#and he's like 'so is there anything i need to fix' .... yeah... yeah man

[lushrue]

pt. 2 to this

cw: petplay (sort of?), oral (m! receiving), unprotected sex, overstimulation, degradation

your bouncing leg was shaking the table.

you could see it in the way water sloshed in the glasses, hear it in the subtle rattle of cutlery. your eyes darted between your husband and johnny, watching as they ate like there wasn’t a storm brewing inside you. you’d been buzzing with excitement ever since johnny accepted the invitation to dinner again. memories had plagued you all week, the phantom feeling of johnny’s hands on your thighs or his tongue between your legs making you fluster at the worst of times. even Simon couldn’t settle you like he normally could.

now, sitting here and watching johnny’s tongue dart out to clean some sauce from his lips had you sweating and blushing like a schoolgirl. you only realized you were staring when simon’s fingers snapped in front of your face, pulling your attention back to him. “where’d ya go, dove?” he asked teasingly, a knowing smirk on his face. you press your thighs together beneath the table, trying to give yourself a snippet of pleasure to tide you over. just get through dinner, you thought. then I can have what I want.

“nowhere,” you lie, bunching your dress up in one fist and forcing your fork into the other. you took a bite of the food you’d prepared, trying to put up the most natural facade you could. “just thinking.” johnny let out a huff of breath through his nose, amusement shining in his eyes. “i ken wha’ yer thinkin’ about,” he replied, a teasing lilt to his voice. there was movement under the table and johnny yelped, shooting simon a glare. he started to protest, but simon’s eyes darkened and he withered. you fight back a whimper, squirming in your seat and stuffing another bite into your mouth to stifle the sound.

displays of dominance from your husband were commonplace. he was a domineering man and you never begrudged him an opportunity to throw his weight around at home. he was used to being in charge, and you were used to letting him take the reins. seeing him do it to someone else was even more thrilling, though. the idea of you and johnny both melting into him, giving yourselves over to his control, didn’t do much to help the heat steadily building in your core. simon sighed, his fork clattering against his plate as he set it down.

“can’t enjoy a nice meal without the two of you pawin’ at each other, hmm?” his tone carried no malice, but it was a clear scolding. you almost felt ashamed, like a puppy who’d disobeyed its master. simon’s attention fixed on johnny, who hardly looked as surprised as he had the first time this happened. this time, he was eager, knowing the prize that awaited him if he behaved. “a mutt, tha’s all you are. filthy mutt tha’ can’t keep ‘is paws to ‘imself.” your breath caught in your throat and johnny whined, high-pitched and wanton. your eyes widened, staring between the two of them.

the meal was long forgotten at this point. you’d slaved over the roast, but that was the least of your concerns. not when whatever was happening between your husband and his subordinate seemed much more delicious. “remember wha’ we talked about, yeah?” simon asked, and johnny nodded obediently in response. they’d talked? you felt out of the loop, but it didn’t scare you as much as you felt it should. simon never let anything happen to you; it always happened with you and he would tell you as much as you needed to know.

simon’s gaze fixed on you and you flustered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "gotta earn the right to touch my pretty princess, yeah?” you caught johnny’s nod in your periphery, and all of a sudden, your throat dried up. the weight of both sets of eyes on you was heavy, but not oppressive. it was safe, like a warm blanket straight out of the dryer. it made you gooey at your core, the weight of being so thoroughly admired. you couldn’t say that you hadn’t planned for that; you’d pulled your tightest dress out of your closet with the object of being fawned over.

simon reached for the burgundy napkins you’d carefully set on the table, folded artistically before johnny arrived to give your wandering thoughts something more appropriate to focus on. he wiped the corners of his mouth, folding it tactfully and laying it back down beside his plate. both yours and johnny’s eyes followed it, sharing a secret wish that simon’s fingers would show either of you the same kind of care. 

simon noticed, a smirk curling the edge of his mouth as he pushed his chair back to stand. as if commanded, the two of you stand not long after him. johnny’s eyes were shining as he bounced on the balls of his feet, anticipating the treat he would get for his obedience. “c’mon, then,” he muttered, and the two of you fall into step behind him.

you go to the bedroom this time. this didn’t feel spontaneous the way last time had. there was a plan in place, even if you didn’t know the specifics of it. both johnny and simon moved with a practiced ease, tactical and confident. they knew what was happening, and it made it easier for you to fall into the desire that had been practically consuming you all week. you take your place on the bed, leaning back onto the pillows like you did for simon when it was just the two of you. you position your arms to bracket either side of your chest, pushing up your breasts and looking between the two men.

the heat of their gaze on you was enough to burn, both of them admiring you in their own way. simon’s was a quiet possessiveness, a comfort in knowing that you belonged to him. he’d looked at you the same way on your wedding night. johnny’s eyes, though, wanted. he looked at you like a candy display in a store window, the best rifle on the market or the tastiest MRE the british government could supply. simon made you feel wanted, but johnny made you feel desired.

heat rises to your cheeks, your gaze averting to escape the intensity of theirs. simon snaps his fingers and you raise your head again, watching johnny move. the signal meant nothing to you, but it was a command for johnny. he toed off his boots, removing his socks and shirt after that. everything was folded neatly and placed on a chair near the bed until he remained in just his boxer-briefs. simon snapped again, and johnny sunk to his knees by the bed. you were breathless watching the display, how effortless simon’s dominance was and how easily johnny yielded to it.

“good lad,” simon praised, and you both shuddered. he chuckled at the evidence of his influence, stepping over to johnny’s side and laying a hand on his head. “you remember last time, righ’, lovie?” he asked, addressing you. you nod, unsure of where to look. simon enjoyed your eye contact, but johnny was such a vision on his knees. simon hummed, looking down at johnny as well. “got a little impatient, didn’t he?” you nod again, and so does johnny. simon’s fingers tighten around johnny’s mohawk, tugging his head back. your breath catches in your throat at the whine johnny lets out. your chest was heaving now, rising and falling sharply as your heart pounded in your chest.

“we’re gonna teach ‘im a lesson tonight, pretty. you an’ me. nasty pup needs to learn ‘ow to think with ‘is brain and not ‘is cock.” your eyes widen, understanding the purpose behind all the planning. it seemed simon had taken johnny’s education upon himself, making sure it was done just right. it was so like your husband to take in a stray, train him up to be an obedient guard dog. that was exactly what he was doing with johnny: training.

simon released his grip on johnny’s hair, letting the scot’s chin drop to his chest. he was breathing just as heavily as you, the heat of desire flushing his skin and turning it a pretty shade of pink. your lips were parted as you stared down at him, half wondering if he’d get to have you at all tonight. perhaps simon would be cruel and make him kneel on the rough carpet while you relished in all the pleasure. or perhaps simon would let him have another taste of you, but keep a tighter hold on the leash. you pressed your thighs together as the possibilities raced through your mind, feeling the stickiness that was steadily growing.

the sight of johnny was eclipsed by simon’s broad torso. you looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded but alight with the anticipation of what was to come. no matter what simon did with johnny, you’d get your due. he always made sure of that. “jus’ pretend he’s not even there, dove,” simon murmured gruffly, the gravel in his voice vibrating in your chest. shivers traveled down your spine, rattling each bone on the way down. “gotta ignore ‘em when they’ve misbehaved. only way they learn.”

beside the bed, johnny whimpered, nails digging into the calloused skin on his knees. it felt cruel to give johnny no attention, to leave him wanting and aching while you and simon had your fun. despite simon’s command, you let your eyes fall to the scot while your husband is distracted sucking a mark into your neck. you expected to find johnny looking uncomfortable, maybe giving himself some pleasure in the absence of yours or simon’s hands. instead, his gaze was heavy on the both of you, just watching. his cock stood at attention between thick thighs, red and leaking precum from the tip.

your cheeks instantly flush, tucking your head into the crease between simon’s shoulder and neck. simon hums affectionately, feeling you clam up with embarrassment at realizing what was going on. “he’s jus’ a stupid dog, lovie,” simon soothes, and your cunt clenches at the moan johnny lets out. “no’ like he knows wha’s goin’ on. jus’ focus on me, yeah?” your eyes drift back to his, glassy with tears that want to fall. “there she is,” he croons, stroking your cheek with one hand as he eases the straps of your dress down with the other. “tha’s my pretty girl. let me make ya feel good, huh? earned it, workin’ hard on that dinner like ya did.” you settle back against the mattress, nodding slowly. simon seemed to be enjoying this immensely, and if the glance you stole johnny’s direction was any clue, so was he. they wanted a show, so a show they’d get.

you relaxed into simon’s hold, movements slow and syrupy as you let desire consume you. you’d been waiting all night for this, so it was only right that you got to enjoy it. simon eased your dress over your full breasts, down over your plush stomach and hips. as each inch of skin was bared, the carpet rustled beside the bed with johnny’s impatient shifting. his hands twitched with the phantom sensations of undressing you himself, feeling you squirm under his fingertips. simon’s calloused hand brushing across your chest brought you back to the present, rough skin catching on your sensitive nipple. you jolted and simon grinned with delight. “sorry, doll. gonna be more careful, yeah?” you nod, and simon’s hands continued downward.

he brushed over the curves and valleys of you, taking time to sink his fingers into the fat on your stomach and hips. as much as you were putting on a show for johnny, arching your back and playing up your blissed-out expressions, so was he. every pause, every hum, it was all to show johnny how much he was missing, how much simon was enjoying you. it was one thing to see how much your husband adored you in private; it was another thing entirely to have another man watch you being worshipped. that’s what simon was doing, in truth. worshipping you, paying homage to every curve and divot.

caught up as you were in the excitement of it all, it took you by surprise when one of simon’s fingers pressed into you. it didn’t hurt, not with how wet you had been since the bedroom door shut. the stretch was just sudden and you keened, hips bucking up off the bed. simon’s forearm came up, holding your hips in place. “don’ run from it,” he teased, crooking his finger to brush against that spot that made you melt. the moan that left your lips was guttural, uncontrolled. johnny let out one to match, which made simon chuckle. “hear that, lovie?” he asked, a certain cruelness in his tone. “poor mutt can’t help ‘imself. just too pretty when she’s gettin’ fucked, ain’t she, pup?”

“uh huh,” johnny choked out, thrusting into the air on instinct. there was nothing to sink his poor, neglected cock into, but his body didn’t care. “please, simon, please let me touch her!” simon hummed thoughtfully, as if considering, before turning his attention back to you. you’d been writhing under his hand the whole time, teetering dangerously close to an orgasm. “what do you think, doll?” he asked you, pressing his finger up into your gummy walls. “want me to stop so johnny can have a turn with you?”

you weren’t really thinking anything beyond how desperately you needed to come. you’d been practically edging yourself all day, clenching your thighs and rubbing yourself against the edges of the dining room chairs to get some relief from the overwhelming desire. all you heard was the word “stop,” and you knew you didn’t want that. you shook your head, pressing your hips down to urge simon to continue. simon chuckled, clicking his tongue. “sorry, pup. looks like she ain’t ready for you yet.” johnny whined, but made no move to disobey. one of simon’s many talents was caring thoroughly for his lovers, and johnny trusted in that.

with simon’s attention fully back on you, you felt closer to the edge than ever. his eyes alone made you want to come, deep chocolate focused on nothing but your pleasure. you imagined he stared through the scope of a sniper rifle with the same intensity, trained on his target and eager for his reward. “wanted to come first, didn’t you, baby? wanted my finger just…like…this.” each word was punctuated with a crook of his finger, your toes curling at the intensity. every exhale was a moan or whine or plea to keep going, fully out of your mind with the pleasure you were receiving.

“go on, then. you’ve got a captive audience.” the reminder of johnny sitting there on his knees, watching, was all you needed to fall apart. your orgasm slammed into you, making your thighs tremble and your back arch. you gasped and whined through it, simon’s finger slowing until it finally stilled and eased out of you. your eyes opened just in time to catch him holding his finger down to johnny, wiggling it in front of his face. “well? gonna lick it up like a good dog?” he said sharply. even though he’d asked, his tone made it clear there was only one correct answer.

it’s not like johnny would have refused anyway, the scent of your juices too intoxicating to resist. he leaned forward, lapping at simon’s finger with his tongue. he sucked and licked, making sure to get every drop of you that he could. the sight made your walls flutter around nothing, lust building up again as quickly as it was sated. “so you do know how to use your mouth,” simon snapped, pulling his finger away from johnny’s lips. “must’ve been a fluke last time, then.” johnny nodded, shifting on the carpet to take some pressure off of his knees. “yes, sir,” he replied obediently, and the tone of his voice made your pussy clench around nothing.

simon got up from the bed, yanking johnny up from the floor by his mohawk and pushing him towards the bed. johnny yelped, but went easily, vibrating with excitement. he’d been patient, so now he got a reward. “can’t trust your mouth near ‘er,” simon said, and you felt a bit of disappointment at that. “but you can use yer cock just fine.” both you and johnny perked up, your heart beating faster in your chest. without hesitation, johnny got up on the bed, positioning himself between your legs. you willingly opened them for him, ready for the pleasure of being filled. the thickness of him had felt wonderful in your mouth last time, so you could only imagine how well he would stretch you out.

before he could indulge you, though, simon grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. johnny gasped, his fingers digging into your thighs as he fought to hold himself back. “gotta set some rules first, though,” simon said, releasing johnny’s neck and petting his mohawk. “you do exactly as i say. that goes for both of ya.” you and johnny nod, eager to get to what you’ve both been waiting for. “and for johnny,” simon began, tone darker. “if you cum before she does, i’ll make sure you never feel her sweet cunt again. understand?” johnny shivered, the threat clear. that wasn’t something he wanted to chance. “yes, sir,” he replied, and simon finally moved away.

with johnny’s metaphorical leash dropped, he was free to do whatever he wanted to you, and you were pliant enough to let him. his teeth scraped along your collarbones and the tops of your breasts, licking up the sweat from your skin. you shiver and moan, bringing up your hands to dig your fingers into his shoulders. you earn his teeth clamping around your nipple, the blend of pleasure and pain making you whine. satisfied, johnny raised his upper body, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it. it wasn’t like he needed to get hard enough to fuck you. no, he was showing off.

