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Requiem, Existence, and The Truth: Cliffhanger, Conclusion, and Cutoff

Season 7, Season 8, and Season 9 are each a fascinating little window into the falling away of (a portion of) the show's original fans.

What intrigued me most, in my meandering deep-dive, was the intent behind each finale: what was planned, and what came to be because of internal and external forces-- all in service of the second movie 1013 Productions was working its fingers to the bone for, in vain.

THE FAILED REQUIEM-TO-MOVIE PIPELINE

During Season 7's filming, no one knew if The X-Files would have another go.

David Duchovny was locked in a legal battle with FOX over financial rights; and the resulting fallout stalled communication from the studio to the show writers and producers. Tension was fraught between Duchovny and show creator Chris Carter, as-- according to some reports-- the former was not convinced the latter's hands were entirely clean. (By the end of the season, these suspicions were laid to rest between the two, with mentions of their mending relationship bolstered by co-creator Frank Spotnitz's full support of the lawsuit and staunch insistence that his and Carter's hands were clean.)

November 25, 1999:

He also says Fox has approached him about another season of “The X-Files,” but Carter says some “hurdles . . . I’ll quote them,” have to be cleared up. Probably the largest hurdle–in addition to Herzog getting a clue about the show–is his and Duchovny’s contracts are up at the end of this season.

(Carter adds he is enjoying a healthy working relationship with Duchovny, the tired-of-the-show actor who is suing Fox for selling repeats of the show to its FX cable network rather than putting the show on the block to the highest bidder.)

Also a consideration is Anderson, whose contract runs for another season. She, too, is “tired” of working on the show, Carter says, and has said this will be her last season as well.

October 2000:

If keeping some things within the production family was Carter’s automatic response to the tragedy, it was no surprise that he’d respond to questions about Duchovny’s litigious revolt with similar caution: “I’m not going to talk about the lawsuit, because I’ve been asked not to. But along with the creative aspect of the job, there’s a business aspect of the job. This was about business, and the business is often-competing interests.”

Was it easy, though, to set aside those interests when Carter had to face his recalcitrant star on the soundstage? “We have not had words, if that’s what you mean.”

November 3, 2000:

Spotnitz also wants fans to know that the behind-the-scenes talent are still firmly entrenched in delivering a show that won’t disappoint in Duchovny’s absence.

“I think the fans should know we love the show as much as they do,” notes Spotnitz. “We love the character of Agent Mulder as much as they do. This wasn’t our choice to do the show this way. This is something between David and the studio. The only thing Ten Thirteen had to say about it is that ‘we will not go forward unless you make David Duchovny happen. Give him what he wants.’ Our audience hopefully understands we’re telling the best stories we know how and keeping the X-FILES as good as we know how. We’re on the same side as they are.”

March 06, 2001:

Charlie: Now, why is David not here?

Chris: You know, I think he decided —

Charlie: Busy with other things?

Chris: Yeah. To pursue other things. He’s a smart person, he’s a talented person. I don’t blame him for wanting to get on with his life. A TV series is very, very hard work and when you have a two-character show like this it tends to — it becomes your life, and I think that he wants a change of pace.

Charlie: Was it disappointing for you?

Chris: It was different. When he first —

Charlie: Were you hurt?

Chris: Uh … it’s funny, when a television show goes on for this many years and you’re close to the actors, you become a kind of family. And every family has its problems and its — and it becomes — the dysfunctional aspects come out and that’s not to say that they did, but what happens with a television show, the dysfunction is really — the business and the personal cross over and I think that’s what happened, certainly last year, is that those things got very confused.

May 17, 2002:

Carter admits that the series hit a rough patch around the time of Duchovny’s departure. “There was the business problems with David during the seventh year of the show,” he says. “It didn’t help the creative energy.” He’s referring to Duchovny’s lawsuit against Fox, accusing the network of devaluing the series’ worth by giving rerun rights to its own cable and local stations, and as a result lowering Duchovny’s share of profits.

At the same time, co-star Gillian Anderson announced in an interview that “The X-Files” would not return for an eighth season. Oops.

There was also nervous anxiety amongst the crew: without confirmation for another season, they and the writers were tied (and in Gillian Anderson's case, contracted) to a project that might never come to fruition.

Marc Shapiro's The Official Guide to "The X-Files": all things:

The rumor had begun toward the end of Season 6. Season 7 would be the last season for “The X-Files.” Or would it?

“We always anticipated that, most likely, we were going into the final season,” recalls producer Paul Rabwin. “We knew David's contract was up and we felt that, maybe, the show had run its course.” And so Season 7 started out in a decided state of flux. Many crew members felt they had to protect themselves and their families by investigating potential jobs for the year following the current season, while others insisted that they would wait for a final answer. Needless to say, Chris Carter was on the horns of a dilemma, one that he was agonizing over.

“I just remember that I felt bad because I had no clear and firm answers to give everyone about whether we were coming back,” he admits. “It was all about David. I kept saying that I would not do it without David. Fox was asking me to commit to doing another season with or without him.”

But Paul Rabwin remembers that things began to change as Season 7 got under way. “As the season progressed, we found ourselves starting to get energized again. Word started getting around that maybe this would bot be the end. The network certainly wanted us back and Gillian was still under contract for another year. As we got toward the end of the season, everyone was kind of hopeful.”

November 4, 2000

Kevin or Bean: ...First of all, how close were we to not having a season 8 of the X-Files? Was it ever a serious consideration?

Chris Carter: Oh. Yeah. I didn’t think it was going to happen, actually.

Kevin or Bean: Really? You were convinced it was gone?

Chris Carter: I thought we were going down. I thought it would be the last episode but uh, we found a way to do it and actually, there are really good things this year on the show.

Amidst this madness, Frank Spotnitz and Carter knew the future of the show rested on a hook; and, thus, planned Scully's pregnancy reveal and Mulder's abduction as early as The Sixth Extinction (planting clues alluding to the former in Amor Fati, posts here and here.) Their hope was that Requiem would simultaneously be a tantalizing close to the show and an opener to the movie features they, the other writers, and the leads advocated for since Fight the Future's success.

November 6, 2000:

Elizabeth Grieve, Alamogordo, USA Chris, what prompted you to finish the last season with Mulder’s abduction? Was this based on David Duchovny’s schedule?

Chris Carter: We didn’t know if David Duchovny would come back for Season 8 or would be leaving the show. We didn’t know if “The X-Files” would come back, for that matter. The episode needed to be satisfying in any event and also set up a movie. I believe that it worked in almost every way and for any eventuality, but here we are!

January 4, 2001:

The decision to embark on the pregnancy arc stemmed from the desire to surprise audiences, as well as the need to resurrect long-buried plot points from early in the show’s history. Having a child, notes Spotnitz, “is something that people do after a number of years. And this is the eighth season [on the X-Files] for Agent Scully. It felt right. We saw how it made sense, and how there was beautiful symmetry to it.”

Artistic symmetry is the ideal, but Spotnitz also realizes that it would be all too easy for the resolution of this arc to fall into a sandtrap of clichés. Accordingly, the production is proceeding “very carefully,” he says with a nervous laugh. “As you approach an event like this that everyone knows is coming, you explore all of the possibilities of what this might be before you settle on the one true path of what it is. I think it is important to do that, because it’s doing justice to the magnitude of what this means to Scully, and what it means to the series. There are an awful lot of possibilities as to what this baby is. We know the answer,” he adds playfully, “but we don’t intend on letting anyone else know until the end.”

It wasn't until after the finale filming wrapped-- and after Duchovny's legal case concluded (i.e. he was given increased pay but contractually obligated to appear for another eleven episodes)-- that FOX granted the show another season.

January 4, 2001:

Given Duchovny’s self-imposed absence for more than half the season, coming up with season 8’s story arc, and somehow working Mulder into the equation, has been nothing short of a creative and logistical nightmare for the show’s producers. “People at home have no idea of the incredibly complicated jigsaw puzzle that we’ve had here, in terms of the storytelling and actor availabilities,” Spotnitz reveals. “You’re left with a situation where you’ve got to untangle this [already-established story] web, and make use of an actor that you have according to some very bizarre legal formula for a certain number of days here and there. We really had to work around the business realities, and try and make our show feel as organic as possible within those arrangements.”

Concurrent with reinventing the series, Spotnitz and series creator Chris Carter also had to figure out a way to carry on without diluting the significance of the sizzling dynamic between Mulder and Scully. “The importance of Mulder and Scully to The X-Files can’t be overstated. All of us are aware of how crucial the character of Mulder has been to this series, and how much he and Scully and their relationship have been central to everything that has made the show successful,” Spotnitz says. In removing Mulder from the equation, he adds, “you can’t take a bigger gamble in television.” ...

As for Scully’s tendency to be more impulsive this season, Spotnitz chalks that up less to Scully trying to be Mulder than to the fact that it’s Scully’s turn to take charge. “She’s in the lead now, she’s the head to the [X-Files] unit,” he says.

Keeping Scully true to who she is, while at the same time allowing her to assume Mulder’s role as believer, “has been very challenging to do in a believable way,” he continues. “We honestly have had to feel our way forward episode to episode, because it’s not natural for her. We had to inch her along, and have her be reluctant too. It’s been interesting for us [to write], and I think it’s been interesting for Gillian, because it’s something very different for her to play.”

March 06, 2001:

Charlie: At the end of last season, what did you — what were you expectation about what you would do this season?

Chris: I didn’t know we’d be back this season. It looked very iffy. David Duchovny, one of the stars, did not want to come back, and he was in a lawsuit. It looked like the series may end. Seven years, that’s a nice long run. And I was asked if we could do the series without him. I said, no, I don’t want to do the series without him. He relented, he agreed to do eleven episodes and I had to figure out a way to do eleven episodes —

Charlie: Was that because of you? I mean …

Chris: Uh, it was because of — I mean, I could have said no and the series may have ended, but once again, I call myself a majority stockholder in this show. Fox could have done anything they wanted to do. Luckily we all, you know, were on — of one mind, ultimately, and we’re in our eighth year and looking forward to possibly a ninth.

Gillian, meanwhile, was locked down to an additional year if she wanted the same pay as her costar.

November 2000:

The push came from Fo[x], which shoved the actress to where she felt she had no choice but to abide by the pressures imposed on her. "It's a complicated issue, because Chris and the writers wanted to produce the best show possible. Now there's a formula in making that work, particularly this season with losing David for most of the shows and bringing in a new character.

