#and it’s just a little bit to let you fill in the gaps

[thesecondhandwoman]

Hi! Im usually too embarrassed to send requests but- maybe Ambessa with assistant reader? Whose so sweet and awkward and tries her best to help and follow ambessa around- (if it's not too much reader is from the undercity and worked hard to try and be were she is now)

HER LITTLE ASSISTANT

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: You never fully grasped at the fact you had been chosen as Ambessa’s personal assistant, a simple girl who had climbed high from the Undercity. But now that you had the chance, you weren’t gonna give it up, no matter how nervous you may be.

Request: Anon 🤍

The Medarda estate in Noxus was every bit as imposing as its mistress. A sprawling fortress of crimson stone and black iron, it loomed over the city like a sentinel, unyielding and proud. It was fitting, then, that the woman who ruled within it was just as formidable.

You were not.

Trailing behind Ambessa Medarda as her assistant, you often felt like a tiny sparrow struggling to keep pace with a hawk. She strode through the halls with her characteristic confidence, her long strides and the sharp clink of her armor an unrelenting tempo you scrambled to match.

Your arms were laden with reports, a satchel bouncing awkwardly against your hip. You’d learned early on that Noxian efficiency left no room for mistakes, and as someone who’d clawed their way out of Zaun’s undercity, failure wasn’t an option.

“Keep up, little one,” Ambessa called over her shoulder, her tone teasing yet commanding.

“Yes, ma’am,” you chirped, nearly tripping as you hurried to close the gap.

She stopped abruptly, turning to watch as you skidded to a halt in front of her. Her sharp eyes swept over you, taking in your disheveled appearance and flushed cheeks.

“Well, I did not mean keep up by falling,” she chuckled, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Just breathe.”

“I—yes, of course,” you stammered, clutching the reports tighter. “Sorry, Lady Medarda.”

Her brow arched. “Ambessa. You’ve been working for me long enough to drop the formalities.”

“Right. Ambessa,” you repeated, though the name felt far too intimate on your tongue.

She seemed satisfied and gestured for you to follow. “Good. Now, let’s see if you’ve organized these reports properly.”

Ambessa’s days were relentless, filled with strategy meetings, inspections, and commanding the loyalty of those around her. You followed her through it all, your hands busy with ledgers and maps, your mind spinning as you tried to keep up with her sharp wit.

Despite your nerves, you’d started to notice small things about her. The way she rolled her shoulders after a long meeting. The faint smile that tugged at her lips when something amused her. The occasional soft glance she directed your way when she thought you weren’t looking.

She wasn’t cruel, not to you. Stern, yes. Intimidating? Always. But there was a softness to her that you suspected few ever saw. It was in the way she ensured you ate during long days, how she subtly slowed her pace when she noticed you struggling to keep up.

And sometimes, her touch lingered just a moment too long.

Like now.

The two of you stood in her private study, the soft glow of the hearth casting flickering shadows across the room. You were handing her a report when her fingers brushed yours. It was the barest of touches, but it sent a jolt through you.

“You’re trembling,” she remarked, her voice low and teasing.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered, quickly pulling your hand back.

She chuckled, setting the report aside. “Relax, little one. You’ve done well today.”

Her praise was rare and precious, and you couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through your chest. “Thank you, Ambessa. I just want to make sure I don’t disappoint you.”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, the weight of her armor seemed to lift. “You could never disappoint me.”

Like the others, the following days brought more of the same: relentless work, fleeting touches, and a growing tension that neither of you addressed.

Ambessa was always close, closer than necessary, you thought. When reviewing maps, she would stand behind you, her breath warm against your ear as she pointed out key locations. Her hand would sometimes rest on your shoulder, firm and reassuring.

It wasn’t inappropriate, but it was enough to make your heart race and your thoughts spiral. Did she even realize what she was doing to you?

One evening, as you prepared tea in the estate’s kitchen, Ambessa entered unexpectedly. You jumped, nearly dropping the kettle.

“Ambessa! I didn’t hear you,” you said, clutching the counter for support.

“I noticed,” she said with a smirk. “What are you doing down here?”

“I—well, I thought you might like some tea. You’ve been working so hard, and I just…” You trailed off, your cheeks burning.

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

You swallowed hard as she took the kettle from your hands, her fingers brushing yours again. Her touch lingered, warm and deliberate.

“You’re too kind, little one,” she said softly, her gaze locking with yours.

Your heart thundered in your chest. “I just want to help.”

She smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your knees weak. “You do more than help. You keep me grounded.

The tipping point came on a quiet night, weeks later. The day had been exhausting, and you were both in her study, the fire crackling softly as you worked through a final stack of documents.

Ambessa set her quill down, leaning back in her chair as she regarded you thoughtfully. “You’ve worked hard today. Come here.”

You hesitated, unsure of what she meant.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” she said, though her tone was more amused than stern.

You approached her cautiously, standing awkwardly in front of her chair. She reached out, her hands settling on your hips as she guided you to sit on the edge of the desk.

“Ambessa?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Shh,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing small circles against your sides.

Her touch was firm yet gentle, grounding you in a way that made your breath hitch. Her gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it, and the tension that had been simmering between you for weeks finally broke.

“I’ve been patient,” she said, her voice low and intimate. “But I can’t ignore this anymore.”

You blinked, your heart pounding. “Ignore what?”

“The way I feel about you,” she admitted, her honesty stealing the air from your lungs.

Your lips parted, but no words came. She cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin as she leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

When her lips met yours, it was soft and tentative, as though she was afraid of overwhelming you. Her kiss was surprisingly gentle for someone so strong, her touch careful and reverent.

You melted into her, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as the world fell away.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm against your skin.

“Tell me I’m not wrong,” she murmured, her voice laced with vulnerability.

“You’re not,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

She smiled, her eyes holding a tenderness that made your chest ache. “Good.”

She slowly leaned back in, allowing her lips to ghost against yours once more. “Then let me continue to show my love for you.” She breathed before her lips captured yours again.

A/N: kinda mad I made this so short, but I hope it’s okay!!

[s-awturn]

Daddy's Wishes || F1 Dilfs

cw: obscenity, age gap, swearing, suggestive content, mention of cute kids, a little possessiveness, p in v, eating p-, brat behavior, choking, dry humping, and a little more smut.

a/n: I'm dusting off the dust that has accumulated on my profile this all time. I had an open request, but it got lost while I was writing (bad time to update, Tumblr, but I will rewrite it, don't panic).

starring: Toto Wolff, Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Jenson Button, Mark Webber, Kimi Raikkonen.

TOTO WOLFF:

He was filthy, dirty as fuck, but he couldn't stop the dirty thoughts every time he saw Jack's lovely teacher when he went to pick his son up from school. Y/N was sweet, kind, and damn, so hot. Toto couldn't help but imagine her pretty — and lip-glossy — mouth wrapped around his cock as he fucked her throat, he wanted so much to see those beautiful eyes watering with each strong thrust into her mouth.

How many handjobs has he had since he met the young teacher? He lost count.

Jack always finished last, Toto was late almost every time, and the boy helped Y/N organize the room — not that the boy was looking forward to getting another chocolate chip cookie as a reward. And that was a huge benefit for Toto, after all he had all her attention for himself, he knew that since Y/N started working at the school, the number of parents at school meetings and at the school gate increased considerably. All to see the young teacher in her summer dresses and ribbon in her hair.

And it was with the satin of her bow that Toto tied her wrists while he thrust deeper and deeper into her pussy, listening to the needy and sweet moans of the young teacher. Wolff gripped her thighs tightly, leaving his fingerprints on the soft skin, just as he had done with his teeth; her marks would be exposed to anyone when Y/N wore one of her summer dresses, everyone would know she belonged to him.

“So sweet, baby,” he said, trailing kisses down the curve of her breasts, loving how she whimpered even more. “Taking me in so well, my pretty little girl, fuck.”

“T-Toto!” she exclaimed, grabbing the tape around her wrists, trying to get something to hold on to. Her teary eyes rolled back in their sockets. “Please, p-please, Toto!” he begged.

He nibbled on her chin, bringing his thumb to the teacher's swollen clit, making her whimper even more, grinding on Toto's cock eagerly. "What do you want, prinzessin?”

And to tease, Toto slowed down his pace, making sure Y/N could feel every inch going in and out of her, every pulsing vein of his cock.

Her tears finally subsided “L-Let me c-cum... P-Please” Y/N licked her dry lips, pushing her hips against Toto, loving the way he filled her completely.

“Good girl” and with that, he moved away a little to put her legs over his shoulders, feeling himself deeper and deeper inside her, growling each time the soft walls clenched around his cock in pure ecstasy. Y/N licked her dry lips, tightening her grip around Toto, feeling the orgasm tighten her belly and make the hairs all over her body stand on end. “That’s right, love... Cum for me, hmm? Just the way you like it...” he bit her calf.

“It-It’s too much, T-Toto!” she said between moans. “Too much!”

“You can handle it, baby, cum for me”

And like an explosion, her voice was lost in a moan and she came, contracting harder around Toto, bringing him to his own orgasm as well.

“All mine, only mine,” he said, groaning hoarsely as he thrust slowly against her, prolonging even more the sensation of pleasure that was fading through both of their bodies.

He released her wrists, massaging the scarred skin, trying to keep her from feeling the pain. She sighed in pain and he kissed the irritated skin.

“Shh, it’s okay love, I’ll take care of you.. you can rest, baby.” He kissed her forehead, carrying her to the bathroom.

SEBASTIAN VETTEL:

Upon retirement, all he wanted was some peace and quiet in a small, hidden town in the German countryside; with no more worries than taking care of his bees, feed some chickens and make sure no broken tiles fell on her young neighbor's head.

If there was one thing Sebastian wasn't expecting when he moved to the country, it was a clumsy, completely unfiltered twenty-something girl to fill his days. The first time they met, Y/N was on top of a tractor older than time, wearing a Mercedes cap (which he found heresy, so what if he was German himself? It was still heresy!). Y/N waved at him, and Sebastian was grateful that she didn't act like a groupie, he loved his fans, however, the more anonymous he was, the better. That same night, Y/N brought him a basket of strawberries, along with a beautiful smile.

It wasn't long before they became friends and Sebastian was patching things up in her house, a leaky roof, a loose wooden board, a dripping faucet... And Y/N thanked them with food from her homeland and drinks of dubious character and questionable appearance.

“You look good for someone your age, Seb,” she said between glasses of wine. She wasn’t drunk, but she was far from completely sober either.

“What are you insinuating, Puppe?” he asked, trying to stop her from refilling his glass, but Y/N was a stubborn little thing.

“For an old man your age, you look really good,” she said, she really said. Sebastian accepted that she was a Mercedes fan, accepted that she always took one of his beers, or that she loved to say that German football died after 2014. But that was too much. Maybe it was the wine, or the desire he spent weeks (very fucked up ones, by the way) internalizing because he didn't want Y/N to think he was a pervert.

But apparently it was time for him to teach that petulant brat some manners.

And that's how Y/N had her neck wrapped around the pilot's firm hand and her sports shorts were rolled up around her ankles while Sebastian distributed burning slaps on her ass and pussy.

She writhed between moans, pleas and sobs. She couldn't tell if she wanted him to stop, to fuck her or to keep going, for God's sake, she was drooling so shamefully.

“I fucking dare you! Say it again,” he growled, thrusting two fingers into her, enjoying her tightness around his fingers. “Where’s your nerve, brat?”

“Seb, fuck-!” she stuttered, digging her nails into his thighs, a husky moan escaping her as she felt his thumb slide across her clit. “Sorry, sorry!”

“Sorry for what?” he knocked again, loving to hear her little moans.

“For saying you’re old!” she cried, trying to push her hips against his hand, but Sebastian held her back. “Even if it’s the damn truth!”

“Fucking girl, I think we need to keep that smart mouth busy,” and with that, Sebastian made her kneel in front of him and unzipped her. “Open your mouth, pretty girl”

FERNANDO ALONSO:

Y/N was Lawrence's niece and was in her final year of mechanical engineering at MIT, the girl was a genius and was slowly gaining her space within Aston Martin. Her stunning beauty was just a bonus. Y/N dedicated all her vacation days inside the team's garage, adjusting improvements with the team, checking the cars for defects or just being a girl passionate about Formula One. Fernando loved it when she would invade his office and ask him to tell her about the golden age of racing, or how she was the villain of absolutely every driver in the category; Y/N heard the same stories over and over and acted the same way every time: with fucking enthusiasm.

He nicknamed her the Keychain, since Y/N was always hanging from his flap — and he was far from complaining.

He knew, the guys envied him.

Okay, he was Fernando Fucking Alonso, but what the hell had a girl twenty years younger seen in him?

The answer was quite simple, to tell the truth.

“You need to be quiet, dulzura" He said, resting his index finger on her lips, as he slid his glans through the girl's soaked folds. "We don't want to get caught, do we?"

She shook her head, rolling her tongue around his finger, making Fernando grunt. Who would have thought that behind that nerdy face, full of technical jargon, there was a mind full of mischief?

“I’ll be quiet, Nano” and with that, she sucked her index finger “I promise”

“Muy bien, tesoro” He said and thrust himself into her, being greeted by the wet, tight heat of her pussy. Y/N whimpered, pushing herself against him. "Holy crap, bebé” The Spaniard grunted, “You’re still so fucking tight, love,” and he pressed his fingers into her hips, keeping her in place with each thrust.

“F-Fucking good, mhmm my God” she bit the back of her hand, stopping herself from moaning.

"Qué chica tan hermosa para mí..." (such a pretty girl for me) he moaned, capturing her lips in a dirty kiss, without stopping to hit his hips against hers, without stopping to hit the head of his cock in a delicate spot inside her, making the girl tremble with pure pleasure “I'm going to fuck you every day, until your beautiful pussy is shaped like my dick”

“Yes, yes, yes Nano” Y/N whispered with a lost mind “please”

“Todo para mi chica perfecta”

JENSON BUTTON:

He hated her, that's all.

Jenson wasn't one for harboring bad feelings about people, but Y/N, the new FOX Sports journalist, managed to bring out the worst in him. She was a shrew, horrible, irritating, and beautiful like nothing else could be. And this last fact increased Jenson's resentment towards her even more.

Because for him, it was unacceptable that someone as beautiful as her could be as bad as the serpent of Eden. The devil really is in the details, he assumed.

He had a good race, he got the highest place on the podium, even though the car left something to be desired in the first and second sectors. Jenson pushed the car beyond the limit and managed to win, it was commendable, but he knew that this wouldn't impress Y/N's untamed little vixen. Oh God, he really hated her, while Y/N took real pleasure in making him mad. A witch, indeed.

The interview was full of discreet barbs and disguised insults, pushing the journalist and pilot to the limit of their patience.

Jenson pushed her against the warm wall of a random motorhome, he didn't care which team it was, he wanted to make that little journalist swallow every insult. In any way.

He gritted his teeth, he wanted to say something, to provoke her anger too, but the bitch was good at what she did and damn, he had never received such a good blowjob.

Y/N tightened her throat around him, making Jenson moan muffledly and push her head further, suffocating her with his cock, Y/N's makeup was smeared, There were burgundy lipstick stains on his groin and her hair was a mess. The pilot took a deep breath and in a hoarse voice, provoked the journalist.

“Looks like that’s the only way to get you to shut up, witch.”

Y/N pulled away from his cock, breathing heavily as she licked her lips, swallowing every drop of his taste.

“You’re the one who’s weak and hasn’t found another way” he gave a cynical smile, which hit him right in the face “but don’t worry, Button, this way is without a doubt, my favorite” and with that said, she pressed a kiss to the fat, red glans, moaning at Jenson's sigh.

“Fucking brat”

“Bitch,” she said and went back to swallowing every inch of Jenson’s huge erection. He still hated her, but much less now.

MARK WEBBER:

He was fucked in every way, and beyond repair. Sebastian would stick a rusty knife in his liver if he knew, well, if he knew, of course. Y/N Vettel was the devil, sent specifically to get Mark into trouble. For a long time — with a lot of effort — Mark managed to keep his hands off his teammate's sister.

But as said before, Y/N was the devil and thought Mark should be in a more interesting place: her bed.

He spent years pretending not to see her intentions, especially since she was still a teenager with fetishes about her brother's friend, and Mark would never get involved with a teenager. But Y/N grew up, maturity came like a punch, for the pilot at least, she was no longer a little girl with braces and a frilly skirt. She had become a beautiful woman and looked like a lioness on the hunt.

Mark was her prey.

“You know what’s going to happen here, little Vettel,” he said, trying to avoid dirty thoughts about his friend’s sister, trying to see the little girl who was still tongue-tied and stuttering in front of him. Y/N smiled, when did that pimply girl become such a hottie? Mark could barely think, especially as his eyes traced the soft curve of her neck and chest.

Shit, he was so fucked up.

But if you were already in hell, then dance with the devil. He held her neck as he held her in place, Y/N moaned loudly, pushing her ass up against him even more, Mark grunted hoarsely with each squeeze she gave his cock, Y/N looked over her shoulder at him, smiling through her tears of lust.

“H-Harder, please,” she whimpered, grinding against him and moaning loudly at the slap that slapped her ass. He slowed down on purpose “M-Mark, fuck.”

He pulled her until she was on her knees, with her back resting on his chest and nibbled on the back of her neck “Dirty girl, what would your brother say if he saw you moaning like that on my cock?”

Y/N whimpered, he was moving in and out so slowly that she could feel the swollen veins on his erection, or the bulbous tip stretching her. His slowness was desperate, but so, so good that she wanted to stay there forever.

He cursed his own slowness, Y/N squeezing him like a fist, taking everything in him not to cum like a stupid virgin. Mark sped up his thrusts, loving Y/N's relieved moans and let the girl fall back onto the bed, with her ass in the air and her face on the mattress.

That was the vision of heaven, damn it.

KIMI RAIKKONEN:

The context was simple: he had separated a few months ago and Y/N was the nanny for his children. Y/N was adorable and her kids loved her unconditionally, Kimi trusted her enough to travel for work for long days and keep the kids with her. At that point in the game, Y/N wasn't just the nanny, she was already part of the family; she had her own room in every house Kimi owned, traveled with the pilot and his children — even when he didn't need to — and enjoyed many other privileges that other employees didn't have.

Kimi couldn't say exactly when he started to notice Y/N differently, maybe it was the neediness, since he had been alone for almost a year. Maybe it was the way she kept saying ‘Mr. Raikkonen’ even when he insisted on ending the formalities. Kimi was being hypocritical, he knew exactly when his little obsession with his children's nanny began.

He was returning from a business trip, he could have retired from racing, but he hated being idle. It was the middle of the night and the house was silent except for the soft sound of a cell phone ringing upstairs — Y/N's room was on the main floor, so the girl had full access to the children. Kimi went upstairs, listening to the melancholic beat of Lana Del Rey, he hated indie music, but he had memorized a large part of the singer's repertoire because of Y/N. The door was open and he saw in the reflection of the mirror, Y/N wearing nothing but silk pajamas as she spread moisturizer on her skin; Kimi was a visual man, few things were more attractive than a woman spreading moisturizer on her body.

He didn't want Y/N to catch him spying, much less for her to pull him into the room and lock the door. Nor did she kiss him, in a shy way, until Kimi realized what was happening and finally reacted, grabbing her body as if Y/N was going to disappear at any moment, he kissed her furiously, with a desire he didn't even know existed. He kissed her until he lost his way and ended up ripping her delicate pajamas, dropping the fragile silk on the floor.

She gripped the bedclothes, arching her body as she felt her strength drain away with each time his tongue hit her clit. She tried to stop, tried to push him away, but Kimi grabbed her hips, wanting her to keep grinding her pussy against his mouth.

“Sr. R-Raikkonen” Y/N gasped, her voice trailing off into a moan, she whimpered as Kimi's tongue pressed against the swollen, sensitive bud. She would cum in a few seconds, she had no more strength, the knot in her stomach was tightening more and more. Kimi didn't seem satisfied with having made her cum in a few minutes. He wanted more.

Y/N's moans mixed with the melody of Diet Mountain Dew, creating an erotic, intimate and secret atmosphere.

“Don’t stop, nukke,” he ordered, moving as little away from her as possible, making Y/N shiver with the hot air that escaped his mouth. “Keep fucking my face, kaunis" (pretty)

“I-I can’t take it any m-anymore, Mr. Raikkonen,” she stammered weakly, her hips moving to Kimi’s will. “P-Ple-” her body gave in to yet another violent orgasm, to the point of taking away her remaining strength and knocking her to the ground. Gently, Kimi laid her down on the carpet, letting her calm down and recover.

“Are you tired, nukke?” Kimi asked as she took off his clothes, gazing at Y/N's appreciative gaze on her body, she was lying on her stomach, panting, full and shiny with sweat, a fucking sight.

“Not at all, Mr. Raikkonen,” she said in a low tone.

“Keep calling me Mr. Raikkonen and we’ll take this here until you have mercy, kaunis”

“I thought you’d never get the hint, Mr. Raikkonen,” she says, swaying her hips provocatively.

“Naughty,” he snapped, smacking the side of her ass with a stinging smack.

gif credits: lewisthot, pierregasly, suzuki-ecstar, machinecreature, its-avalon-08, blueballsracing.

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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[lady-lauren]

❥ Shanks x Fem!Reader

❥ Word Count: 2.7k

❥ Warnings/Tags: Dilf/Babysitter, established relationship, praise, daddy kink, light somnophilia, breeding, marking/bruising, choking, dacryphilia, overstimulation, creampie

❥ Happy Holidays!! For @pixelcafe-network’s Secret Santa, I was given the lovely @semisgroupie as my elf 🥰 Hopefully this fic has a few of your ~favorite things~ 🎁

Cool fingers run down the warmth of your back, tracing the curve of your spine with skin chilled from the sea.

Tonight you’re half asleep, lashes fluttering from where your face is snuggled into the couch cushions. By the looks of it, you put his baby to bed a few hours ago and slipped into a nap while gathering and cleaning the toys strewn around the den.

