#brother can you spare that jacket

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: Brother, Can You Spare That Jacket?

The Girls find a winning lottery ticket, only to lose it in a donated jacket. Their quest to find it leads them to a homeless shelter.

Picture It . . .

Dorothy catches Sophia reading a letter addressed to Rose (from a friend Sophia thinks is a lesbian). Rose arrives with their weekly lottery scratch-off tickets. Blanche follows shortly after with shopping bags, saying she was in the mood for leather, but Sophia cuts her off so they can scratch their tickets. Dorothy says she got three palm trees -- which means her ticket is worth $10,000. The Girls immediately begin celebrating.

SOPHIA: Where's everybody going? DOROTHY: Out to dinner. Go get ready, Ma. SOPHIA: I am ready! I'm always ready! You do that at 82. That, and carry hard candy.

As Sophia leaves to go order herself some swag, Blanche excitedly shows off her new purchase: A distressed aviator jacket. She sticks the winning ticket in the jacket pocket for safekeeping, and the three Girls decide to go for dinner. Blanche leaves the jacket on the couch as they go to freshen up. Sophia returns and answers a knock at the door: It's a man from the thrift shop there to pick up donations. Sophia, spotting the rather shabby jacket, tosses it onto the pile.

Later, the Girls are panicked, looking for the jacket. Sophia finally spills that she donated the jacket, which is when they inform her that they put the lottery ticket in the pocket. They make it to the thrift shop, where the proprietor informs him he just put the jacket out. That's when a bodyguard picks up the jacket and says "Michael" has decided to buy it. Blanche tries to get the jacket back, but the bodyguard isn't having it. He tosses the jacket out the door to "Michael," who catches with a glittery-gloved hand.

The next day, the Girls mope at home -- they tried calling the lottery commission, but they can't claim the $10k without the ticket. Rose then spots an item in the paper: There's a celebrity auction to benefit the homeless, with one of the objects being a leather jacket worn by "a major rock star." They immediately book it to the event. They make it just in time as the jacket is brought out. They open their mouths, but a nearby man bids $10,000 immediately, and they can't beat it.

They're prepared to bamboozle the buyer to just get the ticket out of the jacket pocket, when he announces he's a congressman who's been accused of not caring about the homeless. And, in addition to the cash donation, he's dispatched an aide to give the jacket to a homeless shelter as a symbolic gesture. Later that night, the Girls manage to find the shelter and a priest greets them. He offers to let them stay the night, and they agree to look for the jacket once inside.

ROSE: Are you sure we're in the right place? DOROTHY: Mission Street Shelter for the Indigent and Homeless. This is where they said they sent the jacket. BLANCHE: Kinda drab, isn't it? DOROTHY: Blanche, it's a shelter, not the flagship of the Hilton chain. SOPHIA: Kinda reminds me of the Shady Pines Retirement Home, except here the lights in the exit sign work.

They enter with their pillows and find beds to hunker down until everyone is asleep. Rose gets into a conversation with her neighbor, Ben, a hotelier who's also from Minnesota. Blanche's neighbor, on the other hand, is a young man who offers to help her through her first night. Sophia and Dorothy, who are sharing a bed, spot a woman named Ida Perkins -- Sophia is shocked and wonders what her old friend is doing in a homeless shelter. Rose and Ben continue to chit-chat about their past in Minnesota.

The young man, Kenny, tells Blanche about the procedure for breakfast, and notes she seems out of place in the shelter. He says he's there undercover working on his doctorate in sociology. Blanche is ecstatic, as Kenny reminds her of her son -- until he confesses it's a lie, and he's an alcoholic. At Ida's bed, she and Sophia share memories with Dorothy. Ida left Shady Pines a year previously. Dorothy asks why she left, and Ida says she simply didn't have enough money.

KENNY: This is your first time? BLANCHE: Oh lord, it's been ages since I heard that from a man. Yes, it is my first time. KENNY: I can give you a few pointers if you like. BLANCHE: Now that I've never heard from a man.

Ben tells Rose that he was laid off and couldn't find work in Minnesota. He eventually hitchhiked to Miami, and he offers to listen to Rose's story at breakfast, bidding her goodnight. Kenny tells Blanche he cracked under pressure from his family and warns her to keep herself safe. Ida says she was evicted from Shady Pines with little assistance despite her pleas for it, and she has no living family.

Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy meet up after everyone else is asleep and agree to separate and look for the jacket among the beds. They very quietly sneak between the beds as Judy Collins' cover of "Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?" plays in the background. Sophia stays with Ida, and tells her there is genuine love and compassion out there. The other Girls meet again, with Blanche quietly holding out the ticket. The priest returns to open the shelter for the day. All four Girls exchange looks, and Sophia hands the priest the ticket, thanking him for everything.

"Persuasion, hell. This isn't for dinner at the Rainbow Room. This is for ten big ones! Give him whatever he wants!"

As far as Very Special Episodes go, this might be simultaneously one of Golden Girls most and least subtle episodes ever, in that it's not an obvious VSE until the final scene, but man does it make the most of that final scene. Most of the episode is devoted to the Girls attempting to get back their winning lottery ticket, only to be confronted with the reality of their already-existing good fortune at the homeless shelter in third act. It's not a particularly well-plotted episode, but it's hard to deny the hammer-blunt impact of hearing and seeing the people in the homeless shelter and their variety of stories.

ROSE: I have a really dumb question. SOPHIA: And I have a box of Chiclets. What's your point?

The first part of the episode shows the Girls winning the $10k jackpot on their scratch-offs -- not a life-changing amount of money, maybe, but still a very good amount for four older women to spend on luxury purchases. They all immediately begin fantasizing about what they're going to spend it on, only for Sophia to accidentally give the ticket away after Blanche puts it in her jacket pocket. I know Sophia's technically in the wrong for giving away Blanche's property, but frankly I think the other Girls bear a lot of the blame. If I had a winning lottery ticket, I would not let it out of my sight, much less leave it in the pocket of a jacket on the sofa.

The Girls proceed to go on the mother of all quests to find the jacket, going from a charity clothes store to a ritzy auction to a homeless shelter. Throughout the whole episode, they're laser-focused on their goal of getting their object of good fortune back, ignoring every sign around them pushing them in the direction of charity. From a major pop star wearing a thrifted jacket during a concert to later auction off to charity, to a congressman donating everything including the jacket to a shelter, to the priest who finds them beds to stay in at a late hour.

Then they lay down and come face-to-face with the . . . well, faces of the homeless around them, and they can no longer ignore the plight of the less fortunate as they have been the whole episode. At least, that's the point of the episode. I'm not going to pretend it's perfectly plotted -- after all, these are still the Golden Girls, and you're going to root for them to win even if they're being a little bit greedy. But as build-up to that all-important musical number, I think it's well-done. (Also, one hopes the priest would actually be able to redeem the lottery ticket, but wouldn't that constitute gambling?)

And to be honest, I'm more inclined than I've ever been to be lenient with this episode. According to the National Alliance to End Homelessness, the number of people who are homeless or don't have stable housing has increased dramatically in recent years, particularly during the pandemic years. Social issues rise and fall in importance, but at this moment in time, "Brother Can You Spare That Jacket" is perhaps even more relevant now than it was when it aired.

CONGRESSMAN: Would you mind if I said a few words to the audience? SOPHIA: For ten grand, they should let him shower with the audience.

This is especially true because the people that the Girls meet in the shelter are personable (in the case of Ben), well-educated (in the case of Kevin), and elderly (in the case of Ida); I can't say for sure if these portrayals punctured stereotypes that people in the early 90s would have had about the homeless -- but it probably says something they defy stereotypes that exist now. It's a rather chilling portrayal of different social groups for whom there is no safety net, and the show delivers it in a way that's palatable for sitcom audiences.

Still, that's not to say the episode is perfect. For starters, the episode portrays all of the Girls as rather avaricious, but later episodes will show that they -- or at least Rose -- are closer to poverty than wealth. This is something that's only disingenuous in hindsight, but perhaps her having an extra $2,500 in her bank account, even if her new friend Ben doesn't, wouldn't be the end of the world. They also tackle age discrimination in the job market, the effects of which Ben represents, more comprehensively in the next season.

BLANCHE: Here, I'll tell you what our plan is. Now, there's $10,000 at stake. To find that jacket and get that ticket, we will lie, cheat, threaten, and steal if we have to. PRIEST: *enters* Oh, hello! BLANCHE: . . . anybody got a backup plan?

Also, the contrast between the wacky hijinks of the first half of the episode and the seriousness of the second half of the episodes doesn't always work. The toothy Congressman comes across as incredibly insincere, but I don't think he's supposed to? Also, I'm not sure why the episode invokes the image of Michael Jackson and his sparkly glove so blatantly when it's apparently not allowed to use his full name?

By the way, in case anyone is wondering, no, that wasn't actually Michael Jackson. But I still love how they work around referring to him. The bodyguard calls him "Michael," the auctioneer calls him "one of the world's leading musical talents," and Sophia says he's "that guy from the Pepsi commercial." Rose wasn't too far off when she made her mistake, also -- Michael J. Fox was in a few Diet Pepsi commercials in the 80s.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰🍰 (four cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode

An important message sometimes doesn't need to be subtle.

[milkandraspberry]

[a-sleepy-ginger]

12/2/24

❆❅❆❅❆

Woke up in clean comfy bedsheets

Got birthday wishes

Made millionaires shortbread

Got chocolate muffin

Gave brother a fright by accident

Felt cute wearing my jacket

Got a nice gift from my friend

Mother showed me my great nanny's jewellery and we talked (found out that apparently my fingers are small?)

Was cosy while taking dog out on his walk in heavy rain

Talked with family

Tried blood orange for the first time and liked it

Listened to my favourite songs

Managed to get out of going to see my grandma (she's not a nice person)

A sign of affection anime was really cute

[navybrat817]

All Dressed Up

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky visits a gallery to support his best friend and unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: First meeting, mild dirty thoughts, instacrush, swearing, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Okay, lovelies. A new AU. I'm sorry. @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline @whisperlullaby @sgt-seabass @vesearlee , I feel like you all either heard me screech, encouraged, or helped me, and I appreciate you. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t dress up for most people since it wasn’t his style. He would do so for any of his brothers though, especially Steve. His best friend since childhood, and his club’s president, he always had a love and talent for drawing and painting. And after working his ass off on his exhibit it would’ve been a crime for the vice president not to show up.

Steve promised if there was ever a day when Bucky’s writing became published he’d be by his side to celebrate too. As much as they liked to give each other shit sometimes about art and how they created it, the support was there through and through. The only catch for tonight was that he had to dress nicely to get into the gallery. So, instead of the usual leather jacket or vest he wore and jeans, he went with a plain black suit and white button up shirt.

He refused to wear a tie since it wasn’t a wedding. He had to draw a line somewhere. No one paid him any mind though as they walked around the gallery, and he was more than fine with that. This wasn’t his night.

“You should be proud, punk,” Bucky said, looking over the art lining the large wall, each piece crafted with care.

“I am proud, jerk,” Steve smiled. He hadn’t worn a tie either, and it made Bucky feel a little better. “And you know you don’t have to stay the whole time.”

Bucky knew that. He also knew members and prospects would be trickling in and out throughout the evening. “Not needed at the bar tonight, so I can stay as long as I want. But I might cut out early since I see your face enough between that and the club.”

Steve chuckled. “Still haven’t sold the place, huh?”

The brunette sighed. It wasn’t the first time Steve asked if he was going to sell the bar to focus more on writing. “Where the hell would you all hang out if I sold the place?” He liked the bar. It wasn’t just a great hangout for the club, but for his other regulars, too.

“There are other bars,” Steve teased. He said that, but he loved the bar, too. “You know I just want you to-”

“Follow my compass. I know. You’ve said that so many…” He stopped talking when he saw an unexpected angel walk into the room.

Well, angel was the word that came to mind since you were wearing a white dress and the light over your head illuminated you like a halo. But as his eyes swept over you, he wondered if there was a bit of a devil in you. He wouldn’t mind bringing that side out of you if you gave him the chance.

And here he used to think love at first sight was bullshit.

“Hey. Do you know her?” Bucky subtly nodded in your direction as you spoke to another woman, jealousy flaring up for a second at the thought of his best friend knowing you and not telling him. And if you knew Steve, that was that before things even started. While the blonde didn’t have much game growing up, he came into his own after his growth spurt, and everyone adored or wanted him.

Steve shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he said, making Bucky’s shoulders slump in relief before his friend scrutinized him. “Jesus, are you eye fucking her? You are, aren’t you?”

Bucky wasn’t the least bit ashamed. “And I’ll keep doing it ‘til she looks at me,” he replied, wishing you’d at least spare him a glance and get a look at him in his nice suit. Maybe you weren’t into guys with tattoos and piercings, but he was certain he could change your mind if that was the case.

“How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?” Steve asked. “Just introduce yourself like a gentleman and see where that goes.”

“A couple of months? Something like that.” Tearing his gaze away to glance at his inked hands, he chuckled. “You think I’m a gentleman?”

He could be dangerous and downright dirty when the occasion called for it, but just because he rode a motorcycle and covered himself in tattoos and piercings didn’t mean he treated others poorly. He was raised better than that. Even with his ex-girlfriends, things never ended because he didn’t treat them well. They just weren’t the one.

“We both know you are. Sometimes,” Steve answered, smirking as a beat passed. “And she’s looking your way.”

Bucky’s head snapped up to find you looking right at him with a curious stare. You had the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. Which was nothing compared to your smile. It was like watching the sun slowly rise to meet the day.

Fuck, he was being sappy. You ruined him with a single stare, and he wanted to ruin you in return. Make it so you wouldn’t want another man.

You whispered something to the woman beside you before she nudged you forward and he realized Steve pushed him to move, too. It only took three more steps before he was right in front of you, the gentle smell of your sweet perfume filling his nostrils. Need slammed into his body as you smiled again, and he actually felt the blue of his eyes shrink as his pupils widened.

If Steve thought he was eye fucking you before…

“Hey,” he said, his voice raspier than usual.

“Hi,” you said. It was a voice he could listen to for hours and he wondered what it would sound like when you said his name.

“I’m Bucky.” He took a smaller step closer, trying his damnedest to block out any other man around him so you’d keep those pretty eyes on him.

You introduced yourself, too, and it was a name he would never forget. “I like your tattoos,” you added almost shyly. Almost.

If he had his way, you’d see the rest of them soon enough. “Thanks,” he smiled, holding one hand up to show you. “Dressed like this, I bet you think I’m part of the mob.” After getting dressed and adding the gold jewelry, even he thought for a split second he looked like a mobster.

“Are you or is that information I can’t be privy to?” you asked, making him chuckle. You didn’t skip a beat, and he liked that.

“Not part of the mob, but I am part of a motorcycle club,” he replied. He wore his patch with pride and that didn’t seem to scare you, which was good. “I also own a bar.” He didn’t know why added that part. You didn’t ask and he didn’t want to brag, but there he was.

“So, you ride a motorcycle, and you own a bar?” You glanced back at your friend to ask her, “Do you mind if I…”

“I’m good. You two talk,” your friend smiled, giving Bucky an encouraging wink. He looked back to find that Steve walked away, too.

You smiled as you faced Bucky again. “Well, I’m happy to hear more about either of those things if you have time.”

“Yeah.” A lopsided smile appeared before he could stop it. “I got time,” he said. All the time in the world.

Over the next hour, the two of you stayed close together and talked in between looking at Steve’s pieces. He told you he was there to support Steve and talked a little bit more about the bar he owned. A hole in the wall kind of place he fixed up. While he wasn’t a big drinker, he loved making them for his regulars, and his profession allowed him to get away with all the tattoos.

“I’ll have to stop by sometime,” you smiled before it faltered. “If that’s okay.”

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but his heart raced, and he wanted to see you smile again. “I’ll hold you to that,” he teased. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

You told him that you were a blood bank nurse and still fairly new to the area. While you didn’t have too many friends nearby, you liked your neighborhood and the one friend you had made invited you to the gallery since she was an art enthusiast. You also let it slip that you were single upon your move here, which he was happy to hear since he was, too, but he didn’t miss the note of sadness in your voice.

He could help fix it if you were lonely.

“I’m not seeing anyone either,” he stated.

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “You don’t have an old lady?” His eyes went right to your lip when he bit it. “That is the correct term of endearment, right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his eyes soft. “Both of those things are right.”

You bit your lip again and he wasn’t sure if you were purposely trying to entice him, but now he wanted to bite your lip. “So, do you do anything for fun outside of riding and work?”

He almost groaned when you said “riding” and he had to shake his head to keep his mind from drifting. He couldn’t think of you being on his bike with your arms wrapped tight around him or you riding him or anything like that. “Well…”

He explained that he wrote a bit in his spare time outside of work and the club. It was a hobby mostly, but it would be a dream come true to get his work out there one day. If not, that was okay, too, because he had a decent life and didn’t need much. His bike, his brothers.

But to have an old lady…

“Maybe I could read…” you frowned when you saw the time. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it was. I should get going,” you said, disappointment filling both of you.

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his neck. The two of you were having a nice talk, and he hadn’t had a chance to ask about your hobbies yet. “It’s still kinda early. Do you really have to go?” he asked, realizing just how desperate he sounded. God, if the prospects could hear him right now… He just didn’t want the night to end.

“Yeah, I do. I’m actually working a blood drive tomorrow and could use the rest,” you said, smiling sadly. He felt like an ass for asking you to stay when you had work to do. “I don’t know if you’ve heard anything about it, but you’re welcome to stop by if you want to donate. I always have this fear that people won’t show, which I realize sounds ridiculous.”

Bucky mentally kicked his ass for not knowing about a local blood drive. He was usually more on top of those sorts of things. “Where’s it at?” You gave the location and time, which was all he needed. “I’ll be there,” he promised.

And every single club member would be there, too, if they knew what was good for them.

“Really?” you smiled, your hand bumping his when you turned to face him. “You’ll go?”

He let his fingers brush yours and he smiled to himself when he felt the light shiver. “Of course, doll.”

“Doll?” you giggled. He hoped he didn’t offend you. “I hope you show,” you added in a small voice, your gaze focused on the ground.

Frowning a bit, he wondered if you didn’t believe him. Did someone let you down before? “If I say I’ll be there…” He lifted your chin, so you’d look into his eyes. He needed you to see the truth in them. “I’ll be there.”

You exhaled, staring deeply into his eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you whispered.

He grudgingly released you, knowing he had to. Besides, if he kept touching you, there was a good chance he’d pin you against the wall and show you what a work of art you were. “Good night,” he whispered, watching you go back to your friend. She linked her arm with yours as you glanced back, keeping your eyes on Bucky until you were out of sight.

He exhaled, mentally kicking his ass again. Why the fuck didn’t he ask for your number? You two hit it off, and you wanted to see him at least in some capacity beyond the blood drive, right?

Steve made a beeline for him as he stayed rooted to the spot. “It looks like you two hit it off. You know you didn’t even say hi to Chris or Sam or-”

“We’re going to a blood drive tomorrow,” he cut in. He hoped people would show, but he gave you his word he’d be there, and the club was all about giving back to the community.

The blonde’s eyebrows pinched. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Blood drive. Tomorrow. Everyone,” he said, giving his friend a hard stare. “You’re the president. Make it happen.”