"So to suddenly have Scully absent also was a tall order," she continues. "Consequently, it was a necessity for me to continue." And that's where the real push came in her contract negotiations, which hinged on her belief that her pay versus Duchovny's was too unfair. "At the end of the fifth year, it became just ridiculous and unacceptable that there was the disparity," she says. "So we took steps to remedy that and we were successful. Then there was the issue whereby I was already signed on for the eighth season and David was not, which put him in a better position. "He was in a better leveraging position," she says candidly.

"Therefore, in order to get what he felt was fair, he agreed to do the eighth season. Conversely, I had to do what I felt was fair. Fox was asking for a ninth season and I said no. "And they said, 'well if you're not going to do a ninth season then we're not going to pay you what you want.' So in order to negotiate fairly, I had to agree to do the ninth year." ...

"There's no two ways about it. I was over a barrel, a very big barrel. And it was uncomfortable, you know, to be in that position. Here's a company that I had worked so hard for for so long and I put a lot of time and energy into doing the best work that I could.

"For them to come to me and say, 'Well, you know, forget about that. This is what we need right now and we don't care what your needs are. This is what we need in order for you to be compensated,' it was unfair," she says without hesitation. "We worked it out in the end but it was incredibly uncomfortable and unfortunate."

Soon after Requiem's wrap party, FOX gave the green light.

SEASON EIGHT: A HIT-AND-MISS CONCLUSION

The exhaustion that plagued the cast and crew and writers was burning away by the latter half of Season 7. When Within and Without dawned, their anticipatory anxiety lit a match that eventually reignited even Gillian Anderson's interest.

November 2000:

"I think everybody has really kind of pulled themselves up by their bootstraps and marched ourselves forward in a very positive light and in an energetic and enthusiastic way.

"So this season feels good, it feels fresh," she [Anderson] says. Robert's come in and he's glad to be here. He's done, like, 55 films and I can imagine that it's nice to have the security of the show for at least as long as it may run.

"So he's got a very enthusiastic energy and that enthusiasm and the opportunity of creating a new character for the writers I think has given the show new energy. And it gives the actors something new to work with, and that's also true for the writers.

"So there's a kind of a feeling of starting over in a sense." she suggests. "Ut's like a new beginning. Keeping in mind where we're come from, who we've come with and everything, it feels good."

And not without hope for new, juicy material: Gillian praised Requiem's pregnancy reveal, eager to tackle it alongside Scully's new role as lead of the files.

Marc Shapiro, The Official Guide to "The X-Files": all things (post here):

Carter arrived at the Big Bear Hospital shortly before the [final "Requiem"] scene was to be shot. He approached Kim Manners, Gillian Anderson, and Mitch Pileggi and calmly handed them the final paragraph. Carter remembers their reaction. “Gillian said she knew it. She thought it was a great idea and it just blew everyone else away.”

November 03, 2000:

The quality of the writing continues to remain high, Anderson also notes.

“It’s going really well,” she says. “I think they’ve written some amazing episodes. Everybody is really enthusiastic the way things are going. The new character of Doggett is interesting and Robert is great to work with. I think there won’t be as much lightness and back more to the old flavor of X-FILES. You’ll like them – they’re good.”

The resolution of Mulder's abduction and the baby arc, however, did not progress as she and the returning David Duchovny would wish. Both actors were reportedly disappointed that their characters' relationship becoming a secondhand consideration to Doggett's integration--

November 16, 2000:

Whether the stand-alone episodes work or not wasn’t an issue with Anderson. She had tired of the job and just didn’t want to be back (she was not only contracted for an eighth year, but she also is going to be around for a ninth if Fox wants one).

Now, she feels renewed.

“I felt that I was losing sight of what I had left to give,” she says. “Much to my chagrin, and also [because of] some conversation with Chris about the potential for the new season and the introduction of the new character, I started to get more interested and more excited about the potential of the new year.”

...Anderson says rediscovering Scully is the reason she has been able to shoulder the load.

“What I’ve found since Scully has had more to do, and Mulder has kind of temporarily fallen into the background, [is] it almost feels as if Scully has found her voice again,” she says. “It’s almost as if when there was two of us [Scully and Mulder], part of me kind of stepped down or stepped backwards in a way. And now that half of that equation is no longer here, it’s kind of allowed me to open up a bit more.”

January - February 2001:

Anderson: And there's also a difference now that Mulder is temporarily gone. She seems more well rounded somehow. With Mulder around, there was always a piece of Scully that was...

Interviewer: Suppressed?

Anderson: Yeah, in a way. When you're in a relationship with someone, no matter how much you fight to maintain a sense of self, when that relationship is over, there's always a piece that comes back to you. And I feel that's kind of what's happened.

The energy began to dwindle again halfway through the year, becoming more public with David Duchovny's return.

July 12, 2001:

Duchovny also lamented how the series had shifted away from Mulder and the Mulder-Scully dynamic after his full-time return for the final six episodes.

“When I came back, I felt somewhat peripheral,” Duchovny said. “Mulder’s story was one of three or four stories and it didn’t feel like the same show to me.”

Spotnitz responds to such complaints by saying 1013’s hands were tied creatively due to Duchovny’s contract, which called for him to be a part-time participant.

In Tom Kessenich's book EXaminations, he alleges that both actors were frustrated to greater degrees than the 1013 elite let on:

According to sources familiar with the show, Anderson wasn't thrilled with the amount of attention the writers were lavishing on Doggett. Insiders said she believed with Duchovny gone this would be her chance to step into the show's spotlight. Instead, the light shined on Doggett....

Sources also said Anderson was unhappy the paternity of Scully's unborn child was turned into a season-long tease after being told the paternity would be resolved by Christmas.

Duchovny felts some frustration as well once he returned full-time for the final six episodes. In interviews after the season, he lamented the lack of resolution to Mulder's abduction and that Mulder was rendered into being a "peripheral" character.

"(Duchovny) was not at all happy with the Mulder return storyline," said one source. "Not just the fact of his under utilization, which definitely came through in his interviews, but he was unhappy with the Mulder being resurrected storyline and the introduction of the SuperSoldiers."

Not only that, but David offered to write and direct an episode that would have built off the scenes of Mulder being tortured in the season's opening two episodes. Carter nixed the idea because it was not about Doggett.

Moreover, the paternity "secret" the writers maintained--

July 12, 2001:

Spotnitz said one thing fans of the series will not have to be concerned about is the paternity of Scully’s baby being revised in the ninth season. Much of the eighth season was spent examining how the baby came to be since it had been previously established that Scully was unable to conceive.

Numerous red herrings were trotted out, including the idea of alien tampering. But in the end, the naming of the baby after Mulder’s father and their tender kiss provided confirmation that the baby was Mulder’s and the product of a sexual relationship between he and Scully that had only been hinted at in the past.

“The final scene was meant to say that Mulder and Scully had consummated their relationship and this child was a result of that,” Spotnitz said.

--prevented Duchovny and Anderson from fully exploring Mulder and Scully's new relationship dynamic, the one aspect they were keenest to tap into.

Tom Kessnich, EXaminations:

Sources close to the show said Duchovny also did not care for the paternity tease since it prevented him and Anderson from establishing any proper dramatic foreshadowing. The two stars were also reportedly unhappy the relationship between Mulder and Scully was not explored more fully since Duchovny planned to leave the series at the end of the season.

Spotnitz and Carter meanwhile, unwaveringly claimed they weren't trying to sideline the characters--

“When I came back, I felt somewhat peripheral,” Duchovny said. “Mulder’s story was one of three or four stories and it didn’t feel like the same show to me.”

Spotnitz responds to such complaints by saying 1013’s hands were tied creatively due to Duchovny’s contract, which called for him to be a part-time participant.

--and, in fairness, it made sense to flesh out Doggett's characterization: the continuation of the series' format rested on his and Reyes's shoulders. But in doing so, they bungled their main leads' revelations, sliding their culmination into obscurity.

Despite Essence and Existence's astoundingly poor quality, Gillian and David didn't have a stinging remark for the two-parter (other than one comment by Anderson about the exhausting nature of repetition, post here: "Also, you know, there are times when you just get tired. Just tired of doing the same thing over and over again.") They were, over all, proud of its outcome; and treated it, along with the on-set crew (and off-set writers), as the definitive goodbye not only to the Mulder and Scully era but also to David Duchovny.

July 12, 2001:

That final scene would have been significantly different had Duchovny and director Kim Manners not intervened after both were unsatisfied with series creator Chris Carter’s original ending which featured a mundane kiss on the forehead.

“We all sat down with Kim Manners and Chris Carter and said, ‘We’ve been teasing and doing that bull for so long, let’s have a real kiss at this point,'” Duchovny said during his press junket to promote his latest film “Evolution.” “I said, ‘I’m pretty sure I’m not coming back at this point so let’s have a romantic kiss.'”

@tpativak's interview compilation:

Duchovny: "The second-to-last-day, when I shot my last scene with Gillian, was very emotional and very sad. I really hadn’t pondered the weight of eight years coming to a close until I was in the middle of the scene and realized that this would be the last time I was going to do Mulder and Scully on the show. It was sad and very heavy, but not depressing. It was an acknowledgement of a lot of time, effort and love. I think it was written that Scully gives Mulder a kiss on the forehead. Kim Manners was there [directing], and I was so confused at that point that I didn’t trust my feelings about it because I had so many personal feelings. It was eight years of my life. I didn’t know what would be an appropriate ending. I didn’t know. And when Kim and I read it as we were about to shoot it, he said, ‘We’ve done that 100 times, the whole hand holding and the kiss on the forehead. Let’s do a real kiss.’ I was like, 'Yeah, that feels right.’”

Anderson: "That last day was surreal. I think a part of my brain was trying to ignore the fact that it was approaching.... I blocked it out until the last moment where all of a sudden it hit me, that this person that I was standing in front of as I know him and have known him for such a long time, that this aspect of our relationship was coming to a close. We embraced and I just burst into tears. We held our embrace for a really long time and I think it was just flooding over us, the importance of this agreement that we’ve had to be in each other’s lives in a very powerful way.”

Manners: "We wrapped and David and Gillian stood in that room together alone and held each other for a good five minutes. They didn’t talk. They didn’t move. They just held each other, tears running down their faces."

With Season 8 coming to an end, Frank Spotnitz wasn't shy about addressing the year-long fan speculation, rumors, and intent for the next season; and did his best to reassure old fans that this season was the "official" ending.

January 2001:

Whatever happens-whether Mulder appears next season or not-something is coming to an end at the end of this season. There’s the Mulder abduction storyline, which gets resolved, and there’s also the Scully pregnancy story line that gets resolved. And I think a big chapter is going to close in those final two episodes. And the series will be different, whoever comes back for it-if there is another year. We’re still working out what that final story is, but there are a couple of elements that we know are going to be in there. And those two elements close the chapter.”