When Shanks hired you as his kid’s babysitter, he purposely gave you a little more than your asking price with an ulterior motive. Because he knew one day he’d smooth your edges, poke holes into your professional demeanor and fill the gaps with him.

It took patience, mostly because his sailing career kept him away from the house for weeks. But every time he came home, you warmed to him, like a cat taking hesitant steps closer until you finally landed in his lap.

He doesn’t think to wake you, instead he moves how he pleases. His fingers dip underneath the waistband of your soft pants, seeking the heat between your thighs.

You coo, drowsy and cute. Shanks continues, thick fingers languishing through your folds, building your wetness until a dark spot forms on cotton.

“Pretty baby likes that, yeah?” He asks even though he knows you won’t answer, cheek snuggling deeper into the couch as your hips buck like you missed him.

All he thinks of is you. Surely all you dream of is him. His sweet little babysitter, his perfect little slut.

Shanks pulls your pants down around your thighs, the fabric stretching as his fingers bury deeper into your cunt. Your heart begins to thump as you awaken, fear and shock and pleasure converging as he spears two thick fingers into your pussy.

“You drool when you sleep,” he teases, kissing along your cheek until he slots his mouth over yours. You mumble something against his tongue, thighs pressing together with a moan as you feel the pads of his fingers curl just right within you.

“I don’t,” your pout is cute, flushed, hips wiggling to get the palm of his hand to press against your aching clit.

Shanks pulls his hand from your pussy, sideways grin catching the light of the muted TV in the dark room. Slick drips from his skin and smears into your sweats as he pushes them down over your knees, letting you sleepily kick the fabric onto the floor next to a group of discarded toy blocks.

“You do.” He pulls you into his lap so easily, his sea-battled body thick but agile. His fingers slide back between your folds as you settle across his thighs. Skimming the outer lips of your pussy, he spreads you wide before prodding his index finger at your entrance. The press is wet, sticky, a squish against heated skin. “You’re so messy.”

The annoyance that flickers across your face, the twist of your lips and the furrow in your brow, makes his cock swell against the seam of his pants.

“It’s not my fault.” Yet you shiver when a delectable jolt signals down your body as his knuckles slide back into your tight hole.

“Don’t lie to Daddy,” his lips trail along your throat, breathing in the sweet scent that’s been haunting him for weeks, “you’ve just been waiting for me to get home and fuck you stupid. Probably dreaming ‘bout me knocking you up.”

“Have not. I’ve been busy taking care of your k-kid, I don’t need, ah, more little Shanks running around.”

But the way your cunt sucks and pulses around his fingers tells him the truth.

His fingers spread you apart, building a pace that makes your nails cling into the worn shirt on his shoulders. He relishes the feel of you, groans as your cunt drools into the palm of his hand. Your hips start to buck in bliss, the little bit of brat in you fading as he swirls the pad of his thumb against your clit.

Something delightfully wicked toils in his stomach as his cock twitches against his thigh.

“That so? You didn’t miss me? Weren’t dreamin’ bout me?”

Your pretty head shakes no, lips pressing together as you ride his hand, desperation and pleasure blurring your senses.

“Then Daddy better give you something to dream about next time he’s gone.”

Thick, long fingers stroke a fire against your velvety walls, each plunge deeper and deeper than before. His thumb presses dreamily against your clit, each swipe and swirl making you shake.

As soon as you loom against the orgasmic edge, he slows down, the raging hot sea ebbing away like tides returning to the ocean. He lets you squirm in his lap, smirking against your neck as he starts to suck against your pulse. His hot tongue slides a cool trail along your skin, tasting the cry stuck in your throat.

As patient as Shanks can be, he can’t deny your pleasure for long. Not when you start to babble nonsense, little whispers of please Daddy like you just can’t help yourself. Your hips fall down, humping and rubbing against his hand and pressing it down against his leaking cock.

“Already getting a little stupid for me, hm?” He smirks as you kiss him, all sloppy and messy like you’re chasing a wet dream just out of reach. You still taste of the lipgloss you first wore to his house for your interview, strawberries and cream, delectable ripe fruit he couldn’t wait to devour.

“You know we shouldn’t…” the memory of your timid voice rings in his ears as he remembers pinning you against the kitchen counter, rubbing his hot cock against the weeping seam of your panties. But you let him have you anyways, teary and doe eyed with your t-shirt between your teeth so he could watch your tits bounce with his thrusts.

His thumb becomes a vortex on your clit, drawing blinding pleasure until your eyes squeeze closed with tears framing your lashes.

“Oh, sweet girl, gonna make you cum for me so you’re nice and swollen when I fuck you.”

You’re panting, body begging for release. Your nails scrape down his chest, searching for an anchor as you start to get washed away. Shanks tempts you closer with another thrust of his fingers, the resounding bliss making you whimper. He rocks your body back, spreads you wider across his lap, watching how your pretty pussy stretches around his huge fingers.

“Daddy,” such a small, sweet whisper, “daddy, daddy, please!”

“Shhh, shhh, shhhh, no need to wake the baby.”

You’re the perfect picture: hair still crinkled from sleep, tits bouncing beneath one of his soft shirts, cunt spread around fingers calloused from pulling sail lines. His teeth clench as he restrains himself from pushing in too deep, keeping his pace fast and thumb coiling you tighter and tighter like a wind-up doll.

You absolutely shatter around him, head tilting back as your hips finally cease from chasing your high. Your thighs quiver, pussy spasming, orgasm flooding all your senses as you breathe out his name in reverence. Shanks slows, electing to watch you unfold for him. He sees the muscles in your lower stomach contracting, feels your pulsing pleasure on his fingers, slick coating his skin in gentle waves. Your chest heaves as you finally look at him, eyes glassy.

“Atta girl, good girl,” he loves the way you coo when he pulls his fingers from your slit, like you already miss him, “now help me out of these pants.”

He’s overly pleased at how quickly you move, nimble fingers tugging at his belt and dragging down his zipper. Feeling your hand squeeze around his freed cock makes him groan, low and deep like a predator released from his cage.

“I think you missed me more than I missed you,” you taunt, smearing pre-cum down his shaft as you pump his length.

“I don’t get to stay at home and fuck myself with toys, princess. Just get to fuck my hand and waste my cum when it should be inside your pretty cunny.”

You gasp as he pulls you down, sliding your messy cunt over the ridge of his cock. Your sensitive clit catches against the head of his cock and you bite your lip to stay quiet.

“Tell Daddy what you want, you know I’ll give it to you.”

He expects your momentary silence. He’s been pushing you for months, feeding you hints of how he’s waiting for you to make this permanent, to take your relationship farther than just a transaction between Dad and babysitter.

“I want…”

Shanks leans forward, blowing red hair out of his face as he starts nipping and sucking at your throat, undoubtedly breaking flesh and leaving little bruises in his wake.

“Yeah?” Shanks starts prodding your weeping hole with his cock, dipping the head past the first tight ring of muscle. You whine, shifting your hips and trying to push down, yet his strong hand keeps you from taking in more of his shaft.

“Want you to breed me, Daddy.”

A deep, satisfied growl erupts from his large chest. He releases your hip, lets your slick pussy start engulfing his dick. He cants his hips up, rocking into you, inch by inch fucking into your cunt.

Shanks wraps a firm hand around your neck. You suck in a quick breath at the ferocity of his fingers as they press into already bruising flesh. He tilts your chin up, catching your gaze. He watches how you search his face, glancing across the scars on his eye before landing on the smirk tugging his cheek.

“You promise that’s what you want? Want me to make you a mommy?”

You nod your head as affirmatively as you can in his hold, feeling his strong fingers flex against your throat.

Too quickie, he bullies his cock inside of you. You cry out, a tear falling down the apple of your cheek as you stretch around him and take what he gives you. You swallow against the anchor of his hand, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth as he bounces you in his lap.

“Always so pretty when you cry.”

It must feel so good to be so fucking full, he muses, a playful smile dancing across his face as you mewl for him. The head of his cock is fat and firm, nestling just below your cervix with every thrust. Every roll of your hips has the ridge of his cock sliding just right against your spongy walls, stuffing you more and more every time you come back down to rest against his thighs. He’s throbbing within you, anxious to fill your guts with cum.

Rhythmic little moans begin to pour from your lips, the vibrations tingling against his chokehold. He lets his fingers ease so you can catch breath, only to cinch tighter and make your pretty head float to the clouds as he fucks you.

“Oh Daddy,” the name is so lewd yet so sweet from your mouth, unable to control yourself as hot waves of bliss wash over your body.

“That’s right, baby, gonna fill you to the fucking brim and breed you. Give you babies that look like me, fuck,” each word is punctuated with a heavy thrust of his cock into your depths, stretching and filling, “make you mine and keep you.”

“Yes, yes, please, want your babies, need to feel you cum in me.”

“Been watchin’ you with my kid for so long, want us makin’ our own, want you here every time I come home.”

He’s not sure if the sparkling tears that start dribbling down your pretty face are happy or overwhelmed, but he doesn’t really care. He catches one against your cheek with his tongue, salt against his lips.

A tumble of strangled curses meet his ears, smothered by his hand and by the sound of his thick balls slapping against your ass. You’re getting tight again, clit rubbing against the patch of crimson curls and fit muscles with every push and pull he gives you.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect to have my babies, perfect to get fucked dumb.”

“Ah-ah, yes, Daddy, such a good girl for you, promise. Please make me c-cum, please, wanna milk your cock so, so bad.”

Music to his ears. This is what he dreams of on late nights, in a cramped ship cabin with his cock strangled in his fist—you, crying pretty tears, begging to let him breed you.

His balls tighten as your cunt cinches. Thoughts of making you his, breeding you every night until you ripen with his child overtake every corner of his brain until he’s nothing but a primal machine barreling into your body.

Shanks’ instincts go into overdrive, hand releasing your neck so he can grab your hip and pull you down with every snap of his cock into your oversensitive cunt. Your slick is drooling again, pooling against his thighs, soaking into his couch cushions. He doesn’t even care that sweat is dripping from his brow, red hair falling into his face and yours as he crushes you to him and dares to take everything he wants and more.

He’s racing to orgasm, can feel it in his weary shoulders, in his stomach. Your pussy is twitching, squelching, begging him for another release. His thumb finds its way to your clit again, pressing far too hard, but he needs to make you cry for him, to feel you come apart in his lap.

“Love fucking this tight little cunny, you’re perfect for me.”

He puts unholy pressure on your clit, coiling you until you explode, a mess of tears and slick as you convulse around the width of his cock. The suction makes his eyes roll back, shoulders falling against the back of the couch as he continually fucks into you.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it, baby. Give me another.”

“Shanks!” you squeal, but quickly slap your hand over your mouth, eyes shutting tightly as you try to listen for the sound of a waking baby over the cacophony of sex in the room. “C-can’t,” you whisper, “can’t do another.”

“Oh yes you can, pretty baby. You have it in you.”

His thumb is mean against your clit. Hot, right circles that make your legs shake, cunt squishing around the bounce of his cock.

“Please, please, I can’t. Just cum, cum in me and breed me and—”

“One more, just one more. Wanna milk my cock, yeah? Wanna suck all my seed into your guts? One more.”

You let him have you, slumping against his chest as he works in and out, in and out, toying with your clit until you’re crying again. You shake uncontrollably, jumping against his lap when too sharp pleasure rockets down your back and tickles your toes.

“Love you so much, baby, you know that right?”

“Mmmhmmm,” you whimper and nod, burying your face into his shirt and clinging to his sides for dear life.

“Love your cunny, love your pretty face, love how you take care of me and my kid. Love you,” he groans from deep within, feeling your hot pussy cream around him as he draws the last bits of pleasure from you.

You gush and shiver, mewling as your cunt squeezes and draws the cum from his balls. He pulls you close as he finally unloads, hand leaving your glossy cunt to pet your hair, making a mess of you as cum starts to string from his cock.

“God, that’s it, good girl, good fucking girl.”

He pumps his load into you, warmth flooding your insides as your cunt struggles take what he gives. Cum starts to burst from the seam of where he plugs you, bubbling out and painting your thighs.

A few moments pass, your ear pressed to his raging heartbeat as you both catch your breath.

“I think you missed me,” he teases, classic grin on his face as you look up at him.

You poke his dimple, freckled from days out in the sun. “We missed each other, silly. Don’t stay away so long next time.”

Shanks kisses your forehead, making no move to unlodge his cock, content to sit with you and feel your tits press to his chest.

“I think, as captain, I can make a new rule for more parental leave. I’m getting you pregnant before I leave for the next trip.”

[jaggedamethyst]

because i love the golden boy girlies…here’s a bit i wrote originally but decided against for part 3. (where reader first sees jayce with mel and gets jealous)

💫

The sound of two sets of footsteps approaching immediately made you search for a place to hide. Had it been only Jayce, you’d endure it. Two sets of judging eyes, however, absolutely not.

You quickly made your way to a storage cabinet far from the entrance. You remembered Jayce saying something about reorganizing and that this particular one would now house some other nerd materials. It was just your luck that it was completely empty and big enough for you to walk right into and stand in.

You let the door remain cracked a bit, observing the pair. There was a woman, with Jayce, undoubtedly beautiful.

The distance of the cabinet made it hard to hear, save for some encouragement from the woman. When she rubbed Jayce’s shoulder, though, kissing him on the cheek, was when you’d lost all resolve. It started to feel all too familiar.

You watched as he followed her body leaving the room, his posture changing after a few seconds.

He went for the door, his back toward you. “She’s gone.”

You weren’t shocked he figured out you were here.

“It’s not at my workbench, if you're looking for that.”

Oh

You stayed silent and still.

“Just come with me okay?”

He slipped out of the door. By the time you’d crossed the room he was gone. There were only so many places he’d go from here. The route to his room was one you knew like the back of your hand. You made your way there as fast as you could without running, tears were dangerously close to escaping you.

The sight of him waiting for you when you rounded the corner made you stop in your tracks. It was dimly lit, as always. Books were in every inch of the space, a clear result of his continued pursuit of knowledge. There was clutter everywhere, but you were used to it.

You glanced between him and the room, suddenly feeling the weight of this. The time apart. Him with that woman. It was too much.

He saw you spiraling, this wasn’t like your usual reserved self at all.

“I’m sorry.”

You head shook, not believing him. You couldn’t.

He persisted, closing the gap between you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said. If I could take it back I would.”

You didn’t care about that. He was so dumb. This was so dumb. You…felt so dumb.

“She kissed you.”

“What?”

“Who was that woman? What was that?”

He ran a hand over his face, “Mel. Her name’s Mel.”

“You like her?”

He hadn’t expected you to be this straightforward. The silence that filled the room was enough to make you crumble instantly.

The tears finally came, “I knew it.”

“I- I’m confused, okay? She’s been here when you’re not. She’s consistent.”

“Are you with her…I mean…were you?” The question was the closest you could get your mouth and brain to asking if they’d slept together. You didn’t want to know, truly. You just couldn’t go on if they had.

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t know-“

“Do you really think so little of me?”

“But-“

“Yes, Mel’s present. She’s here. She encourages me.” He contemplates his next sentence in detail. As a man of science he could only assume things based on evidence. He knew that in looking back at your past responses to him, you’d likely run from him—pull away. In some instances, though, variables result in differing results. He wouldn’t let you get away again.

“She gives me attention…but she’s not you.”

“Shut up.”

“Stop. Stop telling me to shut up. You shut up!”

That shocked you, “Jayce!”

“No! We have done this for so long and you never shut up and listen to me. I am standing in front of you…in fact,” he pushed you to sit on the edge of his bed. He knelt to the floor to meet you at eye level. “I am literally on my knees telling you…that I am here…with you.”

You looked at him, surveying the man once again trying his hardest to mend what was broken in you. It wasn’t enough.

“I’m not here for this,” you wiped your tears. “I just don’t wanna be disrespected by you being with someone else.”

Jayce inched away a bit, clearly taken aback. This was what you did, push him away. At any chance you got you’d relented.

“Fine,” he moved to take off his jacket. “This is what you want right?” His pants came off next. “You want me here, for you, and getting nothing in return. I can do that. I’m used to it right?”

[writingpromptsworld]

Prompt #83

(Might make a part two if there are enough requests!! Enjoy :)

By @writingpromptsworld

"You've changed." The hero said, carefully. It had been years since they last saw the villain. They had disappeared after their last fight without a trace. The hero, despite themself, had tried to track them down, find out about their whereabouts. But, in the end, they had come up with nothing. It was like the villain never existed.

The villain chuckled. "Yes, I have better ways to annoy you now." The hero's brows knitted together.

"You're no longer causing trouble." The hero continues, ignoring the villain's comment.

The villain glanced away, their expression turning serious.

"Why?" The hero asks, taking a tentative step forward.

"I got bored. Besides, it's not fun anymore. We fight, one of us wins, we fight again. The whole routine." They gesture in the air dismissively.

The hero didn't quite believe them. "You got bored of fighting?" They asked, a little in disbelief. The villain loved to fight, they loved the thrill. Both of them did. So, it didn't make sense when they said it wasn't fun anymore.

"Yes, hero." The villain responded, staring into their eyes.

"I don't believe you."

"It's the truth."

"Then look me in the eyes when you say it."

The villain clenched their jaw, tensing up. The hero knew them so well. But they couldn't just tell them that it was because of the hero, that the hero had somewhere along the way convinced the villain that there was more to life than fighting and empty battles. That they could let go of the hatred and not resist life anymore.

The hero took a step closer, filling the gap between them. "Villain." They whispered.

The villain gulped, their eyes flickering with uncertainty. "What?"

"You can say it." The hero coaxed, their voice quiet, expression gentle.

The villain didn't want to. They wanted to resist, hold on to the last bit of what they were before the hero entered their life. However, it was all in vain. "Fine. It's because of you."

The hero smiled faintly, their fingers intertwining with the villain's. "I'm glad you're back."

[dark-raven-666]

AHHHHH CAN WE GET MR HOOD BEING A GENTLEMAN WITH MC??

+ and... like mr hood punishin mc for not getting a word correctly 😊

I CANT FIND ANY DOMESTIC +DOMINANT MR HOOD FANFICS ANYWHERE 💔💔

Mr Hood x reader sfw + nsfw

A/N: I know this took time but I've been in a rough patch in life. This has both sfw and nsfw headcanons and a small one shot following each.

The reader is AFAB (mention of female genitalia in nsfw and mention of period in sfw)

Feedback is always appreciated! ♡

If you feel uncomfortable with the following please don't read and I hope to see you on another fic. 💕

Warnings: (nsfw only) spanking, denied orgasm, fingering fem receiving.

SFW

To begin with it, he would be very kind to you, if you're looking for husband material then you've found it.

Minus the part that he does not know what love is.

We can see that when you're small he carries you around. Let's say you're back to your regular size. He will be the most gentleman ever. Opening doors for you and helping you carry stuff.

The first time you ever get your period he freaks out.

Blood? Blood = injured. Are you injured?!

Proceeds to ask about it, getting you a bit shy.

After an hour you explain it to him. He doesn't get it fully but he gets the idea that you're not in any real danger.

You lay down on the bed in one of the rooms of this odd realm. You had gotten your period and your cramps were killing you. Worse of all you had to trade three fingers for some tampons/pads from Mr. Gap. They have already grown back but the blood from that and your period is taking a toll on you.

Looking up at the ceiling of the room you sigh. Why now? Why did you have to be a woman?

Them your knight in shining armor walks in, well knight in a hood but you get my idea.

Sitting on a chair beside the bed he puts his hand on your belly and strokes circles on it as if soothing the pain. It helps a little but still you're in pain.

"You.. Pain?* he asks. His hand still rubbing circles. He receives a nod from you.

"Pain.. Where? " he asks this time, clearly wanting to help.

You gesture to your head and your stomach. Now his free hand reaches up to pet you. He had never been this soft before.

He lays his head on your stomach and speaks.

"Pain... Go.. Away... Me... Call.. Nurse? "

You only shake your head and answer back. "No need, I just need to rest. "

He nods and rests, if he had a face you would assume his eyes were closed. So soft.. So gentle... Both of you finally sleep.

NSFW

He's such a great teacher, yet you've both agreed on a punishment if you get a word wrong.

A spank on your beautiful bottom.

He would bend you over his lap after the lesson and spank you for each mistake you made throughout the lesson.

Why not just spank you after each one? Why all together?

Because he loves to see you turn red, eyes filled with tears and moaning.

At some point you decided to make more mistakes hoping for the punishment but he catches on fast. This time he asks you to lower your pants as usual but he lays you on your back.. That was new.

Grabbing a ruler he would hit your sensitive bud. You like being punished so much? Then you should like all kinds of punishment.

Bent over on the hooded man's lap you naked butt red and swollen with his hand mark on it you cry out again.

It hurt so much and you loved it. He was fully dressed and not saying a word. Only punishing.

Your tears spill again as you begin for mercy. You had been dripping with arousal and need for the man.

He then looked over the paper that you had filled in. You had done well. Perhaps you deserved to be rewarded for the few words you got right. He gently pushes one of his long fingers inside you. God they were long.

You let out a gasp at the cold feeling and mutter out a series of thank yous..

He moves his finger in and out of your sopping heat, just to add another finger.

His fingers curl up and find the delicious spot inside of you. God he felt good. After long minutes of torture you feel yourself closing in, reaching down you try to run your clit just to reach that high. Then SMACK! His fingers are outside of you delivering a harsh slap on your bottom.

"Did not... Say you can touch." He tells you.

He then sits you up and pulls up your panties.

Your punishment was that you would not get to cum.

He then leaves the room and you're left confused. Had this action upset him so much.

Much the less you walk back to the room that you made yours and lay on the bed your underwear wet. You let a sigh and just at that time Mr. Hood walks back in with a tray that had a water bottle, clean panties (you don't want to know where he got them from) and wet wipes.