“You’re the vice president, which means you supervise plans for club events or gatherings. That includes last minute things,” he pointed out, his eyebrows shooting up as Bucky got his phone out and typed quickly. “You’re serious about this?”

“Is it too much to say, ‘You better fucking be there or you’ll pay for it later’?”

The blonde grinned. A shit-eating, knowing grin, and he wanted to smack him. “This is all for her, isn’t it?”

Bucky sighed. He hadn't expected to meet someone so perfect tonight. “She’s a nurse and I wanna help. Besides, it’s good for the community and you’re all about that shit.” And he had to make a better impression after not asking for your number. “Will you at least promise you’ll be there?”

“To watch my whipped best friend fawn over a pretty nurse? Hell yeah.”

“Beautiful,” he corrected him. “She’s beautiful.”

And while Bucky would fawn over you tomorrow, he also hoped he’d get your number.

So, what do we think so far? Part of this writing style was slightly different for me, but I like how it turned out! I still need to give this reader a nickname and the AU a name, but this is a start. I can't wait for the whole club to show up at the blood drive. I also have something silly and cute planned for these two. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[wheresarizona]

but he’s the one I want

summary: All you needed was to see if your dad’s friend, Joel, had a spare key to your father’s house. Instead, you get railed within an inch of your life on Joel’s couch. 

His brown eyes squeeze shut. “Lord help me,” he says under his breath. A second passes, and then he’s looking at you. “Fuck it—I’m already goin’ to hell.” Joel’s large palms grab your face, pulling you in to crush his lips against yours, muffling your surprised sound. 

pairing: DBF!Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller/College Student f!reader (no physical descriptions)

rating: E (18+!!! No y/n, DBF!Joel Miller, slightly possessive Joel Miller, pre-Outbreak, age gap, explicit consent, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, spit as lube, overstimulation, sex on stairs, body worship, slight body insecurity, getting caught, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, Die Hard is a Christmas movie debate) 

word count: 11.5k+

a/n: Alexa, play “But Daddy I Love Him” by Taylor Swift. I don’t know where this came from (daddy issues), but I hope you enjoy it! Reader is freshly 21 in my head, Joel is 35 (it’s months before his birthday), and Tommy is 29. Let me know what you think! Big shoutout to @devineconjuring for going on this journey with me and betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Main Masterlist

Knock, knock, knock. 

It’s a Friday night; the sky is dark, but the porch light is on. You hug your jacket a little closer to your body to stave off the chill in the air as you wait outside the front door for someone to answer it. A masculine voice calls out, "Comin’!" Footsteps thud on the hardwood floor as they head your way. 

Seconds later, the door is cracked open, and you’re met with the home’s owner, Joel Miller. Just the sight of him in his jeans and navy blue t-shirt has your heart rate picking up in speed, the man looking as handsome as ever. 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees you. 

"Hey," he greets. "What are you doin' here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

University of Houston—go, Cougars!

You smile. "Three-day weekend—I have Monday off. I thought I'd surprise my dad since it's his birthday." 

The confused look doesn’t disappear. "I coulda sworn he told me they were goin' to Vegas to celebrate a few days ago." ‘They’ being your father, stepmother, and your teenage half-brother.

“Well, I guess it slipped his mind to tell me they were going out of town. He must be getting forgetful in his old age.” 

The relationship you have with your father is… complicated. It’s not bad by any means—you get along and love each other. He just wasn’t very present when you were growing up—he lived in Austin while you were with your mom in Houston, only seeing him a few times per year. Now that you have a car and your mom moved out of state last year with her new husband, you occasionally made the three-hour drive to your dad’s to visit and do your laundry free of charge. It was also where you now stayed on your breaks from school.

Joel opens the door a little wider and crosses his arms over his chest, your eyes moving from his face to admire the broadness in his shoulders and the muscles in his forearms. Having his full attention on you makes the nerves in your belly flutter around like a bunch of butterflies were let loose. 

“He’s not much older than me,” Joel says. His eyebrow lifts. “Are you callin’ me old?” 

The man in question happens to be one of your father’s best friends—or so you’ve been told. In all of the visits to your dad’s growing up, you could count the number of times you saw Joel on one hand. Over the past year that you’ve been coming to Austin regularly, you’ve had much more interaction with him, which has led to you developing a little bit of a crush. Who can blame you, though? He’s gorgeous—the chocolate-colored eyes, the hair that looks so soft, that perfect nose, and those kissable lips. 

“If the shoe fits,” you reply with a shrug and a smile. 

“Kids these days,” Joel grumbles under his breath, shaking his head. “Did you come by just to call me old?” he asks. 

“Oh, no. I was expecting at least one person to be at my dad’s, so I didn’t bother bringing my house key. I’m here to see if you possibly have a spare I could borrow—I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number.” 

Maybe he’d give it to you now…

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I don’t.” 

Hot and a sweetheart—how is he single? Is he single?

You frown, feeling annoyed that you drove all this way to Austin for no reason. You should’ve called ahead, but that was your mistake, assuming your family would stay in town for your father’s birthday. “This was a waste of gas,” you muse. “Love that for me. Well, it looks like I’m heading home, or maybe I’ll get a cheap motel room. Thanks anyway, Joel. Have a nice rest of your night!” You do a little wave at him. 

You start to turn, but stop when he says, “Wait,” and you face him again. He opens the door wider. “It’s too late for you to be drivin’ all that way, and there’s no reason you should pay for a motel when I’ve got a guest room you can stay in. You can get a good night's sleep and leave tomorrow mornin’ when the sun’s shinin’.” 

Again, a sweetheart—why hasn’t anyone snatched him up? Or have they?

“Are you sure?” you ask. 

He finally offers you a friendly smile and moves to open the door all the way. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I was feelin’ lonely anyway with Sarah gone at a sleepover. It’ll be nice to have some company that isn’t my brother.” 

Lonely? Nice to have some company? That sounds pretty single to you. Your night just got a lot more interesting. “Thank you so much! I’ll do my best to be better company than your brother.” 

With that, you make your way inside, toeing off your shoes next to a pair of his work boots.

“That won’t be too hard,” Joel says as he shuts the door. 

You stop in the entryway because you’re not quite sure where you should be going since you've never actually been inside his house. You only know where he lives because your father once asked you to drop something off here. 

“Let me get your coat and bag.” You hand him your small purse, and he moves behind you, helping as you shrug off the long jacket you’re wearing, which he hangs up on a nearby coat hook with your bag. “Oh.” He stops in his tracks, and you look at him, seeing his widened eyes staring at your body. “Were you plannin’ on goin’ out tonight?” 

You glance down at your outfit, and you can understand why he’d make that assumption at the sight of the cute little black dress you’re wearing—it only reaches mid-thigh and has a V-neckline to show off your breasts.

“Not going out—it’s laundry day. I do my laundry when I come to Austin, and this was literally the last clean thing I had.” Your eyes lift to see his glued to your chest, and you think that’s an interesting development. “I have spare clothes I keep at my dad’s that I planned on changing into.” 

It’s the truth, and you’re a little thankful this was your last clean outfit. You can only imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been coming over here in a ratty old T-shirt, granny panties, and your Spongebob Squarepants pajama pants. 

He clears his throat and looks away. A rosy blush appears on his cheeks as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I can put my jacket back on,” you tell him, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“No, no.” He meets your gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s fine—do you need to use my washer and dryer?” 

“You’re already being nice, letting me stay over. I can wash my clothes at the laundromat when I get home.” 

“It’s really no big deal.” 

“Thank you, but I’m good.” 

“Okay.” His hands go in his pockets, and he seems to get very interested in the short console table against the wall, staring at the contents lying atop it—a stack of unopened mail and what you assume are his keys and wallet.  

“So, what were you doing before I interrupted your evening?” 

“Oh—” He looks at you again. “—I was watchin’ a movie. Would you like to join me?” 

You smile. “Sure—lead the way.” 

He takes you to the living room, where a movie is paused on the television, and lets you know you can sit anywhere. Your choices are one of two armchairs and a maroon leather sofa, and you choose the sofa while he heads for the kitchen. 

“Would ya like a beer?” he calls out on his way to the other room. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond because a second later, he’s back at the doorway to the living room with a confused expression again. “Wait, are you old enough to drink…?” 

The question makes you smile. “Yes, Joel. I’m old enough to drink.” 

“Legally…?”

You giggle. “Yes. I can legally drink. You wanna card me?” 

“No.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Beer?” 

“Sounds great.” 

“Okay.” He nods. 

As you sit on the couch waiting, you become very aware of the situation you’re in. You’ve spoken to Joel one-on-one a handful of times over the last year, but it always happened at a barbecue or a holiday party—places where there were other people around—you’ve never been alone with Joel. This is new territory, and you’re not entirely sure what to expect, especially considering how he was staring at your chest. 

Would you fuck him if given the chance? Yes, zero hesitation. Do you think you have a chance with him? Maybe, and that thrills you. Just two things are working against you: your age and the fact he’s your father’s best friend. Those are two hurdles you’re not entirely sure how to get over, but you’re definitely game to try. 

Your conversations were always friendly in the past, and you’re proud to say you’ve made him laugh a few times. You think you could possibly charm him. What you know for sure is he’ll need to be very aware that you’re interested; otherwise, he won’t even fathom trying anything with you—thank god you’re wearing this dress. Nerves are swirling in your tummy at what could happen tonight, and you’re eager to see where things go. 

Joel returns with two open bottles of beer, handing you one, and you thank him as he takes a seat right next to you. He leans forward to grab the remote and hits play before sitting back and taking a drink. 

He’s so close to you that you get a whiff of his cologne—it has a spiciness to it and some citrusy notes that, when combined, smell amazing. It makes you think he took a shower when he got home from work today—and, suddenly remembering he’s a contractor, you imagine him shirtless and sweaty while using a hammer. The thought causes your mouth to go dry, so you lift your bottle to your lips for a sip, focusing on the TV. 

It’s easy to figure out what he’s watching when you see Josh Hartnett in clothes from the 1940s. 

“Pearl Harbor?” you ask, now holding your drink on your lap, picking at the label with your fingernail. 

“Yeah.” His head turns your way, his beer resting on his thigh. “Have you seen it?” 

Meeting his eyes, you answer, “Oh, yeah.”

He frowns. “Because it’s a girly movie?”

“Um, kinda? The guys are pretty easy on the eyes, and the story is interesting. I wouldn't say it’s super girly. Sure, it’s a romance, but there’s so much action and drama about the war in it.” 

“The back of the DVD said nothin’ about it bein’ a romance.”

“Are you enjoying it, at least?” you ask. 

He sighs and looks back at the television. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then enjoy it! If anyone asks what we watched, I’ll tell them Die Hard.” You lightly pat his thigh closest to you, feeling the muscles tense under your palm. 

His gaze returns to you. “You’ve seen Die Hard?”

“Yes. A few times.” 

Because it’s your dad’s favorite movie. 

His upper body slightly turns your way, his arm going behind you on the couch. The closeness and the attention he’s giving you make your skin heat. 

“I want you to settle somethin’ my brother Tommy and I disagree on—have you met Tommy?” 

“Once.” At a barbecue. He didn’t catch your attention like Joel did. “What am I settling?”

“Do you think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

“What…?”

“Tommy is fuckin’ convinced that Die Hard is a Christmas movie, and I say it’s just another action flick. A good one, but definitely not a Christmas movie.”

It takes you a second to process what he asked. 

“I mean,” you start, “it takes place on Christmas Eve, at a Christmas party, and I’d say it’s a Christmas miracle that John McClane happened to be there to save the day. So, yeah, it’s totally a Christmas movie.” 

“You’re fuckin’ with me. Just ‘cause it takes place on Christmas Eve at a Christmas party doesn’t mean it’s a Christmas movie.” 

You point the neck of your beer at him. “You forgot John McClane being a Christmas miracle. Makes sense to me that it’s a Christmas movie.” 

He takes a deep breath. “So, are you tellin’ me that—what the fuck is that movie called?” His eyes leave you as he thinks, trying to remember the name. “Lethal Weapon!” He looks at you again. “So, you’re tellin’ me that Lethal Weapon would also be a Christmas movie? Have you seen that one?” 

Yep, with your father. 

“I have, and yeah, it’s a Christmas movie. You’ve got drug dealers using a Christmas tree business as a front, Christmas is mentioned all throughout, they use a bunch of Christmas songs, and it ends at Christmas dinner. Absolutely a Christmas movie.” 

“Say you’re messin’ with me, darlin’. You know what a Christmas movie is, right? 

“Yeah, you’ve got the heavy hitters—It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol—then those stop-motion ones that are delightful. I’d put Die Hard and Lethal Weapon in the same category as Home Alone.”

“Why the hell do you think Home Alone is a Christmas movie?” 

“It’s set during the holiday season, and there’s a ton of Christmas imagery and music. Plus, you’ve got Kevin going on a similar journey as the main character in It’s a Wonderful Life where, in the end, he realizes how much he loves and needs his family—sounds pretty Christmas-y to me.” 

His jaw clenches, and it’s seconds before he inhales deeply and looks back at the TV. 

“Son of a bitch,” he sighs, shaking his head. “They’re fuckin’ Christmas movies.” He takes a long drink of his beer. 

You grin. “They are indeed,” you reply and pat his thigh again. 

His bottle lowers, and he looks over at you. “Even though you somehow made a dumbass like Tommy make sense, you’re definitely better company than him. He’d never let me live this down.” 

He’s visibly relaxed, and you have, too. The fact he’s enjoying you being there has calmed your nerves, and you’re having a great time talking to him. Plus, he’s nice to look at.

“Then it’ll be our secret,” you say. “Like how we’re totally watching Die Hard right now, and not—” Your eyes go to the TV, and they widen. “—the one sex scene in Pearl Harbor.” It’s nothing too risque and honestly kind of lame. 

Joel looks, too. “They’re just rollin’ around on the ground…” 

“It’s PG-13, Joel. I don’t know what you’re expecting from a movie where they can only say fuck once, and titties are prohibited.” 

His head turns your way. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he says, and when your eyes land on his, you find that he’s smiling—your heart skips a beat. 

“A good something or a bad something?” 

“A good somethin’.” 

You share his expression. “You’re something else, too.”

“A good somethin’ or a bad somethin’?”

“A very good something.”

His eyes darken, and suddenly, his attention returns to the movie. Joel clears his throat, then chugs the rest of his beer, leaning forward to set the empty bottle on the coffee table. 

When he sits back, his arm is still behind you on the top of the couch, and he scoots the tiniest bit your way to have your bodies touching. 

It’s clear that there’s a shift to the energy in the room, and the tension becomes palpable—he likes you, and you think there’s a possibility he more than likes you with how close he is. The thought has your heart pounding, and you’re unsure what to do next. You’ve only been with boys your own age, and Joel is so much older and more experienced. 

The panic has you blurting out, “Are you seeing anyone?” Then, backpedaling, “Not that it’s any of my business, so don’t feel obligated to answer.” 

He looks at you, and you keep staring at the TV, almost wishing the floor would swallow you whole. 

“Why do you wanna know?” 

“I’m nosy.” 

He huffs in amusement. “You only wanna know ‘cause you’re nosy?” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“No other reason?” 

“Can’t think of any.” 

“Okay—no, I’m not seein’ anyone. What about you? You got a boy back in Houston worryin’ about you?” 

“Nope.” 

“Really?” The genuine surprise in his voice has your head turning to see the matching expression. 

“What’s so shocking about that?”

He frowns. “I beg your pardon, darlin’. It just doesn’t make much sense that someone as pretty and fun as you doesn’t have a line of boys waitin’ their turn to take you out.” 

Those butterflies in your stomach are flapping around again. 

“Not really.” You shrug. “Plus, the guys my age usually only want sex but aren’t very, um, giving, if you know what I mean.”

Now he looks grumpy. “Selfish boys,” he grumbles, and it makes you smile. 

“So, not an issue with someone older like you. Good to know.” You squeeze his thigh and keep speaking so he can’t reply, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you single?” 

For some reason, he can’t look at you now, focusing on your hand. He reaches across his body to grab yours with his larger one, staring at your fingers. He lets out a long, weary sigh, his thumb rubbing against each of your dark blue-painted fingernails. 

“Women don’t particularly like that Sarah is the most important person in my life and my top priority…”

“But she’s your daughter, she should be your top priority.” 

“That’s the logic, but they want me all to themselves and don’t like sharing.” 

“Joel?” 

His face lifts to meet your gaze. 

“Yeah?” 

“You’ve dated some truly shitty women.” 

He smiles. “I guess I have. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve given up on datin’. It’s just a waste of time.” 

“That is such a shame.” 

His dark eyes get even darker. “You’re trouble.” 

“Why am I trouble?” 

His eyebrow arches. “Your daddy would kill me.” 

Your brain short-circuits for a second as you take in the statement—he’s into you, he’s really into you. Now, what are you going to do?

“Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask and move to put your beer on the table. When you sit back, you cuddle a little closer into his side. “You were worried about me driving home in the dark, so you offered me your guest room—we watched Die Hard, then turned in for the night. You’re a stand-up guy for keeping your friend’s daughter safe.” 

His eyes move from yours to your mouth, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face—his palm is so big his fingertips almost reach the back of your head. He starts leaning in, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought that he’s going to kiss you, and you stop breathing when his lips are only a hair’s breadth away from yours.

And then he pauses. 

“Tell me why you really came here tonight,” he rasps. 

That confuses you, your brows pulling together, and you sit back to see his face. “I did? I needed to see if you had a spare key to my dad’s house.” 

His eyes are on yours. “Bullshit—there’s no way this just happened to be the last outfit you had.” He looks directly at your tits. 

“It is if you wait super last minute to do your laundry, and I told you, I have other clothes at my dad’s. Why do you think I came over here?” 

His gaze goes back to yours. “With that dress you’re wearin’ and how you keep lookin’ at me, for a lot more than needin’ a key.” 

“You thought I came over here to seduce you…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Wow.” You gently pat his cheek. “You think I’m way bolder than I actually am—me coming here and the outfit was not premeditated.” You shake your head. 

His eyes round, and you’d think he was burned by how quickly his hand leaves you and how he moves away a little to put space between you. “Fuck, have I been readin’ this wrong?” 

You scoot to have yourself against him again. “The assumption I came here specifically to seduce you was very wrong. But you’re right that I definitely want you to fuck me, Joel.” 

“Shit,” he breathes out and scrubs a palm over his face. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.” 

Turning his way, you rub your hand along his jeans-covered thigh. “No, I’m not,” you tell him. “Stop thinking, and kiss me.” 

His hand lowers. “Not thinkin’ is gonna get me killed.” 

“Not thinking is going to get you a blow job and pussy.” You press your palm between his legs over where you can feel he’s already hardening. “Hell, I’ll sweeten the deal—you can come anywhere you want.”

His eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you smile. His reaction makes you brave. 

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we’ll go back to watching the movie and pretend nothing happened. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and we’ll go as far as you’re willing to go.” Your hand moves up to hold his cheek, and it’s a good sign when he leans into your touch as you stare into his eyes. “But I’m going to make myself crystal clear, Joel. I want you—badly.  You’re beyond sexy, and the fact you’re older and have a lot more experience than me is a big turn-on. I’d love to know what good sex is like for once and maybe have you teach me some things.” You shrug your shoulder. “It’s up to you, though. Just know I’m more than willing.” 