March 1, 2001:

“Plotting the ending this year was much less difficult than it was last year, because no matter what happens, whether this is the end of the series or whether the series goes on with some character and not others or there’s a movie franchise after this – this will be the end of eight years of the TV show and we’re writing it as such,” explains Spotnitz. “Something is definitely coming to an end. We have a clear idea what to do. Last year, writing it not knowing whether we were coming back or going to movies was a difficult thing and we had to write and shoot that episode still not knowing the answers to any of those questions.”

March 31, 2001:

Oliver, fan: Frank – you said in an interview that The X-Files’ mythology will be wrapped up by the end of the season. Can you confirm that? Where does that leave you creatively – and us as fans – in the event of a Season 9?

Frank: What was I thinking? Whatever I said, what I mean to say is that 8 years of the series will come to a close this May, regardless of whether there is an X-Files next season. I actually believe most of the important questions about the mythology have already been answered, believe it or not, and you will see some new ones asked in upcoming shows.

It was hoped, still, that The X-Files and Mulder and Scully would transition away from television to the big screen-- hopes that were, again, reiterated by the lead writers and actors. And hopes there were, yet again, disappointed.

In short, while Requiem was crafted to be a jumping off cliffhanger, Existence was created to be a final conclusion: the "original" run ended there for Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz; and everything thereafter would be-- in a sense-- divorced from the original.

Which leads us straight into Season 9.

CHRIS CARTER WAS DONE WITH TELEVISION

For the first time in the show's history, it was Frank Spotnitz who mainly crafted the new direction of the show.

July 12, 2001:

Planning for the ninth season began in June with Carter absent for the first time since he created the series in 1993. He has yet to reach a deal with Fox to return for the ninth season and there is speculation he will not return or serve only as a “consultant,” with Spotnitz assuming the lead role for the show’s creative decisions along with co-executive producers Vince Gilligan and John Shiban.

Carter declined to be interviewed for this story, but Spotnitz said it has been odd going to work without the show’s creative driving force around.

“Obviously, we hope he comes back because it’s his show, it’s his vision that we’ve all been serving for all these years and he’s an enormously talented writer and producer,” said Spotnitz, who has been in charge of the series with Carter gone. “If he doesn’t, it’s not like we don’t know where all the files are.” ...

For the first time in series history, the writers at 1013 do not have the luxury of relying on the strength of the Mulder-Scully relationship to push the show forward. They no longer have the luxury of knowing that when things are in doubt, Duchovny and Anderson’s amazing chemistry can lift the show to greatness.

October 2001:

Whereas last year, the subtext of the show focused on “the search for Mulder,” this year the major subplot will be “what’s up with Scully’s baby,” explains Shiban.

November 21, 2001:

The X-Files writer-producer Frank Spotnitz told us that he’s not sure if there will be a 10th season of the SF series, but he added that this year’s episodes are being crafted with an eye towards the possibility. “One of the first things this season, before we even knew if [series creator] Chris [Carter] was coming back, was figuring out how the show would work for season nine, and then how it could work for seasons 10 and 11 and beyond if the audience were there,” Spotnitz said in an interview. Spotnitz added, “We didn’t want to write ourselves into a corner, so we really planned for the future.

We took into consideration the fans and the actors who are putting so much into making the show a success. Robert [Patrick] and Annabeth [Gish] are really killing themselves, working incredibly long hours, being very disciplined and dedicated, and trying to make everything as good as it can be, because they have to prove themselves. We wanted to honor that and find a way for the show to go forward.”

A 10th year could prove problematic, however, even assuming the lackluster ratings for this year’s batch of shows perk up. Gillian Anderson is in the last year of her contract. Carter only signed a one-year deal for this season. And even Spotnitz has yet to ink a deal. “Will I come back?” he asked. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Will Chris come back? Given how long it took him to sign this year, I think there’s a very good chance he won’t. And the same questions apply to the rest of the people who’ve made the show what it is all these years. I would like to think the show, because it’s such a good idea, because of all the great people, could go on even if we didn’t come back, but there are other issues, too. [There are issues of] economics and political support, internally and at the studio. There are battles fought that people don’t know about, that they don’t need to know about, but that all factor into the final decision.”

While Carter often stalled in the past to wage warfare against FOX, there were other signs that he (and others) had grown weary of a grueling 70-80 hour workweek.

November 4, 2000:

Kevin or Bean: Does it get easier to write an episode of the X-Files?

Chris Carter: No, It’s actually.. I don’t know how, but it gets harder and harder.

Kevin or Bean: Does it?

Chris Carter: Yeah, because the stories are harder to come up with. But I still think the harder they are to come up with the better they are.

October 15, 2001:

Rebuilding the show around new central characters could give the long-running series a new lease on life, Spotnitz said. “Strictly creatively, we all feel like (the show) has new life and could go on indefinitely,” he said.

But Carter is not that certain about his future on the show.

“This has already been a decade of my life because it took a year to take (‘X-Files’) off the ground,” Carter said. “You have to think about how you want to spend your creative energy.”

Dr. Anne Simon, February 2016:

"I heard Chris say, many times, how he would 'Never do it again.' Because nine years of a show where they're putting so much craftsmanship into a show is extremely draining."

Still, Carter did join, claiming different reasons at sundry times--

May 16, 2002:

Interviewer: Did you find that as time went on you had trouble maintaining the quality of the show?

Carter: Looking at it from the outside it may look like that, but the truth is, I wasn’t contractually obligated to come back this year, but I came back because I was excited about telling stories with new characters, and I wanted to see if we could make that work. The audience did not come back to the show in the numbers we needed to see if it worked or not. I guess for everybody who didn’t come back, I’m sorry you missed what I think was a very good year of television.

May 19, 2002:

Interviewer: Were you ready to quit?

Carter: I was going to leave at the end of last year. I figured I had done everything I had set out to do when I had come around to a nice moment of completion with Mulder and Scully. Fox picked up the show, anyway – it was still their top-rated show. They convinced me – and I didn’t need much convincing, to be honest – that we could do a next generation of “The X-Files” with the addition of these new characters (played by Robert Patrick and Annabeth Gish). I believed it, and I still believe it. But for whatever reason, the ratings diminished this year, whether it was the prevailing attitude and mood in the country after 9/11 or that we premiered so late, and viewing habits had already changed. Less people came back this year, so my feeling was that people sensed something had been completed.

May 19, 2002:

But with Anderson contracted for another year, Carter stuck it out, despite seriously considering leaving the show at the end of last year, he says.

“I made a promise to the actors that I wouldn’t bail out on ’em and I didn’t, so I at least feel like I’ve honored something I feel very strongly about,” Carter says. “Now it’s time to find new ways to tell a good story.”

--that all boils down to an intense, creative drive held at gunpoint by a 22-episode grind and eight-to-nine years of convoluted mytharc.

However, the show had to go on. With little left to explore other than Doggett and Reyes's partnership, Spotnitz and (belatedly) Carter (and the writing team) focused the next season's mystery on William's existence (again)-- poking around in the "how"s and "why"s of Scully's pregnancy, with Mulder as the undisputed father.

July 12, 2001:

Despite the creators excusing away falling ratings on any factor other than the writing, it wasn't long before Chris Carter decided to face the music: he pulled the plug on his show (and proved, once and for all, that he did have power over whether The X-Files continued or not; and had, for years.)

January 18, 2002:

Executive producer Chris Carter told Fox programmers on Wednesday that he wants to end the show this season. ...

“All of the things that I come to work for every day are in place, minus David Duchovny,” Carter said. “And those things might not be here next year. So I decided to take these people to wrap this up in style. … It’s better to go out strong.” ...

“It’s been a very strange season,” Carter said. “We lost our audience on the first episode. It’s like the audience had gone away, and I didn’t know how to find them. I didn’t want to work to get them back because I believed what we are doing deserved to have them back.”

“The X-Files,” which spawned one feature film (there may be others, Carter said), has had times in the past when the end looked near. “I had ideas (on how to end), but because the show remained strong and popular — we never got to them.”

But this time it’s for real, so look for the truth to finally be revealed.

“I’ve got plenty of ideas,” Carter said. “In this business, you’ve got to swing for the fences. I’ve been doing that for nine years.”

January 22, 2002:

“My feeling was we were doing great work and it was less appreciated than it might be,” Carter says. “I wanted to refocus the energy, and show people what great work we’re doing by wrapping it up this season.”

Carter “had been thinking provisionally about ending the show for a couple of years” because of several “business” reasons, including [D]uchovny’s desire to leave, and Carter’s own contract expiring (he signed a new one for this season).

“This is actually a creative choice,” he adds. “I think it’s really he best one for the fans, as well as the people I work with.”

A month later, with the series' end coming to fruition, Carter and Spotnitz brought to bear the weakest storyline of the original show: William's adoption (February 22, 2002.) As could be predicted, no one liked it.

AN ADOPTION OF CONVENIENCE

The genesis of this plot twist is surprisingly-- or not-- convoluted.

According to Spotnitz, it was Carter and Duchovny's idea-- one he did not like, at first.

May 1, 2002:

Interviewer: Leading up to the finale, we had the episode “William,” a very pivotal episode for Scully – and one whose ending begs the question of why have Scully go through the pregnancy arc to begin with.

Spotnitz: Yep. I had a lot of reservations about that storyline and about her giving up the baby, and was not at all sure that it was the right thing to do. But in the end, I think it was the right thing to do, because it becomes unsavory. And I think everybody – David and Chris, especially – felt that this was going to be an obstacle to us in the movies. And I think the solution we came up with was kind of Solomonic in its wisdom in the end, which is, it’s true to Scully’s character and the pattern of behavior that she’s had for the past nine years: that she sacrifices her own happiness for a greater cause. It’s true to the tragic series of losses she’s endured over the course of the series, and I thought it was very moving in the end. It kind of helped us go forward with Mulder and Scully – and whether there are movies or not, it serviced them – and us, as storytellers – in a good way.

May 19, 2002:

“She [Scully] doesn’t get him [William] back in the finale,” acknowledges Spotnitz, who adds the decision to have her give up the baby was a difficult one. “But I think the decision to have Scully give up the baby was something that, in no small way, makes it easier to do another movie, and really sort of frees you in what that movie can be, in a way that you would not be free if the baby storyline had to be serviced. You’d just have to have another threat to the baby in the movie, and that dictates the entire story of the movie.”

Then again, he adds, “I can’t predict, because I don’t know how many movies there are going to be. I’m sure if there are enough movies, William will become important. Maybe William will be in the next movie. I don’t know, because Chris and I haven’t even started talking about what the next movie might be.”