He hands you the water and takes off your wet panties. Then with the wet wipes he cleans your thighs and privates. The cool sensation felt so nice in your abused folds. He then slides on the new panties and let's you rest, he pats your head and walks out.

He didn't know how to show love and affection otherwise, but he knew that you needed help after that.

At the end of the day you still didn't get to cup but you found that he has a nice aftercare side.

[ladykailitha]

Spellbound Part 4

Normally I would go back and forth between the two stories, but this one had more chapters backlogged, so it gets to go again.

Just a reminder, starting next week, I'll be taking a break from posting. I'm recovering from all the crazy writing I did this month. 12 ficlets, 1 multi-chaptered Christmas story, and a shorter one-shot of one of the ficlets. All total roughly 30k words in a month. So... yeah. I'm taking a well deserved break.

In this we have Dustin and Mike being teenagers, Robin spots a rogue Chrissy, and Steve has to deal with a very angry brownie (fae, not food).

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

~

A curly haired boy came bursting through the front door and Steve glared at him. “Dustin, how many times do I have to tell you to not just barge in?””

Dustin skidded to a stop and looked up at Steve like he didn’t know his ass from his elbow.

“Bav lets me,” he said smugly crossing his arms and grinning with that stupid gap-tooth grin of his.

Steve put his hands on his hip and sighed. He looked up at the roof, pursing his lips as he fought back the angry response. “Bav is not the only being with thoughts and feelings and while she ‘lets’ you it doesn’t mean you should. Because I sometimes work on dangerous things and if you come barging in, you might get hurt.”

Dustin scoffed. “Like she would let me in if you were doing something dangerous or whatever.”

The walls seemed annoyingly smug and tinted a shimmering grey-green.

“If these walls could talk,” Dustin continued with a smirk, “she would be agreeing with me.”

Steve pinched the the bridge of his nose and sighed. The truth was, he didn’t want Dustin bursting in because he was trying to find a ‘don’t hate me’ spell or charm to get Eddie to ease up off him a bit. But while there were friendship charms and love potions, neither really fit what he was looking for.

“What did you need?” he asked instead. “Or are you here to harass me?”

Dustin put his hands over his heart. “Ah! I’m offended that you think the only two reasons I would come visit are harassing you or wanting something from you.”

“There is another reason you come over?” Steve asked with a huff. He walked over to the bookshelf and began skimming the titles. He pulled out a large blue tome and flipped to a specific page as Dustin watched with suspicion. “How quickly do you think I could brew a truth potion and slip it in your tea?”

Dustin held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. All right. Sheesh. I wanted to beat Mike to the deliveries today because Mr. Jenner is making his apple cider and he always pours a glass for the one who delivers your asthma medicine.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. “Mike beat you by twenty minutes, man. In fact he should be back here in about five minutes.”

“Nooooo...” Dustin wailed, “that’s so not fair!”

The walls drooped and turned a pale blue. Steve shook his head. “It’s good thing I love you both,” he huffed stomping over to the icebox.

He pulled out an earthenware jug and took down two glasses. He filled both of them with a cool amber liquid and handed one glass to Dustin and then poured the other glass out the window and on to the foundation.

Dustin looked down at the cup and took a cautious sip and then a more enthusiastic gulp. “When did you get this?” He shook his head. “Wait before you answer that, did you just pour out a perfectly good cup of Mr. Jenner’s cider out onto the ground?”

Steve stroked the door frame to the back garden. “Sure, Bav deserves some too.”

The house seemed to get a little bit bigger as the walls turned a pretty, happy dusky pink.

Dustin blinked a moment before he finished the rest of his cider. “Seriously, though. I thought Mr. Jenner doesn’t make the cider until the afternoon.”

“The perks of being the town witch,” Steve said sagely. “People are very superstitious and I’ll often get the first wool or the first bag of flour. In this case, the first jug of cider.”

Dustin looked down at his empty cup and then up at Steve. “That’s actually kinda badass, you know?”

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I was about to make lunch if you would like to stay. Mike will be joining us...just...about...now.”

There was a knock on the door and Dustin went to go answer it. Sure enough on the other side of the door was Mike Wheeler.

Dustin looked back at Steve in shock. “How did you know it was Mike? Did Bav tell you? Can you see through walls?”

Mike just shoulder past him to get into the house, greeting Bav briefly before sitting down at the tea table.

“None of the above,” Steve said placing the cold meat sandwiches on the table. He pointed to the window. “I know how long each of you take on your runs and when I looked out the window, he had just passed in front. No sit down and eat your sandwich.”

Dustin grumbled but did as he was told. He took a big bite and hummed happily around his bite of food. “You make the best sandwiches, Steve.”

Mike nodded. “Thanks for the food. I just get so hungry these days and my mom keeps threatening to rehome me because I eat so much.”

Steve chuckled and sat down with his own plate of food. It was actually a normal amount because he hadn’t used magic today. “I remember what that was like, I’m not much older than you two, so I don’t mind sharing a meal or two to take the burden off your parents a little.”

“I think that’s why Ma doesn’t mind me hanging out over here,” Dustin said around a bite. “She knows you’ll take care of me.”

Steve smiled and shook his head, taking a bite of his food. Claudia Henderson was notoriously protective of her son. She wouldn’t trust the Pope with Dustin and she was Catholic. But somehow, someway she trusted Steve to take care of her Dusty.

He sent them off with full stomachs and cakes for their moms. They didn’t need to know that the cakes, which he was with absolute certainty never actually made it home, were just little charms of be nice to your mom magic. Karen Wheeler and Claudia Henderson deserved a day of their sons being so sweet to them.

Which was the real reason their moms were okay with Steve. Because they were always so nice when they came home from spending time with him. Or on the off chance the cakes did make it home, they had a nice cake to eat and were nicer to their families afterwards. All in all, win/win for everyone.

Robin chose that moment to come home. “I’m in love with your house, Steve. She made the journey home take a little bit longer so I could avoid the buttheads.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, she’s great like that.”

“So guess who I saw coming out of the Munsons’ house on the way home?” she said, putting away the groceries she had into town for.

Steve paused his clearing of the lunch mess and straightened up. “No...really?”

Robin pursed her lips and nodded. “Apparently Chrissy Cunningham is branching out since her dramatic break up with Jason Carver.”

Steve finished the dishes with a sigh. “It’s no surprise that his confrontation with Eddie and Bav was public knowledge by breakfast the next day, but even I think visiting another man so soon after your ex went insane and tried to break into someone’s house is little reckless, honestly.”

Robin winced. “Ooh, yeah. I didn’t even think about the crazy ex. Yeah. Ooh. Maybe she was trying to come here and, I don’t know, apologize?”

“I don’t put the ‘no return’ spell on the love charms,” Steve said, drying his hands. “I like it when they find their truelove and they come back all happy and smiles. If she was looking for me, she missed the mark a second time.”

Robin spun around. “Wait is that why?” Steve nodded. “Are there other charms you don’t put your ‘no return’ spell on? Or is it just that one?”

Steve just shrugged. “My medicines, I guess. That’s where I make the most money or get the best trades. But as for the other things, I saw what happens when you don’t set a boundary with people asking for charms. They’ll start asking for charms for everything. They’ll want to be cured of every ill, want everything handed to them, so I created the spell myself. It’s unique in all the world.”

“I didn’t know that,” Robin said softly. “About...well any of that I guess. You really don’t talk about your past. Of your life before Hawkins.”

Steve sat down at the table and placed his hands palm down on it. “Look, I don’t talk about it because for the large part, other than a couple of years apprenticing in her shop in the city, I grew up in a town of witches.”

Robin’s eyes went wide and she sat down next to him. “So you can’t talk about it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if I would say can’t talk about. But it’s hard sometimes when I say something and everyone stares at me blankly, like I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“And with each look and with each comment about how weird you are,” she said softly, taking his hand, “the less you want to bring it up. I’m sorry, Steve.”

“And with there being trouble in town with the whole Chrissy situation...” He sighed. “I’m think starting to wonder if Bav sensed something about her and tried to keep her away.”

The house seemed to shrink on itself a little and the walls turned a light grey.

Steve looked up at the ceiling and cooed, “I’m not blaming you, Bav, I’m blaming myself for not taking in everyone’s advice and giving it to her. Merlin and Circe didn’t like her either. Especially Merlin.”

Robin nodded. “As my familiar I should I have listened to him, too. He’s been giving me the cold shoulder ever since she showed up, as well. It’s a whole mess.”

Just then Circe came bursting through the window cawing angrily.

Steve buried his head in his hands. “Fucking hell! As if this day couldn’t get any worse.” He sighed heavily. “Tell Dustin to keep his shirt on and I’ll be right there.”

Robin sighed dramatically, throwing her head back. “Who would have thought that a Roman Catholic would even have a house elf to anger? Scratch that, who would have thought that house elves even existed?!”

Steve stopped half way to rising. “Like everyone knows that house elves exist. We don’t have any because Bav thinks they’re pests, but like even my dad knew better than to insult Mom’s house elf. Her name was Nora and best seamstress I’ve ever met.”

Robin stared at him blankly. “You want to run that past me again?”

Steve just rolled his eyes and got out a cup of milk and a little bowl of sugar, setting them carefully in a basket. Then he added honey, walnuts, and mint. He wanted to cover all his bases he didn’t know what this elf favored and wanted to make sure they weren’t offended further.

Then he went over to the bookshelf and after skimming the titles for a moment, he pulled out a small green book. He handed it to her. “Read that while I’m gone. The whole thing is useful, but I’d start with page eighty-six. The chapter on house elves.”

Then before Robin could even squawk a protest, Steve was out the door following Circe at speed, running to keep up.

He skidded to a stop in front of the Hendersons’ door to find that Dustin and Walter had been locked out of the house while screams could be heard from inside.

It didn’t sounded pained, it sounded indignant.

“Stand aside please,” Steve said sternly. Dustin and Walter looked back at Steve, thinking he meant them, but suddenly the screaming inside stopped and the door opened. “Thank you.” He turned back to the Henderson men. “Please wait here.”

But before either one of them could protest, Steve had already walked into the house and closed it tightly behind him.

He surveyed the damage. Claudia Henderson stood on the kitchen table battling a broom with her rolling pin. It was worse than he feared. He set his load down on the counter and began unpacking his treats.

The broom stopped moving, and then was slowly, cautiously put down. Once Steve had finished unpacking the honey, suddenly there was a little round faced woman about the size of Steve’s palm standing next to his basket with a red flower as a hat and bright clothes.

“What is that?” Claudia hissed, jumping down from the table.

“You’ll excuse her manners, little one,” Steve murmured, “it appears that she’s never heard of house elves before.”

The elf glared Claudia over her shoulder and then turned back to paw over Steve’s prizes.

“I didn’t have any cream,” he continued. “So I hope the milk is fine.”

The elf put her little hand in the milk and then stuck her hand in her mouth. “It’s good milk. You do your mother proud.”

Steve grinned at that. “So I take it you know Nora then?”

“Who’s Nora?” Claudia asked drawing closer to the two of them at the counter.

“Of course I know my own sister!” the little squeaked. “I’m Nona by the way. Please to meet you, Stevie.”

Claudia stopped dead in her tracks as she realized what was going on. She turned on her heel and began rummaging around in her ice box. “Eureka!” she cried.

She brought over a bowl and set down on the counter next to Nona. “I’m sorry little one. I wasn’t raised with knowledge of your people. I’m new to this town and was not aware of its different ways.”

Nona turned around and sniffed at the bowl cautiously. She looked up at Claudia in awe. “Clotted cream!” She put her hand in and pulled out a handful of the cream. She shoved it in her face with a contented hum.

“I didn’t know your family wasn’t from Hawkins,” Steve murmured. But he turned to Nona. “Would you please let the boys in, they must be so worried about Claudia.”

Nona looked up from her feast in wide eyed shock. “Oops!” She snapped her fingers and suddenly both Dustin and Walter spilled out on the ground as the door opened under their weight.

Steve went over and helped them to their feet. “Sorry about Nona, she didn’t know you weren’t familiar with house elves and thought you were actively insulting her.”

Dustin and Walter shared a shocked glance then looked over at the little woman eating their clotted cream.

“This is a house elf,” Steve said as Nona curtsied. “Her name is Nona and she helps out around the house. This has been her home for longer than this particular building has stood here. She will do the laundry or any chores left over the night. All she asks in return is a treat of her choice.”

“Does it have to be clotted cream every time?” Dustin asked as she wiped the mess of cream from her face with her apron.

“No,” Nona said. “But it was nice apology, though. I like honey and milk. So as long as you keep a bowl of of one of the two out, your food will never spoil and I will help out around the house.”

The Hendersons all exchanged glances and then Claudia nodded.

Walter stuck out his finger for her to shake. “Welcome to the family, Nona.”

~

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @wheneverfeasible @micheledawn1975 @gloomysoup @dotdot-wierdlife @tartarusknight

10- @ollyxar @yesdangerpls @two-vampires-kissing @themoonagainstmers @estrellami-1

[passionwillow]

Family Matters

Hi guys! Had a request for poly LucaxReaderxDeacon and them wanting a baby.

Warnings: Smut! 18+, age gap reader

A poly relationship wasn't on your radar. Like- ever.

But when you met Deacon and Luca while working at SWAT, your whole word was turned upside down. In the best possible way.

They were hesitant at first, given the age gap, but after a lot of talking and debating, the relationship flourished.

Two years together and you couldn't remember ever being happier. The date nights, the love, how they absolutely smothered you in affection, the sex.. As far as you were concerned, everything was perfect.

Kids hadn't really fallen on your radar. Deacon had his kiddos, and you loved every one of them. But you having a child? You honestly hadn't thought of it.

Not until Luca and Deacon sat down with you one morning, one man on either side of you as you sat on the bed. You closed your laptop and looked between them, smiling and raising your brows in question.

The two men traded a look and smiled to themselves, Luca clearing his throat before speaking. "Baby, how would you feel about.. About making a family?"

The question was shocking, and the look on your face must have given you away. Deacon sat up and took your hand, squeezing. "You can say no, that's totally okay. We won't be upset. But.. Luca and I have been talking. And we wanted to discuss it with you."

You looked between them and stayed quiet for a moment, shifting and chewing at your lip. A family.. A little baby with the two men you loved? Growing your relationship with them? It would be-.. Perfect.

"I would love that." You finally said after a moment, and both their faces lit up into grins. "There's just one thing.. Which one of you.. Y'know. Gets me pregnant?"

That was something Deacon and Luca had already considered, and Deacon couldn't wait for this part. "We'll both just.. Fill you. Let it be a mystery."

The words, the insinuation.. Your toes curled in delight at the thought. You nodded quickly in agreement and laughed at Luca tackled you back, his lips meeting yours in an eager kiss.

The next few hours were absolutely mind blowing.

Each man taking a turn between your legs, devouring you and making you cum once each before you even got a moment to breathe. Fingers stretching you, tongues lapping at your juices like men starved..

They gave you a moment to breathe while they each undressed, letting you lay back and watch them with hungry eyes. They were both sculpted like gods, in your eyes. Deacon on the slimmer side, muscled and sculpted, Luca broad and built, equally muscled.

This was the part of the plan neither man could wait for. They must have discussed who would go first at some point, because Luca was between your thighs in no time. Deacon took the space next to you and held you close, lips and hands exploring while Luca sheathed himself in side of you.

All the attention, the sensations happened... It was enough to drive you mad. So much pleasure at one. Deacon's lips and hands, his gravely voice talking you through it. Luca's cock drilling and stretching you, hands on your hips..

Your moans and curses filled the room, and it was only a matter of time before Luca had you humming around him. He fucked you through it in order to reach his own high, your sensitivity from two orgasms, now three, making you a limp, whining mess.

Deacon held you steady through the whole thing, hand on your stomach as he cooed softly to you. Luca had barely pulled out before Deacon was taking his place, thrusting into you with ease.

Your poor pussy was a wet, aching mess at this point, but you were craving these men like there was no tomorrow. You were limp in Luca's arms as he held you close, his own breathing labored as he caught his breath. Deacon knew you were tired, and was a bit more gentle for this last round. His thrusts were hard and steady, but his hands were soft as he held your thighs.

Your fourth orgasm burned in your stomach as Deacon fucked you, and you were crying out in pleasure within minutes, legs shaking as it exploded unexpectedly.

Luca watched in fascination and hunger as you came for the last time that night, body shaking as Deacon fucked you harder and quicker, chasing his own release and groaning your name as he filled you.

You went limp and tried to catch your breathe, the feeling gone from your lower extremities. You didn't notice both men get up and leave, or come back with warm cloths and water for you. Luca cleaned you up as Deacon cradled you and held the glass to your lips, kissing your cheek and temple as you sipped.

Both men curled up beside you and cuddled up to you, smiling to themselves as you fell asleep with a content little smile.

No matter what happened next, you couldn't be safer or happier than you were right now with these two men. Two men who cared about you more than anything.

[ken-dom]

Christmas Kisses

↳ with Lars, Driver or Six x gn!reader

⋆⁺₊❅ Total 2k words. Lars 880 words, Driver 670 words, Six 500 words.

⋆⁺₊❅ I’ve been wanting to write some kisses and thought, what better time is there than the holidays? So here’s a collection of festive smooches. Six was written as a little surprise for my beloved @heresthestorymorningglory – merry Sixmas, darling!

⋆⁺₊❅ Relevant content warnings listed under the header of each one shot, but generally these are NSFW.

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅ LARS LINDSTROM — First Kiss

⋆⁺₊❅ Contents: interrupted make out, mention of the uncomfortable side of the history of mistletoe traditions

☾ * ˛ ㅤ ˖ ⭑ ㅤ.ㅤ ❆ㅤㅤ *ㅤㅤ ˖ ㅤ❆ㅤ . ㅤ * _Π______ ˛ * ˖ ࣪ ⭑ * ˖ ࣪ . ❆ /______/~＼ ࣪ ☃︎ 𖢔 ❄︎ ˛╬╬╬╬╬˛ ° . ｜田田 ｜門｜ ╬╬╬╬╬

‘Look, Lars, Mistletoe!’ you beamed, stepping through Gus and Karin’s front door before him.

Lars’s heart always skipped at the way his name slipped from your tongue so easily, but this time his blood ran hot and cold at once, too. He had been hoping beyond hope for the right time to initiate a kiss. He couldn’t do that here, though, could he?

He wanted to. So much that his tongue licked along his bottom lip without him really meaning it to. His breath quickened, he could feel his pulse beginning to race-

No, not in Gus and Karin’s hallway. Not your first kiss together, right here on the threshold of his family home on the spur of the moment. He’d dreamed of your first kiss coming naturally one romantic night, after dinner and dancing at home, or under the fairytale moonlight at the lake, or even in his car after you’d been out somewhere together and had a good time.

Mistletoe was festive at least… this could be kind of romantic given the snow and the season, but all the scenarios he’d daydreamed about shared a common factor: you were in private when you kissed.

Lars offered a tightlipped smile and zero eye contact when you turned to see why he was still frozen to the spot on the porch.

‘Lars?’ you said quietly, coaxing him back to you, watching his eyes squeeze shut and his fists clench tight.

Before he could think up an excuse that summed up his inner turmoil and still let you know he wanted you more than anything right now, Karin unwittingly saved the day.

‘Lars, honey, is that you?’ she called down the stairs, ‘We’ll be down in just a minute, come on in!’

The only thing standing in his way now was the small complication that Lars wasn’t sure how long he could sustain a kiss without pain, but for you he would at least test it, and a whole minute seemed like a good start. A minute was plenty.

His hands unclenched, his eyes locked on yours, and he marched forward until he was an inch from you, where his gaze and his voice dropped.

‘You know what they used to say about standing under mistletoe?’ he said, so huskily you unconsciously squeezed your thighs together at the sound. ‘They used to say it’s bad luck to refuse a kiss. But I don’t believe that, not one bit. If you don’t want to kiss me, it’s okay. Nothing bad will happen.’

‘I’ve never wanted to kiss you more than I do right this very second,’ you breathed, so quickly the words almost slurred together.

Lars closed the gap, knowing any pain he felt from his skin against yours wouldn’t really harm him, that he could do this just the way he’d wanted to for so long. But there was no pain, only your lips soft and enticing against his, the trace of your scent filling every breath he took, the subtle heat building between you both warming his cheeks.

He felt you pull the hat from his head, your fingers threading into his messy hair, and as if that didn’t drive him wild enough, the way your body pressed closer, begging for more ignited something inside, like a fire in his belly.

While the kiss didn’t speed up, it certainly heated up; tenderness laced with desperation. Your tongue slipped along his bottom lip, and you guessed he must have liked it because the hands ghosting carefully at your shoulders dropped and gripped your waist hard instead.

He hadn’t meant to, and he was mortified at the volume, but it felt so good when your tongues met – you felt so good, he couldn’t stop a moan making its way into your mouth, either.

You hummed back and it reassured him enough that he confidently pressed a thigh between your legs. The kiss broke for barely a second, during which you both panted and puffed and sought out the other lips again-

Until everything came to a halt at the sound of a creak, a gasp and a scuffle. 

Startled, Lars abruptly pulled himself completely away to see a flustered Karin and wide-eyed Gus paralyzed on the stairs.

You held your breath and bit your lips together, not sure whether to laugh this off or apologise profusely. Lars opted for the latter immediately, so you settled on hoping the ground would open up and swallow you whole instead.

‘No, no. We should be sorry,’ Karin gushed, while silent Gus’s brow raised. ‘We’ll just let you two finish up- I mean- well, we need to uh- we’ll be back in a moment.’

Karin ushered a reluctant Gus back upstairs, and Lars, beet red, huffed out an awkward laugh.

Letting out a breath of relief yourself, you bent to pick up Lars’s hat and stepped toward him with a smile, thumb delicately brushing over his burning cheek.

‘How about we hang some mistletoe at your place?’ you soothed as you smoothed his hair back into place and slipped the hat back into place on his head.