“gonna give ya all o’ this, lass,” he rasped, eyes fixed on your dripping wet folds. it was like you weren’t even there, johnny’s gaze locked between your legs. “she’s gonna swallow me up so nice. so warm and wet, can see how bad she wants me from ‘ere.” he wasn’t wrong. every word out of his mouth had your walls fluttering, begging for the pressure of his cock to fill them out.

johnny didn’t make love to you slow and gentle like simon did. simon treated you with care, like a porcelain doll that would shatter if he squeezed too hard. johnny fucked instead, thrusting all the way to the hilt in one go. you arched off the bed, nails digging into johnny’s back as you fought to stay grounded. the pleasure went straight to your head, making you almost dizzy with the force and the overwhelming stretch. in the moment it took you to catch your breath, simon’s weight made a dip in the mattress beside your head. the smell of his musk hit your nose, thick and potent, and you knew in an instant what was going on.

johnny groaned, the thought of what simon was about to do enough to add force and speed to his thrusts. simon ran a hand through your hair, tilting your head up to the angle he wanted it. his eyebrow quirked up, a wordless question to make sure this was what you wanted. you let your mouth fall open as a reply, sticking your tongue out for him. simon’s moan was all you needed to know you’d made the right decision.

it was almost too much, the feeling of simon’s and johnny’s hands on you at the same time. simon was petting your hair with one hand and holding your chin with the other, angling your head so he could fuck all the way down your throat. johnny was touching and squeezing, his hands exploring your thighs and ass with the hunger of a feral animal. the difference between them, simon’s gentleness and johnny’s roughness, made you clench down on johnny’s cock. the scot threw his head back, hips stuttering as he struggled to stave off his release.

“‘s too good, sir,” johnny babbled, thrusting his hips forward once more before stilling. “don’...don’ think I’m gonna last.” the assault on your throat was relentless, simon’s pace remaining steady as he reached over to grab johnny by the neck. “remember the rule, pup,” simon said, voice strained as your tongue caressed the underside of his cock. “gotta make her cum first. you know wha’ to do.” johnny’s thrusts slowly resumed after that, but that was secondary to the electric shock of his thumb on your clit.

there had been so much stimulation, so much feeling, that the circles he was making felt like pinpricks under your heated skin. you gasped, spluttering around Simon’s cock for only a moment before the pleasure evened out into something more bearable. you clenched around johnny’s cock each time he crested the top of your clit, which only made him thrust faster. “c’mon, bonnie. give it to me, i wan’ it so bad!” johnny was practically sobbing above you, his cock twitching inside you with how much effort it was taking to hold back his release.

simon groaned above you, salty pre spilling down the back of your throat. his hand braced on the headboard, he looked like adonis above you, glistening and blissed out with pleasure. “you heard ‘im, doll,” simon breathed out between whispered curses. “mutt’s earned a treat. best no’ keep ‘im waitin’.” johnny’s thumb pressed hard against your clit, and that gave you what you needed to fall over the edge again. your walls tightened around him, clenching down with the force of your orgasm. you could hear johnny above you, babbling about how good you felt, before the warmth of his cum filled you.

seeing his wife and his subordinate losing themselves was enough for simon, too. a few more thrusts and he spilled down your throat, salty cum painting the base of your tongue. you swallowed, giving him a bit more stimulation before they both pulled out of you, leaving you empty.

you didn’t have time to feel the coldness of it, not when johnny was draping himself over you and peppering your cheeks with kisses. “did so good, lassie,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your torso. “such a perfect cunt. thank ye, thank ye for lettin’ me use her.” johnny’s compliments made you fluster, the weight of his adoration almost too much to bear. you mumble back a response, something to placate him, but your tongue is too heavy and your mind too empty.

by the time simon comes back with water and towels, you and johnny are both asleep, his sweaty body plastered to yours. simon could only smile and join the heap, holding you both close. yes, he thought, again hadn’t been such a bad idea.

[sudsnribbons]

Porch-swing angel. | B.A

DBF!Beau Arlen x F!Reader

MDNI

Warnings: age gap (reader is legal to drink, beau is early 40s), use of petnames (sweetheart, darlin', ect.), loss of a parent, beau being a sweetheart, oral (f rec.), exhibition, dub-con if you squint (both are under the influence), drinking, ooc beau? cum eating? i think thats it! lmk!!

Wordcount: 2,432

A/N: Beau Arlen has consumed me. I've seen like 1 episode of big sky so don't come for me. This is a result of insomnia and access to my notes app. Very loosely inspired by 'Porch Swing Angel' by Muscadine Bloodline! Hope you enjoy!!

Part one | Final

First it was the fridge light. easy fix, right?

A few youtube videos later and that was back in business.

But then.

Almost like the universe had it out for you–

The shower.

That god awful noise as it would drip just loud enough to keep you up.

You put it off for a week, figuring it would subside.

You never were that lucky.

--

Your fathers best friend,

Beau Arlen.

Sheriff Arlen and your father go way back, they met in highschool. Your father went to college and got married shortly after. Beau? Well despite his unruly teen years, became a man of the law.

You had moved into your dad's place right after he passed. Along with the deed to his beautiful home, was a note from your father.

"If you need anything, Arlen is right next door. He'll take care of you sweetheart."

- Love, dad

Your heart ached as you read the note, secured by a magnet on your fridge.

You really had tried not to call him. It had been over 6 months since your father had passed. You had lost a father, yes. But Beau? He had lost his best friend. You didn't want to bother him if at all possible.

Yet here you are, house phone in hand, dialing that all too familiar number on the wheel.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three-

"Hello?" Beau's voice filled your ears.

Silence.

Is it too late to hang up?

"Hello? Anyone there?" he asks, southern drawl making your face heat up.

"Beau.. uhm Mr. Arlen-Sheriff Arlen-" you stumble over your words, regretting the call all together.

"You alright sweetheart?" he asks, voice sounding worried.

"Yeah—uhm my dad left your number?" you mutter nervously over the line.

"Right, what can I do for you sugar?" god that voice.

"My shower broke and I tried to fix it and I've watched what felt like 100 youtube videos and I-" his voice halted your babbling.

"I'll be there soon sweetheart. I get off at 5." he smiles through his words, happy to help.

"5 it is sheriff." you anxiously play with the phone cord, wrapping the coil of wire around your fingers.

"Beau. Call me Beau." he corrected.

"Right—Beau." you nodded in understanding and hung up. Placing the old phone back on the dock.

--

To pass the time, you decided to make the recipe you'd put off for so long. Brown butter chocolate chip cookies, couldn't be too hard right? You've made cookies countless times.

Easy peasy–

Is what you thought you'd say, but after burning the butter 3 times you almost gave up.

The 4th time must be the charm because they turned out perfect. Flaky salt sprinkled over the cookie tray, to compliment the sweet.

Almost comical how perfect your timing was, as soon as you plated the cookies there was a knock at the door.

Wiping your hands on the patchwork apron, you rush to open the door.

There he was. Even more handsome than he used to be if that was even possible.

You hadn't seen Beau since your parents split up, ending up with your mother in Tennessee.

You'd almost forgotten just how handsome he was.

Grey streaks peppered in his beard, the start of the sunset reflecting the light just right enough to see them.

"Sheriff–Beau, come in." you corrected yourself, moving to the side so the man could come in.

"Smells good in here, what d'you make?" he questioned, walking straight into the kitchen just as he'd done many times before.

Smiling down at the plate of cookies, and sink full of dishes from your little endeavor.

"You can have as many as you'd like, I just need my shower fixed." you gestured to the plate, pulling the apron over your head and hanging it on a hook by the oven.

"Payin' me in cookies?" he joked, picking one up and taking a bite.

"If you'd let me." you smiled as you watched his eyes light up at the taste. "New recipe, you like 'em?" you ask, leaning your back against the oven.

Nodding, he groans "Lord yeah–best cookies i've ever had." you smiled at the praise. "Does your wife ever make you any cookies?" you questioned.

You had to–I mean look at him. You were desperate to know, any woman would be a fool not to pounce on the opportunity.

"Not married sugar." he laughed, finishing the cookie.

Awkward.

Wiping his hands over his denim-clad thighs he huffed out, "So what's wrong with this shower you were talkin' about?" he questioned, starting up the steps and down the hall. You followed like a lost puppy, he knew this house a hell of a lot better than you did.

Following him into the bathroom, "'S leakin' all over my floor." turning the dial on the out-dated shower, you quickly turn it off and watch water leak from the side.

He watches and nods, "Jus' needs some caulk." he waves it off like it's a simple fix.

Your voice gets caught in your throat as you cough. "I'm sorry, what?" your face is beat red.

"Ca-ulk sweetheart. The seal. S'gone bad." he pronounced the word slowly, quickly retrieving your mind from the gutter.

"Oh right–right of course." you replied, brushing your hair behind your ear.

"M'off tomorrow, I'll swing by Lowe's and get some. Fix ya right up." he smiled, exiting the bathroom and heading downstairs.

Meeting the man in the kitchen, you bent down in the cabinet to get some tupperware. Pulling the blue bowl from the shelf, you pack some cookies away before sealing the lid.

Sliding the tupperware towards Beau, "Can't eat a dozen cookies by myself. You wanna take these home and help me out a little?" Smiling warmly at the man to persuade him, as if it took much.

"Thanks sweetheart. I’ll be over 'bout 2 tomorrow. Does that work for ya?" he asked, wrapping his fingers around the bowl, making it look smaller than it was in his hand.

"2 works for me!" you said as you walked him to the door.

--

Your alarm tried to wake you up, 4 times. Damn you and heavy sleep. What finally got you was knocking at the door. Shooting up from bed, you glance up at the clock at 2:15pm.

Fuck.

Springing out of bed like some cartoon character you stumble around your room trying to get changed out of your pajamas, "'M comin'! One second!" you yell, shuffling through your closet to find a hoodie to just throw over the tank-top you'd slept in.

You decided on a dark blue hoodie, embroidered with 'Big Sky High, Class of '01'. leaving on the shorts you had on, socked feet pattered down the steps and to the front door.

"Mornin' to you too." he smiled, taking in your disheveled appearance.

"Didn't mean to sleep that long." you rubbed your hand over your face, stepping to the side to let the man in.

"S'alright. haven't seen that thing in a while." he laughed, pointing to your hoodie.

Looking down, you replied. "Oh yeah–it was dad's. Did you have one?" you asked.

Walking up the steps, you followed behind him. Setting the Lowe's bag on the floor before he answered you. "That one is mine darlin'. Your dad graduated in 2000." he smiled looking down at you.

Blush crept up on your skin, "Oh I didn't know." he shook his head, "You're alright, looks better on you anyways." Beau muttered, pulling stuff out of the bag.

Filling the gun, to re-seal everything he started, "You plannin' on stayin' for good?" you nodded, leaning on the bathroom sink watching him work. "Yeah i think you're stuck with me Arlen." he shakes his head laughing, continuing to work with your company. "S'good. Gets lonely around here with your dad gone." his mood dropped–so did yours, at the mention of your father.

"Well y'got me now, and I bake killer cookies." you smile down at him crouched in the floor, trying to lighten the mood.

"Damn right." he smiled and stood up, "N'more leaky shower." wiping the excess off the gun onto his jeans. "My savior." you reply and he laughs. Both of you heading back downstairs.

"What do I owe you Beau?" you ask the man, starting to grab your wallet from the counter. Beau was quick to shake his head, "M’not takin' your money darlin'." he insisted, "How am I supposed to repay you?" you questioned. "Jus' keep savin' me some of those cookies, yeah?" he ran a hand over his beard. "Of course." you smiled at the man.

"Did you say you were off today?" you asked, leaning against the counter. "I am, why d'ya ask?" he questioned. "Well i was gonna make some dinner, I didn't know if you wanted to stay for a plate?" you offered and he was quick to accept. "I haven't had a home cooked meal in too long, I'd be a fool not to." he replied.

---

It was around 7:26pm when you finished up with dinner. You made a simple baked chicken with a few sides, and the help of Beau.

The two of you sat on your porch, sipping on a beer beside beau in the swing. "Are you even old enough to drink?" he asked teasingly as he popped the can tab. "Thought you said you were off today sheriff." you joked back.

It felt so easy—domestic almost, the way you two fit perfectly in the porch-swing. The breeze blowing your hair ever so slightly. Sun casting on your face, lighting up your eyes. The same ones you could have sworn just watched beau stare at you. Looking over at the man you couldn't help but smile.

"What's in that pretty little head of yours?" he asked, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Nothin." taking a sip of your beer–liquid courage, "Thank you for fixin' my shower Beau." he nodded, bringing the can from his hand to his lips. "S'no problem. Told your old man I'd take care of ya." you nodded, grateful to have someone to fall back on when you needed it.

Your arm brushed his as you leaned forward, setting the can on the table in-front of the swing. Cicadas filled the air with their voices, sun behind the mountains and trees. The porch light lit up the two of you. Warm amber-like light casted over Beau's face, all you could do was stare at him. Like he could disappear at any moment. Like you had to memorize every freckle and wrinkle on his face. "Got a starin' problem sweetheart." he chuckled lowly, taking another drink from the chilled can. Trying to ignore what you were doing to him.

This was wrong.

You're his late best friend's daughter.

Knowing your dad he'd rise from the grave and beat his ass for even thinking about you like that.

But God were you beautiful.

Seeing you in that hoodie was what really dealt him in.

His hoodie.

And now? You sat beside him, bare thigh brushing against his denim-clad one.

He felt the heat radiating off you, and it was driving him insane.

You sat, nursing a beer beside him. So unbothered and casual, yet so perfect at the same time.

He had to get out of here. do something.

Beau's resolve was crumbling more and more each time your eyelashes fluttered.

He leaned forward, setting down his empty can. A heavy hand fell on your thigh as he started to get up. "I better go home, it's gettin' late." he tried, to convince himself more than you.

Not wanting the night to end, you were quick to protest, "Wait–don't go yet." he stood in-front of you, waiting for you to say something.