Yet, Tom Kessenich claims that Duchovny sided with the resistance (Gillian Anderson and John Shiban) against Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz:

...It was announced that Duchovny would return for the series finale and also direct and co-write a pivotal mytharc episode, "William." That episode would feature the return of Jeffrey Spender from the dead (which was the genesis of Duchovny's idea for the episode) as well as one of the most controversial moments in the series history: Scully's decision to give her and Mulder's son up for adoption.

Sources close to the show said the decision wasn't wildly embraced within 1013 either.... According to producer John Shiban, the idea to give William up for adoption originated with Carter and Spotnitz.

Duchovny, Anderson and Shiban (all parents) reportedly were not thrilled with the idea. They grudgingly consented only after Carter revealed his plan to end the series with Mulder and Scully on the run, hardly in the best position to raise a child.

There is further proof that Kessenich's sources were telling the truth: a followup John Shiban interview corresponded exactly with Tom's version of events--

January 2, 2002:

Shiban gives away very little about the finale but does answer some questions about baby William, who we last saw being given up for adoption in the episode William. “We all discussed it and knew we wanted to bring some closure to that story as we were trying to do with everything on the series. There was some debate about what to do and what the best thing to do was. That idea (giving William up for adoption) was from Chris and Frank. It’s a safe place for the baby. I don’t think anybody wanted to continue playing jeopardy for the baby any longer. It started to become for all of us painful. The great thing about this solution is that it was a way to cure the baby in a very satisfying manner because it was a part of this revenge plot of Spender’s. It leaves Mulder and Scully with a huge emotional burden. You see in the finale that they do carry that with them. It’s not just ignored by any means. This is a family issue that must be dealt with. It’s a very, very emotional scene, a touching scene. I think you’ll be happy with the result.”

Kessenich also notes David Duchovny's original plan for William wasn't even invented for Season 9:

The episode was based on Duchovny's Season 8 idea about a mysterious, disfigured person with connections to Mulder who enters Scully's life.

And to top off these surmisings, David doesn't remember William in hindsight-- clip here- other than Chris Owens's return and funky prosthetics (which he orchestrated, according to Matt Hurwitz and Chris Knowles's The Complete X-Files.) It's doubtful that the same man behind the co-creation of the Mulder family, Mulder's emotional growth, and the weighty conclusions of Amor Fati, Closure, and Existence (let alone the one who harbored worries about Mulder's sudden absence in Season 9)--

October 2001:

If the series ended on that note, it would have been a fitting conclusion to one of the TV’s most challenging and interesting genre television shows. Yet, FOX wanted another season. They got their wish, but not without a price – sans Duchovny. Now, the show is going to have to find a suitable way of resolving that kiss without making Mulder’s absence seem like he’s a deadbeat sperm-donating dad.

“I care how they resolve Mulder kissing and running [away],” Duchovny admitted to Cinescape, while promoting his summer feature "Evolution."

--would cosign the permanent abandonment of his character's son's plotline with a carefree conscience.

What, then, is the truth? I think all of it-- though I'm most inclined to believe Kessenich-via-Shiban's events. The group were, as Spotnitz revealed, planning the plotline with a possible movie directly in mind; and if Carter advanced the adoption-- couching it as one in William's best interest-- it wouldn't matter if Frank or David relented first. Ultimately, the decision was in 1013's hands; and it was one they never dealt with properly.

THE UNNECESSARY END

The praise Gillian lauded Season 8's endeavor was well and truly gone by Season 9's close. And not hers alone: fans and Kim Manners, too, would recall the end as an inevitability.

May 1, 2002:

GA: “It’s an important time for all of us to kind of sit and take in the full aspect of what we’ve just participated in. It’s definitely had its time in history and its time for it to conclude and be put to rest.”

May 16, 2002:

She’ll take some time off after “The X-Files” ends its season, as she’s done for the past nine years. Then, as TV production starts up again toward the end of the summer, “my body will want to start seeing this other person again. It’s like an old friend.” ...

“It really is an example of a mixed blessing,” Anderson said as she walked down the alien-green (not red) carpet at the series wrap party a few weeks ago. “I’m really looking forward to the future, and I’m excited about getting out into the world again. On the other hand, I don’t think I really get for one second that it’s over.” ...

“It’s good to go out while we’re still smelling good,” says Kim Manners, a co-executive producer who also directed more than 50 of the show’s 200 episodes. “I’m very proud to have been a part of it.”

Of the many interviews wherein Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz (and many other speculators) tried to pinpoint the lack of public interest in Season 9-- mostly landing on the changed post-9/11 landscape-- Carter reveals he did, at least in part, seem to understand why most audiences drifted away.

May 19, 2002:

Carter also disagrees with critics who said the series had faded, especially after Duchovny left last year and despite the valiant efforts of cast additions Robert Patrick and Annabeth Gish (as agents John Doggett and Monica Reyes) to fill the void.

“I think the numbers make people say that,” said Carter, referring to its 85th-place ranking for the season to date and a weekly audience that’s dwindled to less than 9 million.

A viewership decline is inevitable for most aging series, and Carter admits to pondering the shift: “Your audience over that time changes, the whole demographic changes. People’s lives change. I don’t know what happened to that audience, but only a portion of them came back this year.

“My sense is they felt something had been completed.”

Season 9 concluded with The Truth, which the writers and actors (specifically Annabeth Gish and John Fitzgerald Byers) were originally satisfied with. Years later, Frank Spotnitz was able, in hindsight, to reflect on the whole-- the decline in ratings, the plotline fumbles, and the fans' dissatisfaction-- and come to a more honest answer:

November 20, 2015:

One of the lessons I’ve learned from “X-Files” and from [watching] “Lost” to some extent is that you can have your plot answers, and they can be great. But the audience is going to have their plot answers too, and if that’s all you’re giving them at the end, it’s not enough. This is about a character on a journey....

It's an interesting reflection: Spotnitz and Carter were neck-deep in the show so long that they began to lose perspective. And while Chris remained in that space, perpetually creating more and more for the franchise (to middling or degenerating success), Frank eventually separated and walked another path-- one that enabled him to reflect with perspective. (One that, perhaps, Chris Carter and his old crew of collaborators didn't have when crafting the Revival. But that's another post for another time.)

CONCLUSION

In retrospect, this deep-dive clarified a few points for me.

When I first watched Existence, I was struck with its conclusionary stamp: the mytharc barrel-rolled onward, but none of that mattered in Scully's bedroom with a child nestled between both former agents. The intent of that scene left a mark, one I did not feel in Requiem's, The Truth's, I Want to Believe's, or My Struggle II's and My Struggle IV's final moments. It was not a surprise-- more an affirmation-- then, that past and present interviews illuminated the closing of a chapter, one normally at odds with other finales' inconclusivity.

And, perhaps, that is why I treasure Season 8 compared to Season 7 or Season 9's possible endings: in Je Souhaite or Requiem or The Truth, The X-Files stretches on and on into perpetuity. Mulder and Scully, forever searching, forever restless. Maybe that ending isn't clean enough for my tastes. Existence gives Mulder and Scully what they've always wanted, on their own terms-- the Truth in their partnership, a life they saved, a second chance-- and the ability, too, to hunt down impossible realities if or when they choose. And by that logic: Season 8 still left a lot of unanswered or unexplored territory in its wake (e.g. Mulder's abduction trauma, the super soldiers, Scully's new path, the evolution of their relationship from partners to parents, etc.) that could theoretically be inferred forward, ala the aforementioned on and on into perpetuity.

Regardless, diving into the past was eye-opening. There are no perfect villains or victims; there are no Greek tragedies or unmended fences. The series ended as it began-- a passion project for the writers; a job that grew on the actors-- and would have remained, in a sense, unspoiled for audiences if future endeavors had panned out more successfully (or if future egos had been tempered, not inflated, by a fifteen-to-twenty years' difference.)

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

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sillystarr565 · 3 days ago

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what do you think little smilk’s age range is? he sounds really small from what you’ve said

I don’t think there’s like a specific age he regresses too personally,, esp after like one bajillion years of living an being immortal and all that it’s hard to narrow it down to som numbers (totally not projecting my own inability to know what range I go byy… not at all,,,) but!!! I made a little diagram thingy that hopefully shows my thoguhts (clic for better quality!!)

so sos so again I don’t feel like there’s like, just one specific range he reverts to, I’d imagine constantly getting older (with no end in sight it seems) he’ll be bound to slip into many various states n phases generally but there are three stages I thinks about real often (yap incoming,, under the cut to save some space :3)

I feel like he’d (on rare occasion) indulge himself in his old scriptures n notes an stuff during his time as the fount of knowledge, allowing himself to remember who he was and in a way embracing that initial truth he pushed himself away from in a more gentle way, reminiscing on more nicer memories and so on instead of playing the fool all the time..,, by doing that he’d kinda go in this half kinda regression? Like a mix between his playful jester-sona and Fount of Knowledge if that makes sense,, like getting excited again by his old works n kind of sparking that original passion he had for learning and sharing information n stuff, and wanting to ramble to his minions about it while keeping up that playfulness he’s grown to personify as a jester!

I mentioned this on the first little smc post I made ever in the tags that I dont know if he would know about his own regression or not, but his default or most common behaviour for me is like,, the low energy, unusually calm kind of one ya knoww? When he’s out of it he wouldn’t really be able to keep up that quirky silly energetic funny guy act I think!! He’s small and he can’t process that!! he’s just got a lot (or maybe nothing at all even) on his mind,, Like usually you’d just think at first glance someone who was like this was just tired or something n brush it off,, but it’s really odd when that person is shadow milk cookie?!!! anyway he’s lowww energy little guy,, he’d like to do his arts n crafts n stuff, though his artwork may be a bit sloppier than his usual standards,, but he’s small!! He don’t care he just want to draw fr! don’t really wanna talk lots,, short answers and huffs,,, and and I think he’d like reading too!! Reading is good he likes doing that n will read up on folklore n children’s literature especially.. fairytales…… rrhahahgg!!

And little!!! Little guy with the short hair on the right side umm,,m is kind a a self indulgent thing for myself I’ll be honest,, I jus really like drawin little very teeny tinys but!! I would like to imagine smc shapeshifting physically smaller when small after he realizing/understanding when this happens, and accepting that part of himself after a little while of denial and shame with Pv being there to help him along of course (don’t ever be ashamed! Of! Regresssing!!! Btw!! You’re healing and coping and that is wonderful!!!)