All the breath left Lars’s body, and he nodded, hurried and eager.

You leaned up to leave a soft peck on his cheek as you reached up and pulled a little off the sprig hanging above you. You knew Karin would only encourage it anyway.

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅ DRIVER — Gift for The Holidays

⋆⁺₊❅ Contents: kissing, blood (from an unknown source), if you’ve read my Driver before you’ll know he has a kissing kink so a big dose of that because frankly I can’t resist and I will write it again, hand job (over clothes)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

‘What are you doing up so late on Christmas Eve?’

Driver never startled, certainly not easily anyway, so he only raised an eyebrow and smiled as he stepped out of the elevator.

‘I could ask you the same,’ he said, coolly sliding the key into his apartment door while he considered you. You captivated him endlessly, but something was different tonight. ‘Waiting for me?’

‘You caught me!’ you grinned, ‘I actually have something for you… a gift, y’know, for the holidays.’

‘I don’t celebrate,’ he said, not intending it to come off as blunt as it might have to someone who didn’t know him. The glittering of fascination in his eyes told you otherwise, though.

‘It’s something you can do anytime of year,’ you teased.

Driver, interest piqued doubly, nodded his head to the side in a signal to follow him inside as he opened the door.

His apartment was bathed in complete darkness except the lights from the street vaguely glowing in through the window. He stood in front of it to face you, and it was then that you saw the splatter of blood, dark against the white of his jacket, and a pleasantly chilling shiver ran through your body as his shadow cast over you.

He tilted his head — You have something for me? — and you realised you’d almost bitten clean through your lip just watching him.

‘It’s not something I can give you, not really. It’s something I’d like to share with you.’

Driver stared at you, willing you to go on.

‘I don’t want to spoil it but I also need to know you want it first.’

His eyes widened, waiting patiently.

‘It’s… a kiss.’

God. You knew him. He swept forward, crushing his lips to yours with bruising precision that turned you dizzy, opening your mouth with his and pressing his tongue to yours.

Your head spun. This was an art form, elegant and needy in equal measure. Driver knew how to kiss, and he knew how he wanted to do it.

He snaked his arms around your middle and pulled you flush to him, somehow deepening the kiss and feeling you shudder against him.

You managed to prize your mouth off his long enough to take a much needed breath, and in the brief moment his lips weren’t sealed to yours, a almost inaudible whimper filled the inch between you.

With an influx of oxygen came enough clarity to realise you could feel his arousal pressed against your hip. You slid a hand down between your bodies and his breath caught in his throat. He nodded when your hand paused at the waistband of his blood soaked jeans, head dropping as he tried to hold back.

When you pushed your hand lower, you could feel that the fabric was wet, but it wasn’t blood you were touching. This was warm and sticky in a different way.

Your fingertip tracing the outline of his length drew another delicious whimper from between his kiss-swollen lips, which he bit closed when you palmed his twitching length over the denim. You rubbed slow and steady; gathering by the way his fingertips were digging into your waist he wouldn’t last much longer and you didn’t want to rush him to it.

You pushed him to the bed in the corner, resuming the kiss — and the touching — the moment you were on top of him.

He writhed in heated silence beneath you until the inside of his jeans was coated in his release, hot and thick and thrillingly uncomfortable against his skin, and he couldn’t even bear to kiss anymore until he’d caught his breath.

When his heart had slowed and his breathing evened, he slipped away to clean himself up, at least you presumed, but not without telling you, ‘Stay there. It’s my turn to give you a gift.’

⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ⋆⁺₊❅. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⋆⁺₊❅ SIERRA SIX — A New Tradition

⋆⁺₊❅ Contents: making out, dry humping

☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎☃︎

‘You know I’m okay with doing nothing and eating Skittles in front of the TV, right?’ Six called through while you unloaded your bags and bags of festive items.

‘Yep, and we’re doing that, but I want to start some traditions with you, too.’

Six wandered into the kitchen where you’d already unpacked a gingerbread house kit, various types of cheese, and cookie cutters in the shapes of trees and stars and holly leaves.

‘Gonna pull a snowman out of there next?’

You ignored him, mid-search for the most important item of all.

‘I’m not really one for baking…’ Six grumbled, inspecting the cutters as you dug around in another bag.

‘Aha! Close your eyes.’

Six did as you asked, although not without a little sigh of protest. A moment later he could feel you standing closer, your warm breath on his cheek as you whispered, ‘Open them.’

You could see him thinking, What? when his eyes locked back onto you, until he followed your gaze up, to where you were holding a little sprig of leaves dotted with pearly white berries and tied up with a pretty red ribbon, and his eyebrows raised.

‘Oh…’ he breathed, and then he was straight back to you, his lips brushing yours.

It was almost chaste. Almost. His kiss was so soft and lingering, so gentle, you dropped the mistletoe as you melted against him instead. 

Six shifted forward, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him in one swift motion. Easy, like he’d done the action a million times before, and who knows, perhaps he had by now.

He could feel your heart racing, your chest heaving for breath, and he chuckled against your mouth. All he’d ever needed to do was take it slow to have you turn to putty in his hands? Noted. 

Also noted was the way it was working for him, too, heat pooling low in his gut as your lips parted.

You sighed when his tongue smoothed against yours, so delicately that your fingers clutched at his shirt tight enough you could have ripped it, and Six moaned. Actually moaned. 

As swiftly as he’d pulled you to him, his hands found their way to the back of your thighs and he lifted you seamlessly onto the counter, sliding between your legs as you wrapped them around him and the cookie cutters clattered to the floor.

The kiss hadn’t broken all but for a brief moment, when you laughed together before his hips rolled into yours and your fingers might have actually torn the fabric of his shirt this time. The gasp you let out at the shudder it sent through you was cut short, his lips seeking yours again like a man possessed.

Six pulled away deliberately this time, resting his forehead on yours when he realised how dizzy all this had made him, but not ever ceasing the slow rocking of his hips.

Managing to retain just a hint of sarcasm betrayed by his own arousal, he cooed, ‘So, how’s this for a tradition?’

[whalehouse1]

1) It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other, 2) I’m not sure if it’s just because of the art style (which I am enjoying, it gives off medieval codex vibes), but I’m convinced Steve Trevor in Absolute Wonder Woman is a trans man.

I’m a cismale, so I can’t speak from personal experience, but ignoring the art, he seems to be happy about the height and I might just be reading into it, but he looks like something about it just made him happy. Or he just wants to be stepped on like a lot of her fans and I’m reading into it and seeing things not there.

[maskedbyghost]

when simon wakes up in a hospital, the last thing you expect is for him to grab your hand, pull you close, and say, “hey, there you are, love.” his voice is so soft, so sure, it leaves you speechless. you stare at him, half in shock, because this is ghost—simon riley, the one person who’s kept every feeling locked up.

“simon, do you… do you remember anything?” you ask, testing the waters.

he blinks, looking at you with confidence. “of course, i remember. you’re my wife.”

you freeze. his wife? this is new, and you’re not sure where he got the idea, but before you can correct him, johnny walks in, taking one look at the two of you and biting back a grin. he leans in, whispering to you, “maybe just… go with it for now, eh?” he’s got that teasing glint in his eye, and something tells you there’s no harm in humoring simon for a bit, if it can be helpful for his recovery.

so, you go along with it. and to your surprise, simon doesn’t act confused—in fact, he’s more open with you than he’s ever been. suddenly, he’s holding your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, always looking for you, keeping you close, calling you “love” or “darlin’” in front of everyone. he’s even got that soft smile every time you catch his eye, one that makes it hard to remember this isn’t real.

the team’s amused but supportive, playing along with the whole story. simon keeps asking you little things, like what your favorite meal is, or how you usually spend your days when he’s away, as if filling in gaps in a life he believes you share. you find yourself answering with things that feel so genuine, and the way he listens—focused, attentive—feels more intimate than anything you’ve shared before.

one day, you’re patching up a minor scrape on his hand, and he just watches you, eyes soft, like he’s memorizing every detail. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. it’s so genuine, so open, that for a second, you forget it’s all just part of his memory loss.

then, one night, he pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours, eyes serious. “do you ever think about us?” he asks softly, like he’s trying to get at something just out of reach. “how we’d be if things were… different?”

you’re not sure how to answer because there’s no script for this. “sometimes,” you admit, feeling a pang of something deep and unspoken. and for the first time, you’re almost grateful he can’t remember—because maybe, just maybe, it’s the only reason he’s letting himself be this vulnerable with you.

as the days pass, you start catching little glimpses, small things that make you wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on. he catches you watching him once, and instead of asking why, he just gives you this little smile, one that feels like he’s in on the secret. and just when you’re starting to think this is all some kind of twisted dream, he pulls you aside.

“i know i’m supposed to remember,” he whispers, “but i don’t want this to end. not yet.”

it’s in that moment you realize the truth. he’s been aware all along—he’s been pretending just as much as you, holding on to this fragile, temporary illusion because, maybe, he needs it just as much as you do.

--------------------------------------------

hii!! i'm backkk!! send some requests plsss, byee <333

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water Pt. II

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: the aftermath of letting him in

pt.I

(art credits: @yunonoaii)

warnings: 18+ content

“…what. the. fuck.” You mutter to yourself, watching the scene before you unfold.

“mmm, how about letting me in now? promise i won’t bite you too hard” His eyes were dangerously seductive.

Your desktop fan and the slight rustling sound of (what you could only assume was) him touching himself filled the eerie silence of your office space.

However, he could still tell that you were hesitant to let him in, especially considering what he just did to D.D.D.

“how about this, sweetheart we-“

“if i open this door.” You cut him off. He shuts up quickly and halts his movements with a blank stare. His eyes watching you intently.

“you come straight to me, or else i swear to fuck. it will not be a good time for you. you copy?” Your hands were firmly grasping the edge of the desk as you stared the man in his color changing eyes.

“i promise” He kisses the window and you give him one last short lived glare before unlocking the door for him.

BZZT!

He slowly turns away from you and walks toward the door and you felt relieved to hear a light knock a few seconds later before he let himself in.

“see? you can trust the milkman” He grins.

He was a mess. Between the torn clothing, the blood, and his unzipped slacks that displayed his black briefs holding back a huge bulge, he honestly looked like something out of a wet dream.

“this is quite a small space… you think i’ll be alright in here?” He closed the door behind himself and strides toward you.

“you don’t have any choice but to be alright” You retort and he chortles.

“i love this mouth of yours… i’ve never crossed paths with a human as bold as you…” He tilts his head, placing a hand under your chin to lift it a bit.

“unless you’re actually scared… and using this boldness as a tactic..?” His irises turn white once again and his grip on your chin tightened slightly.

Though you were enduring a near death experience right now, being that you were this close to a doppelgänger, you were unbelievably horny.

“tactics?” You start. You already knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip just by moving, so you used a more… inappropriate approach.

You took a step closer to him, closing in the 2 foot gap that sat between the two of you and you placed your palm over his hard-on.

His grip immediately loosened a bit and his fingers twitched against your skin. What a reaction that was…

You feel more confident, realizing that he’s just another horny good looking guy. “is there a reason i should be afraid of you?” You ask, hand squeezing around him and a finger rubbing his tip.

He shudders and his hand falls from your chin and rests around your throat. His forehead tapped against yours, and your eyes were fixed on each other. “…you really are something”

“wish i could say the same for you“ You start, breaking the eye contact to look at his lips and sharp canines. “you’re just a slutty and messy excuse of a monster” Your words would probably be venom to anyone else, but this only riled him up more.

You felt his throbbing under your palm and grin to yourself before being greedily pulled into a kiss. For a brief moment, you could taste a metallic bloody taste on his tongue.

You moaned at the warmth of his mouth and felt his hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the area.

You release yourself from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth and a smile. “desperate, are we?” You tease.

“painfully…” His eyes glistened. “what’ll it take to get those pretty lips to go a little lower?”

“show me what yours can do first and i’ll see about returning the favor” You challenge. His eyes go back and forth between yours before he kisses you again.

This time however, he started to undo your uniform. Groaning so deeply that you felt the rumble in your throat. His skilled hands loosened your belt and your slacks came down and off.

Next he lowered himself and lifted you a bit to get off your socks and shoes, making him get more sloppy and needy within the kiss.

At this point he was squatting and you were standing over him, holding both sides of his face. His hands travelled up and down your leg as he stayed in his position and this time, he’s the one to break the kiss.

You were both breathing heavily, and staring each other down. You almost forgot your resolve and let him fuck you right then and there.

But you had to stay strong, for both of you guys’ sake. You take a deep breath in and til your head.

“well, you gonna show me? or are just sit there and look delirious from a simple kiss?” You teased.

“…may i?” He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, gesturing toward your leg.

“go ahead”

“hold on to something right”

“why am i h- shit!” You would’ve fell right to the ground if it wasn’t for the shelf behind you that held last months documents. Albeit, they’re scattered over the floor now.

Your legs were snatched from underneath you and each one was hooked over the man’s shoulders. His warm breath against you felt sinister. It sent a slight chill up your spine.

His eyes stared down at your sex and he licked his lips, looking more excited than you did for this. “don’t let go” He says before using gis fingers to spread you sticky lips.

His tongue pressed hard into you and drug from your hole, up to your clit. You bit your lip at the warmth and felt your back arch against your will.

“ha~ this all you got? Thought you said you’d be bet- anghh~!” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops at the new feeling below.

“you were saying?” He mumbles into you. His tongue was longer with a pointy tip, and his lips were wrapped tightly around your clit.

The pleasure was almost overwhelming. You could definitely admit that he made you eat your words and replace them with loud endless moans.

As you felt yourself getting closer you began to grind your hips over his face, chasing after your high.

“don’t stop” You could barely get out the last word before the wave of immense overstimulating pleasure came over you.

You curse and take in a few deep breaths, calming yourself down a bit, and only then did he let your clit go with a ‘pop’, making your legs to twitch.

“that wasn’t fair” You jokingly glare at him, the sweat making your skin shine and chilly from the fan air.

“i told you i was better” He wipes his chin with his thumb and licks it clean without breaking the eye contact.

“you have to be some sort of… sex demon” You shake your head in disbelief.

“maybe i am?” He lets you tug him closer by his tie and give him another sloppy kiss. The change in size of his tongue being just below too much for you as it explored your mouth.

“well let’s see how long you can last then… hm?” You ask, beginning to leave a trail of light kisses on his next before a harsh bite.

You could feel him shudder and decided to have him sit in your office chair. “let me borrow this..” You say, undoing his tie while he sat.

You spin the chair around and bring both of his arms to the back and tie them to the chair. When you spin his back around, his had such a mischievous grin that you went ahead and addressed.

“yes, i know you could probably get out of that in a heartbeat” You start and roll your eyes. He chuckles, amused at your awareness. “but, will you?” It was your turn to put on the sly grin now. The second he managed to break free from his restraint, would be the moment you’d send him off.

“…” He read your face, bit knowing if he should say something sly or not.

“right, thought so” You smile and give him a few taps on the cheek.

You kneel between the man’s legs, finally addressing the large and throbbing penis before you.

“god you’re hard… you weren’t kidding when you said you needed help” You joke, rubbing his wet tip through his boxers with you finger.

He grunted a bit and readjusted himself in his seat. You look up at him before pressing harshly on it with your thumb.

“oh fuck you~” He throws his head back and you giggle.

You reach for the hem of his briefs and tug at them, signaling him to lift his hips. Once he’s exposed, you could really see the girth and length of him.

He was veiny, thick… bright pink tip, and god knows how long it was.

You put your hand around the base, it was warm and nearly pulsating. Your pace was moderate, giving him just enough to work with. You knew it was a nice steady pace when his hips slightly jerked up for more friction.

“needy boy wanting to fuck my hand? this wasn’t even the main event you asked for, love” You coo, strengthening the grip you had on him by a smidge.

“i can’t help that you know how to use those hands of yours so well” He remarks, still facing the ceiling.

You pump your fist higher up and use your own skilled tongue to drag along his vein.

“@$?!~” He moaned and immediately looked down at you with a snarl. An almost threatening one telling you that he wanted more.

And were you planning on giving it to him? Absolutely not.

You stare right back at him and smirk, using the same motion and occasionally sucking the pre cum from its leaky pink source.

“i’m gonna cum” Your eyes welled a bit at the large shaft triggering your gag reflex. But he was close so you would endure the slight pain.

His thrust his hips up a few times and you force your head as far as you could before completely stopping.

“fuck- why’d you stop” His voice was almost a whisper and suddenly thick white ropes shot into the air and landed on his thigh.

“oh i’m sorry, i’ll keep going” You reach for his most sensitive spots, overstimulating him into a nervous laughter as he begged you to stop.

It was fun watching him experience more than he could handle, but all good things come to an end.

He sighs in relief, sweaty, heaving, and dazed.

“can i be freed now?” He asks.

“sure, why not. looks like you’re done here anyway” You shrug.

“who’s done?” He stands up, simply snapping the tie apart.

“oh… you’ve still got more in you?”

“im the milkman, i never run out” He suddenly picks you up and sits on you on the desk. Jesus, these things are strong.

You wrap your hands around your neck, suddenly feeling the arousal for another round yourself.

His hands find your slick entrance, teasing the outside and slipping two cold slender fingers into you.

“mmm!” You mean into the kiss, holding onto his forearm as he fingered you at an inhumane pace. You break away and cat h your breath trying to slow him down a bit.

“i don’t want to cum from this, put it in” You say.

“yes ma’am” He lines himself up without your entrance and slowly pushes himself in with a moan. You could every centimeter of the stretch as he went deeper.

You tapped the back of your head onto the window behind you and felt him kissing on your neck and collarbone.

“fuck you’re big” Your voice slightly shook as you stated the obvious.

“and you’re so warm and wet inside, i ashamed to admit that i almost came putting it in” He chuckled before biting back another groan.

RIIIIING

RIIIIING

You snap your head in the direction of the phone and see D.D.D. calling.

Shit.

“stop, i have to take this.” He halts his thrusts and you grab the phone. “hello?”

“agent number” A deep voice says over the phone.

“5 5 8 4 3 7” You state clearly.

“thank you agent (Y/N), we’re calling about a few M.I.A. cleaners? it says in our system that you were the last to call. is everything alright?”

“ye-es~” You feel something rubbing your g-spot and look over at Francis. ‘stop, now.’ You mouth silently. He just smirks and speeds up.

“are you sure? you sound like you’re being threatened” The man on the phone asks.

“mhm~, im fine sir, just a little shaky” You put your hand over the phone speaker and look at Francis.

“what the fuck is wrong with you??” You ask, interrupting yourself with a few moans.

“just a little thirsty for some water” He thrusts harder, causing him to hit your g-spot, and your clit back to back.

You cover your mouth with your shirt and moan into it, hearing the buzz of a voice on the phone. Honestly you should be scared, they could show any minute, but right now, you could care less.

“im gonna cum” You whisper, still being mindful of the potential listeners.

“yeah?” He grabs a young and stands straight up, slamming you down into his cock. You let out something just short of a scream into the crook of his neck and find yourself twitching and shaking in his grip.

You heard a splash and felt him fill you up with his seed. You both were a moaning, groaning mess, heavily breathing in place.

“(Y/N), do you copy?……. we’re on our way” The phone then hangs up and the low buzzy voice is replaced with a prominent beep.

“you have to go, they’re coming” You lazily try to leave his strong hold with a tired push against his chest.

“but first” He puts you back on the desk where you rest your back against the cold glass window. “a drink..” His tongue grows longer right infont of you, and cleans you from your ankles to your navel, and of course he ran it over the bundle of nerves he’s been abusing all night, making your body jolt.

“you’re so delicious… i wish i could always taste you” His tongue goes back to its normal size.

“well i’ll get going now… i’ll be seeing you again soon, love. i’ll try not to cause too much trouble next time…” He gives you a peppery kiss on the nose and leaves.

Well, that’s one way to end your day shift…

[versupital]

run, rabbit, run

JJK HALLOWEEN! nanamixreader

summary ❥ you babysit for the wealthy single dad who lives across the street. it’s the end of october and his halloween party is the talk of the neighborhood. you’re not invited because the kids are out of town, but you decide to pop up on him anyway, and he shows you just how badly he’s been dying to get you alone without the children.

CONTENT: age gap, 86’d sorcery, dilf!nanami, toys, smut, alcohol, dom!nanami, cunnilingus, afab!reader, fluff, friends to lovers kinda, bossxworker, aftercare, slowwwww burn, reader wears animal ears during sex, breeding kink, spit kink, masochism.

word count. 10k

soundtrack 💿: eating - madeintyo

p.s. there’s a joke in here involving the color of 🐱; i know everyone’s is not the same color so , fill in the blank for the color that fits yours if u have one LOL

✩

You give your ass a good shake.

You’re making sure the long, fluffy tail poking out of your blue shorts isn’t going to fall out. It doesn’t.

You’re dressed as a fox, but not just any fox. A fox cop. You have on a short blue collared top, matching shorts, and of course you’d be no real cop without your utility belt housing fake handcuffs and a plastic baton. To top it all off, you’re wearing fuzzy fox ears on your head, and sheer tights to cover your legs.

You nod in the mirror, satisfied. But the real test, to you, is if Mr. Nanami will like it just as much.

Mr. Nanami is your employer, but more importantly, your neighbor. You watch his two young children five days a week; sometimes even overnight when he has a particularly busy work day. You consider yourself close with them, but your feelings about Nanami are a little deeper than that.

You’d seen him the first time a little under a year ago, when he’d been out on an early morning jog. From then, on you’d become disgustingly obsessed ever since.

Your schoolgirl pining only gets worse every time you see him, and recently you've even gone as far as trying to shamelessly flirt - but he seems to have absolutely no idea. That is the less painful explanation, the other being that he’s just not interested.

But you’re planning to see if you can get that to change tonight. You always dress sensible in front of his children; this will be the first time he's seeing so much skin. It has to work, right?