His brown eyes squeeze shut. “Lord help me,” he says under his breath. A second passes, and then he’s looking at you. “Fuck it—I’m already goin’ to hell.” Joel’s large palms grab your face, pulling you in to crush his lips against yours, muffling your surprised sound. 

This kiss is unlike any you’ve experienced before. You’re used to overeager boys practically shoving their tongues down your throat the first chance they get, yet here’s Joel claiming your lips—you can feel his every want and his desire for you with how thoroughly he kisses you. The soft pillow of his mouth moves with yours, his scent filling your nose—hints of the beer he drank and his spicy cologne imprinting this moment in your mind. Your eyes flutter closed, and your head goes dizzy from the arousal igniting in your belly. 

Just one kiss and you know you’re ruined for anyone else. 

His arms go around you, and he mouths at your chin. “Come here,” he says against your skin. “Get in my lap.” 

You do as you’re told, bunching up the bottom of your dress at your waist and moving to straddle his thighs. His hands go under your clothes to grab your ass, and he’s so surprised to feel bare skin he leans back with the confused expression you’re becoming intimately familiar with. 

“You really didn’t come over just to fuck me?” he asks. His palms wander, and you know he’s discovered your thong when he hooks a thumb under its stretchy waistband—they were the last clean pair of underwear you had. 

“I really didn’t.” You’re curious about something. “But if I had, what are the chances that I would’ve succeeded…?” 

“With this dress and a little convincin’? Pretty good.”

You smile. “Really?” 

“Yeah. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful and smart. I know this is a bad idea, and it’ll probably bite me in the ass later, but I’m so fuckin’ lonely, and you’re just too damn temptin’ to pass up.” 

The truth is clear in his eyes and makes you kiss him—your fingers comb into the hair at the back of his head, finding it softer than you thought it’d be. It starts off slow and tender, just lips to lips, until Joel deepens it, the tip of his tongue making it past your lower lip. Hearing that he’s lonely tugs at your heart, and you want to do everything you can to make that loneliness disappear. Things start to heat up, and all you can do is follow his lead, moaning as he explores your mouth with his tongue. With his palms on your backside, he helps you rock your hips, grinding yourself against his hard cock beneath his jeans, rubbing your clit just right to fan the flames growing in your core. 

When you finally need to come up for air, his hand grips your chin to turn your head as you pant, Joel kissing and nipping at your skin from the base of your neck up—tingles wash down your spine when he nibbles on your jaw. He gently bites your earlobe, and you gasp when his hot breath tickles your ear. 

He huskily whispers into it, “You want me?” His hand fondles your breast. 

“Yes.” 

“I can touch you?” 

“Anywhere.” 

“I need you to be a good girl and tell me when you do and don’t like things—understand?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good girl,” he purrs. 

The way those two words make your cunt clench has you moaning, ”Fuck.”

He easily unzips the back of your dress, tugging the garment up and over your head, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. You’re sitting astride his lap, the dark pools of his eyes taking in your mostly naked body, his big hands massaging your bra-covered breasts. It’s surprising that being under his gaze, you don’t immediately feel self-conscious, and you think that has to do with how he’s looking at you—the desire and appreciation clear as he admires you.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nodding towards what he’s touching. 

“Yes.” 

He sits up straighter, and it’s quick work for him to get your bra off, it landing on top of your dress. He’s focused on your tits, holding them in his palms, weighing them. He leans forward, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and the sudden shock of pleasure has your breath catching in your throat, your fingers grabbing handfuls of his shirt for something to hold onto. When he grazes his teeth over the stiff bud, your entire body shivers—your panties have a wet spot from your pussy leaking your arousal for him. He gives your other breast the same attention, leaving your skin shiny from spit when he comes off of it with a wet pop to look at you. 

“Lie down on the couch, baby.” He pats the empty seat next to him. “Your head all the way at the other end.” 

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You scramble out of his lap, the couch’s leather creaking as you crawl over to where he instructed and sit back on your elbows to see what’s happening. Joel grunts as he gets up to stand, watching in interest when he squeezes the noticeable bulge at the front of his jeans. His arm goes behind his head to grab his shirt, pulling it up and off of his body to bare his torso. 

At seeing so much of his golden skin, your jaw goes slack—his freckled chest is so broad, tapering down to his trim waist, his abs showing a little bit of muscle definition you think is from doing manual labor and not working out. Your eyes fixate on the happy trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Sure could get used to you lookin’ at me like that.” 

That has your attention snapping up to his face, where you find him smirking, and you close your mouth. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, your eyes darting away from him. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, darlin’. Makes me feel pretty fuckin’ great about the shape I’m in.” 

You look at him again. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re in great shape and so hot—you’re really down to fuck me?” You point at yourself. 

He kneels on the sofa by your feet, his hand on the back of it to steady himself.

“Darlin’, if I didn’t know your daddy, and you were a stranger I met in a bar, I’d bring you home in a heartbeat. I feel like a real lucky son of a bitch that someone as young and pretty as you has any interest in an old guy like me.” He lifts one of your legs and gently kisses the inside of your ankle, the sweetness of it making you melt a little. 

“Oh, I’m very interested in you.” 

“Is that so?” he asks and spreads open your legs. He crawls over you, and you lie back, Joel nestling his hips between your thighs for you to feel how hard he is as he dips his head, kissing up the column of your throat—the nerves in your stomach flutter wildly. 

“Yes,” you whisper and need to touch him, wrapping your arms around his torso to press your palms against the warm skin on his shoulders—his body shudders, a rumbling groan coming from his chest. 

You squeak in surprise when his lips are suddenly on yours, kissing you hard. 

He takes over all of your senses—he’s all you see, he’s all you feel, he’s all you taste, he’s all you hear, he’s all you smell. It’s him, and him alone—his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his weight on top of you. Your fingers thread into his hair, moaning as he takes over your very world, reveling in this feeling of being wanted. 

His lips leave yours, both of you breathing a little heavier. His teeth gently sink into your chin before kissing along the underside of your jaw. 

He speaks into your skin, his words muffled, “I’m very interested in you, too. I shouldn’t be, but I am.” His mouth ends up at your ear, and he quietly asks, “Can I eat your pussy?” 

“Oh.” The question surprises you. “I’m usually the one who asks. Do you want me to blow you first?” There was always a quid pro quo when it came to oral. 

His head lifts to look you in the eye. 

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?” 

“You’ve been with some truly shitty boys.” 

It makes you laugh, and he smiles. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” you reply. 

“It should always be ladies first—may I?” 

What a gentleman. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Good,” he says and pecks you on the lips. 

He doesn’t immediately move off of you, and it catches you off guard. Instead, his mouth blazes a trail, kissing down your body—your neck, your chest, and your belly. This is when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head. Joel is getting up close and personal with your imperfections—your scars, stretch marks, cellulite, all those little details you normally kept hidden in the safety of dark rooms or under shirts when you hooked up with someone. Now, you’re basically naked, the lamp is on, and he can see it all, which makes you feel uneasy. 

He kisses just above your belly button, then below it, going lower and lower until he places one last kiss on your panties, over your mound. He sits up on his knees, tracing the lines and curves of your thighs and hips with his large palms while he drinks you in as you lie there—you have to fight the urge to cover yourself, unable to meet his gaze.

The silence is broken when Joel speaks. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” 

Your eyes seek out his face where you don’t find any deception, but you have to ask, “Really?” 

“Really.” He nods. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

His attention goes to the apex of your thighs, and the pink of his tongue swipes along his bottom lip as if he’s imagining how you’ll taste. He strokes the pad of his thumb over the visible damp spot on your underwear, his other hand squeezing his cock that’s straining in his jeans. 

“I bet you have the prettiest pussy, too,” he says, and gets his fingers under the elastic waistband on your panties, pulling them down and off your legs, the air cool against your now bared skin. He shuffles back a little, then bends forward, spreading your lips open with two fingers as his face hovers over it. You think your heart might beat out of your chest with how fast it’s thudding, your skin feeling so hot. “I fuckin’ knew it, such a pretty pussy,” Joel murmurs. He circles your clit with his thumb, and the pleasure has every muscle in your body tensing and your eyes closing. “You’re gonna taste so good.” 

He loudly groans as he drags the flat of his tongue along your cunt, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

“Oh, god,” you moan, your body squirming at how good it feels. 

Joel has to pin down your hips with an arm across them to keep you still, his face buried in your pussy. He goes straight to the source, lapping at your entrance to taste your arousal while the tip of his perfect nose rubs against your bundle of nerves, his facial hair prickling your skin. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

You’re fucked. 

It’s not even a minute in, and you can already feel your orgasm taking shape low in your belly, the muscles beginning to wind up. If you thought the first kiss ruined you, you know you’re ruined by how eagerly he’s eating you out—who knew this could be so good? You have to wonder how you’ll ever be able to fool around with anyone else when Joel is all you’ll be able to think about or compare it to—this is the only moment doubt invades your mind. You feel like this is all a mistake, but it’s quickly squashed by how unbelievably horny and curious you are. 

His mouth lifts, and you whine at its loss. “Gimme a second,” he pants. “I gotta see how tight you are.” That’s when one of his thick fingers presses to your soaked opening, and he slowly starts to push it inside. 

The slight stretch makes you gasp his name, your fingers clawing at the sofa’s maroon leather.  

“Christ,” Joel says. “You’re squeezin’ me. With how fuckin’ tight you are, I’d think this is your first time.” 

You sit back up on your elbows and open your eyes to look at him. 

“You just have massive fingers, and it’s been a while.” 

His gaze meets yours as he smirks. “Well, I’m gonna loosen you up with my massive fingers, and I think you’ll enjoy it.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. His head dips, flicking his tongue side-to-side against your clit when you feel the sudden pressure of his second digit pushing into you—there’s even more of a stretch and the delicious feeling of being full. You fall back on the couch, tangling your fingers into the brown waves of hair on his head, moans falling unbidden from your lips. His digits crook as they pump in and out of you, sliding along your upper wall when they press into something that elicits white-hot pleasure, making you keen and wiggle under the hold he has on your lower half.

Yeah, you’re totally and completely fucked. 

He’s relentless with his mouth and fingers as you careen toward your end, free-falling in the throes of pleasure. He’s really going to get you off, and you think you might be in love with him. Is that crazy? Falling for the guy you absolutely should not fall for—that you can’t even have any kind of future with—because it’d ruin both of your lives, especially his. 

Why does that make you want him more? 

You definitely understand now why Eve ate the forbidden fruit—the temptation leads to such sweet gratification when you give in. 

He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, sweeping his tongue around it, and you can hear the wet squelch of him fucking his fingers into your cunt. Your thighs are trembling—you’re so close, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter until it snaps, and you’re coming with an unintelligible cry. Your body seizes up, euphoria exploding out from your center, radiating to your fingers and toes. Joel removes his digits, his tongue taking their place to catch every bit of your slick he can get, groaning as he lets no drop go to waste. 

You’ve never come so hard, feeling a little floaty as you ride out your high, your chest heaving heavy breaths. With how shaky your arms and legs are, you’d think you were out in the freezing cold. 

Joel’s mouth comes off of you and he sits up, rubbing his hands along the outside of your legs. 

“Such a good girl for me,” he says. “Was it good?”

“Was it good?” you parrot back at him and push yourself up into a sitting position. “It was more than good, Joel—oh my god, it was amazing.” 

The bottom half of his face glistens in the lamplight, his shiny lips turning up in a smile. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.”

“You still wanna fuck?” 

“I think I will die if you don’t fuck me.”

He chuckles, and that’s all the answer he needs. He’s off the couch instantly, and you watch as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and gets his jeans undone, shoving them and his boxers down his legs so fast it makes you giggle. He’s balancing on one foot, peeling off his sock, and you finally get a good look at his dick—it’s hard and bobbing between his legs, the tip flushed red and shiny from precum, and your eyes round at how big he is. 

“Second thoughts?” he asks, taking off his other sock. 

Your gaze rises to his, seeing he’s frowning. “No.” You shake your head. “It’s more, ‘I sure hope that thing fits inside me.’” 

He crookedly smiles, his chest puffing up a little. “It’ll fit—I promise.” And he has the audacity to wink at you. 

Just as quickly as he got off the sofa, he’s getting back on it, kneeling in the space between your spread thighs. His attention is on your pussy, rubbing the tip of himself against your swollen clit and through your wetness. Nerves swirl in your belly, along with arousal, his free hand giving your hip a reassuring squeeze before he’s spitting on his fingers and slicking up his cock. He notches himself at your entrance, and your heart is in your throat as you hold your breath.

“Just relax, baby,” he says. “You can take me.” 

He slowly starts feeding his hard length into you, making you gasp when the fat head breaches your slick cunt, your eyes squeezing shut, your fingers digging into the couch’s leather cushions. A groan rumbles from his throat, and you answer with a drawn-out moan as he burrows his thick cock deep inside you, your tight walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. Full doesn’t even begin to describe how stuffed you are—he’s hot inside you, almost searing, and you can feel him pulsing. He bottoms out and goes completely still, his hands on your hips in a bruising grip.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he rasps. “You okay?” His thumbs stroke circles on your skin. 

“Yes.” It comes out as more of a squeak. “I just need a second.” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

Darlin’, baby, and now sweetheart when his dick is inside you? Is he trying to make you fall in love with him?

He bends at the waist, one hand on the couch holding up his weight while the other massages your breast, his lips wrapping around your pebbled nipple, the sparks of pleasure going straight to your pussy. Your fingers wind up in his hair; what he’s doing to you has you whimpering at how good it feels and only makes you wetter where you’re joined. He pulls each of your legs up to rest on his ribs while his mouth moves higher, kissing your sternum and up the arch of your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you squirm underneath him. 

His hands end up on either side of your head, his lips leaving behind a wet streak of kisses along the hinge of your jaw to finally ghost over yours—you can feel his breaths and smell your musk. He’s so close it wouldn’t take much more for your mouths to meet. 

His nose nudges yours. “Need more time?” he whispers. 

Enough has passed that you don’t feel as overwhelmed. You slide your palms up his back to his shoulders. 

“No,” you answer just as quietly. “You can move.” 

He pulls out almost all the way and pushes back in as his mouth claims yours, muffling your sounds when he sets up a rhythm of long, hard strokes. You’re gone—all rational thoughts go out the window, and the only thing you can think about is how his cock is moving in and out of you. It’s so distracting you’re having trouble kissing Joel back because your brain keeps screaming, ‘so big, so full, so good.’ 

You’re feverishly clutching at his shoulder blades, your nails leaving crescent moon imprints and scratches you’re sure will bleed on his golden skin, Joel moaning into your mouth. It surprises you when you feel the familiar tension of another orgasm making itself known deep in your core, the pressure rising with each thrust, the angle of them causing him to slide against spots you never knew existed, and you don’t ever want this to end. 

His lips leave yours, pressing his forehead to your cheek. He’s breathing hard, sweat beginning to bead on his skin as he keeps the same pace. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this pussy. Just wanna stay inside it until my dick is all it knows.” 

Your legs are quivering, your body is burning up, and you can’t get enough of how fucking good this feels. One time—one time—and you’re addicted, you’re drunk on the pleasure and will do anything—anything—for this to happen again. 

“It’s yours,” you gasp. “Oh, god, it’s yours!” 

His lips move to your ear, huskily asking, “It’s mine, baby? Your pussy is mine? I’m fuckin’ ya that good?” 

You’re so out of it and lost in the lust you start babbling, “Yes, it’s yours—fuck, ruin me,” you whine. 

“That’s what you want, for me to ruin your perfect little pussy?”

“Please—make me feel it. Make me ache to have your cock inside me again. Make me yours.” 

He growls, and you think you’ve said the wrong thing because he’s immediately pulling out, your eyes springing open in time to see him sit up on his knees. 

His big hands grab hold of your waist. “Flip,” is all he says, and you find yourself getting manhandled onto your front, Joel tugging you up onto your hands and knees. He wastes no time sheathing himself back inside you, pushing in so deep that your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.

Joel’s hips are flush against your ass, the full length of him seated all the way inside of you—you can’t think, your mouth open in a silent cry. He’s filling you to the absolute brim, and it becomes evident your cup has truly runneth over. 

He was right, though. It did fit. 

A shuddery breath escapes you. He only allows you a moment to get used to the new fullness before he’s pulling out until just the tip of him remains and snapping his hips forward hard enough it knocks the air from your lungs—this is how you learn what it’s like to really be fucked, and fucked good. 

His fingers dig into the skin on your waist, pulling you back as he thrusts forward at a pace that has you lightheaded, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids each time he presses against that heavenly spot inside you. 

Warmth grows in your belly, the sounds from the TV overshadowed by the filthy cacophony of skin hitting skin and the audible wetness of his cock working in and out of your used cunt—he’s grunting with each stroke, your moans stuttering from the onslaught.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks through gritted teeth, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust. 

It’s a struggle to gather your thoughts and form a response with how good he’s fucking you. 

A palm lands on the side of your ass in a loud smack, the sweet sting causing you to clench around him and whimper. 

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he says. “Is this what you wanted?” 

All you can gasp out is a single word. “Yes!” 

“Am I fuckin’ you good?” 

“Yes!” 

He’s pounding into you at a near-brutal pace, the fire inside you only getting hotter as each second passes. 

“Look at me,” he orders. 

It takes everything in you to turn your head and look over your shoulder. Joel is a sight to behold—a flush rising from his chest to his cheeks, the sweat on his skin making it glisten under the lamp’s light, and his hair sticking wetly to his forehead. His eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed over, his jaw clenched. 

He slows, his gaze on yours. 

“You wanna be mine?” he asks. 

“Yes.” 

The moment your answer leaves your lips, he’s blanketing your back, holding himself up with a hand on the couch, the other going under you to palm your breast and tweak your stiff nipple with his fingers. 

He lightly bites your earlobe, his facial hair scratching your cheek when he kisses it. 

“I’m gonna make you come,” he says through heavy breaths. “Then I’m gonna fuck you full of me—you want that?” 

A shiver moves through you, and you gulp. 

“Yes.” 

“Good girl.” 

His hand smooths down your front over your stomach to between your legs, where he starts circling your clit with two fingers. It’s like a live wire along your spine, electricity sparking in your core—that added to the sensations of his cock splitting you open and pushing in and out of you has you rocketing toward your release. 

“You gonna come for me?” His hot breaths fan over your ear. “You gonna let me feel you come all over my cock? Come on, let me have it—come for me.” 

Joel’s bent over you, fucking into you harder and faster, his fingers deliciously swirling around your throbbing bud as he grunts in your ear with every thrust, all of it driving you higher and higher to your end. 

You’re so worked up that it doesn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—the muscles in your belly pull tight, your orgasm ripping through you, gasping Joel’s name. He sucks in a breath when your pussy clamps down on him, then loudly groans, continuing to fuck you through your high, and doesn’t stop—his fingers keep up their assault on your clit, and his hips snap into you in quick, short bursts that extend your high. You come, and come, and come to the point your arms give out, and your body shakes and twitches from all of the pleasure coursing through it. 

When you think you can’t take any more, relief washes over you that Joel follows suit. With one last thrust, he buries himself all the way to the hilt inside you as he falls forward, his front framing your back, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder. He comes with a dirty, rumbling groan—you feel his dick thicken and pulse, hot spurts of his spend filling you. He grinds his hips, fucking it as deep as it will go, then stills.  