You searched for a minute, trying to find something–anything to say. When you came up empty handed, you did the only other thing you could think of.

Leaning up on your tip-toes you pressed your lips to Beau's, eyes fluttering as you quickly pulled away.

Eyes wide in shock, you covered your mouth "Beau I’m so sorry I don't-" you started to apologize but he simply shook his head, leaning down to meet your lips with his again. "Tell me to stop and I will." he muttered, forehead against yours. Looking up into his eyes, "Don't–need you Beau." he smiled, hoisting you up in his arms.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, legs finding his waist. He walked you back until your back hit the siding of the house. Kissing down your neck, the friction from his beard sending chills down your back. "M'gonna take care of you sugar." Beau muttered against your neck. Sliding down the thin sleep shorts you had on from earlier, the fabric pooling around your knees. The cool breeze of summer air hit your core.

Pulling the shorts fully off, throwing them somewhere on the porch-swing beside you. Beau traced your slit, "No panties darlin'?" he asked, "Almost like y'wanted this." he teased you, and it was working. Sliding one finger inside. "I–fuck I did." you mutter with a gasp at the intrusion. Beau smirks, satisfied with his effect on you. "Soakin' wet for me angel." pushing another finger in, he starts to curl his fingers upward. As he kept brushing against that spongy-spot, you felt the band in your stomach wind tighter and tighter. "C'mon sweetheart let go for me." his words filled your ears and he kissed your lips, taking every moan that escaped your mouth into his. "Oh Beau!" you cried out as the elastic snapped, and white heat flushed over your body.

Brushing the hair out of your face, beau carried you over to the porch-swing. Setting you down, he found your shorts that were discarded earlier. Bringing his fingers to his mouth he groans at the taste, "Sweeter than those cookies y'made me." you cover your face, and beau guides your shorts back up your legs.

Sitting beside you, he traces your thigh. The loud ringtone on his phone broke the silence between you two. Looking down at the number he sighed, "I gotta answer this." you nodded. He was the sheriff.

You watched as his demeanor changed as he listened, "Okay–I'll be there in twenty." your heart dropped, you didn't want him to leave. Especially not after that.

The call ended and he looked at you with those green eyes, "I'm sorry darlin' they need me at the station." he leaned forward to kiss your lips, and you nodded in understanding.

"This isn't over angel." he shot you a smirk as he got in his truck, turning the ignition and pulling out of the gravel driveway the two of you shared.

[eldritchcougarwitch]

I used to fuck men in relationships.

As a way to keep them from invading my space. I had a baby to protect but I needed some stimulation and I didn't do drugs.

So I'd come across a dude and be like ???

And they always say sure. Very few men in a relationship will say no.

I always tried to be helpful to the relationship that clearly had issues.

Sometimes a man stepping out on you with woman who asks questions like

"I know you think she won't like anal and she prolly wont, but it would be healthy to be able to talk about it together, maybe you get a anal fleshlight" I was not doing anal it was just something he said was problem. He couldn't even think to bring it up to her. "But you have the gall to step out on her?" He never hit me up again.

Sometimes it more "if your really into something and she doesn't like it or doesn't know maybe you need to leave her? If she had 1/3 of her life you never knew about or didn't like you'd hate it."

Like yeah these relationships were mostly doomed. But sometimes when you got a man named he will let you ask him anything and he'll just tell you.

I understand why sleeping with soldiers works so well in war times.

Im not saying I fixed anything. I'm just saying I too tried to help dudes.

But it's such a unrewarded task.

And half the time the forget the message.

Have the chat during post nut clarity usually works better then anything while their still frisky.

I like men. They are a funny animal.

Apologies to the gf and wives. I promise I was clean and didn't give him drugs or feed him! Or spend your money.

I’m gonna talk about the “men don’t receive flowers until after their death” bullshit

I didn’t believe it as a kid back in my mega liberal phase until I got my first boyfriend a small bouquet as a gift (his team won debate championship and won a trip to the capital) and this mf LAUGHED in my face when I gave it to him

Another boyfriend I made him a homemade card for Valentine’s Day and he took the card and didn’t say thank you, only “you didn’t have to do that”

Another boyfriend would just donate shit I bought for him. Not even a thank you

So no I don’t give a flying fuck if a man doesn’t get flowers in his life and I don’t think he even deserves em in death

[batsovergotham]

Something I giggle about when I saw the gist of the emperor mark fic is just eve and reader being the exact quote "never let your husband stop you from finding your wife"

you and eve are good. you’re not overly close, but there’s a kindness there and there is an unspoken understanding. she’s been through her own mess with mark, and she’s got nothing to prove. she sees how you are with him, with the kids, how you don’t force anything, how you’re just… there. trustworthy. steady. she respects that. maybe even appreciates it more than she lets on. :)

but marky’s different. that kid clings to you without meaning to. like it just happens. like he’s been waiting for someone to feel like home again, and suddenly you’re it. he starts asking for you when he’s sick. sits next to you without thinking about it. follows you around the palace like your shadow. never says why. and then one day, it just slips out. “mom, can you-" you freeze. so does mark. even marky stops, realizing what he said. the room goes quiet for a second too long. but you don’t say anything. you don’t correct him. you just smile, and say, “yeah, of course.” and from that day on, that’s what he calls you. he doesn’t bring it up again. doesn’t ask if it’s okay. he just decides it is and you let it be <3

you know what it means. you know it’s not simple. because it’s not like anissa’s name never comes up. you know about her. you know she was his mom. and you know she’s gone. but it takes time before mark tells you the rest. he doesn’t say it easily. it comes out late one night, quiet and careful, like he’s afraid you’ll look at him differently when it’s all out there.

he doesn’t say the word at first. just calls it what happened. his voice goes flat in places. quiet in others. you feel his shame before you understand the full shape of it. and when the word does come, rape, it breaks something between you that was never built on pain, but needs to hold it. he says it with his head down. like he’s ashamed. like he expects you to flinch. but you don’t. you just sit with it. with him. and when he finally looks up, you take his hand, and you say the only thing that feels right. “thank you for telling me.” you don’t try to fix it. you don’t promise him anything. you just stay.

because when marky calls you “mom” again, and he does, it’s not because he’s trying to forget who she was. it’s because he chose you. because you showed up. because you held space for him without needing to be asked. you didn’t take her place. you just became someone he could trust.

SMALL EXTRA NOTE ABOUT EMPEROR MARK AND HOW HE IS PORTRAYED

yes, the anissa/mark effect of marky is in this fic. yes, i’m keeping it in. and no, i’m not sugarcoating it, skipping over it, or pretending it didn’t fucking happen just to make things easier for the reader. because like it or not? that shit is canon. and it changes him. mark grayson gets violated, full stop. raped. used. stripped of agency and dumped back into a world that never gave him the space to even say it out loud.

it’s not just a “thing that happened.” it shaped him. and the silence around it? that’s part of the saddest parts of his character. so yeah. it’s in here. not for shock value, not for drama, but because i write mark as he is. broken, bruised, trying to parent a child born from something he didn’t consent to, trying to forgive himself for not fighting back, trying to live when the world kept telling him to shut up and lead.

this might be a slice of life + smut fic (and trust, it’s filthy), but i’m not gonna turn mark into some out of character deadbeat just to keep the mood light and horny. like no babe, this man fought to keep marky. he wanted his son. he was grieving, guilty, fucked up over everything with anissa, and still made the choice to raise that boy.

let’s not forget, it wasn’t mark who tried to leave marky behind. it was anissa’s husband who refused to bring him to space. in this fic, scott doesn't fight against it, and mark chose to take marky. chose to be a dad. and yeah, it’s complicated and ugly and the guilt’s still sitting heavy in his chest, but pretending he’s just ignoring his kid for plot convenience? nah. that’s not how we do things over here.

he’s not perfect. he’s deeply traumatized. but he shows up. he doesn’t always know how, he doesn’t always get it right, but the love is real. the weight of it is real. and you see it in how he raises marky, how he lets him in, how he lets you in, not just into his bed, but into his life, into his family.

this fic’s about softness, mess, healing, and yes, getting absolutely FUCKED on a throne, but it’s also about truth. and the truth is, mark grayson didn’t walk away from his kid. he couldn’t.

[paxaz535]

The Space Between Us (2, final)

paige bueckers x black!oc

synopsis:

Best friends since childhood, Kamiya and Paige always thought their bond was unbreakable. But when they reunite at the family cabin after years apart, the line between friendship and something more begins to blur. As the tension between them builds, they must face what they’ve always known deep down: they’ve been more than close all along.

(SMUT!)

—————

The next afternoon, the smell of charcoal and sizzling meat filled the air as Jonathan and Bob manned the grill, laughing loudly as they argued over who seasoned the ribs better. A speaker played old-school R&B while the yard slowly filled with more people—old family friends, neighbors, even a few college kids Bob had invited last-minute.

Paige sat on the porch steps with a drink in her hand, legs stretched out, tank top clinging to her from the heat. She was trying to stay chill—but her eyes kept drifting across the yard.

To Kamiya.

Kamiya stood near the folding table, laughing at something Adam said. A boy—tall, light-skinned, full of fake confidence—leaned a little too close to her side, clearly trying to shoot his shot.

“Damn,” Paige muttered under her breath, sipping her drink tighter than she needed to.

“Hey.” A voice broke her thoughts.

She looked up to see a girl—tall, toned, probably a junior at someone’s college—smiling at her.

“You’re Paige, right?” the girl asked, sliding down next to her without waiting for permission.

“Yeah,” Paige said, side-eyeing her cautiously.

“I’ve heard about you. Bob’s always bragging on his daughter,” the girl said with a laugh, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “I play soccer at UConn.”

Of course she does.

“That’s cool,” Paige said, offering a polite smile, but her eyes wandered again—right back to Kamiya.

The boy was still talking, clearly trying to be charming. Kamiya was smiling, nodding politely, but Paige knew that smile. It wasn’t real. It was the one she used when she was uncomfortable but didn’t want to be rude.

Back on the porch, the girl next to Paige inched a little closer. “So… are you seeing anyone?”

Paige didn’t even answer. She stood up suddenly, brushing off her shorts. “I’ll be back.”

⸻

Meanwhile, Kamiya tried to hide her grimace as the boy laughed too loudly at his own joke. He kept touching her arm like they’d known each other forever, and she was so close to making up a fake boyfriend just to escape.

She glanced toward the porch—and there was Paige, staring right at her.

Their eyes met across the lawn. It was only a second, but it hit like a jolt.

Kamiya’s stomach flipped.

Paige started walking toward her, jaw a little tight, eyes fixed on the guy standing too close to Kamiya’s side.

“Hey,” Paige said, sliding in between them with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Mind if I steal her for a sec?”

The boy blinked. “Oh—uh…”

“She’ll be back,” Paige added sweetly, not giving him a chance to argue.

Kamiya blinked, surprised but not mad about it.

Paige tugged her away from the table, down toward the lake trail just far enough to be out of earshot.

“What was that?” Kamiya asked, raising a brow.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Paige shot back, her tone light but loaded. “He was all up on you.”

“I didn’t even want to talk to him,” Kamiya muttered.

“Well, good,” Paige said, brushing a hand through her hair, looking more flustered than she meant to. “Because that girl on the porch? She was practically in my lap.”

Kamiya smirked. “You jealous?”

Paige met her gaze, this time not backing down. “Maybe.”

Kamiya’s heart stuttered.

“I didn’t like seeing you with him,” Paige admitted. “And I don’t want to pretend like I’m okay with anyone else trying to get at you.”

The air grew still again.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Just the breeze brushing past them, warm and charged.

Finally, Kamiya said quietly, “Then don’t pretend.”

Paige’s eyes flicked down to Kamiya’s lips for half a second.

And then—slow burn still crackling—they just stood there, close but not touching, the tension between them thick as smoke rising from the barbecue behind them.

Paige didn’t move. And neither did Kamiya.

They just stood there, eyes locked, the distance between them feeling thinner than air. Paige’s fingers twitched at her side like she wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if she should.

Kamiya’s voice came soft. “You didn’t have to save me, you know.”

Paige let out a breath of a laugh. “I kind of did. He was all in your personal space.”

“He was annoying,” Kamiya admitted, smiling a little. “But I could’ve handled it.”

“I know,” Paige said, eyes still on hers. “You always can.”

Another silence passed—one of those weighty, unsaid silences where everything meaningful is buried just beneath the surface. Then Paige finally pulled back a bit, her body visibly cooling off.

“We should probably go back before your dad thinks we ran off to elope or something.”

Kamiya chuckled, a little breathless. “Right. God forbid.”

They turned slowly, walking side by side back toward the barbecue, the sound of music and laughter growing louder with each step.

But everything felt different now.

Their hands brushed once—just once—and neither of them pulled away.

That night, the cabin had finally quieted down. Most of the guests were gone, the grill covered, the leftover food packed away. Bob and Jonathan were finishing off beers on the back deck, and Drew was knocked out on the couch, mouth open and snoring.

Upstairs, Kamiya couldn’t sleep.

The moonlight spilled through the window of her room, painting silver streaks across the wooden floor. She sat by the sill, knees drawn up to her chest, hoodie zipped up over her tank top.

A soft knock tapped at the door.

She turned. “Yeah?”

The door cracked open. Paige’s face peeked through.

“You up?”

“Clearly.”

Paige smiled and stepped in, closing the door behind her. She was wearing a black tee, her basketball shorts showing legs brushing against the cool floor. Her hair was in two dutch braids, Moe did them earlier.

Kamiya looked at her for a second too long.

Paige walked over, motioning to the spot next to her at the window. “Can I?”

Kamiya nodded. “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet hum of summer bugs filling the space. Outside, the lake shimmered under the moonlight—still and endless.

“I used to think nothing ever changes up here,” Paige said softly. “Same lake. Same trees. Same old grill Jonathan refuses to replace.”

Kamiya smiled faintly. “You sound like you’re eighty.”

“Maybe I feel like it,” Paige said. Then, quieter, “This summer feels different though.”

Kamiya glanced at her. “Yeah. It does.”