I think he’d start off doing it as like,, jus a way to get Pv’s attention lots more easily maybe if he’s in a more playful mood or something but Idk maybe he’d potentially just. Start doing it subconsciously if he does it enough times to get used to it

Anyway!!! That’s the end of my yap thank you for reading an if you didn’t that’s :p sorry if anything was confusing I have a bit of trouble explaining things

#Thank you for asking this I love yapping for giving me an oppritunity to yap #the yapppeerrrrr #uwuahh #If anything was confusing or somthing I’m sorry again :(#I’m happy to clarify (or do my best at least) if needed!!#ok okwi hehehe time to tag #shadow milk crk #pure vanilla crk #crk agere #cookie run agere

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xxxkiki · 3 days ago

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ʀᴜɴᴍᴇᴏᴠᴇʀ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

pairing youtuber!riki x influencer!fem reader

warnings profanity, mild nsfw (no smut)

genre smau,enemies to lovers, fluff, humor, mild angst

synopsis

you were once a trainee, gaining popularity through survival shows and building a small but loyal fanbase. over time, the idol dream was shattered, and you chose to leave it all behind. Instead, you started a yt channel — something small, something that was fun. It took off faster than expected. eventually, you collaborated with your childhood friends and turned it into a joint channel that gained positive attention. years of hard work managed to pay off and for once, you were doing something you truly enjoyed. but the internet lives off of competition. as your popularity grew, so did the competition. especially with another content group: ENHYPEN. You ignored the comments and remarks not interested im drama. that was until one of their members nearly ran over a child you were responsible for during volunteer hours.

it became personal.

status: ongoing

A/N i’ll upload as fast as i can, i don’t have a specific schedule

profiles I II

VLOG 001: ᴡᴛꜰ ɪꜱ ᴡʀɴɢ ᴡ ᴜ ?!

#kpop #kpop smau #enhypen #smau #funny #crack fic #fanfic #nishimura riki #riki x reader #xxxkiki #x influencer reader #heeseung #kim sunoo #park jongseong #jake sim #sunghoon #jungwon #x yn #enhypen imagines

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christian-ford · 2 hours ago

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“Out of thin air is right. Sometimes it’s like, where do I get ideas from? Myself? My life? It’s—” Christian broke off to laugh. “—It’s funny, because I used to have these insane ideas naturally, without having to try too hard, and now I feel like I’m not a novelist so much as a professional thinker. I guess that’s not that funny. The funnier part of that is that no one is expecting me to have ideas anymore—I’m writing a series, and I’m on the third book—so by doing something original, each chapter that I work on, it’s like I’m sticking it to some imaginary man that dictates that series should be uniform. I tell that imaginary man to mind his own business when I’m out of ideas. That’s not funny, either, so much as it is sad, but it’s how it is.” The man was not imaginary. The man was his editor. And sometimes the conversations actually happened.

The woman’s description of her professional life was fascinating. There were so many things that she did each day… MRIs, injections, biopsies—the array of tasks was incredible. Christian wondered how hard it had been at the beginning of her career…and if she felt the pride she probably merited for knowing how to do it now.

“How did you learn how to do all of that—the ins and outs of the different images, the right and wrong ways to do a biopsy, even what it was like to work with real patients? Medical school probably does some of that, on a really basic level. But what I mean is—how did you learn to just…trust yourself? Take a step forward, so to speak, when you needed to during your day—say, I know how to do this procedure? It seems like becoming a doctor happens somewhere along the way…and I’m really curious to know when it happened for you.”

Manduguk sounded delicious. Christian instantly resolved to Google it when he got inside the store, so he could add the necessary ingredients to his cart. “Oh, my God, that sounds amazing,” Christian told the woman gratefully. “Thank you so much. I love getting different recipes, different suggestions from people. I really appreciate that.”

Christian grinned when the woman described “pancake sandwiches”. “Yes! Pancake sandwiches sound like the food you’d think about for days after making them, wishing you could eat them again. I’ll have to throw some pancake mix into my cart next time.” At the woman’s question about Christian’s relationship with the grocery store, he just shook his head. “You know, I’ve been heading to the grocery store once a week, every week for the past six years. And I only just started going multiple times a week, because—you’re right—I really, really like it. But I know how it is to, like you say, stretch every ingredient before making a trip here. It can be tough, having a job that doesn’t accommodate errands.” (His mom’s new job as a florist. As one of only a few employees, she was working many hours.)

“And it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.” He’d learned that from Caroline the other week. “I feel like the mood you’re in at certain points of your day is a kind of privilege that we don’t talk about. I’m lucky to come to the grocery store really well-rested, because I’ve been sitting in my writing chair for the previous eight hours. But other people have been on their feet, or even doing physical labor. And they don’t get to enjoy their evening as much because they’re burnt out. Those are some of my best hours.” He paused, rueful. “I wish people got to experience more of life in those lost hours. Feel more themselves. I don’t know.”

At his mention that it was a creative job, but it was one that could come with difficulties, like if there was a creative block she gave a soft nod, "I could understand that, the ability to feel like you are constantly on demand — or I guess in some ways I do understand that, just in a very different form. But all brains need breaks, can't expect them to produce something, literally, out of thin air, at all times." The creative process involved so much when it came to writing a novel, something that she'd find far more stressful than the high demands of a hospital, but they all had their specialties.

"Kind of? Probably most people might associate x-rays but there's a lot of other things I read and do. I read MRI scans, CTs, I give IV injections of contrast, I'm there for anyone who hasn't had one before if they have an allergic reaction to CT contrast, I do biopsies through either ultrasound guided or MRI guided forms, among others, — interventional radiology, but besides that yes, I do interpret medical images." It didn't bother her that not everyone knew what radiologist did because it was a speciality for a reason, not everyone could do it. Some people even thought it was a boring and cheap way out as a doctor, but when she was doing biopsies and attempting to keep those patients relaxed and calm, she knew she did something special.

As the man explained his personal mission, "Don't think anyone is really going to judge you for having a cart full for fruit and veggies, but if you want to add a little twist and are looking to try different cultures soups, I would recommend Manduguk, it's a Korean dumpling soup. You can get veggie filled dumplings but there's pork or chicken filled dumplings you can use. Very delicious, very filling. Highly recommend." At his mention of one day buying a ton of meat, she laughed, "Oh but I love breakfast-for-dinner, I haven't done that in forever. I may have to dig out my waffle iron and make Belgian waffles and oh, oh, pancake sandwiches — you know, the ones where you use pancakes as the bread has a little syrup, sausage, egg, cheese. Ugh, you are expanding my shopping list." Maybe this was why she did need a shopping buddy, to give her more creative ideas then what she was typically buying.

"Sometimes." Furrowing her brows, "It depends on how many hours I've been on call, how tired I am, how far I've stretched every ingredient in my house before I have to come here." she said, "What about you, seems like you've got a pretty good relationship with the grocery store here if you're worried about them judging you over fruits and veggies."

#feat. krystal #mention of:#needles tw

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divineyetinpain · 1 year ago

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Happy Valentines day!!!

I’ve already posted this…but I’ve been extremely busy this month. A life update: I moved! At the beginning of this month I moved apartments into something bigger but cheaper so I haven’t done much besides move boxes and unpack and make sure my babies(my animals….my cat and two dogs!) have settled in right! It’s difficult getting completely settled and unpacked due to the fact I work in the week— I’m planning to change to only work weekends! I feel like it’d be better for me..

Anyway! I hope your month and Valentine’s Day is going well! Have a Clementine valentines card!

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anna-scribbles · 1 year ago

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h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

#in some ways it IS the move to go to grad school right out of undergrad #because your body can still sort of operate like a college kid #i’m on about 3ish hours of sleep rn and this morning it felt SO over but now i’ve eaten something and we’re so back #i also don’t really do caffeine. except sometimes i’ll go get one of those panera death lemonades #i might be able to snag a short nap before work #but anyway about seventeen year old emilie. i was thinking abt how she was in that movie solitude and adrien said she was seventeen #WAIT. NO. HE SAID SHE WAS SEVENTEEN IN THAT PHOTO ON HIS DESKTOP NOT IN THE MOVIE #well. okay whatever i’m gonna tell you what i was thinking about anyway #OKAY i’m back i just checked the wikipedia page and then i watched the end of gorizilla. to make sure i’m not lying. because i’m normal.#anyway i was thinking about the solitude film and how it’s super rare and old and obscure and whatever. and how apparently #emilie wrote it herself and andre produced it #and i’m thinking about how gabe was discovered by audrey and that’s how he got his start in the fashion industry #so now i’m like?? did gabe and emilie first meet on the set of solitude? because gabe was designing costumes or whatever?#and that’s how audrey found him? have people already thought about this??#also i just checked and it doesn’t say emilie’s last name in the credits and also it’s ‘graham films’ with the twin rings logo m #so i’m assuming she’s still emilie graham de vanily at that point #anyway it comes back to seventeen year old emilie because i started imagining seventeen year old runaway emilie having her new life in pari #after escaping her british nobility life #and the first thing she does is write and star in an original movie. of course.#and she meets this repressed bisexual punk upstart costume designer who is so the opposite of everyone she’s ever known #and he’s immediately so unhealthily obsessed with her. which she appreciates.#and then they proceed to have the most toxic doomed evil relationship of all time #also she gets cheated because once gabe gets money he represses himself SO hard that he is now exactly like all the people emilie grew up w #but at least he’s still obsessed with her #this is what i was thinking about during class today. i don’t know how i get anything done either.#ml #anna rambles #asks

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deus-ex-mona · 4 months ago

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ok yk what. now that i’ve had some time to process nghy canon, considering the current pacing of gen retcon, i think their next step is as ✨clear as day✨

i really like seeing them happy together, but i truly do think that they should divorce and either live the rest of their lives as single besties; partners in hero/heroine-isms, but better off as just friends, or go their separate ways for a bit and get back together when they’re a little older and wiser, staying together for good this time around, as each other’s first and last boyfriend/girlfriend