The movie’s ending credits are playing, hearing the music and your and Joel’s ragged breaths as you both come down. He’s at the same awkward angle as you, with your hips up and your faces down—his sweaty chest is pressed to your back, your bodies sticking together everywhere they touch. It’s not the most comfortable position, but with how your limbs tremble, you’re not entirely sure you can even move. 

You asked him to ruin you, and oh boy, did he deliver—you’re absolutely, positively ruined. It kills you that after whatever this night is, you’ll have to go back to subpar sex with guys who couldn’t find the clit if they were given a map and detailed directions. This is the second time tonight that you fear you’ve made a grave mistake hooking up with Joel, and the post-sex clarity is not helping the situation at all. 

What were you thinking?

That’s easy; you weren’t. Or, at the very least, you weren’t thinking with your brain. Your pussy took the lead on this one, and it looks like she’s gotten you into a bit of a situation. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when Joel’s arm wraps around your middle, and he turns you two onto your sides, the couch just barely wide enough to fit you both. 

“Tha’s better,” Joel slurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. His hand over your stomach feels around until he finds your smaller one, lacing your fingers together and holding it to your chest—oh, he’s cuddling with you. It’s unexpected and nice. You close your eyes and enjoy this taste of intimacy. 

Many minutes pass before he mumbles something you can’t make out. 

“I’m sorry,” you start and are immediately embarrassed by how hoarse and scratchy your voice sounds from all the sounds you made tonight. You clear your throat and try again, “I’m sorry—what did you say?” 

He turns his face so it’s out of your hair. 

“I asked if you wanna stay over,” he says. 

You smile. “Are you getting forgetful, Joel? You said I could stay over when I got here.” 

“Fuckin’ smartass,” he grumbles, and you giggle. “What I meant was, do you wanna stay in my room? With me,” he clarifies. 

“Only if you’re okay that I sleep naked—I’m not wearing my dress to bed.” 

“Was kinda hopin’ you’d be naked.” He kisses your shoulder. “But if you’re more comfortable wearin’ somethin’, I can get you one of my t-shirts—it’s no big deal.” 

“It baffles me that you’re single.” 

“Why?”

“Uh, because you’re incredibly sweet, amazing in bed, a great father, very handsome, hardworking, and just an all-around catch. If I had the opportunity, and you know, there wasn’t the elephant in the room—” The fact he’s much older than you and one of your dad’s best friends. “—I’d date you in a heartbeat. If you ever give dating a shot again, you’re going to make one lucky woman very happy.” 

“Fuck,” Joel groans, letting go of your hand to press his palm to his face. “What the hell am I doin’?”

That makes your stomach drop, and you frown—he’s regretting everything, and you can’t blame him. The post-sex clarity is a real bitch sometimes. 

“Stressing for no reason,” you reply. You’re pretty sure you can walk, so you get up from the sofa, ignoring how wobbly your legs feel and his come leaking down your thigh. “Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask, looking toward the floor for your clothes. “You let me stay the night ‘cause you were worried about me driving home in the dark.” You carefully bend down to pick up your thong, followed by your bra and dress. “We watched Die Hard,” you continue, straightening to stand. “Then turned in for the night to our respective bedrooms. You’re a real stand-up guy for caring so much about your friend’s daughter’s safety.” 

You can’t even look at him, focusing instead on the TV where the Pearl Harbor DVD’s menu is on screen. 

“Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” 

“Tryin’ to pretend nothin’ happened.” 

“You clearly wish nothing happened, so nothing happened—where’s the bathroom?” You need to clean up, and you’re tempted to just leave altogether. 

“Up the stairs, second door on the right—when the hell did I say I wished nothin’ happened?” 

“You didn’t have to. Your ‘what the hell am I doin’?’ was enough for me to get it.” You hug your clothes closer to your body. “Anyways, thanks for tonight. I think I’m just gonna use the bathroom and get out of here. I don’t want you to worry, so I’ll stay at that cheap motel by the highway.” The sign said it was twenty-something dollars a night, and you can swing that. You start heading toward the stairs. 

“Hey, stop.” You don’t. You keep walking, willing the unshed tears in your eyes not to fall. 

Why are you so upset? You’re well aware that this can only be a one-time thing. It was something fun and sexy where you got to fuck the older, unattainable guy you’ve been crushing on for a while. It wasn’t anything serious, and couldn’t be anything serious, because there’s no future for you two together. Not when he’s a good friend of your father’s. That kills any chance of having a relationship with Joel. 

What hurts is he regrets it and wishes it never happened—you’re a mistake, and who wants to be someone’s mistake? 

His heavy footsteps sound behind you. “Darlin’, stop,” he says again, and you continue ignoring him. Fingers latch around your bicep and lightly tug. “Please, stop for a second. Talk to me.” Finally, you do as he’s requested, standing still in front of the staircase. He turns you to look at him in his big brown eyes, his hands holding your arms. 

“I don’t wish nothin’ happened,” he says. “You were talkin’ about how if things were different, you’d date me, but since they are the way they are, you won’t. I was thinkin’ to myself ‘what the hell am I doin’ wishin’ you’d change your mind,’ when I know it’s for the best.”

“Oh—really?” 

Hope swells in your chest, butterflies fluttering around in your tummy. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Tell me you want nothin’ more to do with me, and I’ll grab you a towel and some of my clothes so you can wash up and retire to the guest room unless you’re truly set on stayin’ in a motel. In that case, I’ll pay for your room somewhere safer and much nicer, so I know you’ll be okay. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and I’ll take you up to my bedroom so we can shower, either together or separately, whatever you’re comfortable with. Then we can get into my bed where we can talk and figure things out.” 

It sounds like he doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing, either, and that makes you so happy you let your clothes fall to the floor to throw your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his. Joel groans, his arm sliding behind your back, hugging you closer to him, his other hand cradling your cheek. Suddenly, he’s backing you up until your heels hit the first step, and he guides you to sit on a higher one, Joel kneeling on a lower stair to be at the right height that his hips slot between your thighs when he lays you back. He licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. 

With how good he made you feel tonight, how wanted, you need more of him. There’s a looming fear in the back of your mind that this is too good to be true—that you’ll never be with him like this again, which makes you desperate for him. Your hand snakes its way between your bodies, taking his half-hard cock into your palm, slowly stroking it—a low rumble comes from the back of Joel’s throat. He gets his hand to the juncture of your thighs, sliding his fingers through the puffy lips of your sex, gathering your arousal and his come on his fingertips to rub at your swollen clit. 

“You’re mine,” he says into your lips. 

“I’m yours,” you answer. 

This is how you end up fucking on the stairs, Joel thrusting into you at a pace that has your toes curled and your fingers gripping his ass—your spine tingles from his mouth exploring your neck, mapping out the spots that make you gasp and moan, and you’re in heaven. 

A door slams shut on the other side of the railing, and your eyes fly open.

“Hey, Asshole!” a man calls. 

Joel’s hand covers your mouth, and you watch the intruder walk through the dining room to the kitchen without seeing you. 

“I brought over pizza so you can stop bein’ a sad and lonely sonofabitch!” 

Joel immediately pulls out and gets off you, using his strength to help you flip over. “Upstairs,” he whispers, tapping you on the hip, and you go as quickly and quietly as you can with Joel following. 

You make it to the second-story landing, and he grabs your hand, tugging you all the way down the hall into what you know is his bedroom by how it smells like him. He closes the door and locks it before beelining to his dresser, roughly pulling out one drawer from which he grabs a burgundy t-shirt, then another that he gets a pair of stretchy gray sweatpants. 

“Is this a dress?!” Is yelled from downstairs. “Do you have a girl over?! Who’d wanna fuck your sorry ass?!”

Surprisingly, the clothes in Joel’s hands are not for him; he shoves them into your arms and ushers you over to his bathroom. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, flicking on the light, the fan automatically turning on. “It’s Tommy. Stay in here, and I’ll kick him out.” Obnoxiously loud footsteps are coming up the stairs, and he has to take a deep breath, his eyes to the sky like he’s praying God will smite his brother right this second. “Lord, give me strength,” he breathes. 

“Where would you even meet a girl?!” Tommy asks from the hallway. “All you do is work—you never go out.” 

Joel pecks you on the lips. “I’ll be right back—stay in here,” he tells you again, and this time, he leaves, shutting the door behind him. 

There’s banging on the bedroom door, and your ears perk up as you put on the clothes. 

“Go home, Tommy,” he says. 

“Not until I know who this pretty dress belongs to.” 

“Give me that—it’s none of your fuckin’ business. Leave.” 

“Come on, Joel—we know the same people. Did you finally give in to Nikki? She’s wanted to go out with you for a long fuckin’ time.” 

“No, and it’s still none of your fuckin’ business who I have in the house I pay for. So, get goin’, or I’m gonna make you go.” 

“You can be a real dick, Joel. Why are you bein’ so fuckin’ secretive?”

“Do I ask about who you take home from the bar?” 

“No, but—”

“Exactly,” Joel interrupts. “I don’t give a fuck what you do in your spare time, and I sure as hell don’t need to tell you what I do in mine, so leave, Tommy—I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.” 

“With how fuckin’ grouchy you are, I don’t think you got laid at all—I’m gonna get goin’ ‘cause you clearly need the company of a woman. Bye, mystery woman with the pretty dress hidin’ in Joel’s bathroom!” he yells. “Hopefully you can cheer this fucker up! Enjoy the pizza!” 

It goes quiet, and you think Joel left the room, too. You can’t go anywhere, so you decide to take in your surroundings—the bathroom is cleaner than you’d expect from a single man, you have to put the toilet seat down when you pee, and as you’re washing your hands, you notice there’s only one toothbrush in a cup. 

You know you shouldn’t snoop, but you pull open the medicine cabinet and find an extra tube of toothpaste, some Tylenol, Ibuprofen, a thing of pain relief cream, then a shelf with a few medicine bottles that intrigues you—prescription pain pills, antidepressants, and heartburn medication. No red flags, but you’re a little worried about how much pain he’s in. You close the cabinet, and soft knocking on the bathroom door makes you jump. 

“You can come out,” Joel’s muffled voice says. “He’s gone.” 

Walking over to the door, you open it, Joel leaning against the doorframe in a white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants he must’ve put on before talking to Tommy. 

He sighs. “So, that was my brother.” 

“Seems nice—if I remember correctly, he’s younger, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That explains how annoying he is.” 

He smiles, and an amused huff leaves him. “Yeah, he’s annoyin’ alright.” 

“We have the house to ourselves?” 

“We do—I walked him out myself.” 

You grin. “Wonderful.” You grab a fistful of his shirt. “Because I think you said something about us showering together, and I’d like to do that right now, then go eat pizza—I’ve somehow worked up an appetite,” you tell him and pull him forward; he happily comes your way with a smirk. 

“Worked up an appetite, huh?” he asks, his eyes on your mouth. 

“Yes. No clue how.” 

He closes the distance, his lips almost touching yours, when he replies, “Let me remind you how,” and kisses you. 

An hour later, you’re walking down the stairs clean and in your borrowed clothes. 

“Can we eat then go to bed?” you ask, through a yawn. “I had classes today, and that long ass drive, plus all the sex. I’m so damn tired.” 

Joel’s behind you in just his sweatpants. 

“I’m fuckin’ tired, too. That sounds good to me.” 

The only lights on downstairs are the lamps in the living room. You walk into the dark kitchen, Joel flipping on the light as he follows, and you head for the stove where the pizza is, popping open the box to see it’s pepperoni. 

“I’ll grab us some plates,” Joel says, rubbing your upper arms. He kisses the top of your head before stepping over to a cabinet.

Turning around, you’re about to ask Joel where the cups are when the dining room light comes on, Tommy standing by the switch. You gasp in shock; Joel’s immediate reaction is to grab a knife from the knife block and get between you and the unwanted visitor—it takes him a second to recognize it’s his brother. 

“Goddammit, Tommy!” Joel shouts and slams the butcher knife onto the countertop. “Are you tryin’ to get yourself killed?!”

“No,” his brother answers, shaking his head, and he looks a little too amused. “But you sure the hell are! Her?!” He points at you and has the audacity to laugh. “Oh, god, Joel,” he says through his glee and grabs the back of a chair, his other hand on his chest as he chuckles. “Her daddy is gonna kill you—you’re fucked!”

Joel sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, perching a palm on his hip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he says. “I’m a dead man walking.” 

“You are!” Tommy calms down, and his shit-eating grin annoys you. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” he asks. “I mean, I know what you were thinkin’. I just can’t get over you not only robbin’ the fuckin’ cradle, but bangin’ your best buddy’s daughter. How long has whatever this is—” He gestures at you both. “—been goin’ on?” 

“It just happened tonight—I don’t need you lecturin’ me on right and wrong. I know it’s a fucked up situation.” 

A fucked up situation? Ouch. The comment has you crossing your arms over your chest, staring at the floor. 

“Fucked up is right, and I’ve got no fuckin’ idea how you’re gonna get out of it. Her daddy finds out about this, and he’s gonna shoot you deader than dead.” 

“I told you I didn’t want you lecturin’ me.” 

Tommy puts his hands up. “Hey, I’m not lecturin’. I’m just statin’ the facts. I wanna make sure you know this thing between you two could get you killed. You’ve got a daughter, Joel—what would you do in this situation?” 

“Woah,” you interrupt, moving to stand beside Joel—Tommy’s comment about Sarah is a fucking nuke you need to try and hopefully defuse. “First of all, I just want to point out that I am a consenting adult and can fuck whoever I want. Second, I need to set the record straight and say that my dad isn’t going to kill anyone. He’ll be mad as hell if he finds out, but he isn’t going to commit murder because, truth be told, he’s never given a fuck about my life choices. I’d also like to add that this is kinda his fault for not having me visit more often because now Joel and I are pretty much strangers, and this whole thing isn’t as bad as it sounds.” 

“It’s still pretty bad, honey,” Tommy replies, his attention turning to you, smiling. 

“Maybe, but it’s also nobody’s business who I fuck.” 

“Sure, but this person you fucked is one of your daddy’s best friends whose—no offense—way too old for you.” 

“Why does everyone keep callin’ me old?” Joel grumbles. 

Tommy looks at his brother. “‘Cause you are, you old man.” He suddenly looks like he just realized something. “Wait a goddamn minute,” Tommy says. “Joel, are you havin’ a midlife crisis? You’re around the age people have those, right? It’d make sense why you’d risk your life to fuck her.” 

“Get out, Tommy,” Joel replies, pointing toward the front door. “I’ve had enough of you.” 

His younger brother pouts. “‘Cause I called you old?” 

“Out.” 

“Fine.” He slowly starts walking toward the hallway that leads to the front door. “I’ll get out of your hair so the two of you can enjoy the rest of your night. Bye!” 

The door loudly closes as he leaves. 

Well, you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen now. Between the comment about Sarah and the other things that had been said, you wouldn’t be surprised if Joel ends this. You might as well cut your losses and get it over with to save yourself from more heartbreak. 

Your eyes are on the ground, the first tear falling down your cheek. “After all that, I know whatever this is is probably over,” you quietly say. “But is there a chance I can still sleep in your bed with you tonight? And if you’re willing, have you hold me?”

He turns and pulls you into his arms.

“Yeah, you can sleep with me,” he answers and kisses your hair. “But I’m gonna need you to stop.” 

You lean back to look at him with watery eyes. “Stop what?” 

A sad smile is on his lips. “Jumpin’ to conclusions without talkin’ to me. You’ve already got one foot out the door, and I haven’t even opened it.”

“It’s just everything Tommy said.” 

He lightly squeezes your biceps. “Tommy was bein’ a little shit. You were right when you said this isn’t as bad as it sounds, but you gotta be honest with me about somethin’.” 

“What?” you ask.

His hands come up to hold your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that have fallen. “Are you positive your daddy won’t kill me? I’ve got Sarah to think about, and even though I like you a lot, I’m not gonna risk dyin’ to be happy.” 

The sweetest man and the best father.

You think about it for a second, and the sad truth is you can’t imagine your dad killing anyone for you—he doesn’t love you that much. He doesn’t love you to the same degree that Joel loves Sarah. With how easily Joel grabbed a knife to protect you, there’s no doubt in your mind he’d kill for his daughter without hesitation. 

“He’ll be pissed off, but he isn’t going to kill you. We also don’t need to tell him anything unless this turns into something. We can keep it to ourselves for now.” 

He hums in agreement. “You know, if you wanted, you could start comin’ here to do your laundry...” 

You smile. “How will you explain that to Sarah?” 

“That I’m helpin’ you out, which is true. Plus, I’ve got the guest room.” 

“Uh huh, the guest room that I’ll sleep in?” 

“Yes.” He nods. 

“Alone?” 

“I sleepwalk.” 

You snort. “Stop it.” You playfully push his chest. “Sarah is not gonna believe you sleepwalked into the guest room.” 

He snatches your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles. “Who said anythin’ about Sarah knowin’ I’m in the guest room, or you bein’ in my room for that matter, while she’s sleepin’? There are also nights like tonight she spends with friends.” 

“You really want me to hang out here?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to have company that isn’t Tommy.”

“I believe that. As long as I’m not a bother, I’ll do my laundry here.”

He smiles. “Not a bother, and you can wash your clothes tomorrow and stay another night. You could even stay over Sunday, too, since you have Monday off—you’re more than welcome.”

You loop your arms around his neck. “Yes, Joel. I will spend my long weekend with you.” 

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours. “Good.” 

Main Masterlist

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[rueclfer]

shoujo touya save meeee pleaseee shoujo touya save me from the trenchessss

pull me through // touya todoroki

You awkwardly stood a few steps behind Touya as he felt around under the doormat for the spare key to his home. You two got along quite well for a couple of students who were on the opposite sides of the rankings, but never close enough to visit each other's home like this.

You were student council president, and Touya got suspended for setting the toilet on fire last year. That is how far you two were.

"Alright, come on in." He holds the door open for you to walk in before him.

At first glance, it seemed close to extravagant, but the closer you looked, it felt cozier by the second from the amount of framed photos, artwork, and trinkets displayed on every wall and counter.

In the living room, his younger siblings were all lined up like ducks as if they were awaiting for your arrival.

"Hi Fuyumi." You threw a wave at her.

"Hi Y/N!" She beams back.

You two worked on the student council together, so you were already close with her despite being a year older.

"Wait, this is Y/N?" The middle child with all white hair exclaims.

Fuyumi quickly swats her brother's arm, shushing him.

"Oooohh. Y/N, I know you!" The littlest one states, stepping up to you with an All Might figurine in hand.

"Oh do you?" You cock an eyebrow at Touya as he takes your jacket to put up by the door and your school bag off of your shoulder. You bent down to his level. "Your brother talks about me often?"

"No I don't." He quips before he could answer for himself, shooting a glare in their direction. "I don't know what either of them are talking about."

"Meet my ball and chains." He huffs with a hint of a smile in his voice. "Shouto, Natsuo, and you already know Fuyumi from your nerd thing."

"Can I play with them?" Shouto asks, moving over to Touya to tug on his pant leg.

"No you can't, turd. We have to work on a project so none of you bother us. Kay?" He motions you to follow him upstairs, slinging both of your bags over his shoulder.

You quickly follow behind him. "But maybe after!" You call out from midway up the stairs, giving them a final wave.

Upon entering his room, he sets your bag on his desk, letting you take the seat while he settles on his bed right next to you, whipping his laptop open.