Tonight, Nanami is throwing the party of the century. He has house workers of all kinds who serve towers of food and delicious mixed drinks. The cherry is that his entire gated lawn has been decorated to the perimeter of fun inflatables and spooky decorations. You know it's mostly for his kids, whom he goes nothing short of above and beyond for.

However, he had informed you days ago that they would be out of town this weekend - and, even if they were not, he's off work, so he doesn’t need you. This means he also had not invited you to his party.

You clearly still intend to show up unannounced, a bold move on your part.

You lock up your house - a small, co-owned property that truly looks out of place across from Nanami's home - which he technically pays the rent for. You carefully make your away across the overcrowded street full of cars, decorations, and humans who are already half past drunk.

As you walk up the stone steps that lead to his front door, your stomach is keyed up. You shouldn't feel any different than you normally do when coming over for work, but you’ve really let this highly unprofessional crush of yours get out of control.

You make it to the porch. You're unsure if he will even hear the doorbell, but you press it anyway. The door slides open after about ten seconds, as if he has been standing there watching it. You feel your body freeze immediately upon seeing him.

Nanami is towering over you in the threshold. His face lights up almost instantly, but that's not all that has your heart threatening to crack open your rib cage; it's also his delicious white button down, popped open by a few to reveal tiny bits of blond chest hair, and then of course there are the long, white ears on top of his head.

“Why hello, officer, did we get a noise complaint?” He chuckles at his own dad joke before bowing his head in greeting. “Sorry, I’m just surprised to see you. I figured you would be thrilled to not have to look at these four walls for a few days while my children are with... their mother.”

You watch his face drop in disgust at the mention of his ex-wife, but he’s never said anything bad about her. Whenever you’d asked why things hadn’t worked out, he’d said "they just didn't." And that was that, but part of you aches to know what had happened.

It shouldn’t matter. He is not interested in you. He gives you a paycheck, and that is all.

"Well," you begin carefully, "Who would want to miss out on the most exclusive Halloween party of the year?"

This coerces a deep laugh out of Nanami, then he steps aside and allows you to walk in. He is holding a short rocks glass of unidentified brown liquor, and you can smell whatever it is in a cloud around him.

Once inside, Nanami’s voice is quite muffled from the clank of dishes and bustle of workers. The two of you stop to stand in the foyer, a grand crystal chandelier winking at you from above.

"Exclusive isn't the word I'd use," he says, following your eyes as he takes a sip. "Everyone and their mother is here. Literally." He tilts his glass towards an elderly woman who stands next to a redhead about Nanami's age.

You should be laughing at his joke but instead, your stomach knots grow tighter at the reminder of how many people his age are here preying on him, the neighborhood catch, with careers and homes of their own.

Nanami is seven years your senior, you think. No wonder he wants nothing to do with a young, non career-oriented thing like you when he has all of these sophisticated people crawling at his feet.

You can't think about that now, or the courage you’ve spent a week building will cease to exist.

"Heh - well, either way," you continue, "it's a big party. I know the kids aren't here, but-"

"But I'm glad you are," Nanami smiles, his eyelids hanging a little low from the liquor in his system. "You look very nice, darling. I like your ears."

He grins and points to his own headband. A grown and very, very large man dressed as something as vulnerable as a little rabbit has your nerves aflame.

"Hmm, I bet you do," you tease. “Like it so much you had to copy me?”

Nanami makes a disapproving sound with his tongue, leaning forward a bit to be eye level with you. "Copy you? I was unaware that rabbits and foxes were the same animal. In fact," he adds, "if I'm not mistaken, foxes are a rabbit's natural predator."

You had been trying to look away from him now that he has moved so close, but as the last sentence rolls out of his mouth, you make the mistake of looking directly into his eyes - and what you see makes your limbs jelly. Maybe it's your delusions, but he seems to be drinking you up equally as much as he is his liquor.

You laugh to pop the bubble of tension, but Nanami's face remains as still as ice.

"Well, I certainly don't think I pose a threat to you, sir," you say, voice unnervingly dry. "You are twice my size."

At this, his intense stare transitions into a soft smile. "You just have to get my guard down. Then, I'm sure a little thing like yourself would be able to have your way with me."

You blink quickly, assuming you've misheard him. Then again, though, he tends to say things that could be flirty - but he is just a naturally charismatic man. Means nothing.

"Ah," you mumble out, shifting your weight from side to side. You have to find a way to change the subject, but most importantly, you need get his attention off of you. You’d wanted it so bad, now you don’t know how to handle it. As you scheme, he sips his drink again, eyes still watching you over the rim of the glass.

"So... the kids always go with their mom on Halloween?" you ask abruptly.

Nanami quickly swallows his sip before shaking his head. "Well I had them for the Fourth of July, you recall."

You do recall. A little too well. Nanami in nothing but tight, black swim shorts and his signature sunglasses as he flipped meat over the grill - and you playing in his pool with the kids. He’d invited you to celebrate the holiday with him after his kids had begged, but your mind was definitely elsewhere. The memory popping into your head almost makes you not hear what he says next.

"We alternate holidays. So I will have them for Thanksgiving, she for Christmas," he shrugs a shoulder. "I would have traded Thanksgiving for Christmas, but alas. Christmas is always the busiest day of the year for me, so they would just miss out on time with their father anyway. I couldn't ask you to ditch your holiday plans for us, again, either."

He sighs. You feel your heart ache; he cares deeply about his kids, but he is definitely a workaholic. That is why you spend every chance you get at his house… well, that’s mostly why. But even then, you sometimes wish you stayed more to help, because Nanami works tireless double shifts, then spends his off days trying to make up for lost time with the kids.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," you say, attempting to comfort him. "You're an amazing father who is doing all he can. They love you so much."

He smiles and bows his head politely, so as to say thank you. "They love you as well. Sometimes, I think more than they do their mother."

You swallow a choke, before rutting out, “Surely not."

Before Nanami has the chance to reply, an older woman who you’d come to known as Agnes walks by with a large tray arraignment of bright green cocktails.

“Nanamin!” she shrieks out. “Where would you like me to put these? Very afraid of them falling. There’s drunkards crawling up the walls! I’ve already swept up sixteen broken glasses! Sixteen!”

You and Nanami turn to look at her with an equally astonished expression.

Nanami leans forward a bit to whisper in your ear, “My apologies in advance for her erratic behavior.”

Agnes is still staring wildly between the two of you as you giggle, awaiting further instructions from Nanami.

“Sit them wherever you think is safest,” he says calmly.

She huffs but ultimately takes his word, speeding off with her kitten heels clacking against the marble floor.

Nanami turns back to you and opens his mouth, but another voice cuts him off.

“Nanami, sir!”

You feel a twinge of irritation in your chest, but you really shouldn’t. He is the host and people need his attention. You should have seen this coming.

“Is everything okay?” he questions politely, turning to face the short brunette in front of him, who bats her eyelashes.

“I… I think that someone is fighting outside,” she says quickly, unable to keep eye contact.

Nanami is a smart man, though. “Oh? Well, what shall we do about that?”

“I thought you could run and stop them,” she says, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m in no mood to be in the middle of a brawl,” he says sternly. “Have the butlers stop it, and remove them. You try not to get involved either.”

She huffs and spins on her heel, walking back through the living room with an angry stomp in her step.

Nanami clicks his tongue, “I really need to have her counseled in compulsive lying. She cries wolf so many times a day.”

You’ve never seen her before, she must be new. This makes you jealous all over again. She’s not quite as old as the rest of the workers, but still older than you. The issue is you see yourself in her, the uncontrollable pining over your shared boss. She just makes hers much more obvious.

Nanami clears his throat, and you notice too late how his hand has slithered to the small of your back.

“Perhaps we should escape somewhere more secluded, hm?” he says. “I really am enjoying our conversation. A shame we keep getting interrupted.”

You swallow thickly. The hair on your spine has raised at his sudden contact, making you shiver.

“Yes, that’s a good idea, sir,” you say, trying to hide how dry your voice has gotten.

Not another word is uttered before Nanami is swiftly whisking you off to another room; his hands now free of his drink and instead gently guiding you by his hand placement.

His gaze is not as focused on you as it is leading you both through the overwhelming crowd of people, and to the hall under the stairs that you know for a fact leads to his workspace. He moves his hands into yours as he gently pushes you ahead of him.

You take the lead and find yourself pushing open the big door to his study. Inside is a complete reflection of Nanami, his wealth and his cleanliness. Even his desk is free of papers, or any indication at all that he works in here.

You recall the days he works from home, in this very study, and he'd still be in his work suit, just minus the blazer. You'd let the kids sneak in on him, only once or twice thoughout the day, just to see his smile; and while you’re already there, you'd drop off a cup of hot coffee to help him plow through the rest of his shift.

He shuts the doors behind you both as you run to make yourself comfortable in his desk chair, spinning around like a child.

As you do so, you fail to see or hear his fingers slyly clicking the lock on the door.

“Much better,” Nanami breathes, moving to flick on a floor lamp in the corner, giving the study a soft, warm glow accompanied by the full Halloween moon. “Now, what were we discussing?”

“You, uh,” you clear your throat as you stop spinning in the chair to face him. “You really didn’t have to come in here just to talk to me. You are the man of the evening, you know.”

Nanami rolls his eyes, an out-of-character action you never thought you'd see, but one that looked so tasty, so sultry. God, you’re a pervert in heat - and your sweet, sweet boss is completely oblivious to the kind of horrible thoughts you have daily about him.

Nanami's now staring at you. His mouth is moving, but you have no idea what he had been saying.

"… to spend time with all of those shallow, insolent creatures,” you register, “when I have someone like you here?" He walks over to the desk and leans against it, right next to you now, as he crosses his arms over his massive chest. "We have never just sat down and talked. We always have little people depending on us or wanting our attention. Tonight, I’d like that to change.”

You let his words simmer for a moment. “What is it you’d like to talk about, Mr. Nanami?” you then question.

“What did I tell you about that ‘Mr.’ nonsense?” He frowns. “That makes me feel so old.”

"Sorry, sir," you gulp, not intending to upset him. You just can't help the way 'Mr.' and 'Sir' roll off your tongue, or how bad you enjoy seeing him shift uncomfortably at the use of the names.

"Meanie," he tuts, knocking you playfully with his leg. Another uncharacteristic action.

"What'd I do?" you blink, tilting your head as you look up at him.

"You mean besides drive me insane with your teasing?" he questions, before his eyes widen and he looks as though he's just spilled a secret. "I- wow, I am sorry. That is not what I meant to say."

"I drive you insane?" you echo. "I didn't even think you noticed my… teasing.”

Nanami's face is neutral, but his jaw is working under his skin. "I’m not naive, little fox." He lets out a breath. “This was truly an excellent costume choice.”

He leans forward and flicks the furry ear on your head.

“Thank you,” you smile. “I can’t say the same for yours. You hardly scream innocent bunny.”

“What about me isn’t innocent?” he raises a brow, standing off of the desk.

“I…” you blink as he walks around to the back of the desk chair. “You’re just, um…”

“Fox got your tongue?” he coos, spinning the chair so that you’re forced to face him.

You inhale a deep breath and hold it as heat travels through your stomach and right to the center of your thighs.

“You’re a man who is about his business,” you say. “I imagine you’ve… had a lot of life experiences,” you pause to remind yourself to breathe, but it’s hard because of how ferociously Nanami is staring into your eyes. “So you c-can’t be all that innocent…”

“You seem nervous,” he coos. “Here. Let’s stand up, I’ll sit down. Maybe that will help you to not be so tense, hm?”

Your body obeys before your mind catches on. You’re standing in a beat, and Nanami has replaced you on the chair. Your bottom hits the crease of his large desk, and you slam your hands down on the surface to balance yourself.

“Sorry,” you say, putting a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t mean to imply that you make me uncomfortable, sir.”

Nanami's pupils flash white, but it's gone so quickly, you might have imagined it. "If I do, please let me know immediately.”

“No,” you say, dropping your hand, “I just think we need to get to know each other better, right? Our entire relationship is through the kids. I know that your son’s favorite shade of green is kiwi, but I don’t even know your first name.”

Nanami chuckles at this. “You know, I was thinking exactly the same thing.” He taps your knee. “Kento, silly girl. My first name is Kento.”

"A-And your favorite color?” you continue, trying to ignore how close he’s moved the chair towards you, now that you have fully planted your bottom on his desk.

“Pink,” he says, serious as death.

You giggle. “Why pink?”

“It’s the color of my favorite thing to eat,” he says, slowly placing his arms on either side of your thick thighs, hands planted flat on the surface of the desk.

You think for a moment. “Strawberry ice cream?”

“No,” he cocks his blond head to the side and his eyes fall on your tights. “Try again.”

You pretend to think, though you fear you may be catching on now. “Hmm, dragonfruit?”

“Nah,” Nanami says, looking up at you through his eyelashes. His pupils have been dilated from the alcohol, but there is an unrelated darkness in his eye now. “Something I don’t even have to swallow.”

You gulp. “Oh,” your suspicions have been confirmed.

“Get it now, little fox?” he coos.

“Mhmm,” you taunt back. “Well, I suppose I came prepared with your favorite dish, then.”

“Did you?” His hands boldly make their way to the top of your thighs, barely hovering over the skin but enough to make the flesh there light on fire. “Prepared it all nice and pretty for me?”

“Yes sir,” you nod eagerly, feeling your own boldness appear as your knees slide further away from one another. “How do you like it?”

“Extra moist,” he grits hungrily, fingernails curving into your tights and shredding a thick rip! through the material.

You gasp, entire torso lurching forward as he drags the hole bigger and bigger.

“Sorry, little fox. They were in the way,” he shrugs an innocent shoulder. “And what should we do about these shorts? They’re in the way, too.”

“Then let’s get them off,” you whisper, hardly registering that such filth had been uttered.

This truly can’t be happening. Is Nanami… Kento Nanami actually going to eat you out? Are his hands really slithering up your waist and fumbling with the button on your shorts, or are you in some kind of sick daydream?

"Mr. Nanami-"

"Please," he holds up a hand, one still remaining on the button of your shorts. "Kento. Call me Kento."

"Kento," you echo softly, and his eyelashes flutter. “You really want to do this?”

Nanami sucks in a breath. Several moments of silence pass, then his fingers are gently pressing against your chin, and he has risen to tower above you. "Maybe it's the liquid courage in me that's pushing me," he says, "but I’m okay with that. I dream about you on my tongue, night after night. I need you, Y/N.”

Instead of allowing you to reply, Nanami's lips are assaulting yours in a flash. A harsh, irrational kiss from a man who's lost his battle of self control.

Your hands fly up to his face to balance yourself at the sheer force the shock of the kiss has on you. He groans softly into you as your lips mold together, getting used to the shapes of each other’s mouths.

You want to begin deepening the kiss, but Nanami is suddenly pulling away.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. You look at his face; for a man who is always so calm and composed, he is flushed and even shaking a little. “I should have asked if that was okay.”

"Did you hear me complaining?" you ask sternly.

“No-”

“Then shut up and kiss me, Kento.”

He wastes no time obeying your command; this time as he kisses you, his hands find the soft skin where your hips crease into your thighs. You’re aware of your thighs rubbing against his stomach as he crawls further on top of you.

You slide your arms up around the back of his neck to hold onto him as his lips work pure ecstasy into your mouth.

You sigh against him and he digs his fingers into your sides to get you to do it again. Now his tongue is in your mouth, softly swirling your own, smacking fiercely on your lips as he does so.

You're panting now, but Nanami is swallowing your breath with every second. He's leaning his weight on his palm, so his body isn't quite attached to yours, but you want to make him lose his balance so he can crash down on top of you. Every moment that you stay like this, your cunt drips wetter and wetter, seeping through your shorts onto his desk.

"So perfect," Nanami utters into your mouth, "s'much sweeter than I deserve."

You frown at his self deprecation but don't comment, instead your hands start sliding down his chiseled back, exploring the deep ridges and shapes of pure, hard muscle.

Then, plop! You blink in shock as his bunny ears have fallen plum onto your face, nearly gauging out your eye.

"Oh," he gasps, breaking away from you. "Forgot about these."

He pulls away from you, standing upright but staying between your legs. You swallow a needy whine at his absence, before sitting up with him, staring expectantly.

"Think they'll look better on you though, huh, darling?" he coos, reaching over your head and plucking your fuzzy ears off. Then, he’s replacing them with his bunny ears. "There, that's more fitting. I feel much more like the hunter than the hunted.”

You tilt your chin defiantly. "Mm, so I'm just an innocent rabbit in the sights of a dangerous hunter?"

“Clever bunny,” Nanami murmurs, leaning forward and catching you by surprise with a wet kiss at the nape of your neck. You shudder. “Time for me to eat my latest catch, hm?”

“I-I guess so-”

“Oh, don't get shy now, bunny,” he mewls against your ear. “Do you want to do this?”

You pretend to consider it, but your dripping hole has already answered for you. "Yes, sir."

Nanami purrs in response and taps your earlobe with his perfect teeth - before you're being shoved back on the flat surface. Three quick beats occur. Beat, shorts off. Beat, tights off. Beat, panties sliding slowly down your legs.

"God," he says, hooking his fingers over the trim of the panties, which are light blue in color, accented by an adorable pink bow in the front. "All this time, I could've had you like this, if only-” he cuts himself off to lean down and place a kiss to your inner knee.

Your nerves send repeated quivers over you. You dig your nails into the desk, but your palms are so sweaty that your hand slips. Nanami catches you, a heavy hand on your lower back, the other hand entangling in your panties and proceeding to rip them all the way off. Your clothes are now in a discarded pile to the right of you, fuzzy tail and ears a reminder of what got you into this position in the first place.

“Well we can make up for lost time now,” you whisper, sliding your feet farther apart until your knees are angled into the air - gaping pussy winking up at Nanami.

His eyes nearly jump from his body as he watches you open up for him, glistening cunt all in his face. He's sinking back down into the chair before either of you really processes it, and his heavy palms fall flat on your inner thighs.

"She's s'pretty, sweetheart," he coos, the breath from his words tickling your clit and making you writhe pathetically. "Haven't even touched you yet. Why are you shaking?”

You whine out in embarrassment. Something about your most perverted fantasies coming alive before you, Nanami talking to you like this, and him staring directly at the forbidden parts you'd never thought he'd see, is depleting your confidence.

"What's wrong, bunny?" he asks, reading your expression. "You look like you are second guessing this."

"N-No!" you cry out, making him jump, before you sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. No, I want to. I'm just embarrassed."

"Why?" he perks a brow, astonished.

"Because you're so..." you huff uncomfortably, "fine, and here I am, of course anyone would be embarrassed of their own genitals, y'know I just kind of never expected this and-”

"Y/N," Nanami interrupts. "I've seen plenty of these before; all different types, sizes and colors. I am going to devour you regardless of what you think.”

You swallow thickly. Your head nods like a puppet, though you're unsure if that's you saying you understand, or telling him to go ahead.

While you're deciding, Nanami plants a kiss to your bikini line, then slides his hands to wrap his arms around your thighs so that it's now impossible for you to close them. Your stomach is on fire, and you're on the verge of gyrating your pelvis right into his stupidly perfect face.

"Tell me you want this, bunny," Nanami rasps, placing another loud kiss to your inner thigh.

"I want this," you confirm again, "want you."

You don't have to say anything else because his mouth has already found your clit. Warm breath travels between your folds as he keeps his tongue narrowed out to swirl agonizingly slow circles over the bulb.

Your hips convulse against his strength. It does nothing except prompt Nanami to flatten his whole mouth over your heat and pick up speed with his tongue.

"Oh, ohh," you drawl, your hands leaving the desk surface and going right through his fine hair. His hold on you ensures you can’t fall backwards, but you’re gripping his roots for dear life.

He grumbles against your cunt and you feel it all the way up to your ovulating uterus. The desire to have your womb house more of his children starts to enter your brain and you have to remind yourself that this is just sex.

Oh, but it's so much more than that. Nanami's taking his time to work your body, to know exactly which pace makes you cry out like a pathetic fucktoy, noting when you wriggle under his grip, as he pushes his fingertips into the flesh on your legs.

His warm tongue keeps your puffy lips parted effortlessly; lathering you up with his saliva, drinking in the fluid your body creates more of each second.

You sit up farther to look down at him; his eyebrows are furrowed and focused, his cheeks hollowed as he treats your twitching clit like his tongue’s dance partner.

He swirls, flicks, slurps - each variation unlocking a new noise from you as you fight back your orgasm.

As you watch him, your fucked-out, needy brain begins to tell you would give him whatever he wanted in this moment; six children and a house from scratch if that's what he requested. Because he deserves it; the way his tongue’s now dipping slightly into your desperate hole, making your hips jerk from the desk until he counter-forces them with his hands.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snaps, grazing his teeth over your clit.

You can’t even speak; he’s eaten your voice right out of you. His head shakes side to side as he plants his mouth back on you and peers up through his blond lashes, daring you to pull that stunt a second time.

Your hands are still deeply entangled in his roots, but at this point you can't keep your eyes in the front of your head. Your head lolls back on your neck as your hips twitch with an unholy amount of momentum. Your moans are growing dangerously loud; knowing full well there's an entire party nearby, as well as the possibility of nosy maids. Not that either of you care.

"Kento, s-so good," you lament, bucking your hips into his chin as if you could chase more pleasure than he's already giving you. The heat in your stomach is the first indication that your pleasure is morphing into an orgasm, but you don’t want to cum yet.

You want to try and run again, just to give yourself a little time to catch up…

The minute Nanami feels your hip bones sliding away from him, he pulls his mouth off of you; your orgasm slipping away. You take a deep breath in regret.

“Someone must not want to cum,” he taunts, keeping his mouth close to your trickling cunt. “Need you to stay still.”

“I can’t,” you breathe, trembling.

“Try for me?” Nanami requests softly, lifting your thighs into the air before plopping your feet flat on his shoulders.

He plants a heavy kiss to your clit after the adjustment in your position and you dig your toes into his back.