#‘haven’t you had quite enough of pushing your divorce agendas??? like with lxl????’ no. never.#idk i think part of their charm was nagisa’s patience and genuine earnest love for hiyori #and hiyori’s determination to achieve her goals of becoming a true heroine in every sense of the word…#but the current pacing is kinda… um. i really love how nghy is now truly canon ofc. but… it feels too rushed?#like they’re just checking off a box on a ‘relationships to go’ checklist?#and nagisa’s sudden second confession? in a throwaway line? what was that all about man… when did that even happen? excuse?#i think it’d have been more meaningful if hiyori was the one to confess without any prompting (to lead to their relationship)…#and. uh. don’t take this the wrong way but… noontea seemed a little peer pressure-y to me.#it kinda felt like juri and chizu were pressuring hiyori into getting a bf… it’s been eating away at me ever since i tried to tl it. but.#…idk. point is. i think a relationship built on those foundations (peer pressure/fomo and a suddenly persistent guy(???)) is doomed to fail #and so i think nghy should divorce. maybe they’ll reconnect romantically in a few years #(fulfilling nagisa’s agreement to be hiyori’s ‘last bf’ as well as having been her ‘first bf’ during their first try at a relationship)#or they could just be besties till the end of time; having been each other’s hero and heroine once upon a time #ik hw doesn’t do breakups of their main couples (not since nakimushi kareshi eons ago i think…)#but i think they should give it another go for nghy. maybe it’d make their love story a little more compelling #and maybe we could all unite under the cheers of hoping that ng and hy get back together in the future as more mature adults…?#idk i just. think the ‘right person; wrong time’ trope could work for nghy #like how it went in sukiuso/heroika with nagisa’s failed confession #even then they were the right person for each other; it just wasn’t the right time for them to date (personal goals/long distance/etc)#so maybe. this time ‘round even though they’ve started dating circumstances could still pop up here and there and maybe…?#…but idk~~~~~~~~ maybe it’s just the 5am thoughts or something that’s finally putting my incoherent trains of thoughts into words…#point is!!!!!! the current pacing is awkward!!!!!!!!! nghy deserve better!!!!!!! and their love story needs to be treated with more care!!!!#idk are hw trying to speedrun nghy for h10w bc nghy’s. like. a mix of different features of their previous couples #which would make ‘em the perfect couple to bring h10w together(???) or something???#but idk. im still really really happy the nghy is canon but. there are some mixed feelings here and there too…#idk dudes this has gotten way too long for its own good so ig i’ll stop here…#live laugh love nghy canon but… i still think they should break up for *at least* a year or so to reasses their relationship #sorry nghy… it’s for your own good i swear… i truly want you to be happy together!!!! i really do!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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ponyatowski · 1 month ago

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so ive been to london for the (kindof) very first time as a conscious human being and man it is like. i can’t articulate all the feelings ive been having but its making me REALLY emo because Wow heres a city that seemingly works!

#🦆#like ive traveled to a fair share of places #all of them europe so. its just. jesus #i get why my father as a sad kid living in a communist country would spend literally months on end there working shit jobs #ive been spoonfed the english language basically since i was a toddler and putting it to use was fun #and how is the architecture not fuckign. cube and graffiti type Penis #im not kidding ive learned more on this 4 day trip abt art than #during 4 years in highschool #WHATEVER im so MAD because the reason it’s allowed to prosper is 99% colonialism and it makes me want to rip my skin off because HOW is this #city so. everything. ive never been to nyc but is this how it feels? like the world is so small and so large at the same time #they can just do everything there. make all kinds of shit possible. create functional public transport #especially re: warsaw its soooo fucking funny but also not like its made me feel even worse for her #or maybe like. even more frustrated #because wow we are like so ass #eye twitching. how can you just fucking not utilize the river that YOU ARE PROGRAMMED TO LIVE IN PROXIMITY OF #and its so fucking ugly guyssssss i know we can jerk off to soviet blocks all we want but its a copeeeee its such a fucking cope #like come on how is it possible for random ass town from the prussian partition number 73638468 to STILL be prettier than the fucking #CAPITAL.#how after all these years this city is still a corpse that people just pile the most vomit inducing urban architecture #upon #we cant have anythingggggggg if you want to ser pre war architecture in warsaw you can maybe admire a beautiful modernist cube with shrapnel #holes the size of your fists #everything else that has been reduced to gravel in ww2 is currently making up a very nice park in a different part of town #and whats even the point of building something else if were just gonna get bombed again but this time crazy TWIST its the russians and #another reset for wwa #i’ll probably delete this in the morning srry just had to indulge in a bit of doomerism on a friday evening

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rescuehumans-runtotherescue · 2 years ago

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Nobody:

Me: what if child washed up on the island somehow and was amnesic and tests were done and the burns find out this person is related to them and woodrow is called to the island to do tests too and it’s found out he’s the father and had no clue he had a kid and child gains memories and their mother is awful and Charlie and Woodrow get legal rights to child and now Kade Dani Graham and Cody have a cousin to get to know

#BURNS COUSIN BURNS COUSIN BURNS COUSIN #I imagine this cousin to be a girl roughly around Cody’s age give a year older or younger #just; Woodrow is known as the ‘takes risk’ brother between him and Charlie #you know he had to get into all sorts of dating mischief when he was younger #he gets a girl pregnant by accident but he doesn’t know and she doesn’t tell him #she starts to raise the child and tells her that her father walked out on her #the mom realizes too late she doesn’t love being a mom but keeps child around to use her #I don’t know what incident would happen to get this child amnesiac and on the island but something happens #the child having good times with her ‘friends’ the burns who she’s staying with until she gets her memories back #and exploring the wackiness and tech of the island until Woodrow finally gets to the island like 3 weeks after she had showed up there #AND FINDING OUT THE BURNS ARENT HER FRIENDS BUT HER FAMILY #AND NOW SHE SUDDENLY HAS A DAD?? /HAPPY TEARS #AND WOODROW IS ALL well Charlie’s the family guy I don’t know if I can measure up but I’ll try to take responsibility; wow I have a kid!#AND THE KID IS ALL you don’t have to apologize for not being family oriented I have a dad now and your trying and that’s all that matters #SHE ASKS IF SHE CAN CALL HIM DAD AND HE JUST MELTS #She was going to travel the world with Woodrow but Charlie had a cow about her education and didn’t want her doing only online schooling #so they work it out that she stays with Charlie during the school year and goes traveling with Woodrow during the summer #and Woodrow also visits the island more for holidays for his kid #AUGHSNSAUAHABDVBADHHHH #WOODROW FLUFF #BURNS COUSIN #GIVE IT TO ME #Woodrow burns #Charlie burns #Cody burns #Graham burns #Kade burns #Dani burns #cousin burns #tfrb

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rpf-bat · 2 years ago

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*sigh* I’m trying to remind myself to be happy for others instead of comparing myself to them.

#ONCE AGAIN I only got through the 1st two weeks of Whumptober before giving up #as a reader I’ve enjoyed reading other people’s work during the challenge #but as a writer I’m like. fuck. why I can’t I do that?#I try every year. and every year I fail.#I didn’t even finish my October YOTP fic #it’ll go up late tonight if I’m lucky #and then I have to figure out what I’m doing for November. fuck.#why do I even bother with prompt based challenges?#I guess because I love prompts. I used to get requests in my inbox all the time when I was in the MCR fandom #but ever since I started writing for BC #I’ll reblog a prompt list and get zero responses #maybe people just aren’t interested in my writing #I reblog other people’s work and try to comment on it but other people don’t reciprocate that #even when I manage to carral the brain weasels and post something #maybe that’s why I lost momentum #I’m sorry for the rant. 😭 I’m not mad at yall. I’m mad at me.

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zippityzap · 2 years ago

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I have written one (1) fic in my life and I’d love to write more, but alas while my art moods are few and far between, my writing moods are even rarer

#I have one idea I’ve been wanting to do for A While now #just a small one centred on an au sort of idea I had where silver and blaze first meet as kids then don’t see each other for years #but like… even small fics take effort to make #idk maybe I’ll work on it during my commute or something #zippy speaks

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kurooh · 1 month ago

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☆ US AFTER POUNDTOWN ! — JJK

⊹₊˚. what aftercare looks like with gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, intimacy, cleanup, fluff, no graphic smut, pillowtalk, showering, brief discussions of pregnancy and kids. i needed to write this okay

GOJO SATORU.

silky pink ribbons slide off of satoru’s wrists, curling into themselves once they hit the bedsheets. he can’t help but watch you, more wide-eyed and teary than he should be, as you take each wrist between your fingers and rub gently. his skin is flushed where he’d been securely tied to the headboard, and it doesn’t hurt in the least, especially when compared to fights he’s been at the center of.

you hum, thumb kindly sweeping over his pulse point. “you okay, ‘toru? i know that went on a little longer than usual.”

you watch as he blinks, diamond eyes glassy with traces of euphoria. he’s still coming down, he realizes, when your words bounce around his brain after you speak them, echoing endlessly in the space.

“i’m okay, sweetheart,” satoru replies, feeling something in his chest begin to melt when you settle beside him on the bed. the air still smells faintly of sex, though the scent rides away on the breeze filtering in through an open window. it is almost completely dark in the bedroom, to make the strain on his eyes a little easier after a long day—he closes them, automatically wrapping a strong arm around you.

“there’s a new restaurant a few blocks down,” you begin, fingers reverently stroking over the curve of his side, “many of the reviews mention the dessert and sweet treats. it’s supposed to be good.”

fully nude, satoru curls against you, taking note of how easily you fit in beside him. like you were always meant to be here, something whispers in the back of his head. “heh, sounds like you’ve already vetted ‘em. i’ll take a day off next week and we can go.”

“you’re always so busy,” you tease, pulling him closer as though he might just slip away when you fall asleep. as you breathe, satoru feels the swell and sink of your back beneath his palm, and he considers maybe not going to work tomorrow. as if he could take days off on a whim—he might be the strongest in the jujutsu world, but he can’t even make his own choices. then, more quietly, you murmur, “i hope you aren’t overworking yourself too much, satoru.”

when he replies “‘m not,” reflexively, your body momentarily goes rigid, as if he wasn’t meant to hear you. before you can look up and refute him, satoru tugs you closer, making sure to sit his chin atop your shoulder. “really, angel, i’m okay. i can totally handle it.”

he totally can’t, even if he won’t admit it to himself. but satoru doesn’t want you to worry, get caught up with his issues during your day to day—this is simply what comes with the weight of ‘the strongest’ as his title. you huff like you don’t entirely believe him, although you don’t pull away.

“if i don’t pry any further, do you promise to sleep more than three hours tonight? and in this bed, not at work.”

you’re not even asking that much of him. if satoru can wipe out hundreds of curses in less than five minutes, he can definitely try to sleep until sunrise. at home. when there’s work to do. right?

he bites his lip, protesting weakly, “i don’t need to sleep, though, baby. i’ve also gotta get in early to deal with the first years.”

the coolness of sheets in an empty bed flashes through your head, and you decide to push, though there’s a tinge of selfishness behind it all. “please? you still need to rest and let your technique cool down.”

it’s not that difficult to convince satoru to stay after all, especially when he’s feeding off your body heat and you his. the bed does feel more comfortable than his office chair, and just as he comes to this realization, a headache has the nerve to come on, only persuading him further. slowly, like he’s submerging himself in a pool, his body begins to succumb to the comfort of the queen bed, the softness of your skin, the sweet smell of your body wash.