Paige’s fingers tugged at the hem of her shirt. “I keep thinking about what you said earlier. About how it didn’t feel wrong… when I looked at you like that.”

Kamiya’s heart jumped in her chest.

“It didn’t,” she said. “It still doesn’t.”

They looked at each other in the dark, soft light brushing over their faces. Paige’s knee gently bumped Kamiya’s.

“You scare me a little,” Paige said quietly. “In a good way.”

Kamiya blinked. “Why?”

“Because you’re the one person I’ve never been able to just… brush off. And I think you could break my heart without even meaning to.”

Kamiya’s breath caught.

“I wouldn’t want to,” she said.

Paige nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then don’t.”

They didn’t kiss.

But Paige leaned her head onto Kamiya’s shoulder, and Kamiya let her stay there, her cheek resting lightly against her braids. And for a long time, they just sat in that silence—hearts racing, minds tangled, but safe in the space they made for each other.

Something was happening between them.

And it didn’t need to be said. Not yet.

-

No one knew why—but Kamiya woke up feeling… different.

Not anxious. Not tired. Just—on edge. Her body was warm, her breath a little heavier than usual. She blinked in the low morning light, sheets tangled around her legs, her hoodie slightly askew.

And then she remembered.

Paige had slept in here last night.

Her heart skipped.

That shouldn’t have meant anything—they’d slept in the same bed a million times growing up. But this? This felt different. Kamiya could feel it in the way her skin tingled, in how her stomach fluttered like she was waiting for something to happen.

She looked down.

Paige’s arm was thrown casually around her middle, fingers resting against the curve of her waist. But that wasn’t what had her mind spiraling.

It was Paige’s knee—tucked just a little too close between her thighs. Not quite touching, but close enough that it made her chest tighten.

Get it together, she told herself, squeezing her eyes shut.

She didn’t remember dreaming anything wild. And yet—here she was. Breath shallow. Body tense. Entirely too aware of how close Paige was, how warm her skin felt against her own.

And then Paige shifted in her sleep.

Her knee moved.

Pressed.

Kamiya inhaled sharply, her whole body reacting before her brain could catch up. It wasn’t on purpose—she knew that. Paige was just a cuddler, always had been. But Kamiya’s thoughts were spinning now, and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

She had to move. Now. Before her mind went anywhere it shouldn’t.

Carefully, she slipped out from under Paige’s arm, sitting at the edge of the bed with her hands pressed into her lap, staring at the wall.

Her heart was pounding.

This wasn’t just about friendship anymore.

And maybe… it hadn’t been for a while.

-

The rest of the day moved on, but Kamiya barely felt present for most of it.

She helped Moe chop vegetables in the kitchen, nodded along to Drew’s jokes, even played a round of cards with Jonathan and Bob. But in the back of her mind—Paige.

Or more specifically: Paige’s body, Paige’s warmth, Paige’s breath at the back of her neck that morning. That knee.

She hadn’t meant to think about it as much as she had. But every little thing Paige did today—stretching her arms above her head, bending over to grab a drink from the cooler, even laughing too hard at something Moe said—it all felt charged now.

Kamiya caught herself staring more than once.

And every time, her stomach flipped like she was falling from a rooftop.

Paige wasn’t making it any easier either. She was being… normal. Like nothing happened. Like her leg hadn’t practically awakened something deep and dangerous in Kamiya’s body that morning.

But Kamiya wasn’t fine.

She was restless. Distracted. Sitting outside on the deck now with a cold drink in her hand and her thighs squeezed tight, pretending like she wasn’t replaying that moment in bed over and over again.

She let out a low sigh.

“You good?”

Paige’s voice pulled her out of the spiral.

Kamiya turned to find her standing there, plate of fruit in one hand, hair braided back now. She looked… annoyingly good. Like she didn’t know what she was doing to Kamiya’s self-control.

“Yeah,” Kamiya said, too quickly. “Just tired.”

Paige gave her a look. “Liar.”

She sat down beside her, crossing her legs, brushing a knee against Kamiya’s like it meant nothing.

Kamiya flinched slightly.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re good?”

“Mmhm.” Kamiya took a sip of her drink, praying it would cool her off. “Totally fine.”

But she wasn’t.

Because Paige was too close. Her thigh warm. Her perfume soft and sweet in the summer air. Kamiya could feel her heartbeat in her throat.

And the worst part?

She wanted more.

Wanted Paige to touch her again, even if by accident. Wanted to feel that heat again. Wanted to ask for it this time.

But she bit her tongue.

Because if she made the first move… there was no going back.

And part of her still wasn’t sure what Paige would do if she really knew how far Kamiya’s thoughts had gone.

-

Night fell slow and sticky over the lake, the warm air buzzing with leftover laughter and the scent of grilled food.

Most of the group had drifted into the living room for a movie. Moe had taken over the couch, Drew was half-asleep on the floor, and Bob and Jonathan were deep in a debate about whether LeBron or Jordan really was the GOAT.

But Kamiya needed air.

She slipped out the back door and onto the porch, letting the screen shut softly behind her. The sky was a deep navy now, stars scattered across it like glitter someone had thrown in frustration. The lake shimmered like it had a secret.

She leaned against the railing, finally letting herself breathe.

“Knew I’d find you out here,” Paige’s voice came from behind her.

Kamiya turned. Paige stood in the doorway with a hoodie pulled over her head, her arms crossed, cheeks a little flushed from the wine Moe had poured too generously earlier.

“You always disappear when you’re overthinking,” she said, stepping closer.

Kamiya rolled her eyes with a faint smile. “I’m not overthinking.”

“Mmhm. Liar again.”

Paige stopped beside her, looking out at the water too. For a few long seconds, neither of them said a word.

Then Paige whispered, “Are we okay?”

Kamiya blinked. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Paige shrugged. “You’ve been… different. Since this morning.”

And there it was.

Kamiya’s throat dried. Her fingers gripped the wooden rail a little tighter.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “You just… make things hard.”

Paige’s head turned. “Hard how?”

Kamiya hesitated. Every version of the truth sat heavy on her tongue. And yet—

Before she could answer, Paige stepped in closer. The space between them thinned until their shoulders touched. Kamiya didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“You’ve been looking at me different,” Paige said, her voice low. “And I don’t think it’s just me imagining it.”

Kamiya’s breath hitched.

“You’re not imagining it,” she admitted softly. “But I don’t know what to do with it yet.”

Paige nodded slowly, eyes flicking down to Kamiya’s lips for half a second—just enough to send sparks racing through her.

“You don’t have to do anything,” she murmured. “Not until you’re ready.”

Then she leaned in, pressed her forehead gently to Kamiya’s, and stayed there. Just breathing.

It wasn’t a kiss.

But it felt like a promise.

And when Paige finally stepped back, her fingers brushed Kamiya’s—delicate, lingering, like a silent I want you too—before she turned and slipped back inside.

Leaving Kamiya breathless on the porch, wondering how much longer she could hold out.

-

The cabin was quiet.

Everyone had gone to bed hours ago, and Kamiya lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to slow her breathing. But her chest was tight. Her skin buzzed. Her thoughts wouldn’t settle.

Paige was lying next to her again—this time by choice. No accident, no drunken pass-out. Just… mutual, unspoken decision.

And now Kamiya was hyper-aware of every shift Paige made. Every breath. The brush of her thigh against hers under the covers. The warmth of her body so close.

She turned slowly to face her.

Paige was already looking at her.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. It was all there in the silence—the wanting, the curiosity, the hesitation.

Then Paige whispered, “Can I touch you?”

Kamiya’s breath caught. She nodded.

Paige reached out, her fingers gently tracing the curve of Kamiya’s jaw. Her thumb brushed her lip, soft and slow. Kamiya leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut.

And then Paige kissed her.

The moment Paige’s lips met hers, Kamiya forgot how to think.

Everything else—her doubts, the tension, the time they’d lost—faded under the weight of Paige’s kiss. She moaned softly into it, fingers tangling in the fabric of Paige’s shirt like she was afraid she’d disappear.

They broke apart only for air, then Kamiya pulled Paige back in, this time deeper—hungrier.

Hands roamed. Clothes slipped away, one layer at a time, until the covers were pushed down and skin met skin. Paige’s body was warm, soft in all the right places, and when she slid on top of Kamiya, straddling her hips, Kamiya’s breath hitched so hard it left her dizzy.

“Are you sure?” Paige whispered, forehead resting against hers.

Kamiya nodded, voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

Paige leaned down, kissing her again—slow, deep—while her hand slipped between them. Kamiya gasped as Paige cupped her, palm pressing gently over her soaked panties.

“You’re so wet already,” Paige murmured against her mouth.

Kamiya’s cheeks flushed hot, but she didn’t look away. “You did that.”

Paige smiled, then slid her hand beneath the waistband, fingers slipping through heat and slickness. Kamiya’s back arched as Paige touched her—teasing at first, then easing two fingers inside.

Her body trembled.

She clutched the sheets with one hand, the other gripping Paige’s hip as her best friend—no, the girl she wanted, the girl she had always wanted—moved inside her, slow and steady.

“You feel so good,” Paige whispered, kissing the hollow of Kamiya’s throat. “So tight.”

Kamiya whimpered, her hips grinding against Paige’s palm, chasing every wave of pleasure. It built fast. Too fast. She buried her face in Paige’s shoulder, trying to muffle the noises spilling from her lips.

Paige didn’t stop. She moved with her—pressing kisses to Kamiya’s chest, sucking one nipple into her mouth, making her cry out in surprise and want. Her thumb circled Kamiya’s clit now, soft but firm, exactly how she needed it.

“Paige,” she gasped. “I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” Paige breathed. “I want to feel you.”

And Kamiya did—legs trembling, toes curling, a moan ripping through her as her whole body seized and gave in. The climax hit hard, overwhelming and perfect, and Paige held her through it, kissing her like she never wanted to stop.

When Kamiya finally opened her eyes, her limbs limp and heart racing, Paige was watching her—eyes soft, lips swollen.

“You okay?” Paige whispered.

Kamiya gave a breathless, dazed laugh. “Yeah. Just… processing the fact that I want to do that again.”

Paige grinned. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Kamiya wasn’t sure what came over her—but something inside her snapped the moment Paige said, “I’m not done with you yet.”

She’d always let Paige take the lead. She’d always let herself melt under those hands, that voice, that gaze.

But now?

Now she wanted to feel Paige come undone.

Kamiya leaned up, flipping their bodies in one smooth, slow motion until Paige was flat on her back, eyes wide with surprise—and just a hint of excitement.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to take control,” Kamiya whispered, lips brushing Paige’s jaw.

“Oh?” Paige’s voice was breathy, curious, challenged.

Kamiya kissed down her neck, slow and deep, until Paige shivered beneath her. Then, Kamiya pressed her hips forward—grinding down gently against Paige’s thigh. She was still slick from before, panties damp and clinging to her in the most desperate way.

She gasped at the pressure.

So did Paige.

Kamiya did it again—slow, firm—letting the friction roll through her center like heat building in waves.

“You feel that?” Kamiya murmured into Paige’s ear. “That’s what you do to me.”

Paige’s fingers dug into her hips. “Fuck…”

Their bodies moved in rhythm, clothed only in underwear now—Kamiya’s lace barely holding on, Paige’s boxer briefs low on her hips, their heat rubbing together in a dance they both needed.

Kamiya arched her back, rolling her hips harder now, dragging herself across Paige’s thigh, her core pulsing with every stroke. Her hands roamed over Paige’s stomach, her chest, her throat.

“You like this?” Kamiya whispered.

Paige groaned. “Yeah. Don’t stop.”

And she didn’t.

She ground down again and again, breath getting faster, thighs shaking slightly as she chased her second high right there—on top of her best friend, her crush, the girl who made her feel everything all at once.

Paige pulled her down into a kiss—messy, deep, open-mouthed—moaning into it as Kamiya’s movements got faster, sloppier.

They were both so close.

Kamiya could feel Paige trembling under her, rocking up to meet her every thrust, both of them panting like they were drowning in it.

Then—Kamiya let out a sharp gasp, body shuddering, hips stuttering.

She came again, grinding into Paige with one last desperate roll of her hips, clinging to her like she never wanted to let go.

And when she looked down, Paige was staring at her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Paige said, completely breathless.

Kamiya smirked, brushing sweaty curls from her forehead.

“Yeah?” she whispered. “Wait ‘til I really get started.”

Paige was panting beneath her, her chest rising and falling fast, lips parted, skin flushed. Kamiya had never seen her like this—so undone, so quiet, so hungry.

And all because of her.

Kamiya leaned down, lips brushing Paige’s ear. “I want to hear you beg.”

Paige groaned softly, already arching toward her. “Please.”

That was all it took.

Kamiya slid down Paige’s body, kissing along her neck, down her chest, taking her time. She kissed the curve of her breasts, sucked one nipple into her mouth, teased the other with her hand until Paige whimpered under her.

When Kamiya looked up, Paige’s eyes were heavy, full of need, like she was seconds from falling apart again.

“You trust me?” Kamiya whispered.

“Yes,” Paige breathed.

“Good.”

She kissed lower, down Paige’s stomach, over her hips, until she reached the waistband of her briefs. Slowly, she pulled them down—watching Paige the entire time. Watching her squirm. Watching her fall apart before anything even happened.

Paige was soaked.

Kamiya smirked, dragging two fingers through the slick heat, slow and deliberate. Paige gasped, hips jerking slightly.

“You’re so wet,” Kamiya said softly, eyes locked on hers. “And it’s all for me.”

She leaned in, pressing a kiss just above Paige’s clit—gentle, teasing. Then she flattened her tongue and licked a slow stripe all the way up.

Paige choked on a moan.

Kamiya didn’t stop. She sucked her clit into her mouth, slow and focused, one hand keeping Paige’s thighs spread while the other slipped two fingers inside—deep, steady.

Paige cried out.

Her hips bucked, hands flying to Kamiya’s hair, clutching at her, grounding herself. Kamiya set a rhythm—mouth and fingers working together, relentless but patient. She didn’t let up, even when Paige started shaking, begging under her breath.

“Fuck, Kamiya—right there—don’t stop—”

She didn’t.

