses your hair. “But I’m gonna need you to stop.” 

You lean back to look at him with watery eyes. “Stop what?” 

A sad smile is on his lips. “Jumpin’ to conclusions without talkin’ to me. You’ve already got one foot out the door, and I haven’t even opened it.”

“It’s just everything Tommy said.” 

He lightly squeezes your biceps. “Tommy was bein’ a little shit. You were right when you said this isn’t as bad as it sounds, but you gotta be honest with me about somethin’.” 

“What?” you ask.

His hands come up to hold your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that have fallen. “Are you positive your daddy won’t kill me? I’ve got Sarah to think about, and even though I like you a lot, I’m not gonna risk dyin’ to be happy.” 

The sweetest man and the best father.

You think about it for a second, and the sad truth is you can’t imagine your dad killing anyone for you—he doesn’t love you that much. He doesn’t love you to the same degree that Joel loves Sarah. With how easily Joel grabbed a knife to protect you, there’s no doubt in your mind he’d kill for his daughter without hesitation. 

“He’ll be pissed off, but he isn’t going to kill you. We also don’t need to tell him anything unless this turns into something. We can keep it to ourselves for now.” 

He hums in agreement. “You know, if you wanted, you could start comin’ here to do your laundry...” 

You smile. “How will you explain that to Sarah?” 

“That I’m helpin’ you out, which is true. Plus, I’ve got the guest room.” 

“Uh huh, the guest room that I’ll sleep in?” 

“Yes.” He nods. 

“Alone?” 

“I sleepwalk.” 

You snort. “Stop it.” You playfully push his chest. “Sarah is not gonna believe you sleepwalked into the guest room.” 

He snatches your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles. “Who said anythin’ about Sarah knowin’ I’m in the guest room, or you bein’ in my room for that matter, while she’s sleepin’? There are also nights like tonight she spends with friends.” 

“You really want me to hang out here?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to have company that isn’t Tommy.”

“I believe that. As long as I’m not a bother, I’ll do my laundry here.”

He smiles. “Not a bother, and you can wash your clothes tomorrow and stay another night. You could even stay over Sunday, too, since you have Monday off—you’re more than welcome.”

You loop your arms around his neck. “Yes, Joel. I will spend my long weekend with you.” 

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours. “Good.” 

Main Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!