“fineeee. but only because you asked so nicely, angel.”

GETO SUGURU.

“i’ll get the water started for you, honey.”

so he does, turning on the faucet and letting the water heat up as it rushes through the pipes, then out of the shower head in a warm spray. from your seat on the toilet, you can’t help but feel a lovesick, fuzzy warmth building in your chest.

muscle ripples in suguru’s back as he carefully takes down his hair, undoing the band to allow the dark tresses to fall past his shoulders. his hair is impeccably taken care of—he lavishes it in only the best shampoos and conditioners every few days, his side of the shower almost overtaking your own. it’s made up of hair products and a few scented bars of soap, the way a shower should look. (not barren and home to a single bottle of two in one, two dove bars, and a dull razor, like satoru’s.)

when the glass door slides shut and suguru steps into the spray, you hear him exhale with relief. the toilet flushes and you stand, joining him in the shower.

“i’ll wash your hair,” you say, as if it’s second nature. though it seems simple on the surface, he’s allowing you to touch one of the most intimate parts of him—his scalp has only known his own hands, and yours, on the occasion that you help him wash it. “shampoo, please.”

suguru laughs, angling the shower head down so you don’t get too wet. shampoo is squirted into your extended, expectant palm and the ritual begins.

“are we taking more showers after sex specifically so i can wash your hair, suguru?”

there has been an increase in the amount of showers after sex. he’ll make a mess of you on the couch, drink some water afterward, and carry you to the bathroom like a princess to her chariot. you can’t quite place your finger on when, but you’d started washing his hair at some point during your baths.

“the curses really have been . . taking a toll on my arms,” he says cheekily, settling on that excuse just to hear you laugh, “perhaps i’ve been having difficulty reaching back and dealing with my hair.”

suguru’s got quite the mane, which anyone could surmise just from looking at him. but as wet hair slides through your fingers, you can see why he likes your help so much. you’re gentle with him, making sure to never yank on anything as you make your way through his hair. even the light sensation of your nails raking along his scalp relaxes him deeply, and all the tension in his shoulders bleeds out and washes down the drain, along with the suds.

“yeah, okay. if i mess up one of my arms, you’re outta luck.”

“we could take epsom baths together, so then you’d have no excuse.”

it’s endearing, the way he’s able to come up with a solution so quickly. you laugh again, light and airy in the thick steam, and suguru decides he never wants to leave this place.

“wash my back while the shampoo sits, sugu?” you ask, switching places with him to get your back thoroughly doused with water. white suds slip down his temples and he pushes back his hair from where it’s piled on top of his head, looking like a child’s sloppy sand castle on the beach.

“want me to pick the body wash this time?”

“that’s a trick question,” you say, eyes sparkling when you look at him, “you’re just going to choose peppermint vanilla like always.”

suguru already has the bottle in his grasp and is squeezing the wash out into his palm, but he still manages to look affronted. “no, i wouldn’t.”

you turn around, stepping out of the spray to playfully wiggle your ass at him. “i can barely smell it anymore, that’s how much you’ve worn it out.”

“it’s your smell,” he shrugs, shoulders rolling with the motion, “it’s your signature soap scent. you can always cover it up with perfume tomorrow anyway, it’s not that strong.”

“is that why you’re always sniffing me at night?”

you can hear him breathing you in when you’re cuddling at night? embarrassing! still, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “it’s comforting, so sue me.”

you sigh in relief when his hands coast over your skin, palms firmly pressing the soap into your back to both wash you and make the scent stick. a comfortable quiet settles between you, and he continues to lave your back with the wash, fingertips tracing the dents and lines of muscle.

it’s domestic, and entirely him.

he pauses, sputtering and gracelessly coughing on the water. “i’m sorry.”

you turn, helping him rinse the bubbles away from his face. “what’s wrong, sugu?”

“not to ruin the moment, but, well, i got soap in both my eyes.”

NANAMI KENTO.

“i can’t believe you made me breakfast, ken.”

kento returns to the bedroom with one of those lap trays made for eating at the couch, carrying a plate of fluffy waffles garnished with a colorful array of sweet berries. there’s even a full cup of syrup on the side to pour to your heart’s content.

he’s pulled on his boxers, the ones that are tight around his ass, and an apron with kiss the cook in calligraphic script embroidered across the front of it. a smile plays on his lips, the kind he wears when he’s biting back an ear-to-ear grin, and he takes a seat beside you. your excitement is something he thinks he’ll never get tired of. with a creak, the bed dips under the newly added weight, and you carefully slot the tray over your lap.

“how’d you know i was craving something sweet?”

“sweetheart, i know you,” kento shakes his head, laughing around the words. “go ahead and try them, i added something new.”

red blooms around the bite marks littered across his collarbone and around his chest, only becoming visible with his occasional shifts beside you. kento watches you eat with a distinct softness in his eyes, his heart swelling in his chest as your face lights up with every bite.

light and sweet as can be, the waffles burst with flavor, although a small tweak has been made to the recipe. maybe kento’s added finely chopped coconut or a few extra spoonfuls of sugar?

“you’re staring,” you point out, cheeks growing warm. his gaze is obviously lovesick, and strong enough to make you feel the littlest bit shy—a hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck, and he looks away with a short chuckle. “we can share, ken.”

“that’s okay, honey. i had some while i was making them earlier. so, how do they taste? have you figured out the extra ingredient yet?”

“i’ve got no idea,” you reply after a large bite, setting the fork back on the tray before gently nudging it away. kento’s forearms flex as he lifts it, placing it on the bedside table for later.

he unties the apron and scoops you into his arms, pulling your giggling form close to his chest. “i decided to add more buttermilk.”

a warm kiss is pressed to the space beneath your ear. through your back, you can feel his heartbeat syncing up with your own—relaxed and content in the presence of one another.

“thank you for this morning,” kento whispers, adding, “was i too rough with you, angel?”

“perfect, ken. you almost put me back to sleep, though.”

you share a laugh with him, curling up in his warmth. kento’s fingers trace mindless, ticklish doodles into your side as he begins to slip further into a state of drowsiness. “i don’t like to make excuses, but i find it difficult to hold myself back with you.”

the admission isn’t inherently sexual, not in the way it’s said so delicately. kento is right, he does have difficulty holding back, but only because he’s so known. you’re essentially on the same wavelength, finishing his sentences for him before even he’s able to conjure up the word he’s looking for; you understand him wholly, in the kind of way that transcends the surface and physicality of it all. unspoken feelings make no difference—kento’s open like a book for only your eyes to pore over.

even now, in this embrace, it’s nearly impossible to tell where one body begins and the other ends.

“all mine?”

“all yours, ken. pinkie promise.”

“pinkie promise?” he sighs without exasperation, letting you loop your pinkie with his own. if this wasn’t something he was doing with you, kento would be the first to ask something like isn’t this a bit childish? but this isn’t like making an agreement with gojo; this is a promise he wholeheartedly intends to fulfill. after all, what would he be if he wasn’t yours?

“pinkie promise.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“on your stomach.”

you turn back to throw him an incredulous look, eyebrows drawing together in surprise. “more? toji, i thought you—”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes and motioning toward the couch cushions. “yes, ya heard me. on your stomach, doll. don’t make me ask again.”

“don’t make me ask again,” you mimic him, flopping forward onto your belly as requested. it’s odd that toji’s even vying for more when he’s the one who tapped out first, panting so hard he could barely form a sentence of explanation beyond a few muttered words.

instead of positioning himself at your ass, toji remains sitting beside you, though he turns to press his hands into your upper back. faint as can be, the scent of lavender curls in the air as the worship begins—toji’s suddenly a professional at effleurage, palms circling upward near your shoulder blades.

slow and firm, his hands seem to iron out any aches that may have taken root there. lotion spans almost the entirety of your upper back, serving as both moisturizer and lubrication for the easy glide of skin against skin.

“really, toji?” you ask, lips curling up in amusement, “you wanted to give me a back massage?”

you completely expect him to retort something sassy and annoying, maybe even call you a damn brat or start torture tickling you. instead, toji’s voice rumbles low and meaningful from his chest. “had ya laid out on your back for a while, and on the couch, no less. jus’ wanted to make sure you’d be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

toji’s answer does something that it never has before. it shuts you up, and at the same time, makes heat rush to your cheeks. embarrassment and a particular fondness, of all things, stir in your chest at his thoughtfulness. you haven’t messed around on the couch in many months, and yet he still remembers the small, almost unnoticeable hunch of your back after getting up last time.

he laughs at you, feeling proud to have finally ‘won’ all the bantering.

“didn’t expect that, huh?” toji pauses, fingertips lightly dragging down the planes of your back. before he even speaks, you can already hear the smirk in his voice. “anyway, i wish ya could see how pretty you look right now.”

“you can’t even see my face, toji.”

a huff escapes him, and he makes sure to dig his fingers in, just so he can hear you squeal in both laughter and pain. “just can’t take a compliment, huh? you’re such a brat, swear to god.”

“your brat,” you remind him cheerfully, feeling his hands slide to the middle of your back. “as much as i’m enjoying this, i wouldn’t mind taking care of you, baby.”

he snorts. you’re calling him baby like he isn’t 6’3 and nearly 200 pounds of muscle—but there’s something endearing about the idea of being taken care of too. toji actually . . . wouldn’t mind it.

“oh yeah? and what do ya plan to do to me?”

you hum thoughtfully, turning your head around to fix him with a playful look. “i’d turn on one of the movies i’ve been telling you we need to watch and then scratch your back so you wouldn’t get up in the middle of it.”

“this better not be about—”

before he can begin trashing on your favorite movie, the one he hasn’t watched yet, you bulldoze right over him. “as the movie starts, i’d be whispering sweet nothings into your ear.”

“wouldn’t that just make me bend ya over? kinda defeats the purpose of aftercare, doll.”

“the key word is sweet, toji,” even with your clarification, he still looks a little lost, making the same confused face he does when shiu cracks a sly joke at his expense in front of you. “sit down and i’ll show you what i’m talking about.”

the comforting pressure on your back lets up, and for a split second, you almost wish you hadn’t suggested to demonstrate. toji sits down, remote looking dwarfed in his closed palm, and smirks expectantly, like there’s something funny to say. “i was just thinking. what if all the aftercare turns me into a spoiled brat?”

you scoff as he turns on the tv, settling on your knees behind him. “we can’t both be spoiled brats, toji.”