She took Paige higher and higher until her body arched off the bed, thighs trembling, one last broken moan spilling out before she fell apart completely—coming hard, loud, head thrown back, chest heaving.

Kamiya stayed with her, kissing her through it, letting her ride the wave, fingers slowing only when Paige whimpered from the sensitivity.

When she finally crawled back up, Paige grabbed her face and kissed her—deep, messy, grateful.

“You,” Paige said, breath still shaky, “are dangerous.”

Kamiya smiled. “I know.”

They lay there in the quiet, wrapped in each other.

No questions. No labels. Just them.

And maybe—for now—that was enough.

Their bodies were tangled under the sheets, skin still warm, lips swollen, the taste of each other still lingering. The room was quiet now—just the sound of their breathing, slow and steady.

Kamiya lay with her head on Paige’s chest, fingers tracing soft lines over her stomach. Paige’s arm was around her, thumb rubbing slow, lazy circles on her shoulder.

“Do you think we waited too long?” Paige asked, her voice low, almost nervous.

Kamiya tilted her head, pressing a kiss just below Paige’s collarbone. “Maybe. But if it had happened any earlier, I wouldn’t have been ready.”

Paige nodded slowly. “I think I’ve always wanted you.”

Kamiya smiled. “Yeah?”

“Since we were kids. I just didn’t have the words for it back then.”

There was a long pause. Kamiya listened to Paige’s heartbeat, her own starting to slow. For once, everything felt still. Safe.

“You scared me,” Paige added. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Kamiya looked up, hand moving to cup Paige’s cheek. “You never lost me. Not even when we stopped talking every day. You were still my person.”

Paige’s eyes softened. “You still are mine.”

And for the first time in a long time, Kamiya let herself believe that was true.

⸻

The sunlight was peeking through the blinds when Kamiya stirred awake. Paige was still asleep beside her, her arm draped over Kamiya’s waist like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

Kamiya sat up slowly, careful not to wake her. Her body was sore in the best way, lips still tingling from all the kisses, but her mind was racing.

What now?

She slipped on a hoodie and padded quietly out of the room. Downstairs, Moe was already up, making coffee, and Drew was half-asleep at the kitchen table, scrolling on his phone.

“Morning,” Moe said, raising an eyebrow. “Sleep good?”

Kamiya didn’t answer right away. Just nodded and grabbed a bottle of water.

Her mind was on Paige—how close they’d been just hours ago, how much they’d crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. And now what? Were they… together? Was it just a moment?

She jumped a little when Paige walked in minutes later, hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, biting her lip as their eyes met.

They didn’t say anything.

That silence? It was thick. Loaded.

Drew looked between them and narrowed his eyes. “…Y’all good?”

“Yep,” Kamiya answered too quickly.

Paige nodded too. “Totally.”

But when Kamiya turned away, she felt Paige’s eyes on her back—like she was trying to figure out what to say, but didn’t know how to start.

And that’s when Kamiya realized: last night was perfect, but this morning? This morning was going to decide everything.

Later that day

The cabin was louder than usual—music playing low from someone’s speaker, the grill sizzling outside, voices echoing from the backyard. But Kamiya was upstairs, in the room they shared, sitting on the edge of the bed, twisting a hair tie between her fingers.

The door creaked open softly behind her.

Paige.

She stepped in, shutting the door gently. “Can we talk?”

Kamiya looked up. Her chest was tight, but she nodded.

Paige came to sit beside her, quiet at first. The silence stretched, but this time, it wasn’t tense—it was waiting.

“I didn’t want this to be awkward,” Paige finally said, voice soft. “But I feel like it is.”

Kamiya gave a dry laugh. “Yeah. Kinda hard not to be awkward after what we did.”

Paige turned toward her. “Do you regret it?”

That question hit harder than it should’ve.

Kamiya met her eyes. “No. God, no. I’ve been wanting you for longer than I even knew.”

Paige’s shoulders relaxed just slightly. “Same.”

A pause.

“But I don’t want it to just be something that happened,” Kamiya continued. “I want it to mean something. I want to know if this—us—if it’s real.”

“It is.” Paige’s voice was firm now. “It’s always been real. I’ve liked you forever. Even when we stopped talking as much… it never went away.”

Kamiya swallowed. “So what are we?”

Paige reached over, taking Kamiya’s hand in hers. “We’re whatever you’re ready for. But I want you. Not just at night. Not just in secret. All the way.”

Kamiya’s heart skipped. That was all she needed to hear.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Then I’m yours.”

Paige leaned in, kissing her softly—nothing rushed or hungry this time. Just something real. Warm. Safe.

And when they pulled apart, there was no more awkwardness between them.

Just a beginning.

[severalowls]

The greatest cure to imposter syndrome is having to interact with a coworker who is even worse at everything but definitely gets paid more.

The only problem is then you replace imposter syndrome with becoming some kind of joker.

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[overly-verbose]

Seriously, bro's a professional yapper lmfao

Tbf it's not completely unprovoked and he does just want to at least try explaining some things, if in a roundabout way, to make people more at ease (if not in the moment then overall) but, well-

sometimes it has the opposite effect lmao 😂

Also like, it's absolutely hilarious how I thought

'oh but this is just, like three scenes - how long could this be'

but all the freaking talking and stuff that everyone's doing is making Part 8 the second longest in the series 😂😂😂💀😂

(I fear for my poor brain, man - we've only just barely almost covered the Detention Center Arc

(and a little bit of the VS Mahito Arc Mahito Gets Curse PTSD Arc but I do wanna fill in some of the gaps between those)

and it's already gonna be over 40k words???

Why am I being so ambitious for my first ever proper writing project frrr *perishes a bit*

but I do hope to get it to the end - and beyond because there's no way I wouldn't constantly add to the post-main-plot shenanigans lol - however long that takes heh (just try to be patient with me pls I try my best here 😂) 👍)

[deus-ex-mona]

farewell, my idiot son…

[thetangibleghost]

"give me a beer, a lullaby, and a word in my ear" -guy at a speed dating event in my dream

[lycheefruiit]

I recently fount out there are people who HEAVILY dislike Stardew Valley and I’m in shock…

like I understand maybe it not being your thing and you’re not into the style, but HEAVILY disliking a farming sim is insane. Where are the heavy feelings coming from? The mine? Being rejected at the flower dance? SEEING SHANE? WHERE ARE THEY COMING FROM???? 0-0

[tojisteddy]

Acknowledge Me

or: Simon finally gives you attention after you piss him off.

“The power it takes, to make me cry that way. Baby, I hate me when you get under my skin.”

cw: 3.6k words (lord), 18+ MDNI, Toxic!Simon/Meanie!Simon, smut with plot, daddy kink (daddy, pa), dubcon, p in v, dacryphilia, degradation (like hell), water park amusement, pvssy slapping, creampie, marathon!, intoxicated sex, pet names (lovie, doll, pup), overstim, orgasm denial, straight debauchery, after care, y/n visuals.

a/n: acknowledge me by doja cat was the big inspo.

Were you a fucking stupid brat?

Or were you simply itching for attention that you deserved?

If you told your friends, they wouldn’t call you a fucking brat. Stupid? Yeah.

For being with a man who didn’t hesitate to curse you out when you annoyed him. Simon Riley didn’t even flinch when you started hearing those hiccups over the phone, he could already picture your trembling bottom lip, huffed out cheeks and tears forming at your water line. If anything it pissed him off further.

“Don’t fuckin try it with those tears [+]. I fuckin told you, you tell me where the fuck you’re goin. Why the fuck did I have see you move to five different bars in three fuckin hours and you didn’t say a word to me about it till now!?” Simon yelled through the phone.

“You and your dumb ass friends are too fuckin reckless—“

“—Don’t call them that-“ you chided.

“-Oh, I promise you lovie, I don’t give a shit.” his voice with venom.

For fucks sake, it was supposed to be a fun night out and if you were one of your friends, it would’ve been. You and your friends loved bar hopping, enjoying the vibe wherever you went and free alcohol that men and women would order for you. You don’t remember how many bars ago, but your phone died somewhere in the middle and you did spend about five minutes at the last 6 bars trying to find an outlet before your friends dragged you away to the dance floor. That had to count for something, right? You did try to get some form of life on your phone for thirty minutes!

You’d finally gotten to an outlet, right next to the fucking bathroom. ‘15 missed called 4 new messages.’ A string of curses leaving your mouth once you dialed that memorized phone number. And there Simon was, talking to you out the ass while the music was booming in the distance, you had your phone in one hand and a finger in the other trying to hear him properly, the smell of only-god-knows from god-knows-what filling your poor nose all so you could attempt to fix your accidental boo-boo :( — but that bastard had to have you crying in the club.

Like you were thirsty for his attention. you were.

No, none of this was your fault. You didn’t need to update the 6’4, blonde, hunk of a damn brat, when he hadn’t even bothered to contact you in a month.

Yup, the ghost was actually known for ghosting you.

Purposely declining your calls, leaving your texts on read or worse: replying with a ‘k’ when you tried to meet up when you knew (least for the most part) he kept to himself. When he was stationed near by, he was at his own fucking house minding his own business. He was the worst. And the cherry on top?

The fucker had your location on.

You swore he did this to get a rise out of you, to see you teetering off the brink of sanity— and you had to attempt to reel yourself back in every. fucking. time. You weren’t his little plaything, you didn’t need him.

“Don’t fuck with me.” you mumbled, salty tears hitting your mouth. Those would be the last for the night, you swore it. It was like the liquor finally left your heart and went to your brain. Liquid courage.

“What’dyou just say t’me?”

Louder, “I said, don’t fuck with me! I’m sick of your shit Simon!” You snapped. You weren’t an angry person, you’d just hit an annoying wall you needed to get though. The annoying wall called Ghost Riley.

“You always- always come out of the fucking blue ‘nd think you tell me what to do! I’m not a fucking idiot, I know what the fuck I’m doin! Don’t be bitchy at me cause I like to have a little fuckin fun with my friends even when you’ve been ignoring me. Fuckin ignoring me instead of telling me what’s up! The fuck do I gotta do to get you off my dick?!”

“You like the messy shit, Si! You like seein me pissed at you just so you’re the one who has to come and fix it! I can’t stand it. You should go find a bitch who likes that shit because I don’t! I hate how I feel right now and I hate that you can’t be one of those kind boyfriends who’ll come and fuckin hold me nice and shit! Hell, maybe I’ll go find someone to hold me realll nice like since you fuckin won’t!” You spat, nose flaring, you were trembling with rage.

“Pup,” one word. Cut throat. Yanking you right back down to reality. “You take your pretty ass home, ‘nd I’ll go easy on you, yeah?”

You felt your chest rising and falling rapidly, you were frustrated that he clearly didn’t listen to your little rant but you felt your panties get damp. Just a bit. Just like always when you saw a punishment coming. You couldn’t help yourself.

“I-“

“—She’s busy right now please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeeeep.” Your friend, Sharon, has snactched your phone out of you hand, quickly interjecting your conversation with the man and hanging up. She hiccuped, nodding her head in satisfaction.

“You can’t spend the whoooole night by this stinky ass bathroom. Let’s go daaaaance, or-or drink.” She giggled, taking your hands. “Or both!” She squealed at her own words.

Fuck it.

You went out with your friends so you could have a good time, and that’s exactly what you were going to do.

Simon had such a nice way of breaking you down to your knees, so you were the one sobbing and begging then bringing you back up. He didn’t do it often, he wasn’t that fucking mean, but he did it when you really pissed him off. Simon needed you to understand— you weren’t in charge. He was. The man doesn’t remember exactly what you did to piss him anymore, it had been a long and grueling month for him anyway. But he had to follow through with something because he’d be damned if he had to actually apologize, you being with your idiot friends didn’t help your case. So he threw it in the melting pot of why he had a right to bully you.

The motherfucker couldn’t help himself.

When he entered your empty and annoyingly small studio apartment, he added another mark to his ‘reasons to fuck babygirl up’ list. He told you to take your sweet ass home, didn’t he? And where were you?

He’d make sure the neighbors knew exactly who the fuck he was.

It should’ve been easy for you to check in, no? He worried about your safety above all else, but it always seemed to fly out the window when you were with your friends who were notorious and extreme party girls while you just went with the flow. He didn’t not like them sober, it’s when you went clubbing you, for some reason, would get hard headed, defiant. It pissed him off, which would always lead to an argument. Usually he’d come snatch you up while you were tipsy, you’d have a cry in the car, mumbling something about how you just knew the man didn’t like you or take you serious.

And partially, Ghost didn’t. He brushed your insecurities away at first, thinking nothing of it as you went about your life. But you kept being on edge drunk or sober. So he would be right there, finger fucking you otherwise while the car was still in motion. And maybe you were right, maybe he wasn’t the sweet and soft boyfriend you wanted who’d hold your cute little hand when you made him angry. He wasn’t the type to coddle you, chicken peck your face with kisses when you felt down. Simon Riley was the gruff and overbearing man you needed to set you straight, keep you grounded when the world went to shit.

That’s what your cute little tantrum was about, least part of it was. Simon knew he was distant, you just needed a reminder he was yours and you were his. And only his. You craved him like you needed food, it was obvious to anyone who saw you two together. He chuckled, couldn’t believe you even suggested fucking some other man. As if they could handle you, as if they knew what you needed.

He’d set that attitude straight.

The shower was running when the front door of your flat closed behind you. There’s no way you left it on this whole time, did you? You didn’t remember. The night turned into a long one.

No, you didn’t get black out drunk like your friends suggested. You had another shot or two, deciding to stay on the sober side with your DD. You two did smoke a fat blunt before hitting another club though, that made you feel like you were starting to lose your hearing. But it mellowed you out completely. The anger you felt, all that angst and sadness? Gone like a snap of your fingers. The person who was yelling and crying earlier? Technically it wasn’t you, you just needed a little peace. A little medicinal help.