“F-For you,” you repeat mindlessly, brain officially scrambled like a breakfast platter.

“Mmh-” Nanami grunts, planting his fat tongue back between your slick folds, working his jaw intensely to finish pulling the orgasm out of you. He sticks the narrow tip back at your hole, flicking the rim of the inside as if it’s his purpose for living.

Your toes lift into the air as Nanami tests your flexibility, pushing your knees next to your ears. With the pressure built up in your stomach, you barely have time to mutter out the announcement of your orgasm before you're cumming all over his tongue and clenching your walls around the wet muscle.

"Give it to me, bunny," he moans, words muffled because of the way you're gripping his tongue with your pussy.

You keep shaking for a solid thirty seconds, because he is refusing to take his tongue out of you. When finally you’ve calmed to a slight twitch, he removes his face from between your thighs and the entire lower half of his face glistens in the light.

"That's one," he murmurs to himself, crawling back over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. "You did so well. You taste so sweet, bun.”

"Can I return the favor?" you ask needily, dragging your palm down his chest.

He grinds his pelvis across your lower half, so that you can feel the sheer length of his bulge beneath his pants. "What for?"

Your eyes widen at just how large it feels; surely it's smaller than it appears.

"Wanna please you, sir," you babble out, watching his eyebrows furrow at the self-proclaimed pet name.

"Hm, think that ship sailed long ago,” he chuckles, rubbing his clothed dick against your inner thigh this time, and now, you take notice of the warm trail of precum that’s leaked through his pants onto your skin.

You dig your nails into his chest instead of replying. He bites back a groan and kisses your neck.

“I’m going to have to restrain you if you want’a keep being so touchy," he whispers sternly.

"I do have handcuffs," you say, following it with a giggle. Though you’re only half joking.

"That's cute," he mewls. "You think I need handcuffs to restrain you?" He pauses. "What's that you said? That I'm twice your size?"

You swallow thickly, remembering that you had, in fact, said that.

"So I can, and will easily pin you down, bun," he continues. "Don't act up, and I won't have to, yeah?"

You wish you can say you won’t, but if he thinks you dislike the idea of being pinned down, he must not be faking his innocence, like you’d thought.

A moment later, he's standing away from you, and his hands expertly unbutton his shirt. You watch him with desire, and he smiles a little shyly at you as he shrugs off the garment and tosses it to the floor.

“Funny, you’ve seen me shirtless before,” he says suddenly. “Why do I feel a bit nervous about it this time?”

You giggle and cock your head to the side, legs still spread wide. “Should’ve always felt nervous. I’m a huge pervert, y’know.”

Nanami dips his head before coming back to be close to your body again, his fingers mindlessly tugging on the hem of your shirt now.

“I know,” he whispers. “A little minx, you are.”

“Took you long enough to realize it, hm?” you tease as you lift your arms to assist him in removing the shirt. But you are caught off guard when he doesn’t continue.

"You're still sure you want to do this?" he questions, changing the subject. “I'm sorry. I'm going to ask a hundred times, it’s just a habit.”

"Yes, Kento," you rasp frustratingly. "Do I have to get on my knees and beg to be fucked for you to get it?"

He blinks, stunned, as if that is not something he ever considered; but does sound appealing to him.

"No," he says quickly, slowly lifting your shirt further over your body. "How did we end up here, hm? Was this your plan from the moment you crashed my Halloween party?"

"Uh-uh," you say innocently, as he pulls the shirt over your head. Now you sit completely naked in front of him - save for the bunny ears on your head.

"I get the feeling you're a big, fat liar," he teases, leaning back over you, now your stomachs are touching and everywhere your skin meets is tingling. "Didn't I tell you to be a good girl? Good girls don't lie."

“‘M not lying," you argue. "Admit you were over here waiting for me to show up all night."

"Maybe I was," he murmurs, dragging his top teeth over the connection between your neck and your shoulder before planting a wet kiss on your collar bone. "And you came for me, like always."

A gasp erupts from your throat and Nanami cuts it off by sliding his hand there. He uses his fingers to apply the gentlest amount of pressure to the sides of your neck and your body arches against him.

"Tell me if anything I do is too much for you, little fox," he coos in your ear before dropping his hand from your neck and standing back straight to quickly unbuckle his belt.

He slides the garment out of his belt loops, and discards it to the side, on top of your clothes. So in other words: close by.

"Kento," you pant, "please."

"Please what?" he questions, raising a brow innocently as he pops open the button to his tight pants - visibly taking a deep breath as his bulge pokes free.

"You're dragging this out," you whine. "I've needed you for so long. This is torture."

"So what?" he shrugs, allowing his pants to fall to the floor, where he steps out of them.

"I..." you cut yourself off with a frustrated grunt.

"You said please, but you aren't using your words, little fox.” He slides his body back over yours - his boxers now being the only barrier between you. "What do you want?"

"You, your cock, your mouth," you pant all of it out in one quick sentence. "I... I just need you inside of me, Mr. Nanami."

Your breasts rub against his hard chest, teasing your achingly hard nipples. Just so pathetic. Can’t control yourself. Your brain's swirling with desire and ecstasy for him. If he can't read your mind, you're sure he can see it in your face.

"Okay, sweetheart," he says, voice returning to its usual softness, "you got me. All yours."

He tugs his boxers down quickly, desperately. Now your hips are aligned to each other's. He's still hovering, his cock not even touching you yet. He slides a hand between your legs as his other keeps you steady, gripping harshly on your hip which is sure to leave a delicious bruise.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he drags his mouth across your jaw before attaching his lips to your neck. His fingers gather the drip from your hole, and then he slides them up through your folds and to your clit. He swirls the fingers softly, keeping his ear right next to your mouth so that he can hear exactly what he’s doing to you.

Your legs shake against his ribs while you moan for him, and he grunts as he takes in all of your body's reactions to his touch.

He goes to try and put a finger in your cunt but you grab his wrist. He does not argue with you, which should be a red flag, but you think you’ve won until he takes the hand he had been using to play with you and grips your wrist, yanking it back, and your entire body goes falling against the desk.

Somehow, both of your wrists are being pinned to the wood in one large hand now. You whine and squirm under him, but he doesn't care. His free hand grabs his cock.

He takes the heavy tip and taps it against your clit several times, each time causing you to gasp and arch against him.

"That's right," he whispers above you. "No escaping now, bun."

You blink up at him, lifting your hips to grind your pussy on him, which causes his lips to part and his eyebrows to furrow.

You open your mouth, tongue flying out, wanting to appeal to another twisted fantasy. “Need your spit,” you mumble shyly.

He seems to ponder for a moment before he realizes what exactly it is you are asking, and a moment later he is leaning forward, dripping a warm glop of saliva from his mouth down your throat.

“Mmh-” you moan as you swallow happily, before looking down between your legs where he is finally done lubricating himself on your juice. He's staring at you hopelessly, as if he’s thinking that putting his cock in you isn't going to be enough.

“So nasty,” he coos, “ready for me, sweetheart?”

"Hngh- please," you beg.

Not a second later, hot pressure is at your hole. Nanami slides his hips upward to push himself deeper, deeper, deeper - the girth feeling like it's going to simply rip you in half.

You shriek and shut your eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to pass. It doesn't.

You feel so embarrassed as he takes his free hand to lift up your left thigh, because pain shoots up through your stomach - and not the good kind.

"Ah- wait," you cry out, eyes falling open.

Nanami stops immediately. "What's the matter?"

"It... it hurts," you admit shyly, biting your lip. "Wh-Why d'you have to be so big?"

"Why d'you have to be so tight?" he chuckles back, but carefully slides out of you. "Hang on. I know what will help, little fox."

He pulls away from you, letting go of your wrists to lean over and dig into a random drawer in his desk. You have no idea what he could possibly be doing until he stands back straight, a hand still holding up your leg, while the other holds a small, light pink, bullet-shaped rubber object.

"Brand new," he says, eyeing it as he rotates it between his fingers. "Just put batteries in it."

You swallow as you realize what this implies. He knew he was going to fuck you - or at least, that he was going to use this toy on you at some point. Or, a third worse thing: it hadn't been for you at all.

You don’t want to think about that possibility, though.

He hands the little toy to you, a small buzz coming from it already.

"Hold it for me," he instructs. "I need my hands to keep my prey from running."

You gulp and do as he says, and again he is taking his cock head and pushing it against you, before it slides through the gummy entrance and you cry out again.

You hold the toy to your clit and the feeling travels straight through your veins. You focus on the vibrations and before you can even inhale again, your insides are completely full.

"Deep breaths, bun," he grunts, "feel her o-opening up… now.”

Did he just stutter? Kento Nanami, who's always so composed. You'd made him lose his wording. You.

Nanami takes his hands and pulls your knees up, holding them to his sides, while you keep your hand occupied on the little bullet between your legs.

The combination of the toy plus his cock filling you up and molding your walls against it has you aching to spill over, already.

Now that the searing has begun to dissolve, his cock is gliding effortlessly inside of you - feeling as though the organ was crafted to fit you perfectly. Your juices cover every inch of him, delicious squelches creating a symphony with your moans as Nanami's pace quickens.

He has his hands still pressed on your thighs but he leans forward and gently pulls a nipple into his warm mouth. You don't know what to do with your free hand, so it ends up on his back, nails mercilessly breaking open his skin. He hisses and nips your nipple between his teeth.

"Fuck. Me," he groans, pulling away from your chest to look down at you. You want to make a comment about how you already are, but he just looks so fucked out - so vulnerable. Lips puffy and wet, eyes shut tight, hair dangling over his forehead.

He’s ruined.

He claws his fingers into your outer thighs. His fingers dig so hopelessly into you as his cock swirls your insides, his hips now moving in a rhythmic wave motion.

Your hand falls away from your clit with the toy and you hardly notice that it's gone because now, his pelvis is brushing over it, sweat practically gluing the two of you together.

"Aw," he purrs, and you look up to see that his eyes are staring directly between your legs. "You’re creaming all over me. Shit - your cunt looks so good, swallowing me up.”

Your face heats and you take your hands to grip his arms, as he's now drilling into you so torturously that you're gliding up the desk - the sweat on your back making your skin slick. He notices you're moving away and shifts his hands to grab your hips, holding you down onto him, and now his fat tip is violating your cervix.

"H-Hah Kento, ngh - God," is all you can manage to say, but there’s nothing holy about what his cock is doing to you, as he angles himself upward, attacking your uterus from a new direction.

You shriek, so horribly loud. It sounds like a horror movie - which is fitting. You’ve nearly forgotten that it’s Halloween night; the moon full, your passions like the tides, being pulled to their peak.

You desperately feel a needy confession on your lips but you know that now isn't the time. You can't love a man you don't date... right? But you definitely love the way he's tearing up your insides, sure to leave you swollen and limping.

"I don't remember telling you that you could remove your hand," he snaps, realizing you’ve removed the bullet, "put it back. Now."

You shake your head, begging for mercy. "Was too much, c-can't take it."

"Yes you can," he whispers, leaning forward and hovering his mouth over yours, cognac-scented breath teasing your parted lips. "Put it back, or I stop."

You whine and obey, the vibration revisiting your clit making your body convulse against him.

"Mhmm, like that sweetheart," Nanami coos, staring at you as your face twists every couple of seconds from the introduction of new kinds of pleasure. "Stick that tongue back out for me."

Your mouth is open, drool practically spilling out of the sides in a millisecond. He's spitting another alcoholic saliva drop into your mouth the next.

His breath is ragged as he drags out, "Thought I knew everything. But y’teaching - hah - me new things. Like how I can never live without your pretty pussy, ever again."

You quiver your lip and dig your nails into his back again, ready to cum on his cock.

"S-Stop talking like that," you grit out. "G-Gonna cum if you don't stop."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" he questions harshly. "You can cum over and over. I’m not finished with you."

You shake your head, but before you can fire back, Nanami is suddenly sliding himself out of you. You panic and sit up, staring at him with wide eyes as he drops to sit on the chair.

His hands come up to grab your hips roughly, and he's effortlessly pulling you down off of the desk. Your stomach makes contact with his thighs as he lays you over his lap like a disobedient child.

"Nanami?" you breathe, but he doesn't seem to hear you at all.

"We just needed to pause for a second," he says softly, running a hand down your spine and over the hill of your ass. His voice is very misleading, as are his gentle gestures; you have no idea what's coming.

"N-No," you whine, "I was so close."

"But, naughty bunny, didn’t you tell me to stop?" he questions, distracting you from the fact that his fingers are sliding between your asscheeks and down to your swollen hole.

You jerk in his lap as two of his fingers glide down your slick, parting your thick lips, repeating the process several times just to watch you squirm.

“Y-Yes, but-”

“What’d I tell you about lying?” he grits, and a blink later his fingers have parted from your skin.

You turn to scold him and his hand cracks down on the back of your thighs.

You yelp, but the action exhilarates you in some kind of disgusting way.

“Oh, and here’s another for calling me Nanami,” he spits, another crack landing on your backside but this time - higher, and harder.

“K-Kento, I’m sorry,” you whine, but you truly don’t want it to stop. Your fingers dig into his leg and he hisses, his cock jerking against your stomach as his body responds.

“How sorry, bun?” he coos, voice faking softness before another pop! of his palm stings your skin.

“I’ll be good, promise,” you whisper, arching your hips up to encourage another smack.

“You like this, don’t you, naughty bunny?” he realizes suddenly, and you try to shake your head in denial - but he’s caught on. “Hm. I’ll only accept your apology if you give me two more orgasms. Deal?”

“Two?” you cry. “I-I’ve already had one!”

“Good things always cum in threes, baby,” he murmurs, running his hand over the pretty hand-shaped welps he’s left on your skin. “You can give it to me. You want to be good, don’t you?”

You don’t know when the shift happened, but you loved it. You loved how he was letting his soft facade crumble to the ground so that he could truly slap you around like you were just a hole. Truthfully, that’s all you wanted to be. Wanted to let him take out the stress of being a single father on your guts, fill you up with more babies to care for, and then kiss you on the forehead when it was all done.

Pathetic. This is still your employer, your boss. And not to mention how much older he is. You don’t care, but you’re unsure if he does.

“I wanna cum again, please,” you beg, wriggling your ass up to show him you still needed punishment.

He groans before his two thick fingers are pressing between your lips and then, shoving through the soft ring at your center.

Your body shamelessly arches, but he allows your arms to stay free, clawing into his skin wherever you can get a grip.

Nanami is making his own noises above you but you’re on the verge of tears, wailing and carrying on as he fucks you with his fingers, curling the tips into your squishy ridges to try and drive the cum out of you faster.

“Maybe we should get one of those tails with a plug,” he comments, tone implying he’s thinking out loud. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to see you in your cute little tail while I fuck you.”

“Hngh - no, mmh…” you don’t even know what noises to make anymore. Words escape your brain.

Nothing but mush and the burning of your approaching orgasm are on your mind.

“Hold it in for me,” Nanami requests suddenly, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready for it, sweetheart.”

“God,” you shake your head and clench your thighs, but Nanami’s strong hand forces them back apart.

Your toes curl on the other side of the chair, your head falling forward. The pulse in Nanami’s cock is still drumming against your abdomen, as if knocking on your tummy to threaten you to hold your orgasm.

“I-I can’t,” you say, “Please, can I-”

“Cum.”

Nasty, wet squelches don’t stop as your body sends you over the edge. Your vision blacks and you shake so hard that you nearly roll right to the floor.

He hums approvingly, slowing his fingers down as you clench around them. “Good job, bun. Only one more to go.”

“I can’t take another,” you shake your head, as he gently guides you up into a sitting position on his lap.

“You’re so strong,” he says, “the perfect person for me. The way you always take care of me and the kids, how you fit so effortlessly into our little family. I know you can do this for me, sweetheart. Let me repay you for all that you do for us. Make you feel good.”

You hadn’t expected this little speech. It almost brings you to tears as Nanami gently rubs your back, sliding his free arm underneath your legs to lift you princess-style back onto the desk.

“Say something,” he begs, his voice hoarse.

“I wanted to be good for you,” you grin softly, and he smiles back as he runs his hands gently over the top of your legs. “But you want to be good for me. Which is it?”

“Both,” Nanami whispers. “I told you that you already do everything that keeps me content. Now, I want to please you.”

You realize that he is passing his power off to you. Letting his dominance slip through his fingers and right into the palm of your hand. You think you can handle being in control for your final orgasm, so you grip him harshly by his cock and scoot your ass to the edge of the desk.

He moans so softly that it could have been a whimper. You take his curvy length and drag it up to be aligned with your hole.

“Is your cock alone gonna please me, hm?” you purr, swirling your hips to tease his cock head, salty precum spreading across your hole.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he mutters, body lurching forward as if he’s the overstimulated one.

“Prove it,” you quip, shoving him back inside of you before pushing your hips down onto him.

You furrow your eyebrows to try and pretend the pain of him entering isn’t still intense. You lift yourself off of your palms and feet, using them to fuck down onto his twitching cock.

“Hah - Y/N,” he speaks your name in two sultry syllables, putting his hands on the desk to fully release his control as you use him.

“Baby, I need to fill you up,” he continues, “b-but if you don’t want me to…”

“Yes,” you say, “want me to have your babies, Mr. Nanami?”

“Oh,” he whimpers, “shit. Shit, don’t say stuff like that.”

You whirl your hips on him in the shape of an ‘O.’

“Want to breed me?” you continue. “Make me all big and pregnant?”

“That’s enough,” he snaps suddenly, hand clamoring down on the belt that is to your side, before he grips the garment in his hand. He sits up from where he’d been leaning on you, before taking the leather and slithering it around your neck, pulling it through the buckle, and yanking it towards him like you’re just a pathetic bitch on a leash.

“You had your fun,” he grits, “now you need to remember your place, bunny. I’m going to fill you to the brim until your cunt can’t take anymore and it drips back out of you, got it?”

“Mmh,” you pull against his belt as your hips are no longer the once controlling the pace. “Nanami, n-nooo…”

Your voice tapers off as he fucks you, fucks you so good and hard and mean until you’re drooling and crying and shaking and hissing and-

“Cumming!” you scream, but Nanami shows no signs of slowing down.

“That’s it,” he says. “Number three. What about four?”

“Y-You said…”

“Oh, you’re the only one who gets to lie around here?” he chuckles, a deep hypnotic sound that vibrates against your chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m gonna - ngh” and one viscid moment later, Nanami begins to shudder, and it is the beginning of the end.

You cannot tell if you are mourning or rejoicing the conclusion of this insane chain of events, but you forget all about it when Nanami is spurting hot semen all over your taut, spongey walls - that are now sore and quivering from the excessive abuse.

Your name leaves his lips in between the sultry noises he makes, and his body jerks on top of you until he’s finished spewing his load. Now, he stands in front of you with his head dipped down as he pants for several seconds.

“Do you understand how addicting you are?” are the first words that leave his lips after he is able to drag his head up to look at you.

You’re focused on your own huffing as you try to come up with a witty response, but with your brain so fucked out, the only thing you can mutter is “Oh, Kento.”

He nestles his sweaty face into your neck and plants a feathery kiss there, reminding you that he is still the same gentle Nanami that tucks his children in bed at night and drinks green tea in the garden.

He is everything you have dreamed of, but the sex had truly sealed it. Now, as he slips out of you and his cum follows soon after, you feel your post-high clarity morphing into embarrassment at the fact that all you’d been feeling is lust; Nanami deserves so much more than that, including his recognition as a father.

“Why are you staring at me? Have I still got your nectar on my face?” he jokes, and you admire his ability to loosen the tension.

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, “I just think you are amazing. I don’t want you to think I really did just come for some cock.”

At this, he laughs so hard that his torso shakes. You smile, as it is rare to hear, and you are the cause of it.

He grabs his shirt and begins to use it to wipe himself off, then does the same for you, his movements intentional and gentle as he cleans you up, rubbing all of the puffy, red reminders on your body softly.

“I don’t think that,” he says with a crooked smile. “But whatever the case, I do hope that things have… changed between us.”

You scoff. “I should hope so,” you tease, tilting your head as he stops his hands on your body. “I hope you’re not going around making every person who comes near you cum three times in one sitting and expect to just be friends.”

He grins. “Nah, that treatment is reserved for you, bun.” His hands slide up your hair and pat the fuzzy ears on your head. “We should keep these around, though. But I’d like to take you out before we use them again.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring his face to yours, planting a gentle kiss on his nose. “Of course. You did say good things come in threes,” you grin. “The sex was one. The date will be two. What’s three?”

And your question gets answered nine months later, when Nanami proposes to you on a white beach in another country.

…Right before you go into labor.

But of course, once the baby is out, it’s time to start on number 4 the following Halloween.

A/N 2.0

ty all sm for the love on this series so far i’m rlly havin the time of my life writing all these twisted monster-fucker stories ^.^

~ pennjammin

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. toji cannot wait to break in his virgin girlfriend—though until then, he’ll settle for simply teasing you until you’re a trembling mess.

tags. toji fushiguro x virgin!female reader. smut, pwp. age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). corruption kink. dry humping? cum play. size difference. reader gets called ‘princess, doll’ queued

toji loves to tease you—you know that very well. he thrives off your reactions to his dirty words, the subtle yet naughty touches that he sneaks in during conversations, the seductive glint in his half lidded eyes whenever you’re around . . he knows what he’s doing.

even more so when you’re in his bed at night. you usually cuddle, sometimes make out and grind against each other, but nothing too lewd yet. toji doesn’t mind waiting to get a taste of you. he knows it will be worth the wait at the end.

but oh—is it difficult. so, so difficult. especially when you allow him access to more parts of your body.

“shit, princess,” he pants, hissing a bit when the mushroom tip of his cock bumps against your clothed clit, “y’re gettin’ so wet, huh? just by looking at my cock ‘n feeling it rub against your pussy.”

your cotton panties surely are damp with arousal; from both toji and you. his pre-cum mixes with your juices, ruining your favorite pair of panties. the wet spot forming near your slit only gets darker and darker the more you allow toji to rub his dick back and forth over your cunt.