Despite being somewhat of a delinquent, you knew that Touya was smart and had capabilities to be top of the class if he really cared to. You had no worries about this project, but the circumstance of being alone in his bedroom on the other hand, almost made you nervous,

"Your siblings seem to like me." You broke the tense silence as you two logged onto your presentation. "You definitely talk about me, huh?"

"It's probably Fuy. She's a big fan of yours." He glances over at you. "She talks about you way too much around here."

"You got a problem with that?"

"What, like I don't get enough of you at school?" He chuckles, biting on the end of his pen. "Don't I, Prez?"

"Lucky you, then. Not many people have that kind of access to me. I'm pretty high in demand, if you ask me." You tease back, meeting his eye for a moment before returning your attention back on your screen.

He pushes his laptop out and leans back in his bed, propping his upper half up on his elbow to face you with his pen still hanging out of his mouth.

"I wonder how those people feel about you spending all that time with such a loser like me? Not scared to tarnish that golden reputation of yours?"

"You give yourself too much credit." You laugh. "You've been such a good boy lately, I don't think anyone really bats an eye." You say sweetly, swiveling your chair to fully face him.

He chuckles to himself and diverts his eyes away from yours as a rush of blood floods to his cheek.

"Anyways..." He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as his ears slightly flush into red. "Back to this bullshit."

You two talk back and forth about the project for a while, slipping into silence every now and then as you work on your respective slides.

In your peripheral, you noticed that every so often, he would glance up at you from his screen like clockwork. It makes you a bit too self aware of yourself, forcing you to keep your posture straight, not to bounce your leg too much, and to keep your fidgeting at bay.

"You're grinding your teeth." He mutters, breaking the silence. "I can hear it, like sandpaper."

"It's just a focus thing." You reply, biting the inside of your cheeks to combat the habit.

"I can't stop looking at them in class.." You hear from outside of the door, paired with the boys' giggling. "...They're all I can think about, I feel so stupid."

You and Touya both stop shoot each other a confused glance, not quite sure what Natsuo and Shouto were going on about in the hallway.

"What are they doing?" You lean in and whisper.

"I don't fucking know?" He shrugs. "Maybe reading one of Fuy's books?"

"How cute." You chuckle, returning your attention to the project.

"Prez would never want a guy like me. I want to do better, but I'm fucking hopeless." The boys start, their footsteps running up and down the hallway this time.

"Natsuo! That's a bad word, you can't say that!" Shouto cries.

Your eyes widened and glanced over at Touya, whose face had now drained of color, jaw slightly gaped open.

He slams his laptop shut and frantically feels around under his pillow and covers, as if he had misplaced something.

"What're you looking for?" You asked, watching him rummage through his school bag after going through his bed.

"I'm going to fucking kill them." He mutters, throwing his bag on the floor. "I'm actually going to kill them."

He walks over to swing his bedroom door open, revealing the two boys leaning against the wall with a book in hand, flipping through the pages.

"Where the fuck did you two get that!?"

The two younger boys scream and scurry down the hall with Touya right on their tail. You follow them out into the hallway, watching them run a muck around the house.

Natsuo and Shouto eventually circle their way back to Touya's room, shoving themselves right behind you a second before Touya is able to get to them.

"Guys?" You look down at Shouto clutching your leg and Natsuo breathing hard, peering over your shoulder. "What did you two do?" You put a hand down on the top of Shouto's head, tapping it to get his attention up at you.

"Natsuo did it!" He cries, burying his face into your side. "I didn't do anything." He muffled into your shirt.

"You're the one who gave me his diary, you liar!" Natsuo reaches over and flicks Shouto's head. "Shouto did it!"

"What the hell is going on?" Fuyumi comes out of her room.

"These fuckers went through my things." Touya huffs, face now red. "Y/N. Move over please." He inches closer.

"No! Y/N please!" Natsuo cries behind you, clutching on you tighter.

"Whoooaa. Okay, okay let's relax everyone." You nervously chuckle.

"You, take a step back." You put a finger on Touya's chest, lightly pressing him to take a couple steps back into the hallways.

You noticed Touya clenching onto a journal so tight that his knuckles were white, jaw tense seething with anger.

"You two, go with your sister." You pried the two kids from your side, ushering them towards Fuyumi, in which she properly slapped the back of their heads the moment they got to her.

"Idiots. What did I tell you guys? Get in." She huffs before closing the door behind them.

"Don't think you're safe! Your ass is grass once Y/N leaves." He calls out before the door clicks shut.

"You, stop it. Come inside." You pull him in by the elbow.

"Jesus fucking christ." He groans into his hands, throwing the journal on his bed. "You didn't hear any of that, alright? None of that happened."

"Yup. You got it." You silently chuckle to yourself. "Absolutely nothing."

You watch him shove the journal deep into his school bag before throwing it back on the ground and flopping down in his bed, face buried in his pillow.

"FUCK!" He screams into his pillow, tightly gripping the sides of it.

"Okay let's just finish this shit and get it over with." He huffs, turning on his back and leaning up against the headboard, dragging his laptop back up to his lap.

"Oh so you really didn't wanna talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" He shoots you a threatening glance.

You ignored the hostile look, anyways. "You have a crush on me." You bite your bottom lip to hide a side. "That's what that was, right?"

"Who said all that shit was about you, huh?"

"You got another 'Prez' in your life?" You cock an eyebrow.

He went silent for a moment, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath of air.

"Let's not do this right now."

"That's fine." You turn your attention back to your laptop. "I'm just saying, though, you don't have to do 'better' for me to like you. I already do."

Another beat of silence passes.

"Cool. Cool." He squeaks out. "Um. Can you double check my slides for me?" He coughs.

You looked at him in your peripheral to see him covering the bottom half of his face with his hand, hiding the impending blush creeping up his face as he kept his eyes glued to his screen.

"Sure." You smiled. "Only if you double check mine."

-

bonus scene hehe:

over the next week of school, touya had been actively avoiding you- which you expected. it wasn't until one late school day where you had to stay behind for your council meeting when you caught him waiting by your cubby.

"touya." you greeted, holding out your bag for him to take while you started switching your shoes out. "what are you still doing here?"

"got a request to deliver to you, prez." he responds with a smirk, leaning up against the cubbies with your bag under his arm.

"oh yeah? well unfortunate for you, but i'm off the clock. you should file it in the student council box."

"it's a special request that can only be delivered in person." he rolls his eyes. "also i'm walking you home, so you don't really have a choice."

you laugh, starting your way out of school. "okay, then. go for it."

"go out with me this weekend."

your breath hitches from surprise. you had to admit to yourself that you had been waiting for some sort of confession or at the very least a chat about the last time you had seen him, but for him to almost demand a date with you caught you off guard.

"really?" you snap your attention to him, face heating up.

"really."

"i'd love to." you smile. "you feel like talking about it now? or do i gotta go through your diary for that?"

"shut up. it's a journal- two very different things." he nudges you with his elbow. "fuyumi yelled at me after you left and told me that i was an emotionally constipated prick, so i guess that inspired me to get my shit together."

"sooo.." you motion for him to continue.

"sooo...i like you. i have for a while." he starts "and i got my marks up for this quarter. for you. well, technically for me, but i wanted you to see that i was trying."

your heart swelled at this simple act. "you didn't have to do that. i told you i like you regardless- even after you set the toilet on fire."

"we don't talk about that version of me last year." he laughs "and i wanted to. you made me want to do it for me."

you two continue to walk home chirping in conversation and light teases. you had always been drawn to him despite his bad habits and annoying mannerisms, but you knew he always had it in him to do good things and make better choices for himself. knowing that he did it because of his inspiration to be a good person for you only made you like him more.

[shytastemakerthing]

Hello! Could I request a platonic MC telling Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Leona, Floyd, both Scarabia boys, and Malleus that out of the whole cast, they're her favorite?

I'm not sure if that's too much, but if it is you could you just do Riddle, Leona, Scarabia, & Malleus. Thank you!

A/N: Hello and thank you so much for your request! I found this one to be rather cute, thank you, Anon! I hope that you enjoy!

Tw: Brief mentions of trauma (Riddle, Malleus, Scarabia duo, and tiny bit in Floyd's)

Request: Boys reacting to being the favorite of platonic!MC

He promises that he isn't mad, given that's when we see his face as red as he is, you just... caught him off guard

Out of everyone, he was your favorite?

Granted, you seemed to have a good choice in mind, it's just that... him?

He didn't exactly have the best upbringing and much of what he does is rather new

But he takes this role of being your favorite very seriously

You are now the best and closest person that he has to family, and ring the honorary 'older brother' and favorite, he wants to be able to give you the things he wasn't able to have growing up

Now, if everyone will excuse him, he has to meet with MC for strawberry tarts and tea

One word, smug

There were literal princes in this college, and he was the one you said was your favorite?

Yeah, he is eating that all up

But he also sees just how serious you are about that declaration with how you seem to stick to him, especially in moments of danger

Big brother mode has been activated

Ace is quite often seen hanging around you a whole lot more

Before anyone asks, no, he doesn't know what happened to his spare jersey is, and yes, it is just a coincidence that you have one that matches

Instantly told his mother the moment that you told him that he was your favorite out of everyone in the college

Low-key wanted to cry

Another who took this role very seriously

Deuce ensures that you have everything it is that you need throughout the day

Food, water, a spare jacket, notebook, or a pencil

He just wants to be able to take care of you, if he is seen as your favorite, he must take on that responsibility

Do you wanna come and watch him during club practice? He will make sure that you have what you need to be comfortable

Please excuse him, he needs a moment

You managed to catch him alone when you told him of this little information of yours

And for the first time, you saw that constant positive facade of his drop for just a moment

Are you sure it's not just the happy side that he shows to everyone that is your favorite?

No?

It's literally all of who he is?

Yeah, a couple tears were shed

You are the only person he let's see him for who he is and much of the time you two are together, you're chilling in either of your rooms

He remembers the excitement he felt when you showed up to the Light Music Club to see him

Will you come more often?

Another one who needed a moment to reflect on what it is that you said, even asked you to repeat it several times

Look, all his life, he's been second place to pretty much anything and looked down upon for his second born prince status

And he is your favorite out of everyone here?

Also a bit smug about it

Will want to hear you say it every day, him being your favorite

Will often give you small gifts here and there ranging from clothes to little trinkets

Protective big bro mode coming out

Oh, you came to see him during Magic shift wearing his dorm uniform?

Well, don't take your eyes off of him. Time to show you all that your favorite can do

Congrats, you're a Leech now

New little sibling, you have been adopted and he's bringing the parents to come and meet the newest edition to the family

If you thought he was latched onto you before, it's at an all new extreme now

He is your favorite person

Meaning he now wants to be with you and take care of you like a good big brother

He is used to people wanting to be more around Jade as they deemed him to be the safer of the twins (an error on their part), so having someone who says he is the favorite?

He takes his last name a bit seriously

Did you just show up to the game in his spare jersey? Well, it looks like NRC is going to secure themselves a win

To be honest, it's a phrase he is kinda used too, given all the siblings that he has, there is no doubt that he has been told that before

But it's different for you

You're new to this world, you have no one here to really turn to, so the fact that you have chosen him as your favorite?

He is quite happy to hear those words and was merely seconds away from throwing a party before you stopped him

If there is anything that you need, please let him know, he will certainly get you anything that you need no matter what it is

Another one who told his family about you and they are all rather excited to be able to finally meet you

Kalim was quite happy seeing you at club practice, want him to teach you? He has no issue with it

Will also make you repeat that statement several times no matter how many days it has been since hearing that statement

At times, it is still a bit hard for him to believe, given how he was raised and his status

He was never anyone's favorite before, so he will be clinging onto that title something fierce

Every time you tell him, you can see the hint of a smile on his face, a real and genuine smile

Constantly ensures you have what you need throughout the day

Unlike with Kalim, he is more than happy to help you out

Homemade meals, tea, even help with studying, just let him know and he will be there to help you out, okay?

Now, are you ready? He just brought everything you guys will need to make a traditional Scalding Sands meal

Well, it isn't raining anymore

It had been a rather stormy day on campus when you had finally found him and shared that little bit of information

Now it was nice and sunny outside and he had a smile to match

Are you saying that you actively went out in that horrible storm with the sole mission to seek him out, and tell him that he was your favorite person?

He had been alone for so much of his life, so to have this conversation with you

Please excuse him, he really isn't trying to tear up

Instantly invited to Diasmonia for a number of things

Has to stop Lilia from straight up adopting you.... even if he didn't mind, he wanted you to be okay with it before anything

Sebek obviously praised your taste when it came to choosing your favorite person, of course you would choose Malleus!

Now, if you will all excuse them, they have some gargoyle studies that they have to attend too

Thank you for your request! Have a wonderful day/night!

[deansbeer]

(sorta) long awaited PART 2 to this DEAN BLURB. 🍋‍🟩

i'm shit at writing a second part to any standalone FICS or BLURBS so i'm rlly sorry if this isn't the 'makeup sex' type blurb yall were lookin' for <3

⎯⎯ warning(s) smut | emotional vulnerability | strong language | semi-public sex | rough sex | praise kink | dirty talk (yum) | jealousy | overstimulation | POSSESSIVE!DEAN | power dynamics | mirror sex. ఌ︎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

the bar is loud, filled with the familiar hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. you sit at a table near the back, surrounded by a few of your close friends—hunters like you, women who know the life, know the dangers, and are just as good at blowing off steam after a successful hunt. tonight, the drinks flow easily, and the laughter comes even easier. it's rare to get a reprieve like this, to have a night off where you can just relax and enjoy yourself. you deserve it. you know you do.

but even as your friends trade stories and jokes, your mind keeps drifting. keeps circling back to him. DEAN WINCHESTER. it's been weeks since you left him in that motel room, since you walked away without an explanation, with only a hastily written note. you haven't spoken to him since, haven't called, haven't reached out. not because you didn't want to. GOD, you wanted to. but fear held you back. fear of what he felt, of what you felt, of how everything had changed with those three words he'd let slip between gasps of pleasure.

i love you.

you still hear his voice in your head, still feel the way his body had tensed beneath you when he realized what he'd said. you'd thought about calling him a hundred times, a thousand times actually, to tell him you felt the same. that the reason you ran was because you were scared—scared of how much you loved him, how deeply you'd fallen without even realizing it. but every time you picked up the phone, you hesitated, and the moment passed.

now, sitting in this bar, surrounded by friends, you can't help but wonder if you made a mistake. if walking away from him was the worst decision you could've made. but before you can spiral any further, you hear it—a laugh. a deep, familiar laugh that sends a shock of recognition through your entire body.

you freeze, your drink halfway to your lips, as you turn your head and see him. DEAN WINCHESTER. standing at the entrance of the bar, his brother, sam, by his side. dean doesn't see you at first, too busy scanning the room, probably taking in the scene out of habit, always the hunter, always alert. but then his eyes snap to yours.

it feels like the air is sucked from the room. your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, you can't move, can't breathe. he looks just like you remember—broad shoulders, brown leather jacket, that chiseled jawline you've traced with your fingers more times than you can count. but there's something in his eyes, a flicker of something raw and unresolved, and you know he's thinking about that night, about the last time you saw each other.

he doesn't move. neither do you.

but his gaze lingers on you, even as a blonde woman sidles up to him, clearly trying to get his attention. she's pretty—tall, curvy, the kind of woman who turns heads in a place like this. but dean barely spares her a glance, his eyes locked on you like he can't tear himself away. you feel a surge of something hot and uncomfortable twist in your chest—jealousy, anger, desire. god, you miss him. you miss him so much it hurts.

and it's not just him. it's the way he made you feel, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, the way his hands felt on your skin, rough and gentle all at once. the way he'd held you that night, the way he'd said he loved you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. like he couldn’t help it.

you tear your gaze away, pretending to focus on the conversation at your table, but your mind is spinning. your body is buzzing with the awareness of him, of how close he is, of how much you want him. but the thought of facing him, of having that conversation, of admitting how you feel... it terrifies you.

so you do the only thing you can think of. you excuse yourself, telling your friends you need to use the bathroom, and slip away from the table, weaving through the crowded bar until you reach the small, dingy restroom at the back. you close the door behind you, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead, and lean against the sink, staring at your reflection in the cracked mirror.

your heart is racing, your skin flushed, and all you can think about is dean. about the way his muscles flexed under that leather jacket, the way he looked at you like he was starving for you. heat pools low in your belly, and filthy thoughts flood your mind—thoughts of him pressing you against the mirror, fucking you from behind until you're a mess, just like he did that night in the motel.

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but it's no use. your body wants him. you want him.

and then the door creaks open.

your eyes snap open, and you see him—dean, standing in the doorway, his eyes dark with that same hunger you feel. he steps inside, closing the door behind him, locking it with a click. your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't move, can't speak, as he crosses the small space between you, his body heat radiating off him in waves.

he doesn't say a word. he doesn't have to.

his hands are on you in an instant, rough and desperate, pulling at your clothes, as you do the same to him. his leather jacket hits the floor, followed by your shirt, your jeans, his belt clinking as he yanks it free. his breath is hot against your neck, and he's whispering in your ear, his voice low and gravelly.

"you're such a bad girl for leaving me like that," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat. "but god, y'feel so fucking good... s'perfect."

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you can't stop the whimper that escapes your lips as he spins you around, pressing you against the mirror. your breath fogs the glass as his hands grip your hips, his body pressing against yours from behind. he wastes no time, thrusting into you with a force that makes your knees buckle, but his strong arms hold you steady, keep you grounded.

you're a mess beneath him, a blubbering, trembling mess as he fucks you hard and fast, his hips pistoning into yours with a desperation that matches your own. he's everywhere, all at once—his hands, his mouth, his body consuming you, and you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel.

"you're mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive in your ear. "you've always been mine."

and it's true. you know it's true. you've always been his.

you lose track of time, of how many times you come, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, your body shaking with the force of it. by the time he finally pulls out of you, you're spent, your legs trembling, your breath ragged. but dean takes care of you, cleaning you up, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he helps you back into your clothes, his touch gentle and tender, so different from the roughness of moments ago.

when you're both dressed, you turn to him, your eyes meeting his, and without thinking, you pull him into a kiss. it's not like the others—it's not fueled by lust or desperation. this kiss is soft, slow, full of something deeper, something you've been too afraid to admit 'til now.

when you finally pull away, dean looks at you, his eyes searching yours. "what was that for?" he asks, his voice quiet, vulnerable.

you take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "i love you," you admit, the words catching in your throat. "and i'm sorry for leaving you like that. i was scared. but, fuck… i love you too, dean. i always have."

the smile that breaks across his face is like sunrise, brilliant and beautiful. he pulls you close again, pressing his body into yours. "yeah?"

"yeah," you whisper back. "turns out you're kind of hard to resist, winchester."

he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest where you're pressed against him. "good thing i'm not trying to resist you anymore either, sweetheart."

when you eventually make your way back to the bar, sam takes one look at your slightly disheveled appearance and dean's stupid grin and rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. your friends are also giving you knowing looks, and the blonde from earlier has long since found another target.

none of that matters, because dean's hand finds yours again, and this time, neither of you are running anywhere. he also pulls you close to him again, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a promise of something more.

something real.