After singing and dancing as hard as you could, your drunk friends taking blurry photos and videos of you that you’d probably post later, you persuaded them it’d be best to get something to eat and head home around two am. It took thirty minutes to find a convenience store that was open so you could chow down on something, and fifteen to get home. With a basically empty bag of chips in one hand, purse slung over your shoulder like a duffle, a bag of junk food in your other hand, low red eyes and a small smile— you finally got home.

You’d deal with that asshole tomorrow. Or next week— maybe next month if you gave enough of a fuck like he did.

Who knows.

You sat the bag of food on the coffee table, right now the priority was your skin care routine, then eat, then zonk out till 2 pm. You still can’t believe you left the shower and the bathroom light on that was now blinding your eyes but whatever. You’d turn it off as soon as you were done since it was warm due to the slight steam.

Routine, routine, routin— you stumbled over a pile of clothes. Large male clothes— okay, maybe you were in the wrong apartment.

Not your first rodeo.

You’d just slowly back out and try looking for your apartment. No big deal.

But the shower curtain swung open and you tripped over the clothes, falling right on your ass with a yelp.

“Ya can’t be that fuckin drunk, can ya?”

Your eyes darted open, right at the familiar deep cockney accent— Simon Riley was right there in the flesh, water dripping down his scarred and large body, making him dazzle like a God in that fucked up bathroom light.

Now that was blinding.

“Hello? Are ya listenin?”

Oh, he really wanted an answer.

“ ‘M not drunk.” You said breathlessly. Intoxicated? Yes. But not drunk. The shots had worn off ages ago. Hell, maybe your high was too at the sight of this brute.

What the fuck was he doing here?

The blonde ignored the confused look on your face. Taking a towel that sat on the sink and drying his hair. No point in drying off anything else, he was about to sweat.

So were you.

Simon continued on, stepping past you and you quickly got up, following right behind him like a starved puppy. For someone who hated your apartment, he sure walked around like he owned the place. Nude, large cock swinging, and the look of annoyance written on his handsome unmasked face.

He sat on the bed, manspreading nonchalantly. Knowing you were looking at it, your eyes immediately went elsewhere.

“What do you want?” You mumbled out, shifting from foot to foot.

As if you didn’t know what was bound to happen.

The older man laughed, sarcasm dripping down his throat.

“Be good ‘nd strip, won’t repeat myself.”

“Si-Simon!” Your breath hitched once a large hand came down on your ass, once for good measure.

“Who?” He slapped his thick member on your ass, sliding it through the crevice of your cheeks.

“But- but Simon-“ another slap.

“You’re gonna make it worse for yourself, call me proper.” He smacked his cock over your glistening folds. So fucking wet.

“Daddy mmph,” You moaned.

“All this ‘b-b-but’ bullshit from ya. You’ve pissed me off more than enough. You’ll take all of it today.” Simon slipped inside your hole, filling you to the brim even with half of that girthy cock in you. You both hissed, fuck, it was always so good when he was inside your walls. Simon slowly started to rock his hips into you, slowly but surely making sure you took every inch if his manhood had to offer.

It was when he bottomed out, you knew you were in for it. Simon wasn’t talking to you, he forced your head down on the bed, forcing your back to arch further as he thrusted right at your spot. Over and over and over.

“Gonna cum pa, gonna cum.” You stuttered, feeling the pit in your stomach starting to turn.

“No you’re not.”

“—But—”

“I dare you [+]. I know you’d just looove seein how that turns out.”

You hiccuped, tears brimming as Simons pace got faster. You could feel him throbbing inside you but he wouldn’t cave. He was making the both of you suffer over a petty argument— a mistake that in any normal relationship wouldn’t be that serious.

“I- no- anngh— I need to cum—”

“-You don’t need shit you greedy. fuckin. bitch.” He grunted, swatting your ass with every thrust.

The man yanked you up by your tosseled hair, “You had your oh-so lovin Daddy fuckin worried about’cha so you can be safe then when I finally get a hold of ya ‘nd tell you to go home, you ignore me. Threatenin to go fuck some idiot, but he couldn’t fuck you like I can? Can he? Can’t keep you pretty ‘nd upright? Can he?” His hand trailed from your throat to the buldge at your stomach. He scuffed, “now you’re itching t’cum just because I have my cock right here in ya? Fuckin dumb bitch shit,”

“You a dumb bitch?” He asked, making sure you were fucking him back. Ripples forming on your ass with every thrust.

“Noooo.” You cried out, trying to get away but it only made the brute dig into you further.

“What?”

“No sir.”

“Thaaats right princess. You're my smart little girl, listen to me next time. Good on you- fuck— for tryin to salvage yourself.” He huffed.

You didn’t realize your own toes curling at that small praise, your body trembling as you reached your peak.

“Hold it, did you just fuckin cum? When I told you not to?” He growled, forcing you to look at his eyes that were practically red with anger.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You really couldn’t help yourself, you’d been holding it for how long? And you were still kinda high which made you feel the sensations ten fold, Simon was drilling into you like no tomorrow and then he gave you an inch of kindness after being so mean to you this whole fucking time.

Your body unconsciously took a mile.

“Nope.” He yanked you back to lay your back on him, the rest of his drenched length in you, and lifted your leg so it was over your head, legs parted like the red sea. The first smack on your cunt for the night had you screaming, water spraying out.

Simon gripped your chin, forcing you to look down at the mess you created while harshly rubbing your pearl, still thrusting into you from behind, “You wanna act like a greedy bitch and think with your pussy? Then you cum like a greedy fuckin bitch. Cum you dirty pup.”

And he kept smacking down on your poor cunt, unable to stop yourself from cumming and squirting. Completely creaming Simons girthy cock so that a ring of cum formed around the base of his length.

“Daddy I can’t-“ you keened.

The man scowled, “-Shut. the fuck. up. You never shut the fuck up, the only thing I wanna hear is how fucking wet that pussy is. Keep fuckin cummin like a dirty slut you are.”

And you did.

You were wetting the bed like a dog. Water flying everywhere with every thwack of Simons hand on your abused and misused clit. You didn’t even know how many times you had cum by that point. Words? What were those? You wouldn’t even be able to read a street sign or name your favorite color if asked.

You were seeing pure white, the only thing you could hear was the loud squelching of Simon pumped himself in and out of you. He pulled out for a second causing you to whine at the loss of him, but he slipped back into your tight walls, fucking you in a nice missionary.

He gave your face a few light smacks to the face, tutting “Ah, ah, ah, pup, don’t you fuckin pass out. Eyes on Daddy.”

You managed to pry those long lashes open, hooded and lower than they could ever get when you were high.

“Therrrre my pretty girl is. Look so good bein fuckin stupid on my dick doll. This is alllll my girl needed. A good lesson, yeah? Remind ‘er who’s boss, huh?” He smirked, dragging himself down to you so your legs were at your chest.

“Shit baby, feel you squeezing down on me. Wanna cum with me? Missed me given it to ya just like you always need?” Oh, you were crying again. Yeah, you did miss his mean ass.

And his mean beautifully scarred up face, the mean way his muscles flexed when he did anything, his stupid fucking mouth that had to say some stupid shit touching your full lips, his disgustingly sexy muscular yet pudgy stomach with a happy trail touching your stomach everytime he wrapped those arms around you. His massive presence when he stood next to you, mean brown eyes watching while you did your hair, your makeup, or got dressed. Heartless hands that rubbed your neck everytime he didn’t know how to comfort you because that asshole trying his hardest to understand you.

And that undeniably cruel, overly massive cock fucking you like you were the final girl getting a well deserved an award for making it out the trenches in a horror film.

Your head was full with the thought of daddy, daddy, daddy— you shook your head but you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. You hung on to whatever bullshit that man gave you. Only him. Always him.

“Wan- I wan it pa! Wan your cum in me.” you babbled through your sobs.

“Course ya fuckin do. Can’t do shit without me.” The older man crooned. He finally planted his lips on yours, you moaned at just the feel. Pink walls fluttering in ecstasy as he filled you to the brim. Slow thrusts making sure he pumped everything he had into your perfect cunt.

So much for not crying anymore.

The only sound you could be heard in that studio was you cries, like a fucking baby, bouncing off your thin walls. The headboard was finally able to rest, you knew for a fact your neighbors probably despise your being now.

“Why didn’t you- you come see me? I wanted- hicc- I wanted to see you. But- but- you wouldn’t come see me! Wouldn’t even talk to me on the phone,” You sobbed, tripping and falling through your words. “you must hate me.”

The older man rolled his eyes, “Didn’t ever say tha’. How can I hate’cha ‘nd your mine? Doesn’t make sense mama.”

“Didn’t call me though.” You were sprawled out on the bed now, fat tears escaping your eyes. The blonde was sitting on the bed, grabbing the bottled water that he kept in the nightstand, opening it and putting it to your lips to drink. You did, lifting just enough for a bit to go down your bound to be sore throat and flopping back on the bed.

“Was busy swee’art.” Half truth, half lie. Though it was habit, he was trying to keep you in the loop of his life this time. But old habits die hard. The man forgot to reply. His work schedule was fucked, and he was busy spending his free time moving house. The house he planned to give you, it just wasn’t ready yet. Simon was actually being good for you, for once.

“You’re not always busy Si, you just don’t like my annoying voice!” You whimpered.

It took everything in the older brute to not laugh, you were bein so fucking cute. Babbling nonsense but still clinging to him like a lifeline. Still wanting, still his baby girl.

“Told ya, you weren’t annoyin. Got a nice voice, so get it out silly skull.” He cooed, sitting you on your bottom to face him.

You sniffed, moaning and groaning in annoyance but choosing to accept those words. And only those though.

“Fucks sake, Stop it.”

“I caaaant.” You whined, profusely wiping your tears.

“No, dummy.” Simon pushed your hands off your own face, gently wiping the tears with his thumbs that continued to poor out, “Yer gonna throw a fuckin fit if your face ends up bein puffy cause you wipe your tears so damn rough. Take it easy.”

No one knew how to wipe your tears better than the man who created them.

“I wanna make up, you don’t want to?” That was as close to an apology you’d ever get. Always.

A proper Ghost apology was rare as is and you wouldn’t be getting that after your little tantrum tonight. So you ate up what you could get.

“I wanna- I wanna make up too Daddy.” You croaked, dragging out your words. Adorable princess.

“Pfft,” he ruffled your now messy, sweated out hair, “I gotcha.”

“Up you go.” Like a feather, Simon lifted you from the bed, walking to the bedroom you too had been at who knows how many hours ago. He gently sat you on the counter of the sink,

“Let’s get you all ready for bed, yeah?”

a/n: I really love meanie!Simon the most. Let me know what you think about him.

[khioneee]

trying to break up with your fuck buddy, rafe

rafe paces. back and forth. hand running through his hair, jaw tight, eyes sharp with something between frustration and disbelief.

‘you want to stop?’ his voice is even, but there’s an edge to it.

you nod, arms crossed over your chest. ‘yeah.’

‘why?’ his head tilts, eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for an answer that actually makes sense to him.

‘i don’t like what this is turning me into,’ you say, voice steady. ‘it’s not who i am. and i don’t want it to be.’

he exhales sharply, turning on his heel and pacing again. ‘where is this coming from?’

‘i’m not blaming you for anything, rafe.’ you sigh, feeling the weight of this conversation sink into your bones. ‘i just realized i don’t want to be another girl in your rotation.’

he stops mid-step, turning to face you. ‘rotation?’

you hold his gaze. ‘you know what i mean.’

his jaw tenses. ‘you knew what this was,’ he says, voice low, careful.

‘i did,’ you agree. ‘and now i know i don’t want it.’

he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. ‘i thought everything was fine.’

‘it was,’ you admit. ‘but i’m a ‘girlfriend’ kind of girl, rafe. i have boyfriends, not fuck buddies.’

rafe lets out a dry laugh, almost disbelieving. he starts pacing again, steps restless, like he needs to move or he’ll explode.

then, from outside, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.

‘rafe! come on, man, we’re waiting!’ topper, followed by laughter and girls’ voices, high and sweet.

your stomach turns, but you don’t react. instead, you nod toward the door.

‘you should go,’ you say softly.

a pause, a sharp inhale. his jaw clenches. ‘we’re not done.’

‘i said what i needed to say.’ you swallow the lump in your throat. ‘you have girls waiting for you.’

he stops pacing. his expression hardens. ‘you think that’s what this is about?’

‘i think it doesn’t matter,’ you answer. ‘because you’re not my boyfriend, and you don’t owe me anything.’

his hands curl into fists at his sides. ‘you’re doing that thing again.’

‘what thing?’

‘acting like you don’t care.’

you inhale sharply. ‘i do care, rafe. that’s the problem.’

something flickers in his expression. for the first time, he looks uncertain. like this wasn’t supposed to happen. like he never considered the possibility of you walking away.

he starts pacing again, steps quicker now, frustration rolling off him in waves. ‘so what? you’re just done?’

you nod. ‘yeah.’

he stops. looks at you. then, after a beat, he says, ‘fine.’

you hesitate. ‘fine, what?’

‘i’ll be your boyfriend.’

you blink, caught off guard. ‘what?’

‘you want a relationship?’ he shrugs, like it’s the easiest fix in the world. ‘done.’

‘that’s not how this works.’

‘why not?’ his voice is sharper now, defensive. ‘you said you don’t want to be just another girl— fine. be my girlfriend.’

you shake your head, a humorless laugh escaping. ‘jesus, rafe.’

‘what?’

‘you don’t even want to be my boyfriend. you just don’t want to see me with someone else.’

his jaw tightens, and for the first time, he stops pacing. stands still.

‘you can’t just decide to be in a relationship because you don’t like the idea of losing me,’ you say, voice softer now. ‘that’s not love, rafe. that’s possession.’

his lips part slightly, but no words come out.

‘you don’t know how to do this,’ you continue gently. ‘how to be with someone in a way that isn’t just about control.’

he exhales, slow and deep, fingers rubbing at his jaw as he looks away for a moment. when he meets your gaze again, there’s something different there. hesitation, sure. but also something you weren’t expecting.

fear.

‘i don’t want to lose you,’ he admits, voice quiet now.

your breath catches. ‘then be better.’

rafe swallows. ‘tell me how.’