“mngh—fuck. need you,” you whine, unable to fight the urge to buck your hips against his fat cock. your eyes dart up to your boyfriend to express your neediness, but he grabs your nape and guides your gaze back to his red tip pushing against your sloppy underwear.

toji lets out a dry chuckle. “i know y’ do. y’r pussy told me that long time ago,” he comments while he watches your adorable reactions to him pushing and pulling his cock from your clothed pussy. he’s only interested in you—the way your eyes glisten with tears and pleasure.

if it isn’t for his self control, he would have fucked you by now. but he’ll patiently wait until the perfect timing to push through that invisible wall, to pop your cherry while he looks you in the eyes, taking that innocence from you that he oh-so loves.

“want my cock, doll?” toji asks with a wicked grin. his large hands runs over your chest to your tummy. he guides his shaft over to your belly, measuring how much of your insides it would fill. “mm, yeah—would mess you up pretty bad,” he hums as the tip reaches your belly button. even further than that.

the thought excites the older man. to be your first, the first man who’ll mould your pussy to only fit his cock. no one else will have the honor of stripping you from your virginity.

“want it. want it all the way inside me,” you reply back, voice shaking with excitement. you’re going to cum soon from him simply grinding against your clothed cunt. your poor clit is continuously being circled and bumped against by his tip and it’s driving you crazy.

toji swallows thickly. “don’t ya tempt me like that,” he warns you in a dark tone. he runs a rough finger over your wet panties, keeping your legs spread wide with his knees. he easily finds your little hole as the cotton material sticks to your pussy, showing the outlines of your lips.

“might just push in here. .” toji murmurs as he positions the leaking head of his dick against your covered entrance, “. . and fill you up while hearing you scream my name. sounds good, ay?”

you gasp and feel your cunt clench around nothing. his hips move back and forth, shallow thrusts against the barrier that is your panties, mimicking the real thing. “y-yeah—oh, ‘m g’nna cum,” your heart rate picks up as your back arches off the mattress.

toji raises an eyebrow, secretly finding it endearing how that is the action that pushes you over the edge. you’re so adorable; simply thinking of him actually fucking you senseless and the feeling of his tip seeking your pussy is enough.

“aww, she’s gonna cum,” the dark-haired man snickers after mocking you. toji gauges your reactions and grins when he sees your head rolling back against the pillow.

“do y’ wanna cum together? we can,” he smirks as he leans down to intertwine your hands—playing the role of the gentle boyfriend who’s having sex with his girlfriend for the first time. he’s trying to give you the full experience while not actually giving it to you yet.

“y-yes, wanna cum together,” you nod mindlessly, your mouth feeling dry. you squeeze your eyes shut while also holding tightly onto toji’s hand. your pussy tightens up around air while your hips buck up to meet toji’s thrusts against your covered, wet hole.

“c-close—ngh, toji!” your eyes widen once his tip pressing snugly between your pussy lips. for a second it felt like his cock had successfully breached through your panties. that short-lived moment is enough to push you over the edge and cum on spot.

toji witnesses the bliss in your facial expression and he groans. “fuckkk—take it. g’nna cum all over ya princess,” he presses his hips firmly against yours, his full length resting right between your wet folds, ropes of cum spurting out of his aching tip.

you feel the sticky liquid stain your belly, running down to the waistband of your panties and even staining the front part. your choked up moans are music to your boyfriend’s ears while he calms down from his own orgasm.

his big biceps tremble as he holds himself up above you, grinning from ear to ear. “keheh, made a mess out of you,” toji’s voice is filled with pride. he lets you cling onto him for as long as you need to.

his eyes dart down to the sticky mess on your tummy and panties. the older man leans back on his knees to admire the view. he really couldn’t wait to actually slide inside of your tight cunt—but this will suffice for now. the sight of his cute girlfriend trembling and whimpering beneath him makes up for everything.

his fingers hook around the waistband of your panties. “can i look, doll?” toji asks in a gruff voice, desparate to see your glistening cunt. you weakly nod and he doesn’t waste any more time.

the sight greeting him when he pulls your underwear down is nearly enough to make him cum again. your juices are everywhere, multiple strings of wetness connecting your pussy to your panties. they snap one after the other as your panties are slowly removed.

“oh, y’re such a messy girl,” toji sighs, leaning down to kiss your tummy, licking up some of his own cum. you shiver and your hands dart out to hold onto his black hair. he chuckles at the gesture, humming in acknowledgement.

his eyes darken when he catches a glimpse of your sopping pussy again. he’s so close to it — so extremely close. his gaze darts over to a drop of his cum that threatens to slide down and over your clit. the heat and smell of your cunt is driving that man to the brink of insanity.

toji lolls his tongue out, eyes glistening with desire while he pushes your legs up and over his shoulders, big hands holding onto your hips. drool gathers in the corners of his mouth as his face hovers right between your legs;

“mind if i have a taste of you, princess? jus’ a quick one, i promise.”

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim vol. I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the fundraiser rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up? 

No, he’s rich, not royalty. 

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed. 

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget. 

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is. 

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways. 

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty. 

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options. 

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path. 

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for. 

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk. 

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room. 

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?” 

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce. 

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received. 

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased. 

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

 “Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.” 

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.” 

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected. 

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.” 

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” 

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much. 

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours. 

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms. 

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence. 

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for. 

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex. 

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can—” 

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan. 

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

part two

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽

[joelscruff]

is it that sweet? (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

masterlist | a/n i've had no motivation to write lately but this randomly popped into my head the other day and suddenly my brain was like okay let's roll!! let's do this!! let's jump in!! so idk what that says about the current state of my subconscious. anyway this is filth! pls read the warnings! love u. summary: you probably shouldn't let some random middle aged man on the beach take nude photos of you, right? right? rating: 18+ explicit warnings: pervy!joel, age gap, voyeurism, coercion, objectification, sneaky picture taking, nude photos, paying for sexual favors, dirty talk, praise kink, pussy pronouns up the fuckin wazoo, oral (f receiving), nipple sucking, unprotected p in v sex, standing sex, creampie word count: 8.4k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

He's been watching you for about an hour. You'd sussed him out almost immediately after settling onto your beach towel and digging into your bag for your sunscreen, mildly aware of the shape of him in your peripheral vision. He's old, definitely in his late fifties, but certainly not the most unattractive man who could be eyeing you. You're used to it by now anyway, almost feed into the way men seem to gawk at you sometimes now that you've finally thrown caution to the wind and stopped giving a fuck about your beach body. You used to be self conscious about your curves, your tummy, your thighs - you decided this summer that it had to stop.

And you're glad you did. Because now he's staring at you, this unnamed, completely anonymous middle aged man only a few feet away. And it feels fucking good.

Should it feel good? Probably not. Should you tell him to buzz off and leave you alone? Take a picture, it'll last longer, something like that? Probably. But will you? No.

You like feeling his eyes on you.

Older men like you, you've noticed. They stare. They stare more than men your own age - boys, really. Twenty somethings who try to play it cool and more often than not come across as disinterested in their interest. They're cowardly, obnoxious. And you suppose some older ones are too, especially the ones with wives - they want you to be impressed by them, ooh and awe over their high paying jobs and big mansions, their fancy cars that they think make up for their tiny dicks.

But every now and then you'll come across one like this. You can read him like a book, peering at him from over your sunglasses every so often as he lounges behind a vibrant blue umbrella. His eyes caress your bare shoulders and chest, your exposed stomach, your soft thighs. They linger on the places they shouldn't and it makes you tingle. He's appreciating what he sees, basking in it, taking his time.

You could be content just lying here and letting him look. He is handsome after all, greying curls and soft scruff flecked with white, golden skin that almost glows underneath the sun. His legs stretch out over his own towel, long and lean and strong. He's got a soft looking belly, hanging out a little bit over his trunks, and now your eyes linger for a little longer than they should.

But you won't say anything. If he wants to talk to you, he has every opportunity to. You're not going anywhere for at least another hour, not until the sun starts setting and it's time to head back to your friend's vacation home. You've only been in California for a short period of time, but it's like it's somehow molded you into a different person - a more confident, sexier version of yourself that's been dying to get out for years. A version of you who lets this old man stare and get his fill as you smirk and turn over on your towel, arching your ass up into the air.

Oh, he likes that. You can tell because of the way his jaw clenches, neck tightening as his eyes fall to the globes of your cheeks. With a barely there smirk, you arch a little more, stretching and flexing and letting him take in the way your bikini bottoms barely contain them. Your breasts hang low onto your towel, practically overflowing from their own containment, and you have to admit - you're getting a little wet posing for him like this.

He licks his lips, eyes flickering downward again to something closer to him, something in his hand. You crane your neck a little bit to peer around the blue umbrella, and your breath hitches.

He's taking pictures of you.

It's obvious now, should have been obvious this whole time, really. Only one of his hands has really been visible, the other settled low against his side behind the umbrella. Now you can see that he's got his phone angled toward you, the camera peeking slyly out from behind the blue nylon as he repeatedly taps his screen with his thumb. To test him a little further, make sure you're really seeing what you think you're seeing, you push down into the sand with your hands and rise up a little bit on the towel, almost into a lazy downward facing dog. Your tits jiggle below you, threatening to escape, and out of the corner of your eye you watch as the man adjusts the camera to get a better angle. His thumb and forefinger glide across the screen, undeniably - and unashamedly - zooming in.

You're definitely wet now. You know you shouldn't be. You know this has probably gone too far and you should get up and leave, potentially tell someone about the creep on the beach taking photos of women in bikinis.

Instead, you make eye contact with him, settling back down onto your towel with your ass still perched a little in the air. He seems to freeze, eyebrows going up in the realization that he's been caught. In response, you blink slowly at him, pout a little bit as if to say, Really? You arch your back a little more and shimmy your hips, tilting your head as you continue to gaze over at him, eyes going a little hooded.

Come fuck me, you're almost saying, even though you know there's no way in hell you're gonna let him. It's just funny to watch him squirm, phone gripped tight in his hand as his adam's apple bobs in his throat. You arch a little more and then grind your hips into your towel, flattening yourself against it, holding his gaze. You rest your head and smile at him teasingly.

He's getting up and shuffling toward you in no time at all.

"Hi, darlin'," are the first words out of his mouth when he reaches you, and you certainly did not expect a Southern accent to fall from those plush lips. He's gorgeous really, now that you can see him up close - wide shoulders and big arms that strain against his white shirt, strong chest covered in little freckles, chocolate brown eyes that shimmer in the sunlight.

"Hi," you say with a smile, blinking up at him.

"I'm sure you saw what I was doin'," he seems a little embarrassed, voice apologetic as he scratches the back of his neck, "I know I shoulda asked, but you seemed so relaxed, I didn't wanna disturb you."

Bullshit, you only came over because I smiled at you. Any other reaction and you'd have run for the hills.

"I'm Joel," he reaches his hand down for you to take. For some reason, you shake it without hesitation. "I'm actually a photographer, believe it or not."

Huh. You raise an eyebrow at the words, doubt immediately swimming in your mind as you assess him.

"If you're a photographer, where's your camera?"

He chuckles, "Back at my hotel. I just came out here to relax, wasn't plannin' on takin' any photos. But then I saw you, and, well..." he smiles at you sheepishly, "You're just so pretty, darlin'. Never seen somebody like you before."

The words are not special. They're nothing you haven't already heard, nothing he hasn't probably already used on countless other women. And yet... you smile back at him, cheeks warming a little at the way the compliment sounds coming out of his mouth in particular, all Southern and sweet. "Thank you."

His eyes suddenly leave yours to flicker back toward your body again, scanning the length of you. As if on instinct, almost to show off, you tighten the muscles in your ass cheeks and then release, letting them jiggle a little bit under your swimsuit. He swallows tightly.

"Would you be interested in posin' for me, sweetheart? There's a little spot down the beach, outta sight. Still public though, of course. I wouldn't ask you to go anywhere unsafe," his eyes linger on your ass for a few more seconds before he's meeting your gaze again, soft and sincere, "I'd love to get some pictures of you in that bikini, and some with it off too, if you're comfortable with that."

Oh, he's fucking brave. You can feel disgust brewing in the pit of your stomach, a scowl beginning to dawn on your face. This is where you should draw the line. This is where you should get up and leave, tell him to go to hell, tell him he's a pervert and-

"I'll pay whatever you think is fair," he continues, "How's three hundred as a starting point?"

On second thought...

"Beautiful, baby," he's telling you softly, "You're so pretty like that."

You hum in contentment, laying in the sand with a little smile tugging at your lips as Joel maneuvers around you with his phone, snapping pic after pic as you peer up at him through rays of sun. You're a little ways down the beach now, in a sparser area behind some rocks. He was right about it still being public - if something happened, you know you could raise your voice the tiniest bit and be heard immediately by people on the other side. Somehow though, despite his forwardness and slightly perverted habits, you trust that he isn't going to force anything on you.

You've already got three hundred dollars in your purse. He'd given it to you before you'd even gotten up from your initial spot on the beach, placed it in your hand with a grin as your eyes widened. You suppose you could've taken the money and run, but part of you wanted to play it out, test the limits, see what else he'd pay you for.

Which leads you here, laying sensually in the sand with the strings of your bikini dangling a little looser off your shoulders and hips, a little careless, a little more teasing. The poses so far have been pretty basic, and you've tried your best to emulate what you think a supermodel on the cover of Sports Illustrated would do. Based on Joel's responses - excited nods and gentle praises - you think you're doing a good job.

"Turn over now," he tells you with a playful grin, "Put that cute little ass in the air again for me."

It should be demeaning, the way he's talking to you. There's a lot about this situation that should be wrong, and yet you can't help but feel pride swell in your chest at his directions, his compliments. You do what he says, flipping over to dig your hands into the sand and arch your back, turning your head to eye the camera directly with a sultry little smile on your face.

"Perfect," he's murmuring, thumb tapping the screen like his life depends on it, "That's so perfect, honey." You listen to the fake little shutter sounds the phone makes, still wondering if he's even really a photographer. Would it even matter? Wouldn't you have still let him do this anyway?

With this new angle you can feel the loose strands of your bikini top starting to slip, unraveling at the back and trickling gently against your sides. You watch with what should be a worrying lack of urgency as it cascades down onto the sand below, leaving you topless.

He whistles low under his breath, "Well, would you look at that. The girls are out."

"That's an extra fifty," you say with a coy eyebrow raise, "Or else I cover them back up."

"Extra fifty, no problem" Joel echoes, "Can you shake your ass for me again, darlin'?"

You nod, tilting your head and peering back at him as you tighten and release your muscles with a giggle, basking in the way he stares at it, like it's a five course meal he's about to devour. You do it a few more times, arching your back a little more and spreading your thighs slightly to allow for more recoil, more jiggle. He makes an odd sound in the back of his throat and you grin.

"How much to take these off too?" he lowers the phone and peers at you with pleading eyes, brown and soft, "Huh? How much extra to show me this lil' peach, honey?"

You grimace, looking down at the sand and trying to calculate an appropriate cost in your brain. You bite your lip, "You know that's not the only thing that'll show."

"I know," he murmurs, eyes trailing downward again to eye your ass, still perched high and plump, "Your peach and your pussy then, how much?"

Fuck.

"I won't touch you," he promises softly, "You can just tug it down and show her to me, lemme see her up close, yeah?"

Her?

Her.

"Christ," you mumble under your breath. He's filthier than you thought, and not in a bad way - in a fucking hot way. "Another fifty," you decide, voice firm, "And... and I wanna see you put the money in my purse first. And no touching my... her."

"I can do that, sweetheart," he's already digging into his wallet and yanking out the money, opening your bag slightly to place it inside. It could be counterfeit for all you know; this whole thing really might be a completely worthless venture, and yet -

He watches as you reach backward to untie the strings of your bikini bottoms, doing it in one fell swoop and then spreading your thighs again, knees digging into the sand. You arch and press your face against your towel, feeling goosebumps rise all over your skin at the knowledge that he's staring at where you're now completely bare.

You hear him groan, a rough little sound that goes straight to your core, and a few little shutter sounds go off, "Now, that's a pretty little pussy you got there, baby."

Heat rises throughout your body, up through your chest and to your cheeks. You turn a little to look at him shyly, lashes fluttering when you see where his gaze has settled.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, honey, she's so pretty," he breathes, "She's all wet. Leakin' for me, you see that?"

You can't see it of course, but you can feel it; feel the way you're dripping, knowing that he can see it, has a 1:1 view of the way you throb and drool for him. This random old man who about twenty minutes ago you'd never spoken to in your life.

"And your little clit is sayin' hi to me too, babygirl, can see her pokin' out." Fuck. You squirm a little in place as his camera continues to go off, legs spreading a little more unconsciously as you tilt your head downwards and close your eyes. Your clit twitches under his stare.

"Swollen little thing," he breathes, barely loud enough to hear, "Perfect pussy."

Jesus Christ.

"Roll over for me again, sweetheart," you hear him say quietly, "Show me all those pretty parts."

You don't know why, but you whine a little at his words. It's subconscious, a burning desire you can't describe as you slowly flip over and lazily lay back on your towel to show him your entire naked body. He stands over you with his brow furrowed in a gentle kind of way, eyes appraising you up and down like you're some kind of goddess. And fuck, he's kind of making you feel like one.

"Legs open a little bit, baby, that's it." You obey, spreading your legs and looking up at him with lidded eyes, lips parting a little. You bring your arms up to rest behind your head and he takes note of the way your tits bounce for him, shivering back and forth beneath his gaze. "You're perfect," he murmurs, "You're absolutely perfect."

"Stop," you say, unable to stop a grin from spreading across your face, "M'not perfect."

"But you are, darlin'," he shakes his head, eyes full of wonder as he kneels down to get some closer pictures. You watch as he brings his phone down directly in front of your pussy, snaps a few close-ups of your puffy lips and swollen clit. "I'd love to kiss her, honey, if you'd let me."

"N-no," you say quickly, though your voice cracks, "No touching."

"I'll pay you extra," his eyes return to yours, locking your gazes, "You name it, baby. I'll pay anything to taste how sweet you are down here."

You look at him calculatingly, tilting your head. Anything?

"Two hundred," you practically whisper, "In the bag."

You're half expecting him to tell you that he's run out of money, that he couldn't possibly give you any more than the four hundred he's already blown on this. But he surprises you, reaching back into his pocket to grab his wallet and tug out the bills. It's like he has an endless supply, and you're beginning to wonder if maybe this is a hobby of his, something he prepares for, carries money around to be ready to spend on women like you. Maybe he's rich rich, has unlimited money to throw away, and this is just his weird perverted thing he does on the side of something else.

Maybe you should have asked for more.

But he's already kneeling back down into the sand and you're already opening your legs wider for him, allowing him to settle between them and lean his head forward to place his lips gently against your pussy. You watch with heavy lids as he kisses you so softly there, his mouth tender and inviting and deliciously scratchy from his scruff. Without really thinking about it, you reach down and run a hand through his curls, smiling a little fondly as he kisses you again, and again, and again.

"That feels nice," you breathe, watching as he continues to press incredibly slow and gentle kisses to your cunt in an almost respectful way, a reverent way.

"Good," he murmurs, lips vibrating against your core, "Want it to feel nice for you, baby."

You let out a soft moan the second his tongue breaches your folds, wet and warm. You watch as he closes his eyes and seems to get lost in it, tasting your pussy like it - or she, as he'd said - is some rare delicacy he's never indulged in before. He trails the tip of his tongue through the mess you've made, maneuvering your puffy lips and flicking it against your clit. Your hips buck and another moan slips out, quiet and pitiful.

"That's it," he murmurs against you with a little half smile, "So sweet for me, honey." He dives back in immediately and slowly plunges his tongue inside your entrance, fucking into you a few times before carefully pulling back and opening his eyes to peer up at you again. God, those brown eyes are fucking sinful. He gives you one more smile and then reaches down to grab his phone.

"Gonna get some more pics of this messy girl, okay?" he breathes, and you're a little startled when his left hand is suddenly coming down to touch you there, two fingers carefully scissoring you open. You don't say anything, too horny to protest, too intrigued to see what he's going to do. "Gotta open her up a little," he tells you softly, answering your unspoken question, "Wanna take a little peek at what she's hidin' inside her, baby."

A little whimper falls from your throat again as his fingers scissor you wider, holding you open and baring your hole to his camera. You can feel your walls twitching and pulsing, contracting and leaking; you can only imagine what it looks like. Your eyes roll a little when his middle finger taps your clit, another gush of arousal flooding past your opening.

"Look at this lil' hole, huh?" he's murmuring, but your eyes are closing and your head is falling back onto the towel as he plays with you, "Oh, she's alllll messy for me down here, baby. And it's no wonder your clit came out to see me, she loves gettin' played with, don't she?"

Christ, he knows how to talk. His words send another helpless little sound past your lips, thighs trembling as he slowly caresses your clit with his finger, pressing down on it with just the right amount of pressure.

"Aw, you're all sticky here again, baby," he whispers and you whine, feeling your juices dribble down toward your ass, "Shh, I'll take care of it," and then he's leaning back in to lap at your folds, a little faster this time, more desperate, "Tastes so good, pretty girl. So sweet."

He suckles your clit into his mouth and you let out a breathless moan, brow furrowing as he suctions the swollen nub and lets one of his fingers fall to slip inside your entrance. You're so close you can feel it, coiled inside and ready to snap at any moment, his thick index plugging you deliciously as his tongue swirls. You tighten around it, thighs squeezing a little around his head, and then-

He's pulling away, removing his mouth and finger. Your eyes flutter open and you watch as he stands up with a little groan, older age apparent in the way he clutches at his back and exhales once he's upright. You want to tell him to get back down here, finish what he started, but part of you feels like it'd almost be letting him win, somehow. This perverted creep on a public beach that's somehow managed to lure you away and get you naked, take photos of your body and eat your pussy. He doesn't deserve to have you beg for him - even if you want to.