꣑୧ UNOFFICIAL TAGLIST. @anqeliclust @aileenunfiltered @embarrasingmf @stereotypicalbarbie @ninii-winchester @suckitands33 @ohheyguyss @spxideyver @artyandink @titsout4nicholas 𓂃 ݁ 𖦹

[seresinhangmanjake]

Only His

Feyd-Rautha x Concubine!reader

Summary: A diplomat from Caladan wants to borrow you for the night. Feyd doesn't take that very well. Requested by @midnight-serendipity

Words: 2700

Notes: cursing, mentions of smut (a little), gore, blood, death, typos.

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Feyd breathed Hatred. 

He bled Hatred. 

When he killed, Hatred controlled his movements. Like a parasite in the brain, Hatred determined the thrust of his blade, how deep it sunk into an enemy’s gut, and the degree to which he twisted the weapon before pulling it from a soon-to-be lifeless body. 

He’d cultivated a bond with Hatred. There was a mutual understanding of one another, he thought. But as Feyd listens to the proposition from the man sitting his opposite, Hatred slowly becomes a stranger.

Turns out Hatred has a claiming side, a how-dare-you-look-at-what’s-mine side, and from that, Feyd realizes he never knew Hatred, not truly. Because this feeling—whatever it is—has revealed that Hatred is more potent than he initially believed.

“You want to what?” Feyd grits out through clenched teeth. 

“There’s no need to get upset,” the man chuckles; a diplomat from Caladan sent on behalf of Duke Atreides who came to Giedi Prime to reinforce treaties and trade agreements with the Baron. Others were sent from their respective planets, but he is by far much bolder than the rest when it comes to stepping out of bounds.

“I'd give you something in return,” Nolas—that’s his name. Feyd could barely care to remember—continues. “Whatever you like. I just want her for the night. Something to make the long trip here worthwhile and the trip back more bearable.”

“You think my concubine can be bought?”

“All concubines can be bought,” he says. “At the very least, borrowed.”

If so, then you are a concubine of untraditional nature. You are not shareable. You cannot be divvied up amongst the group so each may enjoy their slice; not as long as Feyd lives. And should he not live, for reasons foreseen or not, he long ago requested that your life be ended as well. That way you could be together. That way no man could ever have you. 

The thought of another’s hands on you sets fire to Feyd’s veins, threatening to burn his pale skin from the inside out. His heavy brow dips forward to darken the light hue of his irises. He stands and crosses the bridge between his seat and the one occupied by the older, pudgy man, looming over him to the point that Nolas must tilt his head back so their eyes can meet. 

“I will not be giving you mine,” Feyd growls. “Not for anything you could offer.”

Nolas huffs. “Now be reasonab–” 

Feyd fists his fingers into the collar of Nolas’s jacket, twisting tightly and yanking upward until Nolas chokes from the constricting fabric pressing into his windpipe. 

“Let me be perfectly clear,” Feyd spits, leaning forward. He opens his mouth to continue, but just as his next words are ready to leap from his tongue, something odd takes root in Nolas’s vile eyes. Odd, because it is not fear.

The bulk of Feyd’s skills lies in his ability to incite fear, whether through words, or battle, or presence, and with the exception of his uncle, fear has successfully struck the core of any soul who has crossed his path. Civilians, servants, his brother, his mother, even you have not been spared, but the man in his grasp is not cowering. He is not trembling. He is not soaking in the vulnerability of the position he is in where Feyd could snap his neck in a half-second. Instead, he holds the spearing gaze of the youngest Harkonnen. Matches it, even.

Feyd sinks his teeth into his boiling rage and forces it to overpower the shock that has slipped in. “You will not get within fifty feet of her. You talk to her, you surrender your tongue. You touch her, you lose a finger. You look at her, I’ll take an eye and it can sit alongside the rest of my trophies.”

A smirk touches Nolas’s face, practically undetectable before it is gone, and suddenly Feyd feels it. That loss of control. He feels Nolas penetrate his skull and weave spindly tendrils through his brain, poking and prodding for Feyd’s secrets. And then there’s a moment; a moment when Feyd nearly stumbles—the moment Nolas latches on to the one thing Feyd can not afford to have known by anyone other than himself. 

The smirk returns. “Of course, na-Baron,” oozes off of Nolas’s slimy tongue. “I wouldn’t dare lay a hand on the woman you love.”

With another half-twist, the collar tightens, blocking the blood from leaving Nolas’s face. He’s cherry red—or at least what Feyd imagines is cherry red based on your description—and he thinks with a few more turns of his fist, he could get Nolas’s head to pop right off his shoulders and tumble onto the floor. 

“What are you doing!” Rabban snaps, stomping toward the duo. He rams his hand against Feyd’s chest, but despite being forced back a step, he does not release the diplomat. He does not blink, fingers transmuting to steel as Rabban works to pry them open. “Uncle wants him alive for tonight!”

Feyd doesn’t care about tonight. He doesn’t care for some party announcing his uncle’s plans for the future. He does not care that this man, this worm, is considered a vital messenger. Send a fucking letter. 

Rabban whips out a small blade and slashes downward, nicking Feyd’s knuckles. It stings but livens the rush of his blood. His heart pounds harder, teeth gritting and cracking. 

“Feyd!”

Nolas’s eyes begin to redden, threadlike veins almost glowing. No air exits his nostrils and just as he finally wraps his hands around Feyd’s wrist, yanking and jerking to free himself, the tension in the fabric snaps. 

Nolas gasps for air, falling forward and revealing the clean slice down the back of his jacket collar. Feyd’s head turns to Rabban’s disgusted glare. 

His brother sheathes his knife. “You’d defy our uncle’s orders?”

Feyd glances back at Nolas, who has yet to recover, before spinning on his heel and leaving.

—

“Are you embarrassed of me?” you ask, your attention focused on the precise wrapping of bandage tape around Feyd’s knuckles as you sit beside him on the bed. “Is that why you don’t want me to go tonight?”

“Yes,” Feyd grumbles. No, his mind snaps back at him, and he huffs. 

Your arrival on Giedi Prime birthed a conscience within him—a conscience that exists solely for your sake—and because he often fucks up when it comes to you and your feelings, it never shuts up. You’re hurting her. Look at her. Do you not see that devastation? He does, and little pinpricks nip at the organ in his chest. 

You lightly nod as you mutter a pathetic, “Oh.”

With a hefty sigh, Feyd says, “It’s for your protection.” There! Better!

Fingers pause their work and your head shoots up to meet his eyes, a small smile curving your lips. 

“Oh,” you repeat. There’s a hint of excitement in your tone, a glint in your bright irises that causes Feyd’s cheeks to warm. 

You rip the used tape from the rest of the roll and set it aside, and then that smile disappears. “Wait, protection from what?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re safe if you’re not there tonight.”

You hum, and from that hum alone, Feyd knows exactly what’s running through your mind. 

“And my safety is very important to you, is it?” you ask, lifting the skirts of your dress so it doesn’t catch under your knees as you move to straddle his hips. 

Feyd rolls his eyes. His hands settle on your waist. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he mildly scolds. 

You lean into his body until he falls back onto the mattress, your chest pressed to his chest, your face hovering above his. 

“I don’t know,” you tease as your fingertip skims over his bottom lip. “I’m starting to think you might like me more than you let on.”

“Think what you want,” he says, turning his head to the side and severing the taut band connecting your gazes. 

You chuckle and grip his chin, demanding he look at you again. “Fine, I will,” you whisper before inching your lips closer until they ghost over his. “I think you like me.”

You give him another feather-dusting of a kiss but it’s not enough. Never enough. Feyd growls, burying his hand into the strands of your hair to hold your head still so he can claim your lips in the devouring manner he desires. 

When you moan, he wraps his arm snuggly around your waist. When you suck on his tongue, his cock flinches in his pants and he involuntarily thrusts upward between your spread legs. 

Your responsive yelp is a drug. Addicting. So different from the yelps he expected to receive from you after he’d chosen you as his concubine. He’d gone into the situation wanting any noise your delicate throat could make to be a product of the pain he intended to inflict upon you, but when he’d taken you that first night, that yelp was of pleasure. He’d hit a particularly sweet spot inside of you and was instantly overcome with a desperate need to hear it again and again and again. 

You pull your lips apart from his. Your gentle pants fan his face. He brushes your loose locks behind your ear. 

“Promise me you’ll stay in the room,” he says. 

“I promise.”

—

He’s gone. Feyd took his eyes off the bastard for one second, and now he’s gone. It’s not as if Nolas will be capable of finding you—he’s not familiar with the fortress’s layout enough to know which room you’re in and you swore you wouldn’t so much as peek through a crack in the door—but still, a sense of dread stiffens Feyd’s limbs. Nolas has no reason to be outside of this room. He has no reason to be doing anything but drinking his fill and mingling with the others of his station. And yet…

“Did you hear me, brother?” Rabban’s voice intrudes upon Feyd’s third scan of the room. He’s not here. He’s not fucking here. 

“Brother–”

“No,” Feyd snaps before descending the short staircase. 

He snakes through the crowd toward the main doors of the vast room. They’re wide, tall, loud when opened and closed, and it’s impossible Nolas could’ve snuck out without Feyd’s notice. 

“Where’s the Caladanian?” Feyd demands of the guards posted on either side of the door. 

“No one has attempted to leave, my Lord,” one says. 

Feyd’s brow pinches. The only remaining exit is a side door specifically designed to blend with the wall. The fortress is speckled with similar doors, all of which connect to an inner walkway that servants and guards use to get around the massive structure quickly when needed. 

“Come with me,” Feyd instructs, receiving a curt nod in return. 

Feyd’s body traces the wall until he reaches the door. He pushes it open and slips inside, the guard on his heels. The noise of the room fades with every step down the corridor and at each new unexpected sound, his head cocks, his ear reaching for the source. 

Then he hears it. 

“Your na-Baron offered you to me,” travels through the wall separating him from the paralleling hallway.

And then your sweet voice. “Offered? N-No, Feyd wouldn’t.”

You’re right there, right on the other side of the thin barrier, but he can’t reach you. You’re trying to remain calm but you’re scared, Feyd knows it, and as he starts to rush to the next closest door, he begs that you keep the bastard at bay just a little longer. 

Once he shoves through the door into the hall, your voice comes in much clearer, but all sight of you is blocked by Nolas’s breadth and height. 

“He wouldn’t give me away,” you say. 

Nolas chuckles. “He hasn’t, sweetheart. I’m simply borrowing you for a little.”

“That’s not—hey, don’t touch me!”

Feyd bursts into the embodiment of fury. Everything goes red. He feels red; he sees red; he tastes and smells and hears red. His vision pulses to his heartbeat’s rhythm. He craves the death of his enemy. To have blood coat his tastebuds. To absorb the scent of freshly drawn iron. 

Feyd’s ears pound with pressure and he worries it will muffle the beautiful screams of his victim, but to his great pleasure, as his blade is stuffed into a meaty back, the screams come in loud and clear in perfectly pitched notes that echo down the hall.

The body collapses, knees slamming into stone flooring.

“Feyd,” you whimper. 

“I told you to stay in our room,” he says lowly, not sparing you a glance as his knife momentarily leaves the body to reenter at the spot where neck meets shoulder. Blood sputters from lips, adorning your dress with a sprinkling of rubies.

“One of the servants said you needed me and I–”

“Take her back,” Feyd orders his guard. “Now.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Feyd!” you cry, tripping over your skirt as you struggle to keep pace with the guard dragging you around the corner. 

It’s better this way. If you’re gone, he can give his undivided attention to the paling body and the scarlet puddle spreading beneath it. 

“You don’t listen,” Feyd says, coming to the front of his victim who is impressively still sitting upright. 

There’s a whimper, another lovely song before Feyd pries open the mouth, digs between a row of teeth, and pinches the tongue with two fingers. He pulls it as far as it can be pulled and then lops it clean off with his knife. It lands on the floor with a wet slap. The fingers follow—all ten—amputated from now lifeless hands. And then the eyes, plucked free from the skull with ease. One of them rolls a fair distance after being tossed aside. The other he keeps.

Feyd steps back to stare upon death at its purest; a flawless display of cause and effect, of crime and punishment. 

“I told you what would happen,” he says. 

He doesn’t get a response. 

—

It’s late when Feyd returns to you. He spent the last few hours explaining his role in the ending of a diplomat’s life. He was careful with his words. He had to be. If his uncle knew he killed in defense of his concubine, it would introduce a plethora of complications. No one can know just how far he would go for his woman lest he put you further at risk and open himself up to manipulation. And he can’t have that. 

Feyd expels a relieved sigh at finding you tucked under the sheets. You’re on your side, a palm between your cheek and the pillow. 

He moves to take a seat on the edge of the mattress. As he runs his hand over your hair, your eyes open. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you nod. 

“A servant came to the room, said you needed me,” you tell him. “I was led to that man instead of you. I wasn’t trying to go against what you asked of me.”

“I know,” Feyd says. “The servant was paid. Someone witnessed the exchange.” He watches a flash of shock and pain travel across your irises. “He’s dead now. They both are.”

You swallow, biting into your lip as your eyes and mind briefly drift elsewhere. Feyd waits for you to come back, and once you do, you look up at him and nod in acceptance. 

“Will you come to bed now?” you ask. “Please? I can't sleep without you.”

“You were asleep when I came in.” Your head shakes. 

In all fairness, you haven't spent a single night apart since he got you, and he doesn’t view it as clinginess—it’s more his decision than yours—but rather an expression of how much you want him near. And he likes being wanted. It’s different. Foreign. Nice. The both of you need it. Tonight, perhaps, more than ever.

Feyd stands and peels off his layers of clothes, then goes to the other side of the bed to slide under the covers. You flip over, nestling yourself against him and resting your head on his bicep.

“I thought you didn't want me anymore,” you whisper. “I thought–”

---

“Don't think,” he says. “You're mine; you know that.” He presses a kiss to your hairline. “I don't share you.”

And may fate have mercy on anyone who suggests otherwise.

Tag List (if you wanna join)

[mochiwonz]

─── INTO YOU ୨୧

PAIRING. fem!reader x jake sim﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ FEATURING. heeseung as your older brother CONTENT. brother's bestfriend to ?? , smut , p in v , unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !!) , kitchen sex , breast & nipple play , grinding , cursing , dirty talk , petnames , cumming inside , jake likes to tease ;3 , mention of pillow humping NOTE. not proofread & lowercase is intended !! enjoy this yummy smut fic ≧ᗜ≦

the one and only, jake sim— heeseung's closest friend since the eighth grade. him and heeseung were both older than you, jake being born in 2002 and heeseung being born in 2001. not that age really mattered, though. ever since heeseung had first introduced jake to you, you'd always felt like he was a bit immature. too loud, too mischevious, just not your cup of tea. even at the ripe age of 21, you still saw him as a boy.

it wasn't until he turned 22 that you'd realized something changed.

it seemed as though jake had finally grown into a man— and a very good-looking one at that.

he changed the way he dressed, swapping out his skinny jeans for baggy cargo pants and sweatpants and plain hoodies for leather jackets and much more. he'd also gotten a haircut and learned how to style it.

quite the opposite of what'd you expect from him.

he also started wearing cologne— a clean but musky scent that you really liked.

you never expected yourself to ever be attracted to jake, but it happened. you were actually starting to find the one and only, jake sim, attractive.

at first, you were definitely in denial, comprehending the whole situation. you'd practically despised him since you'd first laid your eyes on him, god you couldn't believe it.

"hey y/n" jake waved at you from across the living room as you made your way downstairs to grab a cup of water.

"hey" you simply replied, not wanting to give him too much attention. you didn't even spare him a glance. you couldn't, or else you'd probably turn red.

even though you didn't look at him, directly— you could see him from your peripheral vision. he was wearing a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, a fitted black tank top, and a hat that he was wearing backwards. you could also tell that he was very obviously manspreading.

he looked hot as fuck.

of course, jake had noticed how you avoided him these days. he noticed how you would never make eye-contact, never glance at him, and never even really speak to him. he usually brushed it off as something to due with tiredness or stress, but today it felt different— like you were avoiding him for a very different reason.

you'd just gotten a glass from the cupboard and walked over to the fridge to fill it up when you heard him get up from the couch.

' oh, he's probably just going to the bathroom ' you thought.

you'd convinced yourself of that until you felt jake's presence right behind you.

"y/n" he said while clearing his throat, trying to grab your attention.

no, you had to make a run for it. you couldn't embarrass yourself infront of jake, especially right now— you weren't even wearing any makeup.

you quickly put down the glass of water on the nearest counter top and started to speed-walk away from him when you felt a grip on your wrist.

"jake, i need to go—" you were about to make a stupid excuse, until he cut you off.

"no y/n, you don't need to go anywhere right now." he says in an almost stern tone of voice, pulling you towards him by your wrist. "you know, i can tell that you're avoiding me... right?

you nervously laugh in response. were you that obvious or was he just really good at reading people?

"wasn't avoiding you..." you say under your breath. anyone could tell that you were lying, it was blatantly obvious— how you stared at the grown and wouldn't dare to get any closer to him.

"you sure, pretty?" he swiftly moves his hand from your wrist to your waist and pulls you even closer to him.

he was so close to you, you could even feel his breath on your face. you swore you could hear his heartbeat, too.

you froze, voice caught in your throat. everything was happening way too quick, you weren't even processing anything right now.

"cat got your tongue?" he chuckles, bringing his hand to your chin— indicating for you to look at him.

you reluctantly look up at him and wow. he was just gorgeous. seeing him this up-close gave you the craziest butterflies you'd ever felt. his tall nose, plump lips, pretty puppy eyes, and honey-tanned skin really did it for you.

jake felt the same way about you. he hadn't seen you this close since... forever. you'd always been pretty, but you were absolutely beautiful, now. the way your eyes were shining, the natural shade of your lips, your bare skin— you looked like an angel.

"you're so handsome" you say as if in a daze, your lips betraying you.

it's not until he plants a peck on your lips that you realize what you'd just said.

"mm, see? i knew it" jake says as he wraps both arms around your waist and turns you around— so that your back is against his chest.

all you could do was let out a weak whimper in response.

"it's okay pretty, i think you're so so gorgeous" he tells you in a low, raspy voice— his hot breath lingering on your skin.

before you can process what just happened in the last 10 seconds, he's quick to turn you around. only now, you're facing him.

jake is quick to pull you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. you wrap your arms around his neck as his large hands find your ass, groping it.

"shit baby, you taste so good" jake manages to groan out in-between kisses.

you'd been daydreaming about jake lately. especially about how he'd kiss you. however, nothing could compare to how he actually kissed you. the way his plump lips felt as though they were molded for yours. the way he was basically attacking the insides of your mouth with his tongue. god, he was such a good kisser.

you tangle your hands in his pretty black hair as you deepen the kiss. in one swift motion, jake picks you up and gently places you on the cold, granite countertop.

growing needier and needier by the second, you start to rut your clothed cunt against his erect cock.

you both pull away from the kiss, breathless and in a daze. jake is quick to grind his hips up into yours.

"fuuckkk" he moans as he throws his head back, "feels s' good, pretty— fuckk"

your lips form an "O" shape as you squeeze your eyes shut, the pleasure almost unbearable.

sure, you'd humped your pillow thinking of jake, but this was definitely more than a thousand times better.

"jae— ngh!" you lay back onto the countertop as jake pulls your hips closer to his, increasing the friction.

"call me that again" he grunts in a deep yet breathless tone of voice, pretty black hair sticking to his already sweaty forehead.