‘you already know how,’ you whisper. ‘you just have to choose it.’

the silence stretches between you again, but this time, it’s different.

it’s not heavy. it’s hopeful.

then, from outside, topper calls out again. ‘rafe! you coming or what?’

rafe doesn’t even look toward the door.

‘nah,’ he calls back, eyes still locked on yours. ‘i’m good.’

your heart was about to try to break out from behind your ribs.

his gaze softens. ‘stay?’

you hesitate. ‘rafe—’

he shakes his head, stepping closer. ‘if i say i can do this, then i can do this.’

you search his face for the lie, the excuse, the escape route he’s bound to take. but there isn’t one.

he raised your hands to his mouth and kissed the tip of each of your fingers in turn. your thumb, your index finger, your middle finger, your ring finger, finally your pinky, and then, your gaze caught the black cross that rested on the centre of his chest.

you wonder if his heart beats steadily.

his lips twitch, just slightly, into the kind of smirk that used to make you roll your eyes. ‘i’ll be the last boyfriend you’ll have,’ he murmurs. ‘you’ll see.’

your chest tightens, but this time, it’s not with dread.

‘okay,’ you whisper.

he grins, triumphant. ‘yeah?’

you exhale, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself.

‘yeah.’

an. inspired by rory and logan.

[inkedbybarnes]

none of it was fake

bucky barnes x avenger!fem!reader

summary: you've been undercover with bucky as husband and wife. upon returning, he seems to have forgotten that it was all pretend.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: two idiots cluelessly pining for each other. fluff. usage of petnames such as sweetheart, doll, and baby. lowercase writing.

note: hi, babies. how's everyone? this is my first fic in ages, so sorry if it's not my best one. i just wanted something cute ++ this is unedited & not proofread, might fix it laterrr. still hope you'll enjoy this one! xo

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“i can't believe your first kiss happened during a mission. an undercover mission!”

wanda huffed, still hung up on the mission you had with bucky weeks ago wherein you had to play pretend as a married couple. there had been a kiss or two during that time, and it felt impossible not to tell your best friend about it when you had been crushing over the soldier for ages.

wanda knew what you felt towards bucky. in fact, she was the only one who knew, or at least the one you shared th information with, and she made sure to ask everything about the mission, even if it took days for her to interrogate you.

“excuse me? that was not my first kiss,” you said defensively, reaching for a cup from the cupboard that you had just opened. “and why are we still talking about this? you and nat already squeezed out every information from me for an entire week.”

“i didn't mean your first first kiss!” she exclaimed, following you around the kitchen as you made yourself a cup of coffee. “you've had a crush on the guy for so long, and the first time you two kiss each other is when you're pretending. that's not how i pictured it at all!”

you had to admit, the mission was sort of a blessing in disguise and a curse at the same time. you were glad to be able to spend time with bucky in ways you've dreamt of, but there was also the horrible reminder that none of it was real. with how avoidant bucky was with you, it was impossible for any of it to happen outside of the mission.

“well, maybe you should stop picturing us doing that sort of stuff. you're way more invested in this than i am, wanda. don't you have your own relationship to think about?” you asked. although you knew she was in a happy relationship with vision, you just wanted her to take a break from all the bucky talk. “when is your man home anyway?”

“my relationship is doing great, so i'm good. i don't need to think of it as much since he gives me everything that i need, and i think of yours because you deserve happiness as well.” she smiled fondly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “and i'm glad that you asked because this reminded me that vision's arriving with bucky soon.”

“already?” your eyes widened at her statement, completely forgetting that bucky, along with steve, clint, and vision, were coming home today from their mission. “why didn't you tell me sooner!?”

after finishing your mission with bucky two weeks ago, he was immediately sent into another mission which specifically needed him. so, today would technically be the first time you're seeing him again since you last called him your “husband,” which was more nerve-wracking than you expected.

“hey, i'm your best friend, not your alarm.” wanda raised her hands up, defending herself. “and why are you so worried? i can feel your anxiety without needing to be in your head.”

“well, we never talked after.. you know,” you replied, taking a big sip out of your cup. “i know none of it meant anything and that we were just doing our job, but it's the first time i'll be with him normally and not as a pretend married couple. it's kinda awkward, wands.”

“you were able to pretend you didn't like the guy for months, you can do it again for another day.” she answered. “unless you finally tell him what you feel?”

“oh, that? yeah, never happening. i'm not going to risk—”

“there you are, sweetheart.”

there was a collective shocked gasp from both you and wanda, recognizing that voice from behind. except the gasps had different reasons.

you were surprised with his arrival.

wanda was surprised that he casually called you sweetheart.

you turn to find bucky already walking towards you with a smile on his face.

this man never smiles unless he was tasked to do so!

“bucky! you're back!” you awkwardly greeted him.

“yeah, didn't they tell you? i was looking for you when we landed.” he said, pulling you close to him before bending to place a soft kiss on your lips like it was something he'd always done. “you okay, baby? you look pale. did you eat?”

i look pale because wanda is right here with us and you just kissed me while acting like we're dating!

“um, yeah, i'm fine. i'm fine,” you answered, gently pulling yourself away from his arms before he could wrap them around you completely. “can we talk? privately?”

he frowned, worry etched on his face, but he nodded and squeezed your arm softly. “of course. where do you wanna talk, doll?”

“anywhere where wanda isn't there.” you said lightheartedly, throwing a sharp glance at wanda who finally understood what you wanted her to do.

“oh! right, right. i'm sorry, you guys can stay here. i have um..” she paused, thinking of a reason to say. “i have to look for vision anyway. we're supposed to watch a movie together. bye!”

and just like that, wanda was gone and you were left alone with bucky in the kitchen.

before you could speak, bucky asked you first. “what's the matter, doll?”

“what's the matter?” you echoed in a higher tone. “what was that all about?”

“what are you talking about?” he asked, seemingly confused.

“you kissed me, bucky, like it was nothing. then you keep calling me these nicknames.” you reminded him. “we're back home, not in los angeles in our fake house that we used as a fake couple.”

bucky took a step back when he realised his actions, now finding it hard to look at you. “i.. i'm sorry. i completely forgot. i just.. i wasn't thinking. i got used to how we were before,” he mumbled, still finding the right words to say. “did i make you uncomfortable?”

“no, but you made me confused,” you replied. “i'm guessing you got used to how we acted as a fake married couple, but you were gone for another mission. how are you still stuck with the old routine we had?”

“because that's all i could think about,” he answered, now staring at you. “while you're back here in the tower, completely done with our mission, i was thrown back into another one, having only you in my head to pull me back up from the fatigue.”

“you're telling me that you kept thinking about us even when you were gone? why?”

“haven't you?”

“is this a trick question?”

“it's a question to find out whether you like me too or not.”

“you.. you like me?” you blinked. “that's impossible.”

“how on earth is that impossible?”

“because you're always so cold and grumpy around me,” you answered. “i think you're just confused with all the acting we've done, bucky. you don't like me.”

“i was supposed to go on that mission with sharon, not you.” he exhaled. “she volunteered to do it, so she was initially picked. i tried getting out of it, but i had advantages that they needed for the mission to go smoothly. so, i agreed, but in one condition.”

“what was it?” you whispered.

“that you should be my partner,” he answered quickly. “ask me why.”

your heart pounded. “why?”

“because i wanted an excuse to act the way i've always wanted to. i wasn't cold or grumpy because i didn't like you, i just didn't want to scare you.” bucky explained, his hand reaching out for yours. “god, doll. figuring out whether you like me or not has got to be the hardest mission i had to deal with. so do me a favour and get me out of this misery.”

once your lungs found a bit of oxygen again, you finally spoke. “what you said.. you mean it?”

bucky nodded. “every word.”

“well, i like you too.” you tried to bite back a huge smile. “for some time now, actually. wanda will eventually tell you all about my obsession with you. i can't believe we were both worrying for the wrong things.”

“your obsession with me, huh?” he asked cockily, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“really? i said all that and that's what caught your attention?”

“can't help it. i've been obsessed with you for a long time now as well.” his eyes crinkled at the corners, a little smile gracing his lips while his arm slipped around your waist.

your eyes peeked up at him through your lashes. “does this make it real now?”

“do you want it to be?”

“you're really asking me that?” your chest rumbled. “of course i do.”

“then let's make it real.”

bucky watched you intensely for a few seconds as if he wanted to frame this exact moment before licking his lips and leaning down. you suck a breath, eyes closing as you felt his soft lips meet yours.

you never realised how much you've grown familiar with his touch and affection since your time together as a fake couple.

except this time, none of it was fake.

should we see their time in los angeles as an undercover married couple? 👀

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[starkeysbunny]

tears [rafe cameron]

pairing - rafe cameron x reader

summary - rafe was a busy man. but, when his girl knocked on the doors of tannyhill with tears streaming down her cheeks—nothing was more important than her. and he’d fix whatever was bothering her. or whoever. he hated to see his girl cry.

warnings - none rlly, hurt/comfort, protective and attentive rafe

rafe sighed into his phone call when he heard a knock on the door. he stood in his father’s office—which was now his—pacing the room.

“hey, hey man, just hang on a sec, sorry.” he muttered to the potential investor before he put him on hold. he set his phone down on the desk and marched out of the office, curses and mumbles leaving his lips.

“somebody always fuckin’ needs something.” his hand rubs over his buzzed hair as his other hand curls in and out of a fist at his side. “goddamn. probably fuckin’ sarah and her stupid—“

his mumbles come to a halt when he opens the door and sees his girl standing there, tears staining her flushed cheeks. “rafe..” she whispers weakly, her frame shaking as she looks up at him.

“hey, hey, baby.” he says quickly, completely forgetting the phone call waiting for him as all his attention, worry, and concern is shifted to her. “what’s wrong, c’mere.”

his hand reaches for her wrist, pulling her into his chest. she lets out a quiet sob as she buries her face into his chest, stepping inside. he haphazardly pushes the door shut as he keeps her close to his chest and walks them both inside and through the foyer.

he whispers shh’s, and coos at her in his arms as he heads for the living room, sitting them both down. he softly pulls her from his chest, his head dipping down to her level. his hands come to her cheeks, wiping the tears off her soft skin.

“hey, baby, what happened? talk to me.” he says, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“i-i-“ she stammers, unable to get words out as she chokes on cries. her breathing quickens, getting close to hyperventilating. when she cries, she goes too fast, losing control of her breathing.

“hey, hey, no. don’t do that. c’mon baby, you know better. breathe, baby, breathe.”

she begins to slow down, her breathing coming back to normal. she keeps her eyes on rafe’s, slowly calming down.

“there ya go. atta’ girl. good job. breathe.” he praises, his head nodding softly as he watches her. once her breathing fully calms, she takes one last deep breath and wipes the last of her tears.

“now, gonna tell me what’s got your pretty little head so worried, hm?” he coos, his head tilting slightly. “what’s bothering you? who do i have to kill, huh?” he jokes with a grin. but to be honest—he probably wasn’t joking.

she sniffles, her eyebrows furrowing. “my uterus.” she whines. “i’m on my period. my cramps hurt like a bitch. and my mom is pissing me off.” she sniffles, stumbling over her words slightly. “and i’m hungry. and you weren’t answering, i know you’re busy. but i just really needed to see you, i’m sorry—“

“hey, hey, it’s okay.” he nods softly. “i’m here, it’s alright. i’m not busy, doesn’t matter.” he says matter-of-factly. he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. “what do you need? hm? i have that heating pad in my room i bought for you a couple months ago.” he whispers sweetly. “i can make you somethin? buy you stuff? i dunno, what do you need?”

he was willing to do anything, he didn’t care. when his baby cried, he’d move mountains to make her feel better. he’d go to every store in town, run up his credit card, do anything. as long as she got a smile on her face at the end of it.

she nods against his chest, looking up at him. “yeah.. the heating pad. and—and can you make me a grilled cheese? you make em’ so good.” she asks sweetly, her voice gentle and weak.

he smiles softly, looking down at the sweet girl in his arms. “yeah, baby, of course. i don’t know if they’re that good. everytime i make them, you’re usually drunk and it’s three in the morning. that might be why they taste so good.” he jokes.

she shoves his chest playfully. “i don’t care, you can’t fuck up a grilled cheese. please?”

he grins. “yeah, yeah. grilled cheese, heating pad. got it, baby. anything else?” he says thoughtfully, his fingers coming to push strands of hair off from where they stick to her tear strained cheeks.

she shakes her head. “just you.”

he smiles. “okay.” he kisses her forehead. “i’ll be right back, gimmie a few minutes to get all that.” he stands, making sure she’s laid comfortably on the couch. he grabs the blanket from the end of the couch and drapes it over her. his eyes search the living room, landing in the remote, he hands it to her.

he leans down, placing another kiss to her cheek this time. “put on whatever you want. i’ll be back, promise.”

he leaves her at the couch and heads back to the office. he picks up his phone and takes it off hold. “hey, gotta go. somethin’ came up. i’ll give you a call later.” he hung up before the guy could even get a word in.

nothing came before his girl.

[lovegasmic]

𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬▶ 𝗩𝗛𝗦

HOT DILF NEXT DOOR ⭑.ᐟ

‘ toji fushiguro, kento nanami, satoru gojo x fem!reader ’ ୨୧ taglist

⌞ PG-18 ⌝ reversed version of hot milf next door ◞ age gap, all consenting adults◞ creampie except for kento ◞ they are actual dilfs not just older men◞ you cheat on your bf with satoru but he deserves it, and reader is a brat◞

this is long and I've had this request for longer, so take this as an apology for not posting anything new lately ‹3

𝜗𝜚 TOJI

of course another screw had to come loose from the cheap cupboard doors barely hanging on for dear life. you curse under your breath, wiping a drop of sweat that makes it’s way down your forehead and onto the cupid bow, “fuck this shit place” finding a good place as a student was no good, and it was either surviving in a struggling apartment or sharing living space at the school dorms where the air reeked of multiple fluids and body odors was not really an option.

and now, rummaging through the multiple still closed boxes laying on your living room to find a screwdriver was neither an option, “just kill me already” mustering up some courage, your feet drags you to the front door and towards the one next to it, hoping and praying that your neighbor is an actual nice person as your knuckles hit the wood, please, anything really, perhaps an older lady who can bake, or a lovely young student around your age who can—

oh.

that’s a freaking kid.