"Can you stand up for me now, honey?" he tilts his head, squinting against the sun and smiling like he didn't just ruin your orgasm.

On shaky legs, you manage to pull yourself up from the sand and stand before him in all your naked glory, legs crossing a little as you squeeze your thighs together. He smirks but doesn't say anything about it, instead angling his phone toward you again and snapping some full length photos. You immediately do your best to go back into Sports Illustrated mode, posing a little and trying to ignore the ache between your legs, the relentless throb of where his mouth just was.

"Squeeze your tits together for me," he tells you, voice a bit deeper, rougher, full of arousal, "Cup 'em a little, show me those cute lil' nipples."

You do as he says, biting your lip and showing the camera exactly what he wants to see. Your nipples are peaked and hard, begging to be teased and tugged, but you refuse to do it yourself - you're not giving him the satisfaction, not after what he just pulled. He takes a few up-close pictures, camera so close to them that you shiver with sensitivity, the smallest bit of air from his movements causing them to tighten even more.

"Those are so beautiful, baby," he murmurs softly, gaze trailing upwards to meet yours, "Can I give 'em a kiss too?" God, his eyes are so fucking soft and sincere, like fucking boba pearls. You wonder if anyone's ever been able to say no to him.

You swallow, keeping eye contact, "For another fifty, sure."

He chuckles at that, "You drive a hard bargain, darlin'."

"I know what I'm worth."

He smiles, nodding slowly, "That, you do." He pulls out his wallet and slips another bill into your bag, then shuffles toward you again. You try to keep your breathing calm when one of his hands comes up to cradle your bare back, pulls you in a little bit as he lowers his mouth to your right nipple. With hazy eyes, you watch as he presses the softest little kiss to it, then does the same to the left.

Part of you wants to pull back and say that's it, that's all you get, just to see what he does, give him a taste of his own medicine. But then he's wrapping his lips around the pebbled bud and suckling, your eyes going glassy, jaw dropping a little as your hands come up to hold his shoulders. Your pussy throbs at the sensation, thighs rubbing together again as he suctions just the right amount and swirls his tongue all over the hard peak. It's impossible not to let a quiet moan fall past your lips, something he returns with a little mmhmm around your nipple, a wordless I know.

It feels so good that you feel your guard going down even more than it already has, feel your head falling forward to rest against his. His greying hair is so soft, so warm from the sun. You blink slowly and inhale, cheek smooshing into his temple as he sucks and sucks and sucks, then turns his attention to the other one. Little whimpers are tumbling past your lips, your hands squeezing and caressing his shoulders as you feel yourself starting to drip down your inner thighs.

It's so fucking intimate, much more intimate than you anticipated. And when he finally pulls away and comes back up to peer into your eyes again, leaving your nipples puffy and a little sore, you betray yourself by leaning forward to kiss him softly, tugging his bottom lip into your mouth and returning the favor with a little suckle. You feel him smile against you, the hand on your back tightening as he brings his other one up to tangle in your hair. His lips are plush and wet - a little chapped from what he's just done to your nipples - and he tastes like pussy.

It's fucking heavenly.

"I wanna show you somethin', babygirl," he murmurs against you after a moment, and you nod a little too quickly, a little pathetically. You're starting to realize that you're losing the battle here, if there ever even was one.

He pulls back a little, eyes still soft. You watch as he reaches down to his swim trunks and unties them, heart suddenly in your throat as he slips his hand inside and comes out with an absolutely beautiful dick. It's long and thick, rounded and full at the tip with an extremely suckable looking mushroom head, as well as a prominent vein trailing up his shaft that makes your mouth water. You both stare at it for a few seconds without speaking, your lips parting but no words coming to mind.

"You wanna take some pictures with my cock, honey?" he asks you quietly, and you think he's probably looking at your face now, watching your expression, but you're still just staring at his dick.

"W-what?"

"Just a few, like...well..." he shuffles forward a bit and very gently presses the warmth of his cock against your bare stomach, letting the tip sit just above your belly button, "Like this."

Your brain is blank.

"That okay?"

His cock is so heavy.

"Darlin'?"

And warm.

He pushes some of your hair behind your ear, cradles your face in his big hand, "I know, honey," he murmurs, "You just gotta say okay."

Okay?

"O-okay," you finally whisper.

"Yeah?"

Yeah. You think it but don't say it, can't say it. You feel beyond overwhelmed, eyes still glued to where his throbbing tip is smooshed into your belly. You can't stop looking at it, ogling it, awed by its impressiveness and girth, the way it leaks a little onto your skin. You've never seen a dick this pretty before. You almost forget that you're standing there without any clothes on, barely aware of the shutter sound as he snaps multiple pictures on his phone.

"Good girl," he murmurs softly, "That's a good girl, just look at it."

Every few seconds he repositions a little, pulling you in closer to capture the way his cock stands at attention between your bodies. Precum gurgles from the tip and makes a sticky mess in his happy trail, dribbling down onto your skin. Without thinking about it at all, completely unaware of even doing it, your arms are suddenly around his waist, holding him close with your gaze still locked onto his cock.

"Yeah, that's for you, baby," he tells you softly, grinding his hips a little bit against yours and essentially fucking his cock against your stomach, "You did that to me."

It's only when he suddenly takes a small step back, holds the base and angles it downward to gently prod the sticky head against your pussy lips, that you finally come to your senses.

"Wait," you gasp out, yanking yourself back from him and shaking your head, "W-wait a second."

"M'sorry," he says quickly, brow furrowing as he puts his hands up. His cock hangs from his trunks almost comically, bobbing up and down as he takes a step back, "Shoulda asked first."

"Y-yeah, you should've," your voice cracks, heat flooding your face, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me just then, that was too far." Why the fuck are you apologizing to him?

"S'not too far," his words are gentle, alluring, "We're just havin' fun, aren't we honey? You were havin' fun, got lost in it. It's okay."

You take a breath, staring at him as you try to get your bearings. Were you having fun? Is this fun? What the fuck are you even doing right now? Your thoughts are cloudy, hazed with arousal and attraction to this complete stranger in front of you. Are you really gonna let this continue? Is it really worth it? Your gaze falls back to his cock and the question is almost answered for you.

"What am I doing?" you ask aloud, a breathless little laugh escaping your lips.

"You're just havin' fun with a new friend, s'all it is."

You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to ignore the way your hands tremble, "Is that what you are? My friend?"

"I'll be anything you want me to be, darlin'," his mouth turns up at the corners, eyes sparkling, "I sure would like to be your friend."

He peers at you for a moment, waiting for you to speak. Your mouth opens a few times but no words come out, your thoughts scrambled as you try to make heads or tails of this situation. You're suddenly painfully aware of the fact that you're still completely naked, and you quickly peek your head over the rock formation to make sure there's nobody nearby - there isn't.

Why are you checking?

"C'mere," Joel finally says, and you turn back to look at him with your lip between your teeth. He's standing there with his arms open a bit, cock still heavy between his legs. By all accounts, a fucking perv. And yet...

And yet.

Fuck it.

You're back in his embrace in no time, hooking your head over his shoulder and allowing his cock to press warmly into your skin again. You close your eyes and sigh as he brings one of his hands downward to squeeze your ass.

You know what he's going to ask before he even says it.

"Can I put it inside you, darlin'?" he murmurs softly, pleadingly, "Just to get a pic of your pussy all full?"

You don't say anything.

"Won't take more than a minute," he urges, "I promise, baby. Just wanna see it stretched around my cock. Don't you wanna see that, pretty girl? I'll pay extra, whatever you want."

More silence.

"I know you wanna see it," he's relentless, his other hand coming down to squeeze your other cheek and pull you impossibly closer, "You wanna feel that, don't you, baby? Big cock fillin' you up before you go?" His middle finger slides between your cheeks and settles at your pussy, slowly teasing your entrance, "Don't gotta do anything at all, just gotta stand here, we'll do it standin' honey."

"Standing?" you ask softly, pulling back to look at him with intrigue, and your response suddenly has him grinning from ear to ear as he slowly inserts his finger. You shiver, eyes fluttering closed as he fills you with it.

"Standin'," he repeats, "Just like this, baby, don't gotta do anything 'cept open your legs a little for me. You can do that, can't you?" The hand on your ass comes up to hold your chin; he pinches it gently between his finger and thumb and gives you another soft look as he starts to fuck you in earnest, "I know you can, 'cause you're a good girl, yeah?"

"Y-yeah," you breathe, arms tightening around his body.

"Yeah," he adds a second finger, smile faltering into a sympathetic pout when you let out another soft moan, "And you want that cock, don't you? I can see it all over your face, honey. Don't gotta pretend."

"I do," you whisper with a nod, swallowing thickly and trembling in his arms, "I want it, I do."

"So..." he's waiting for you to say the words, to tell him to go ahead and put it in, do what he wants, let him take control. His fingers are relentless inside of you now, plunging in and out at a speed you know he's purposely using to distract you, cloud your decision making.

Which is why his eyebrows go up in surprise when you're suddenly reaching down to grab tightly to his wrist, yanking his fingers out of your pussy in one swift pull.

"Three hundred," you state, "Take it or leave it."

To your surprise, his face alights with a gigantic smile, a deep laugh tumbling past his lips as he nods and digs his hand into his pocket, seeking his wallet one more time, "Yes, m'aam," he grins, "I'll take it."

You've never had sex standing up before. Not like this, face to face and completely upright with your feet planted on the ground. It's a little awkward at first, Joel having to crouch a little to align his hips with yours, one hand gripping your waist while the other grips his phone. God, this fucking phone. You're pretty sure you'll never wanna see a phone case with this ugly shade of cerulean blue again, let alone hear those obnoxious shutter sounds.

Your annoyance is quickly overpowered by the sensation of the warm head of Joel's cock pressing gently to your pussy. You look down to watch, lip between your teeth again as Joel snaps image after image of the way his tip crowds your outer lips, pushes them apart. You have to admit, it's certainly a sight to behold.

"Yeah, look at her open for me, baby," he's murmuring, thumbing the base as he slowly rubs his cockhead back and forth through your folds, "Bloomin' like a little flower."

The top of your head rests against his shoulder, face angled down to watch what he's doing. A tiny whimper falls from your lips when he very slowly eases the head of his cock inside of you, the stretch barely noticeable with how wet you are. He releases your hip to reach down and open your pussy lips with his thumb and forefinger, exposing where you're joined.

"Tell her to smile for the camera, babygirl," he whispers, and while part of you wants to roll your eyes, another part can't help but feel a gush of arousal at his words, soaking his cock even more, "Good, that's good."

He feeds his cock to you slowly, making sure to take as many pictures as he can. Little whines and squeaks erupt from your throat and your hands claw at his back, fingers tangling in the white crocheted material as he fills you up. It's only when he's fully sheathed inside of you that he suddenly tugs his trunks down a little more to expose his balls, heavy and round and full. You stare at them with a longing in your eyes you can't describe, lower lip trembling as you watch them bounce and settle against where you're joined.

"There you go," he murmurs, snapping one last picture before tossing his phone into the sand and bringing his hands up to cradle your back, pulling you close, "All done, baby, that's it."

Your toes curl in the sand as you embrace the feeling of being so full of him, his tip pulsing delicately inside the deepest parts of you. A distant thought in your brain wonders why he just threw his phone on the ground, but it doesn't seem to matter when you feel like this, so full and wet and warm, lost in a hazy glow. You bury your face in his shoulder, letting out quiet little whimpers as he pulls you in tighter. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, seemingly reveling in the moment too as you stand there listening to the ocean waves, impaled on a stranger's cock.

"How's that feel, honey?" he asks you softly, thumbs tracing shapes along your bare back, "Hm? Feel good?" You don't answer, just nuzzle your face against his skin and let out another soft whine, hands clamoring underneath his shirt to grip his back. He chuckles, "Yeah, I know, baby."

You both stand there for what feels like forever, until you finally have enough sense to pull away from his shoulder and get a look at his face. He's watching you fondly, brow furrowed, eyes still incredibly soft and inviting. He really is gorgeous. Pervy, but gorgeous.

"You dropped your phone," you mumble, words faint and slightly slurred.

"Don't need it anymore," he murmurs, "Got my pictures."

"Then why are you still inside me?" you ask softly, eyelashes fluttering, "If you're done?"

He shrugs, smiling, "'Cause it feels good, don't it?"

You stare at him for a few seconds but end up nodding regardless, turning your face a little to peer over at the ocean, "It does," you admit, "Feels really good."

"Mmhmm," he kisses the top of your head again, then your temple, stroking his fingers through your hair. The way he touches you is reverent, delicate, like you're something fragile he needs to keep safe. It's not what you'd expected, that's for sure. But something you're not as sure about is what happens now, where you both go from here.

It doesn't take long for him to decide.

You feel his thumb on your clit, drawing your attention away from the ocean and back to his presence. You peer at him through bleary eyes, a dazed little smile curving your lips as he carefully rotates the swollen nub. His belly caresses yours, warm and soft, and you smile even wider.

"Feel good?" he asks you again - tender, kind.

"Yeah," you whisper.

The hand on your back comes up to cradle your hair, pulling you in close again and allowing you to rest your head against his smooth chest. You moan as his thumb picks up speed, the sound muffled by his tan skin.

"You want me to make you come, honey?" he murmurs, fingers brushing carefully through your hair, "You wanna come all over that big cock inside you?"

"Yeah," you repeat, a little broken this time, "W-wanna come."

"You've been so fuckin' good for me, you know that?" he breathes, barely a whisper, brow furrowed as he continues to rub your clit, "Posin' all pretty, showin' me that soft little pussy, lettin' me taste her," he gives a low whistle, shaking his head, "And now she's all full, huh? She full?"

You nod, eyes rolling a little, "Y-yeah." Apparently yeah is currently one of the only words in your vocabulary.

"She all messy for me?"

Again, you nod, expression blissful as you let out a moan, "Yes, Joel," you whimper, and you're pretty sure it's the first time you've said his name this whole time. It's like you've been trying to be disconnected from it, from him, and now suddenly he's everywhere; inside you, in front of you, above you - there's no escaping him. And you don't want to escape - what you want is him. Badly. Desperately.

He seems to realize this at the exact same time you do, the moment he hears his name fall from your lips. Which is why you're not surprised in the slightest by his next words.

"What if I wanted a pic of my cum leakin' outta this little pussy?" he whispers, mouth suddenly directly next to your ear, sending insane amounts of pleasurable tingles throughout your whole body, "Huh? How much would that cost? Tell me."

"You can't," you mumble, lightheaded, but you're lying to yourself, completely lost in the pleasure he's giving you, the movement of his thumb and the girth of his cock.

"Only take a few seconds, honey, m'already close," as he speaks, you feel his hips slowly begin to buck, cock pulling from you for only a moment before easing back in, making you shudder, "You don't gotta do nothin', 'cept show me how she drools when she's full. You can do that, can't you baby?"

"Joel," you whine again, eyes shut tight as you dig your toes into the sand, holding tight to his back as he slowly starts to fuck up into you. He's so big, so thick, plugging you full and then leaving you again, slow and warm. You can only imagine how it would feel to have him burst inside of you, to fill you to the brim.

"I wanna see her drool, honey," he murmurs, voice desperate again, full of arousal, "Wanna see her push it out."

"Fuck," you moan, high and whiney as you suddenly grip both sides of his face in your hands to peer directly into his eyes, "A thousand," you whimper, your hands clawing at his scruff as his hips pick up speed, as his hands fall to your waist and hold tightly as he starts to pound up into you, "A thousand and you can come in my pussy."

He presses his forehead against yours, lets out a guttural sound and then hisses, "Deal."

And for some reason, you believe him.

Getting pounded while standing upright is a fucking trip. His nails dig into the pebbled flesh of your hips, knees bending and unbending as his cock fucks up into you relentlessly without stopping or slowing. Your hands are still holding his face, eyes locked with his as your mouth pops open in a silent scream, thumbs digging into the apples of his cheeks. Holy fucking shit.

"I know, I know, I know," he's groaning, voice wild and unhinged, groans vibrating in his chest, "Fuckin' take it, s'what you were made for, honey. Knew it the second I saw you, knew you were gonna go wild on that dick."

"Please," you moan out, tears pricking in your eyes, the sensations almost too much to bear, "Please, please." You don't even know what you're begging for, thoughts muddled as you release his face and wind your arms around his neck, "Keep fucking me, keep fucking me, don't stop, please."

"I got you, honey, I got you," you feel his thumb return to your clit as he speaks, the sounds of your skin slapping together almost rivalling the sound of the ocean waves, "You gonna come, pretty girl? Huh? You gonna cream on my cock?"

"Yes," you practically squeal, and before you can really process what you're doing you're suddenly jumping up from the sand to wrap your legs around Joel's waist, ankles tangling together behind his back. He has no issue shifting positions, his arm cradling you and holding you in the air while his thumb continues to ravage your clit. You feel it building in your stomach, tightening more and more with the insistent pressure of his thumb and the continuous thrusts of his dick hitting your cervix over and over.

"Ohh, I feel her, baby," he groans in your ear, "Sloppy little cunt wants to make another mess, doesn't she?" And that's all it takes for your orgasm to hit you, your legs squeezing tighter and tighter and tighter around Joel's body as you moan and whine and cry, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and shaking in his arms. It's like having the wind knocked out of you, arguably one of the best orgasms you've ever had in your life, your eyes rolling back into your head as you sob into his neck.

"Joel," you whimper, pussy pulsing repeatedly around his dick through the aftershocks, "Joel, come inside her, please."

"Oh, fuck."

You feel it then, the twitch of his cock and the warm ropes of his release pumping into you. You sigh almost dreamily, burying your face in his shoulder and listening as he groans, feeling the way his fingertips dig into the soft plush of your ass. It's steady - there's so much more than you thought there'd be, and the sensation is enough to make you whimper again, murmuring his name one more time as he empties himself.

You stay like that for a moment, the ocean loud in your ears, all other sounds seemingly drowned out by the hiss of sea against rock and sand. Eventually, he carries you a few steps to your towel, your ears ringing and his body trembling a little as he carefully lowers you down. You let go of him a bit reluctantly, a pout on your lips as he lays you out and then slowly pulls himself from you with a wet squelch.

"Good girl," he's murmuring - you realize he's been saying it the whole time - "Good girl, that's it, open your legs."

There's no hesitance at all anymore, not after that. You open your legs wide with abandon and sit up on your hands, watching with heavy lids as he grabs his phone from where he'd discarded it, bringing it down to your leaking pussy.

"Look at that," he breathes, awestruck, and your eyes trail downward to see what he sees. You feel heat return to your cheeks when you see the way his creamy white release is slowly beginning to dribble out of you and onto the towel.

"Wow, that's a lot," you whisper with a faint little giggle, eyes coming back up to look at his face as he watches it drip. You're not sure he hears you, intensely focused on where you're swollen and leaking, but you don't mind. You push back lazily on your hands and smile fondly at him as he takes his precious photos. In the afterglow, you find that the shutter sounds aren't that annoying, not really.

"Open her up for me, baby," he tells you softly, "Spread her wide and push it out."

You sit up a little, feeling drowsy and dreamy as you reach down and pull yourself open with your hands. You apply a little pressure, closing your eyes in a daze and hearing the wet little sounds as you push his cum out of you and onto the towel. You hear him groan, hear the shutter sounds again, and you can't help but grin.

"Are they good?" you ask him, genuinely wondering, "Is she pretty?" As you speak you pull yourself a little wider, allow him to take one more picture as close inside as possible before he pulls it away.

He looks up from his handiwork with that familiar soft smile on his face again, brown eyes shimmering in the sun that's already beginning to set, "You're perfect," he tells you, "And don't argue with me, I just gave you almost two thousand dollars."

You snort, releasing yourself and falling backwards onto the towel to stare up at the sky. Your limbs feel heavy, eyelids drooping as you watch Joel in your periphery slipping his soft cock back into his trunks, as well as his phone.

"It's real money, right?" you ask, a little unsure.

"I promise it's real money," he says with a chuckle, walking over to stand over you, "D'you wanna come back to my hotel with me and get cleaned up? Maybe have some more fun?"

You bite your lip, "Would you pay me?"

"I'd pay you."

Admittedly, as reality begins to wash over you, the idea doesn't sound anywhere near as appealing as it might have an hour ago. With a little effort, you sit up again and reach for your bikini, half buried in the sand near your feet.

"Nah, I think I'm good."

Joel reaches his arm down and you take it, letting him help you to your feet. As you put your bikini back on, you watch with a little smile as he digs the rest of your money out of his wallet, slipping it into your purse like it's just second nature at this point - which, it basically is. He stands there then, a little awkwardly, like he's not sure what to say.

"Well, uh, thank you, darlin'," he finally says, taking a step back and nodding toward you with a kind expression, "Not many girls would have, um... not many would've done this. I'd offer you my number, but I get the feeling that's not what this is."

You wince, shaking your head, "Yeah, this, uh- this isn't gonna go anywhere, sorry. But it was fun."

He nods, "It was. And, I mean, those pictures aren't just gonna collect dust, I can tell you that much."

You laugh, walking forward a little to pick up your bag. You stop in front of him and, after hesitating for only a moment, lean forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. Just a peck - a goodbye.

"Have a good rest of your summer," you tell him as you pull away, heat rising in your cheeks again as he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, "And uh- maybe try to be a little more covert with that camera."

This time it's his turn to blush, his cheeks tinging a dark shade of pink as he laughs and tosses you a wave, turning to begin walking away from you. He only makes it a few steps, and then-

"Hey, Joel?"

He turns on the spot, a hopeful look in his expression that makes you wonder, if only for a moment, that maybe you're making the wrong choice.

"You're not really a photographer, are you?"

His blush deepens, a look of embarrassment crossing his features, "No, I'm not. But after today, I just might try my hand at it."