"faster jae! faster!" you moan out in almost a shriek. you're not sure how much of a mess you are right now, you just know that you feel so fucking good.

before you can even catch on, you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach— you were so close, so close to cumming. and right before you reached your climax, jake pulled his hips away from yours.

jake catches how you frown at the loss of friction and laughs.

"not funny..." you say, staring at his veiny hands and forearms.

"never thought it was funny, princess. just want you to cum on my cock"

you feel your pussy get even more soppy at his dirty words. you knew that your panties were most definitely soaked, at this point.

"that's what you want, right pretty girl?" he asks, already knowing what you're going to answer. he just wanted to tease you a little.

pretty, pretty girl, baby, princess— all the petnames were killing you. not only that but his thick accent, too.

"yes" you mumble.

"hm?" he teases, slowly removing your pajama top— loving how your ears go completely red.

"yes please jae— " you're caught off guard by a warm, wet feeling around your nipple, jake's mouth. he's flicking your hardened nub with his tongue while groping your other breast with his hand.

"oh fuckk jaee" you whine, the feeling unfamiliar but so good.

the pleasure he's giving you right now is quite literally insane. you didn't know what to do with yourself, you were a moaning mess. your hair was sticking to you forehead, your skin was glistening with sweat, and your eyes were rolled all the way to the back of your head.

you weren't the only one that was a moaning mess, jake was too. he was lost in the pleasure, desperately grinding his hardened cock against your thigh toying your erect nipple with his tongue, your little moans and whimpers making him even harder— if that was even humanly possible.

"want you now, shit— please" you say, squirming around. jake finally removes his plump lips from your breast and looks at you, his gaze filled with both adoration and lust.

without saying a word, jake swiftly removes your pajama shorts and his black tank top and grey sweatpants.

now you're completely bare, and so is jake.

he was shamelessly eyeing every inch of your body, his eyes moving from your collarbones, to your perky breasts, to your puffy, neglected cunt. you were so beautiful, so so beautiful.

becoming impatient, you sit up and tug on the band of his boxers, indicating that you really needed him, inside of you— now.

"want me so bad, huh y/nnie?" he teases, once again. you squeeze your thighs together at his statement, feeling your wetness dripping out of your pussy onto your inner thighs.

you eagerly nod in response, not being able to form an actual response. he pulls down his boxers to reveal his cock, on display just for you.

he had such a pretty dick, i mean— what did you expect? he was jake sim, after all. the tip of his cock was a pretty pink, the same shade of pink as his lips. it had 3 prominent veins wrapping around it. the way it was proudly standing against his abs was causing you to drool.

jake guides your hand to his dick, wrapping your hand around it and guiding your hand up and down. you both moan at the feeling, you couldn't believe this was happening. neither could he.

"feel how hard i am? see it? just f' you, pretty" he tells you as you smear his precum all over the tip of his cock. he squeezes his eyes shut at how your soft hand feels against him, so fucking good.

you remove your hand and lay back on your forearms, bringing your hips closer, causing your wet pussy to rub against his tip. he opens his eyes at the sudden loss of movement. he looks down at you, only to quickly gasp at the feeling of his tip rubbing against your sticky folds.

"shittt" he moans in an almost whiney tone. the feeling of your bare, wet cunt against his cock was making him lose his sanity. he swears he could cum just from this.

you're both grinding against eachother, until you feel his hips pull away from yours.

"jake wha—" you're immediately cut off by jake. not with words, though.

it's the feeling of his large, erect cock inside your gummy walls. you didn't even notice him sliding his dick into your pussy because of how absolutely wet you were.

"felt like i was about to cum, had to be inside you incase i did" he grunts, once again bringing his hand to cup your breast.

neither one of you moves. you were still adjusting and jake was just holding back, he was so close to just letting loose and fucking your brains out.

however, it was now your turn to catch him off guard. you started moving your hips at a quick pace while rubbing your clit with your thumb.

"oh fuck baby, just like that, keep fucking yourself on my dick like that, shitt"

you clench around his cock at his words, causing him to let out a whiney moan. he quickly leans down and leaves wet kisses along your neck.

jake notices how you've seemed to slow down and decides that he's really going to fuck you now— like how he has wanted to for so, so long.

he begins thrusting into you as you lazily grind your cunt against his dick. he's slamming his cock so deep inside of you at such an animalistic pace, it's almost unbearable. but in a good way, of course.

"shit, shit, shit" he grunts out every time he thrusts his dick into you, his balls slamming against your plump ass.

all you can do is moan and whimper. your hands are grabbing onto his hair so hard you'd think he'd be in pain, but he actually finds it so pleasurable.

"pussy so wet f' me, love this pussy" he slows down just a little, thrusting deeper instead of faster. with the way he's fucking you right now, you can hear how your pussy squelches every time he thrusts into you.

"hngh! jae, 'm gonna cum, gonna cum—" you moan loudly as you pull him into a sloppy kiss, cutting yourself off.

jake wastes absolutely no time and starts fucking you at an unreal pace, much quicker than before. within no time, he finds your g-spot and places his hand on your clit, rubbing circles on it. your hands are still tangled in his hair, still pulling on it.

"yeah? gonna cum for me? cum on this dick, princess— shitt, holy fuck" he rambles dirty words on and on, bringing you closer to your climax.

before you know it— you're creaming his cock with your cum. you black out for a few seconds from your intense orgasm, as jake continues to slam into you. he's so close, so fucking close.

"gonna cum inside you, fuck, fuck, fuck— squeezing me so tight baby, shittt"

jake lets out a loud grunt as he spills his load into your warm cunt, holding your body close to his.

yeah, this was the first time you two had fucked, but it definitely wasn't the last.

please like, reblog, and comment if u enjoyed :3 u can find my other works here !

© mochiwonz ― all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[deadghosy]

Best friend headcannons pt.1||pt.2||pt.3

Play fighting! Definitely mattheo play fights with you, maybe pulls a wrestling move where he grabs your waist and tries to pull you down only for you to elbow strike him in the damn shoulder.

Poor Matty groaned and fell like a rock as he face planted onto the carpet floor.

Bestie! mattheo who can’t help but lay his head on your shoulder when venting about how sometimes he feels like how his own brother hates him. He loves how you comfort him, and he loves you for being his greatest friend

Bestie! Mattheo who literally loves spending time with you to the point he takes you out on friend dates

Bestie! Mattheo who takes .5 pictures of you and has a whole album called “adorkable”

Bestie! Mattheo who will lend over his jacket to you if you forgot your own.

Headcannon bestie! Mattheo having a spare key to your house. Your house is basically his second home and this man isn’t living it down.

Bestie! Mattheo who literally is a good listener to you. Please let this man be your number 1 listener. He loves hearing you yap to him as your bestie.

Bestie! Mattheo who has you as his #1 emergency contact and pinned on messages. Don’t judge him, he’s just scared to lose the most beloved person he has rn.

Bestie! Mattheo who does tickled you or tackle you when you two are feeling playful at sleepovers at your house.

Bestie! Mattheo who comes to you for comfort of a nightmare.

“Can I sleep in here tonight? I had a nightmare.”

Is what mattheo would say when he sneaks into your window. He wasn’t lying about the nightmare, but he oddly can’t sleep without you so he just hops in bed and hold you closely.

[halfmoonshines]

soft spot

damon salvatore x reader

summary; you're injured in a fight with a rogue vampire who breezed into town, and Damon is being weird about it

hurt/comfort

----

You tried to stay hidden in the shadows outside of the streetlight, but your rapid heartbeat probably would've given you away either way.

"Who the hell is this guy?" You heard Damon mutter from the spot he was tossed just a few feet away from you, dusting the dirt from the trash cans he'd squished like cardboard. His ice blue eyes spared you a quick glance but didn't say a word, trying not to draw any attention your way.

Damon intervened as Caroline was struggling to grapple with the stranger. In the span of a moment, she was on the ground groaning with a broken arm and he had launched the assailant to give them a chance to regroup - right toward you.

You couldn't help the little gasp that you emitted, no matter how much time you spent around these creatures this was a vampire. One in particular who would have no hang ups about snapping your neck.

Per their supernatural hearing, it didn't take long for the mans vicious senses to find you, and took half as long for him to have a bruising hand around your neck.

The sound of Damon yelling your name was distant in the background, you were focused on the threat literally snarling in your face.

"Don't you smell good?"

That was as far as the stranger managed to get before Damon had the broken handle of a broom protruding from his back. His grip slipped off your throat as his body slid sideways and you toppled to the ground, heading bouncing off the pavement hard enough for you to see stars.

Damon's voice was faint to you again, but you could hear him begging for your attention. Caroline was in the background too, in panicked discussion with someone over the phone. You couldn't get your eyes to focus though, hair becoming wet and warm.

The eldest Salvatore's touch on you was feather light, his mouth still moving with words he wanted you to latch onto but you had already lost the dance with consciousness.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The first thing you were aware of when you woke up in a bed was that it was decidedly not yours. The next thing you noticed was that you weren't in any pain, just a bit stiff when you went to sit up from the bed. Someone had definitely given you blood, which was against every rule her and her friends had discussed, but from the smell of the sheets behind you - Damon wouldn't have cared either way.

You made your way out of the room and down the stairs, vaguely knowing the layout of the boarding house from your handful of times actually coming inside. Over the last few months you had become dangerously intertwined in Elena's grapple with the supernatural, despite Bonnie's vehement advice to go as far as possible. You were emancipated, you could switch schools and move to Pennsylvania.

No, you couldn't. Once your conscious had been opened to everything around you, once you were aware of the dangers of the dark - you could never ignore that. Better the evil you know.

Speaking of.

You came upon Damon in his favorite spot, a tumbler of bourbon in his hand while he leaned up against the fireplace. The suit jacket he had been wearing earlier that night was discarded on the couch behind him, a small amount of blood on the collar of his shirt still.

"You always look so broody." Poking fun at him might not be in your best interest, but you figured you'd give it a go. Over the last few months, your and Damon's relationship had morphed into something you couldn't quite understand, but moments like these had seemed to become more comfortable between you.

"I believe you're confusing me with my much broodier younger brother." Damon's words were laced with sarcasm, but his tone didn't have a hint of amusement.

You felt suddenly awkward, in his space and home. Just because you had gotten kind of comfortable lately didn't mean he wanted to be around you.

"Well, thanks for the whole life saving thing." You began to babble nervously, a faint pink glow to your cheeks. "I'll get out of your hair. Sorry for taking your bed, I don't even know what time it is-" You had begun turning toward the door, making to just leave and find a way home. How you could this age and still flustered in front of attractive men, especially murderous ones was beyond you.

Damon appearing in front of you almost made your heart stop, hair stirring at his incredibly fast movements. He was barely a foot away, his piercing gaze holding your confused one. From this close you could smell just how much he had probably drank.

"Are you... okay, Damon?" Your voice wavered a bit under the heat of his stare and you saw the muscle in his jaw working overtime while he looked like he was debating whether or not he wanted to actually say anything to you.

"You don't have to thank me for saving you when you were in danger because of me." His eyes had drifted from your eyes to your neck, voice whisper quiet.

Vulnerability was the last thing you expected from the man standing over you. "What do you mean? It wasn't your fault. Just wrong place, wrong time and I so happen to be the weakest link." You hoped your voice conveyed even a bit of humor.

His eyes snapped back up to yours, head tilting slightly while he assessed you. Damon's hand rose to grab a lock of your hair, twirling it around his finger in thought. Your breath caught in your throat, feeling like you were on the precipice of something.

"My weakest link, maybe. Have I told you how much I like your hair?" His voice was still quiet, an innocent lilt.

Your mind was reeling, half drunk on his closeness and hazed by confusion. Where was this coming from? Had he drank a small liquor store and now he was confusing her for her much more appealing best friend?

"Damon, I'm not sure how much you've had to drink, but I'm happy to brew you a pot of coffee. Does that even work for vampires?"

You had started to pull away, making to turn toward the kitchen but Damon was infinitely faster than you. His drink was discarded, one hand going to your upper arm and the other to your waist, tugging you back into his vicinity.

"On the contrary, I don't think I've ever been so sure minded, sparrow. I'm sorry for not protecting you tonight." His voice was tight now, the warmth of his hands tingling down your body.

"It's not your fault, or job, Damon." Your voice had quieted to match his, all humor leaving. You didn't know where this guilt had come from, but it was misplaced. Since you'd met Damon he'd made some bad decisions, but you had also seen his sacrifice so much for the sake of the team. Even if others didn't acknowledge it, he didn't need to add anymore to his plate.

"I'd like it to be. My job." His reply was lightning quick, eyes pinning yours in place.

Were you dreaming?

Damon's signature smirk was visible for a split second, telling you that your confusion was written all over your face. "I think that I'm asking you, in the most coming of age movie way, if you'd like to go steady?"

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

send any fic requests here!! all comments/criticisms/requests welcome

[poppadom0912]

The best babysitters

Warnings: Mentions of absent father but all fluff

Summary: Work prevents you from going home one night, thankfully you’ve got the best backup in Chicago.

A/N: This is being posted later than I planned. My mum was in hospital and it gave me a scare but she's all recovered now so here this is. This is in celebration of 1k, a few more will follow as my workload has decreased significantly.

This fic exists in the same world as my other fic ‘older sister’ but can also be read as a stand alone.

You were tired.

Work was beyond busy today and your clients were being unnecessarily stressful. All you wanted now was to go home, relieve your babysitter of her duties and enjoy the night in with your daughter.

It seemed that the universe had some sort of vendetta against you though because just as you were putting the finishing signatures on the last few papers, an intern, a woman you saw earlier at reception, came running into your office slightly out of breath.

You wanted to scream.

Letting the poor intern talk, you smiled at her stiffly, dismissing her after saying you’d make your way. There was no way you could ask your babysitter to stay late for God knows how much longer, you could remember her telling you she has a lecture tomorrow morning.

Getting up from your desk, you sighed, screwing your eyes closed when you caught the time on your phone. Your sigh in defeat could probably be heard all across Chicago.

Walking out your office, the sound of your heels filled out the empty space, majority of the firm had gone home, only a few stragglers staying behind to close up on any loose ends.

Turning your phone on, you ignored the several notifications screaming for your attention and went straight to your contacts.

Your phone only rang twice before the person on the receiving end picked up.

“Hey Will, can you do me the biggest favour please… You’re a life saviour, thanks, I owe you one.”

Hanging up the phone, you stared ahead through the windows at the bustling waiting room, raised angry voices overlapping and bleeding though the walls.

You could already feel your headache intensifying.

*****

Using his spare key, Will entered your house. Shuffling inside, he took off his jacket and shoes as usual.

Hearing the front door open, little pattering feet were immediately heard running across the house. Will smiled at the sound that he didn’t hear often due to all of your demanding jobs.

“Mama! Mama oh-“

The immense joy on Harper’s face disappeared as the nearly two-year-old rounded the corner on her little chubby legs, expecting to see her beloved mother who she missed all day only to suddenly be met with her redheaded uncle.

“Well hello to you too miss Harper.” Will smiled down at his niece nonetheless, crouching down to scoop her into his arms to which she didn’t argue and instead welcomed.

As soon as she was safe in his arms, the toothiest, giddiest smile broke out on her chubby face that was so scarily identical to yours that it could only be explained by witchcraft.

Harper giggled, such a sound making Will forget about all the horrors that stained his day from the emergency department.

“Hi!” She exclaimed, her smile remained upright and never faltered. “Hi!”

And soon after, she pressed her open mouth onto his stubbly cheek, her attempt of a kiss. Despite struggling with the tough task and all the slobber that remained on his cheek, Will’s reaction was instant and wouldn’t change for the world.

“Oh, thank you so much Harper! Uncle Will missed you tons. Look at how big you’ve grown!”

But, before Will could have all his focus solely on his adorable niece, the sound of the front door unlocking diverted his attention.

Lo and behold, Jay casually strolled in as though this was another random Tuesday.

Oh, that son of a b-

Harper’s scream that followed definitely burst Will’s eardrums.

Will winced, tipping his head away to protect his ears from any further damage before turning to glare at his brother who was taking his jacket off.

"What are you-"

"You said we'd meet at Molly's for a drink but you weren't there." Jay cut Will off, a smile on his face as he looked at Harper and spoke without looking in Will's direction. "Natalie told me you were here."

"Jay Jay's jealous Harper." Will said, his tone all factual and matter-of-fact as he looked at the toddler in his arms. "He didn't want to miss out."

Jay didn't even try to look offended or hurt by Will's remark because deep down, it was somewhat true because how could Jay let Will have all the fun by himself?

"Stop hogging her you buffoon and let me hold her." Jay told Will, not waiting for a reply as he moved forward and took Harper into his arms, the girl didn't protest nor did she willingly lean forward.

"What- Uh, I've literally been here for five minutes Jay."

"Am I your favourite uncle? I knew it!"

*****

Following Jay’s sudden and unprompted arrival, Will dismissed your babysitter, paying her what you usually did and a little more as compensation for staying so late.

Once she had left, there wasn’t much left around the house for them to do besides turning the dishwasher on and making Harper’s nightly milks, but it wasn’t her bedtime just yet and maybe if time permitted it, Harper could stay up a little beyond her usual bedtime.

Consider it a small treat for this special circumstance without her mother implementing her strict nighttime routine.

While Will was sorting away the finals bits in the kitchen, Jay easily made himself comfortable in the living room while Harper continued to babble nonsensically, a few discernible words welcomed themselves into the mix. Jay allowed himself to take a second to relish in the moment, trying to prevent himself from having an existential crisis as he realised he was both emotional but also proud of how much she was growing.

“Dada, look look! S’ Dada!”

Moment ruined, Jay’s smile instantly fell.

Jay followed the direction of Harper’s index finger to the tv, his face hardening at the sight of the man who failed his fiancée and his baby who just turned one.

Harper's 'dad' was a television reporter and it had totally slipped his mind that this was the channel he worked for. Seeing his stupid face yap away about the news made his blood boil.

Jay changed the channel without a second thought.

Your ex fiancé had suddenly decided to leave on Harper’s first birthday, not even having the decency to at least show up at her birthday party.

A year later, and Harper still remembered the man whose name was her first word.

It devastated you still to this day what he had done and Harper’s random interjections of ‘dada’ only made the wound deeper.

“Dada isn’t here harper.” Jay said, tone as soft as it could be as he tried to explain it without her crying.

“It’s just uncle Jay and Will, and mama will be home soon.” Jay continued, holding the toddler in his lap so there was no chance of her running away crying.

Luckily, Harper was a mummy’s girl through and through, so despite the large absence of her father, simply mentioning ‘mama’ or anything akin to that made her entire face light up in a way that no one else could.

“Okay Halstead’s, listen up!” Will said as he entered the living room, phone in one and a towel in the other.

“Y/N’s saying it’s mostly likely going to be another two hours minimum so we’re most likely going to have to stay over.” Will told Jay specifically before looking down at Harper.

“You wanna get into your PJ’s Harps? Jay Jay can make you some milk.”

And despite her highly energised state, Harper would never turn down the enticing combination of her pyjamas and warm milk.

Crawling out of Jay’s lap, Harper moved towards Will who in turn of carrying her gave Jay the towel he was holding. And as much as Jay wanted to fight his brother, he knew Will had more experience with kids - i.e. Owen - and so he could gladly change her diaper.

With Will and Harper standing over him, brown eyes wide, glinting with a hidden intent Jay had become familiar with since childhood. It really wasn’t fair that you and Will both had your father’s eyes which Harper just had to inherit. Jay found himself useless and always surrendering to those goddamn eyes, even as the youngest sibling.