“hi, um..., are your parents home?” so freaking awkward, the kid looks at you unimpressed, barely blinking and dark hair sticking in all directions before he turns around.

okay, that was rude, but you’re about to speak again until he comes up, moving as if he owned the place, big muscles under a shirt a bit too tight, and that flat expression barely quirks up in what seems like a grin, “can I help you, doll?” and oh, again, that voice is enough to make your knees buck.

“h-hi, i moved next door, and uh—” shit, shit, “do you have a screwdriver I can borrow for a second?” did you even introduce yourself? that does not matter, and the man doesn’t seem to care, giving you an amused up and down look before nodding.

“got a problem with the cupboard already, huh? don’t worry I got a trick” isn’t this man such a gentleman? already gathering some tools and telling the kid, now called Megumi, to behave while he helped the cute girl.

he’s definitely flirting, yeah, it must be, those half grins, constant licks at the scar in the corner of his mouth and the way his eyes trail up and down your body when he thinks you’re not looking, that’s flirting, isn’t it?

just snap out of it, you’re not an eighteen year old anymore, you’re 20... not a big difference, but you should not be fantasizing about that man who is most likely married.

“... anything else?” his voice snaps you out of your stupor, now for good, but you know he’s aware, judging by the grin he offers.

“no, that’s all, thanks” you hope that will answer whatever he also asked, what you don’t expect is for his large body frame to walk up to you, a calloused thumb pressing on your jaw to tilt your head up.

he leans slightly, “no need to be shy, doll, neighbors are to help each other” and there is a trace of something else behind his words, something you can’t quite put into words.

a very slight gasp escapes your lips as his thumb runs down, gently caressing the column of your throat and collarbones, “you’re so pretty, a pretty girl like you must have a pretty name” and you utter it, rolling out your tongue for Toji to catch it with his own name in a shared breath.

Toji. Toji. Toji.

“Toji...! it’s nghhh... r-reaching oh, so deep!” who could have thought that ‘neighboors helping each other’ would have turned into ‘neighbors who rearrange your guts’.

it’s been a few days since the first time Toji helped you fix the furniture, which developed into some kisses, cock sucking and now almost a daily fuck, with quivering thighs with just how hard Toji’s cock rammed into your tiny hole, so fuckin’ wet and tight, struggling to accommodate the whole girth of the man’s huge cock sliding in and out deliciously deep.

there’s a whole package of condoms in your drawer, tucked under the remaining pair of panties Toji hasn’t ripped apart in attempts to reach your cunt faster.

“take it, fuckin’ take it” he huffs, cock twitching inside your velvety walls that cling to each vein and ridge around that fat and long dick, the couch drags across the floor with each one of the dark haired’s thrusts, having you bent, a tit out of the tank top, panties swinging around an ankle and toes curled in sheer bliss. that man knows how to fuck.

and his hand is everywhere, one is holding your shoulders to brutally pull you back so your pussy lips spread vulgarly on each side of his balls, while the other entrained itself by pinching a nipple, tugging your tits and groping the fat of your ass, a low whistle comes next at the sight of your tiny hole stuffed to the brim, “fuck, doll, this cute tight pussy is gripping so tight, shit..., like a fucking virgin...” and a thumb comes to rub your clitoris, a bit uncoordinated but still as good, making your head swim in pleasure, “i’m going to cum if you tighten so hard...”

“i-in— angh, inside, please!”

“of course i’m cumming in this pussy” Toji mocks with a laugh and you whimper, shaking your head, barely turning to look at the man from above your shoulder with pleading, cute eyes.

“take off the condom” and fuck, a fat drop of precum just oozed from the tip.

your hands reach back to press on Toji’s v line, fingertips grazing the slick coated base, “the princess wants a creampie in her tiny cunt?”

fucking hell, that cocky smirk and the way his cock, disgustingly hard, slaps against his abdomen when pulling out makes your tummy do a flip, eagerly reaching to tug on the latex tip and tossing the condom away as if it was offensive.

“a-ah yes!” you can’t avoid the relief moan that gets pulled out of your lips at the sensation, alongside Toji’s pleasure groan that rumbles deep and darkly, with thumbs hooking on each side of your pussy to keep you spread and ready to take those perfectly aligned thrusts, smashing your g spot and having you cumming within seconds, “g-uh, so good... I need...”

“i know, baby, I know, i’m... fuck... cumming deep in this fertile young pussy”

𝜗𝜚 KENTO

the last box is loaded in the truck and your parents bid you farewell. sigh, time to get to work, “do you need any more help?” Kento asks, your sweet and kind neighbor who you’ve known for years, who used to brush your knees when you fell on the grass while playing with Yuuji, who baked delicious loafs of bread you cheerfully ate sitting at the edge of his kitchen counter with your feet swinging.

“i will be okay” you say, flashing a side grin towards the older man, his face as warm as ever, but currently sporting several age lines that just make him look hotter.

yes, you grew and so did he, but your first, and initial admiration towards the man, soon became more loving and even lustful when you turned 19, and now with your parents moving abroad, leaving the cozy, childhood home you grew up in to your care, being into Kento’s ‘care’ —which you did not even needed in the first place, god, you’re a grown adult!— perhaps you were going to use this chance to get closer to the man.

“then I will get going so you get used to your new independence” he jokes a little, turning to return to his empty home due to Yuuji’s just recent departure to college.

“wait!” you stop him, “i was thinking... you know that yummy bread you used to bake? do you mind teaching me how to do it myself?” that will definitely do, getting into Kento’s good side, and house, was as easy as you remember.

and of course he agreed, offering a nod and gentle smile that just made your belly do a flip, what a damn pervert you were, lusting over your neighbour who probably just saw you as a charity work.

but then again, Kento needed it, the poor man was so lonely, with Yuuji gone, his wife leaving him years ago due to his ‘workaholic’ behaviour, a woman’s touch was so needed in his life, and you were going to help.

the baking class is so domestic you kinda feel bad for trying to get into the blonde’s pants, really, his always present and fond smile while you accidentally made a mess of floor all over the kitchen counter was not good for your heart, nor the way he chuckled in that deep and low voice tone of his, hoping he did not notice the way your knees bucked.

a hand comes to hold your wrist, so gentle, “knead like this” and his voice is right against your ear, warm breath sending shivers down your spine and heat pooling in your lower abdomen as he guides the motions, yet your eyes are glued to the way his hand veins pop with each squeeze, would he knead your ass the same way? and also... is his cock that veiny too?

with that thought in mind, you barely buck your hips back, pretending to change the weight from one foot to another when, in reality, you purposely brushed your butt with his crotch.

and Kento notices, his hands stopping for a brief second before resuming, and you move again, almost like a dance to see who would snap first, although each buck and brush is more bold than the previous, that until a large and veiny hand squeezes your hip, there it is.

“stay still” his voice is low and almost a rumble, feeling the warmth of his chest near your back through the thin layers of clothes.

that should not turn you on as much as it did, feeling slightly embarrassed from being caught and stopped that you unconsciously squirm again, and of course, your butt now lands right against Kento’s tenting crotch, feeling the tip poking on a cheek, “shit...” your moan is weak, unable to stop from full on grinding against his cock, to which his hands grip you tighter, the dough long forgotten.

“don’t... do that...” Kento’s words are strained, barely holding on from the urge to just bend you over and fuck you senseless, truth is he saw you grow up, but he also witnessed how you became the nature and sexy girl you are now, “this is wrong”

but his name sounds so cutely from you, that soft, mewled, and needy “Kento...” is just enough to break him.

the sticky mess of flour and water remaining on the kitchen counter sticks to the back of your shirt, it will be a pain to wash it, but meh, that should be another day’s worry, currently, your only focus is the man between your legs, keeping you as spread as ever, with your feet propped up the counter, leggings pulled down and that condom clad cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy, and yes, it’s very fucking veiny.

“this is what you wanted, didn’t you?” his words are huffed from the effort of thrusting mercilessly inside your hole, with a hand on the apex of your thigh to keep your lips open, and the other laying on a jiggling tit, “to get fucked by an older man, I saw the way you look at me, sweetheart, you’re not subtle”

that just makes you clench and mewl, getting caught drooling over the man was utterly hot and even excited he knew just how much you wanted him in your guts like now, “c-can’t help it, you’re— ngh, t-tooo hot!” it’s like you’re losing consciousness with each drag of those throbbing veins against your walls, the friction so fucking delicious and deep, oh so deep, curving just perfectly to drive you insane.

“you’re so hot too” he praises, the words so unfamiliar coming from those lips, adding to the lust filled expression of an almost pussy drunk man, “you’ve grown beautifully” and his words are like his hands, caressing your body with heat leaving on its wake until it lays on your fluttering abdomen, “so sexy, so tight and wet”

“just for you” you moan around your own fingers, sucking the digits to leave them soaked and rub tight circles on your swollen clit, it’s a vision that makes Kento’s cock twitch and splurt another drop of pre inside the condom.

Kento, the always impecable and polite man that fucks so nasty and kisses as equally lewd, gripping your jaw with a hand and a tongue comes to rub all across your sweet mouth, swallowing the desperate pleas and “i’m cumming” mumbles before you’re a sobbing mess and Kento is stuffing the condom full of creamy semen that, hopefully, will stuff your pussy bare someday.

𝜗𝜚 SATORU

“is it really necessary?” you complain for what feels like the fourth time that exact same day, your parents don’t get it, of course they don’t, you were doing just fine with your classes, and if the grades were barely above the requirement to pass, so what? at least you were not struggling in college.

“is that boy’s fault,” your mom says from the back, arms crossed and a scowl on her face, “i told you he is a bad influence and still you did not listen! now your grades are a mess, it’s like our money for your tuition is going to waste” ah yes, your filthy rich parents money, that money was almost spare cash for them.

“don’t bring my boyfriend in this, it’s not his fault” you attempt to defend the little honor your lover had, which, honestly, he did not deserve, he was the worst kind of man you couldn’t have ever fallen for, uninterested, having you crawl behind him, but he had a big dick and a bike, sigh.

“i don’t care, you’re going to have Mr. Gojo tutor you, you like it or not”

Satoru Gojo or Mr. Gojo, your also filthy rich neighbor who just traveled around the world with god knows what money, what would he even know?

the sound of your foot tapping on the floor could tick anyone, but your stupid boyfriend hasn’t responded to any text since yesterday, and you’re two minutes away from making the long and boring walk to your next door’s neighbor house, so long and boring.

you curse and grab your bag way too hastily, you’re sick of this, utterly pissed off, and sadly Mr. Gojo will have to turn into your punching bag.

one or twice is the times you’ve seen the man, he was barely at home or your schedules never met, but damn, he was hot.

tall, broad, with soft white hair that fell on his eyes and made him look younger than he was, bright blue eyes to contrast and ridiculously long legs and hands. somehow you’re a bit speechless as he asks you to come in, taking the surroundings of his home and the family picture frames hanging off the walls, not a woman in sight, strange.

“where is your wife?” mouth works faster than the brain, but Satoru does not mind, giving you a smirk from over his shoulder.

“i don’t have a wife, my kids were adopted” damn, that makes it harder for you to hate on this man.

deciding not to pry even more into the topic you just follow him to the living room, a bunch of history books are splayed in the coffee table so you sit next to the man in one of the large, leather couches.

“your parents say you’re struggling with Japanese periods, yes? Meiji, Heian...”

this was going to be long, “yeah, whatever, why do I even have to learn about all that? it’s in the past, who cares” your attention was drifting again, pulling out your phone and tapping harshly on the screen, no messages, “fuck”

“hey, focus here, princess, leave your phone aside” the sudden shiver that runs down your spine at the nickname is somehow drowned down by a rush of annoyance, you were already in a bad mood and now this man was telling you what to do? fuck this.

“don’t tell me what to do! it’s not as if i wanted to come here in the first place” with a leg crossed over the other your head turns, puffing your cheeks like a spoiled brat.

and again, your eyes drop to your phone.

“hm, I see how it is” yet he’s not mad, more like... amused, and before you realize it he’s snatching your phone that happened to be unlocked, “who’s sukuna?”

“give me that!” you squeak, trying to grab your phone back but Satoru is already scrolling through endless embarrassing texts and multiple nudes you’ve sent.

he clicks his tongue in return, “oh, babygirl, you don’t know how to pick a man, do you?” he coos, almost as if he’s mocking you, and before you realize it, you’re being dragged to his lap, a hand on the small of your back and the other on a bare knee, “tsk, tsk, a sweet thing like you deserve much better, a real man who can please you” his smirk almost makes you moan, adding to the way his long and slender fingers trailed up your thigh to brush the edge of the panties you wore, which were almost ruined at this point.

“boys your age don’t know how to satisfy a girl like you”

the previous heated exchange is not turned into moans echoing in the room, Satoru is so fuckin’ big and long, making your eyes cross and tongue loll out with each drag of his cock inside your walls, he has you spread, with your thighs swinging over his forearms, chest on your back and his lips on your neck, giving you the fuck of your life while at the same time being treated like a fleshlight.

the man is big, big muscles and a big cock that struggles to push past the resistance inside your cunt, but it’s so worthy once it’s in, successfully finding your g spot within seconds of pounding.

“that’s a good girl, yeah, keep moaning, babygirl, your cunt is perfect around my cock” how could this man speak so lewd and freely while rearranging your guts, voice unaffected but the throb and twitch of his cock proved otherwise, “i haven’t fucked a pussy this damn tight, you’re sucking me in, ah fuck— greedy young cunt”

“nghh! haagh f-uck Sa-ah toru!” what a mess, mess of babbling nonsense and a mess of slick and precum dripping down to pool between your legs and onto the couch, the creamy sound of your pussy dragging you and down is just growing with how wetter you get, creating a ring of pearly cum around the base of Satoru’s fat cock filling your insides.

your phone rings, but who fuckin’ cares? your boyfriend is in the past, and now having a tutor is not that entirely bad.