Whenever Jay remembered his childhood, it never made sense why the two older siblings never folded as easily when he looked up at them with the biggest, most imploring eyes. Even now, three decades later, and not a single thing had changed.

“Okay, okay! Just stop looking at me like that.” As soon as Jay spoke, the two rejoiced, their happiness still discernible even as they made their way upstairs.

“Let’s get this party started then.”

*****

And so party they did.

Well at least according to Harper’s standards.

The night started off with warm drinks - Harper with her milk while Will and Jay spoiled themselves to the expensive coffee beans that you easily could afford but neither your brothers indulged in unless under your roof.

Following this, Harper had a short but very fun time running around with sudden newfound energy, causing as much havoc as humanly possible for anyone her size.

It was safe to say that she tired herself quite quickly.

As Jay opened himself and Will a beer, he walked back into the living room, his eyes landing on his older brother and niece, the younger scrunched up into a little ball on Will's chest. Her face completely relaxed and arms wrapped around his torso as she snored quietly.

"Now this, after today, is my kinda party."

"Amen." Will agreed, tapping his bottle with Jay's as a silent 'cheers'.

Jay settled besides his brother, both of them staring forward at the muted movie Harper randomly chose, the first she watched that didn't have any princess affiliations.

"Gosh, it feels like years since we last babysat her." Will said, a sombre but nostalgic tone lacing his words.

"It does." Jay hummed as he swallowed his beer. "We're all so busy with work we can hardly make time for each other."

Will scoffed. "I see you almost everyday, strolling casually into the ED like you own the freaking place. Who are you kidding?"

Jay rolled his eyes but agreed nonetheless.

"Yeah, we need to visit more often. Make more effort and take out the time."

The silence that followed was filled by Harpers little snores and the occasional sound of a siren blaring past in the distance.

"I'm so tired I could knock out right here on the floor."

"Don't be such a doofus, go put her down in her bed."

"Aye aye captain."

*****

When you finally returned home three hours later, tired beyond belief. You were so close to dropping to the floor as soon as you locked the door but as you ventured into the house, you were met with the most heart warming sight.

On the floor in the living room remained your two younger brothers and your daughter. Harper was still scrunched up in a ball on Will's chest, her hand clutching his shirt while said man had his face leaning forward into her hair, his breaths causing Harper's curl to move occasionally. Jay sat besides them, hands crossed slightly on his lap and his head tipped backwards, resting on the sofa.

Even as your eyes burned with the need for sleep, you took a few pictures of the scene before you, your smile not going till your head met your pillow.

If Jay and Will woke up with sore necks in the morning, there was a very seasoned doctor in the house for a reason.

[arpicityandneed]

Give it Up Pt. 1

18+ Dark Content. f!reader. step brother!Bucky. college student reader.

~

Dear Diary, Is it bad that I had that dream again? Fuck its been going on for years but it still makes me wake up wet and aching to be ruined. Its always the same. He sneaks into my room to find me touching myself (I'm always touching myself before bed every night lets be real) and just locks the door before coming over to move my hand away. "No touching my pussy without permission, sis. Do I make myself fucking clear?" "Yes." Every time he teases me, circling my clit light enough that I can't cum. "Yes, what?" No matter how guilty it makes me it also makes me want to cum so hard. "I won't touch your pussy big brother."

"Bucky!! Mom said she found more gift wrap, you can leave it." Bucky nearly jumps out of his skin, tearing his gaze away from the raunchy words in your neat handwriting. You'd filled page after page and the diary was nearly full. You liked free use, roleplay where he blackmailed you into being his slut, humiliation play, anal.. the more he flipped through the pages the harder he got.

"Bucky!! Did you hear me?" You called again, sounding so sweet and innocent like you usually do. Except now he knew the truth.

Innocent my ass.

"Yeah sis, I heard ya!" He called back tucking the book back into its hiding place behind the towels in the hallway closet.

When he came back into the living room you were on your knees, arranging the presents under the tree and looking every inch like the casual college student. But now that he knew what was really going on in that head of yours? He couldn't stop looking for outward signs of your perversion.

"Something on my face?" You asked when you noticed your brother staring at you with a weird intensity.

All Bucky could think about was painting your face with his cum in response. He had to shake himself before he could smile somewhat normally.

"Nothing. So about the tree.."

~

He never caught you writing in the diary, but new pages kept showing up every few days when he checked the closet. So he started to plan. Because there was no way he was going to be able to rest, your words had invaded his dreams.

Every spare moment was spent jacking his cock until he blew his load all over his fist, thinking of you and your filthy fucking fantasies. You'd written that you were technically still a virgin since you didn't think all your toys counted. The thought of you fucking your own ass with a fake cock usually is what got Bucky off more often than not. It agonized him wondering which hole to fuck first. Because he knew your pussy would be heaven too. Had to be attached to such a wicked girl.

If he was going to be tormented by this then you were too.

It started small, little touches that you wouldn't bat an eye over. Hands on your hips to help you reach the top of the tree, tucking a curl behind your ear, a kiss to the top of the head.

But then he ramped it up, a hand a little too high on your thigh until you were squirming and making excuses to move. A slap to your ass with a joking grin and a distracting question to leave you flustered and flushed. Lingering a second too long after kissing your cheek before pulling away and acting like nothing happened.

It was slight, but he could see it now. The faraway look in your eye and the way your thighs clenched together every time. You were lost in your own head thinking something depraved and god he needed his hands on you for real.

~

Christmas Eve was the last straw. You had a party to go to, something with some asshole called Walker who Bucky didn't know but didn't like on principle. But when he saw how you were dressed? A deep green excuse of a dress wrapped around your body like it was molded to your curves, and stopped mid thigh. Your tits were nearly spilling out before you quickly covered up with a jacket when your mom came closer.

"I'll drive you." Bucky said close enough in earshot of your parents that your mom agreed instantly, just like he'd wanted.

"But mom, its a date, why would you do that to me?" You whined. But your mother just smiled brightly at you.

"Keep complaining I'll have him pick you up too." You groaned and glared at Bucky playfully, mumbling as you walked outside. "Lets go then."

~

Bucky's car smelt like him, and the leather seats seemed to hug you back. It was always too intimate for you and you hated that he was clearly enjoying himself.

"You didn't have to say it so damned loud. You know how she gets." You complained as he blasted the heat before starting to drive, just snorting at you.

"Who knows if this guy is even worthy of you sis? It's my job to protect that pretty little pussy of yours." He spoke casually, but the way his eyes cut to yours was boldly intentional before he turned his attention back to the road was hard to misunderstand. This was him making a move.

"Bucky! What- you can't just-" You spluttered completely caught off guard.

"Can't just what? Talk about your pussy? You talk about my dick enough in that black book you keep in the closet." And just like that you were throbbing between your legs from being caught, the embarrassment making your clit throb along to your heartbeat. All the previous teasing touches flooded your brain, and you groaned as you hung your head in embarrassment. Had you really not noticed the way he'd been hunting you?

"We're gonna make a quick stop before your party sis. Gotta give your gift." His words were a purr, and you would later deny you ever whimpered from his voice alone.

"You better not give it up to any guy but me unless I say its alright, you got that? Can't just have you spreading your legs for anyone I don't approve of. You're my little sister and its my job to protect you" He continued to give you the big brother lecture, twisted as it was. And as much as you hated it, since you knew the bastard was doing it on purpose just to highlight how taboo it was for you to want him, your mind was running wild and you were drenching your panties.

You should've been ashamed of yourself, but all you wanted was for him to pull over and fuck you over the hood of his car.

~

Steve's studio apartment was practically Bucky's as well and you knew this, but still the fact that your brother had a key turning the lock without even having to stop kissing you made you realize how often he was over here.

"So this is how you dress when you're not doing the innocent college sweetheart routine." He groaned as he palmed your ass cheek through your dress, his erection pressing into your hip with no remorse. "Might have to fight Walker if he sees you in it though."

"Don't care about him," you gasped as he kissed down your throat and sucked a hickey into your skin. Every touch of his made your desire burn brighter, driving you insane like his fingers had on the drive over tracing the slit of your pussy over and over without touching your clit.

"No, you're saving yourself f'me right?" He unzipped your dress slowly, like he was unwrapping a present. Your matching black bra and panties looked sinful on you.

"Bucky," you mumbled shyly as you tried to cover yourself.

"Don't hide from me. If we're gonna do this sis, you play by my rules." His voice was rough and husky but completely serious as he watched you. And your clit throbbed from his words, your hands falling to your sides as you let him look.

"Good girl." The praise made you wanna preen under his attention. "Now take it off. All of it."

You unhooked your bra easily, watching how Bucky's eyes were locked on your tits as soon as they were free. He twirled his finger when you reached for the band of your panties so you turned and let him see exactly how much he affected you as you bent over.

The weight of his gaze threatened to break you before he even laid on a hand on you. You heard his foot steps circling you as you straightened up, trembling with anticipation. Wondering where he would touch you first.

His arm snaked around your waist before pulling you closer, his mouth sucking hot kisses up your neck.

"B-Bucky," You moaned brokenly in his arms, clinging to him like you'd always wanted to.

"You have no idea what your little book did to my brain baby. Can't stop thinking about all the ways I can ruin you, especially now that I know how much you'll like it." Bucky started walking you to the bed, never letting you out of his arms as he bite and licked and marked your throat.

Then you were airborn with a squeak bouncing on Steve's bed as a tiny box bounced with you. It was wrapped with a bow and had your name on it. "Is this?"

"Open it." Bucky started to tug off his clothes, and you were torn between finally getting to see his cock and the present in your hands. But curiousity got the best of you and you opened it, the mistletoe with a tiny bell attached jingling as you lifted it out of the box.

"You hold onto that. Drop it or shake it if you need me to stop, or something happens that you don't like." Understanding dawned on you, even as it made you clench your thighs together. "Unless you drop it, I'm not stopping. Even if you beg for a break, or make me work for it. I'll fuck what's mine."

"Bucky.." Your voice was barely above a whisper, taking in everything he'd said as finally, he unbuckled the belt of his jeans.

You closed your fist around the mistletoe tightly.

"Knew you'd like that, perv."

a/n: This is getting way too long so I'm going to save the smut for pt 2. please comment and reblog!

[temis-de-leon]

Gn!MC with tactile hypersensitivity

Characters: Mammon, Asmodeus, Belphegor and Barbatos (x reader, separately; could be read as romantic or platonic)

Main Masterlist

Anon request: Hello! May I request maybe a Gn!reader who has oversensitivity to like textures with the demon brothers? Or the side dateables? Like certain fabrics with mess with them more and work the reader up? If they touch like rough textures they tend to scratch at the skin as it feels irritated. I don’t really know how to explain it as I suck with words but I have the problem a lot.

.

Mammon

Another reason for him to believe humans are weird and over-sensitive.

Not only you can’t stand too high or low temperatures, but also certain Devildom foods, books and critters; and now a 35% wool jumper?

He swears babysitting a child is easier than taking care of you and acts really mean about it, but everyone can tell it’s just his way of hiding how worried he is about you.

The first thing he notices is the fidgeting, although that would’ve been obvious even to a blind man. You squirm in your classroom seat, still unused to your brand-new uniform, and mindlessly scratch the skin under the collar and the seams until it’s red.

Mammon can only watch in a stupor as you kneel in front of the bathtub when you return home to soak the clothes in fabric softener.

But the jumper.

You jump at the contact, like it electrifies you, and then stare at it with undisguised discomfort, never touching It ever again.

That 60% polyester and 5% elastane are enough for him to swallow his pride and ignore his embarrassment, letting his affection for you show as time goes by.

The bond between you grows faster than anyone could’ve ever anticipated, so it’s not strange for you to find some of his belongings in your room. A spare charger, a toothbrush, his sunglasses case, a nail polish bottle… Small things.

However, not long passes until those small things evolve into something permanent with deeper intentions, like an unopened bottle of Devilish No. 5 or one of his beloved leather jackets.

It also doesn’t feel that weird anymore, now that you know him better, whenever he insists on you wearing the clothes he leaves there.

Not like you’re going to complain. Everything he has is of good quality, soft under your touch, and durable.

But don’t go babbling out that he’s doing this for you! He was just cleaning his wardrobe, that’s all!

Asmo

Going shopping with you feels like getting a gift wrapped in glitter and laced ribbons; he can’t get enough of it. And lately, it’s been even better than that because now you are the one asking him to go together.

He has nothing against your style, even if he would still modify it a little bit to perfectly match his, but he enjoys grabbing your arm and taking you to different stores, choosing a wild variety of items for you to try and, if you’re up to it, get out of your comfort zone.

That’s how he discovers your problem.

No matter what he chooses, you always consider it way longer than anyone else would ever do, including him; reading the tags to check the fabric’s materials and sometimes even not touching the item at all.

You tell him it’s because of the texture and how it feels to the touch, unpleasant and irritating, and while he doesn’t understand the sensation in its entirety, Asmo gets how certain types of clothes can cause aversion.

One of the most important things for him is feeling comfortable in what you are and what you’re wearing and no one in all the realms deserves that more than you, so he is already helping before being asked to.

As superficial as he seems sometimes, he is also extremely generous to the people he loves, and he happens to love you a gigantic ton.

Just tell him what type of fabric triggers you so he can avoid those while shopping; it’s like they don’t exist in the same world as you anymore.

Belphie

One moment he’s peacefully sleeping in the attic, his whole body sprawled over yours and an old blanket covering both, and the next he’s waking up alone and cold. The blanket is useless without you.

He thought you were mad at him, cue him trailing behind you with a confused and offended stare for the next few hours.

Why did you leave without telling him? Why did you leave at all, to begin with?

Oh, you’re not mad? Then come back!

You need to expressively tell him what the problem is or else he will drag you to bed again and pass out on top of or next to you.

Thankfully, his clothes are not the issue and he can still wear them comfortably while cuddling you at the same time. The blanket, however, is another story.

It’s been used for longer than you’ve probably been alive and the wool is pilled beyond recognition. Actually, it’s not until he decides to retire the blanket for your sake that he realizes the colour is also washed down to the point of looking like another thing completely.

Knowing that his previous blanket was so awful it made you scratch your own skin leaves an incredibly sour taste in his mouth.

In his defence, you could’ve said something sooner, but oh well.

Good riddance; it served good until it didn’t.

From then on you have complete freedom to use whatever feels more comfortable for you so you can keep sleeping together uninterrupted.

Besides his, yours and the attic’s bed, he has slept on the floor, the cabinets, tables, rugs and whatnot, so he isn’t really picky about what you’re choosing.

His priority is that you’re comfortable and satiated because as long as you’re there, he doesn’t need anything else.

Barbatos

Lo and behold, another festival has reached the Devildom.

How does anyone have the time to live their private life while dealing with school, (possibly) a job and the occasional event, you wonder?

Good question!

Anyway.

It’s not you who goes to Barbatos asking for help to design your costume; instead, he is the one sending you a message for permission to take your measurements. And who would reject such an offer from the royal butler?

Barely a couple of days later, you find yourself on top of a small platform in one of the guest rooms in the Demon Lord’s Castle while Barbatos kneels at your feet and holds a sewing tape in his hands.

He’s talking about the design, its colours and the length and you’re only thinking about fabrics, but would that be too much work for him? Of course, he lives to serve and he has made that abundantly clear on numerous occasions, but perhaps being too demanding was crossing a limit.

You couldn’t be more wrong.

He understands your struggle and acts very normal about it. Besides, he also wants you to be happy and comfortable and if he’s the one actively making that a reality, then it’ll be that much better.

Additionally, searching for more suitable fabrics means that you will both spend more time together, which Barbatos deeply appreciates.

In the end, not only will you look perfect in a costume he has made specifically for you, but he will also get to know more about who you are and what makes you you.

As insignificant as it may look, every single detail is very important to him.

.

.

Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[randomsloredrops]

Random's Lore Drops - Canon Fall but in past tense Sans

Y'know, It'd be funny if I made a post about an Undertale AU character that I originally believed in the fanon version (mainly just the being edgy version). So, uh...

(Art by THE Underfella themselves)

This is the Canon Underfell design, by Fella.

(Before we get started, here's canonfell brother relationship so i can cut away some of the lore that's already explained right here.)

I'll be going from the oldest post I can find from Fella, to the newest lore post I can find. Numero uno consists of...

Canon Fell Sans' sneakers. More specifically, why the hell does he wear them instead of slippers? Just design choice? Or maybe it's because he's not allowed to? Nah. According to Fella themselves, "he likes the squeaky sound it makes because everyone hates it". So basically, he likes to squeak the shoes on the floor like he's on a basketball court.

Second post, why the hell does mf sweat so damn much? Well, first reason, he starts to sweat when he's angry. Second reason, because of the Sick Ass Jacket™️ that he got from making Grillby laugh. I mean, have you seen how thick it is? I'd be sweating too.

Random post I had to find, how did Sans get his jacket? Well, it's obvious of course, I said it before. He made Grillby laugh (unintentionally), and when you make Grillby laugh in Underfell, he gives you a smaller version of his coat. Now Sans is kitted with Sick Ass Jacket™️ and was forced to dress better, wearing said Sick Ass Jacket™️, a turtleneck, a gold chain (that's usually under said turtleneck), basketball shorts, and squeaky squeaky.

Third (lore relevant) post, the brothers dynamic. They DON'T hate eachother. On the fucking contrary. They both care for eachother, and don't really express it all too well. Brother relationship post HERE.

Fourth post, he's got 5 rings. 5 sick ass (not trademarked) rings, and the reason he can wear them is because he uses his magic so they don't fall off. From Fella themselves, the reason he has them on is because "the guy wants to flex so hard he’s constantly using his powers to keep them there. He doesn’t even think about it, he has so much power to spare he might as well “live” a little." So yeah, he uses his magic to keep wearing his rings cause he can.

Fifth post? Sans canonically CAN ball (so can Frisk, but Frisk is scarier)

Sixth, he's capable of opening his mouth. But it's usually when he's in battle, otherwise it won't ever open, because he's never under enough stress to have enough power for such.

Seventh, mf's eye is always glowing, no matter what. Mainly because he's had so much stress and emotional trauma, his magic is piled up, so his magic sorta does some wacky shit, like make his coat look cool.

Eighth, an almighty lore post by Fella, explaining how Sans awoke his powers and also how Papyrus got scar. Long story short, Gaster went missing, Sans was to take the blame, his punishment was Asgore crushing his skull, Paps retaliated, got hired and had his skull scratched through for a scar, and Sans got pissed off and woke his magic.

Ninth (nineth? idfk) semi-unrelated one is that Sans is the ONLY character not directly affiliated with Asgore who wears red and gold.

The rest I find from a canonfell wiki. Such as, he likes mustard and relish more than ketchup, and prefers knock-knock jokes to puns. Supposedly one of his more favorite drinks is a green martini, either appletini or honey dew martini, with larger quantities being a margarita

oh shit there's an official ask about sans hates women underfell (or technically a nod to it), which then displays that "i sans underfell love woimen", by the very words of sans underfell himself. REAL!

Oh yeah, he canonically sells chimichangas instead of hotdogs. His provider is not the store, but instead Papyrus. And according to this wiki, he gave Papyrus a hang-in-there cat poster as a joke, and Papyrus hung it up on the wall.

anyways thats all the lore i will feed you and that the wiki has fed me. goodbye.