KAMO CHOSO.

“did i hurt you?” is the first thing to come out out of choso’s mouth when you finally return to yourself, a few crystalline tears starting to dry on your cheeks. you hadn’t quite noticed them during the pandemonium, too wrapped up in the overwhelming sensations of sex to focus on something so unimportant. but now, there’s a warm stinging that you trace to your neck—where he’d been biting and sucking the most in the moments before orgasm.

“‘s okay, cho. i’m okay, just tired now,” you laugh breathlessly, watching the worry drain out of his face, “i’ve gotta get up and wipe off, or i’ll end up getting pregnant.”

choso’s eyes are shining. “our kids would be so pretty, all ‘cause of you.”

you sit up on your elbows, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. this is the same look you give him every time he mentions it, and not wanting to nag you too much, he remembers himself. “okay, i know. have to wait more than five years first, i got it,” with the mildest degree of resignation making its way through his huffed words, choso slips off of the bed and pads toward the bathroom.

shortly after, he returns with a damp washcloth and settles on his knees between your thighs. even in the low light, his movements are perpetually delicate and skillful, a direct result of his understanding of your body, built through touch. with the way he’s comfortably wiping cum off your inner thighs, it’s hard to believe that choso had once been so awkward he’d stalked off mid-sex to let out a few tears of embarrassment.

“it’s not too hot, is it?” he checks in, more worried than he should be. it isn’t difficult to imagine him as a father, gasping as your child toddles around recklessly, jumping off of the couch and into his awaiting arms. he’s the type to always come to the rescue, no matter what.

“no, it’s just right,” you murmur, feeling the sweep of the lukewarm washcloth at the top of your thigh. “no need to be so concerned, choso. i trust you, baby.”

pink blooms in the apples of his cheeks at your words, just as it always does whenever you pay him an innocent compliment. he takes comfort in your relaxed sigh, folding the washcloth into itself and setting it on the bedside table before sliding himself up to lay his head on your chest. “you need to stop indulging me so much,” he groans when your fingers slip into his hair, combing gently though the dark strands, “keep up the ‘put a baby in me’ and i might actually do it.”

choso feels his entire face burn once he repeats a line that’s supposed to be yours, a shudder rippling through his body when a memory from earlier flashes behind his eyes.

“i know, cho,” you hum, nails lightly raking against his scalp in your odyssey through his hair. it’s painfully intimate, and impossibly soothing for him—he could say just about anything to you, even confess something deep and dark without the usual constraints of your daily routine. this is just you and him, simple and naked.

then you giggle, “but i also know how crazy it makes you.”

it does make him more wild than it should, the idea of getting you pregnant and then the concept of raising the baby itself. choso pauses meaningfully before he answers you, letting his eyes close. “maybe something’s fundamentally wrong with me.”

a gooey hybrid of affection and sadness races through your veins upon hearing his words. it’s hard to say something—even anything at all—when you know just a little about his struggle being half-human, half-curse. choso is constantly feeling guilty about taking the easier path in life as a human, wondering if someone like him could possibly deserve something greater than himself to love and care for.

it’s quiet now, save for the steady hum of the fan and sweep of your fingers through his hair, loose and languid. “sorry,” choso exhales softly, tilting his face to the side, “i didn’t mean to become so negative.”

“there isn’t a thing wrong with you, choso. i know you’re wanting a family of your own, and i don’t disagree with that in the slightest. i see a future with you, but there’s no shame in taking it slow, is there? we aren’t even engaged yet, baby.”

“engaged?” he echoes quizzically, voice low.

“it’s when two people agree to get married in the future after a proposal with a ring,” it’s hard not to smile at the thought of the two people being you and him, even though choso’s baring his soul to you right now, raw and all himself. he hugs you tighter, arms straining as if he’s trying to prevent you from slipping away. “don’t worry, cho. we both still have a lot to learn.”

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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months ago

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BE MY GUEST

No outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: working as a hotel housekeeper, you meet a handsome guest under quite unexpected circumstances. An awkward conversation leads to a friendly relationship that grows into something none of you expects.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, lots of fluff, a bit of angst, age gap (the size is up to you, Joel is in his late 30s-early 40s, reader is younger), Sarah is alive (7 y.o), pining, strangers to friends to lovers, soft Joel, insecure reader, accidental flashing, praise kink, f!oral, unprotected piv, creampie, m/f masturbation, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, aftercare, phone/video sex, pet names, swearing. Joel can lift reader. Reader wears a uniform dress.

Word count: 12k

A/n: I’m finally posting this story and I’m sooo excited. It took me a lot of time, I love these two very much and I hope you all will like them, too. It’s written for @yxtkiwiyxt ‘s Never Have I Ever Challenge. My prompt was ’never have i ever booked a hotel room just to go have sex‘. Thank you for the fun event, Kiwi!💞 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and supporting me through the journey aka writing this fic lol ILY❤️ Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

“Housekeeping!” you announced yourself loudly when you came up to room 605. Following the protocol, you’d knocked three times before that, waited for two minutes and the silence was your invitation to enter. You rolled your housekeeping cart closer to the door and opened it with your master key.

When you walked through a short hall and into the living area, you expected to find anything. Having worked as a hotel housekeeper for only a year, you’d already seen your fair share of messy beds, spilled drinks, broken furniture, completely trashed rooms, so nothing could surprise you.

Nothing except for a man lying naked in bed with his cock out. Even a glance was enough to realize that he was busy stroking himself, a mobile phone in hand.

Everything happened lightning fast— you gasped, hands clasped over your mouth — the man cursed and hastily covered himself with a sheet — you squeaked a timid ’sorry’ and ran out of the room.

A string of curses was leaving your mouth as you were hurrying away from room 605, pushing the heavy cart in front of you.

***

Minutes later you were in the staff locker room, panting, sweaty palms pressed to your chest, your heart racing.

‘Why?’ You were asking yourself, ’why didn’t he hear you announce yourself and knock?’‘ First, you thought that he wanted you to see him— during your time working in the hotel you’d met a few creeps, but that man seemed genuinely shocked, when you appeared in his room, and embarrassed when your eyes landed on his exposed member.

He must have been wearing headphones. Probably. Hopefully. For some reason you didn’t want him to be a perv. He was too handsome, too hot. And his cock was… ahhh it was amazing— long and thick, fat tip angry red and glistening in the bright light of the sun. He must have been close to coming.

Your eyes were still widened, hands shaking, but your lips curved into a little smile, thinking about him, a heat rising in your belly. You started bringing any detail you could to mind - his dark disheveled hair - he’d probably just woken up, his naked chest, broad and strong, a happy trail on his tummy, the big hand, wrapped around his —

”Hey, babe!”

You jumped, scared to death, your heart, that was slowing down after the incident, was pounding again.

“Hi, Max,” you breathed out, greeting your colleague and friend who’d just entered the room. She was your age, funny, kind and extremely nosy.

You turned to the lockers, away from her, embarrassed by the tingling between your legs, but also worried that she’d notice your flustered face.

”What’s wrong?”

Fuck!

“Nothing,” you lied, trying to calm down. Silence filled the room. When you glanced back at Max, she was staring at you, her eyes narrowed. Obviously, she wasn’t buying it.

“Ok. I’ll tell you,” you sighed, reluctant to talk about it at first, but Max was always reliable and loyal so you thought ‘why the hell not’ and started talking, “Something happened.”

“Yeah?” She immediately lit up, anticipating something juicy.

“I was working on the 6th floor and I entered this room and — shit— I saw a man, you know, naked and —“

Max opened her mouth exaggeratingly wide and was waiting for you to go on.

“That man — he was ehm— watching something on his phone and —you know?”

You were trying to find the right words, but Max was not the one to beat around the bush.

“Jacking off?!”

“Shhh, Max!” you hissed, raising your hands, begging her to speak quieter with your pleading eyes. “What if Ms Hewitt hears?!”

“Ms Hewitt hears what?”

You wanted to drop dead at that moment. Your heart plummeted into your stomach when the housekeeping supervisor, a tall blond middle aged woman, appeared behind you.

“Ehm, nothing,” you replied with a fake smile.

Ms Hewitt looked you up and down as she always did, checking if everything was perfect in her staff’s attire, then her eyes focused on your face. Her piercing gaze was enough for you to crumble, especially when she said,

“Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.”

You had never been a good liar so you took a deep breath and decided to come clean. You were sure that you’d done nothing wrong but anxiety was still churning your stomach.

You cleared your throat and started talking a mile a minute as if it would make it sound less bad.

“I was on the 6th, was about to clean the 605, and I knocked three times, waited for two minutes. No one answered so I opened the door. I announced myself! I did everything by the book, I swear, but somehow the guest didn’t hear me and he was naked in bed and… and…”

Max’s high pitched ‘jacking off’ almost flew out of your mouth but you shut it just in time.

Miss Hewitt's poker face didn’t reveal anything for a few long seconds until she pushed,

”And?”

You shifted on your feet nervously, cleared your throat and exhaled,

“He was pleasuring himself.”

Max burst into giggles, you flinched and quickly made big eyes at her. She clamped her palm over her mouth and shook her head, apologising with her eyes.

Ms Hewitt was less entertained by your story. She kept looking at you with the same expression and you felt like time had stopped.

“Ms Harmon, don’t you have the 3rd floor today?“ the woman asked Max sternly.

Your friend mumbled a disappointed ‘yes, ma’am’ and dragged herself out of the room.

When you two were left alone, Ms Hewitt’s face softened, and she asked you with her voice lowered. “Was he inappropriate with you, honey?”

“Oh, no-no-no! No!” you hurried to assure her, “he was embarrassed— said sorry. I apologised too and ran out. It was just an accident. Maybe he was wearing headphones or something,” you added fumbling with your fingers. “I’m sure he didn’t want it to happen.”

The supervisor was slowly nodding, listening to you.

For a few moments she was standing there in thought until she spoke.

“I suppose you should talk to him and apologise.”

Your jaw hit the floor.

“What? Talk to him? Why? I did nothing wrong!”

“Yes, probably, but if he feels like you did, he might go to the manager and tell him that you committed an invasion of privacy. And what does Mr Stewart always say? ‘A guest is always right.’ You’d be fired in a second.”

You shook your head.

“I don’t think he’ll complain.”

“Why?” Ms Hewitt’s brows shot up. “Has seeing his penis given you an understanding of his whole personality? We don’t know that person. I don’t want you to lose your job over an accident. If you want I’ll go with you.”

Now you were completely terrified.

“Oh no, no, it’ll be even more awkward.”

“Ok, but tell me how it goes,” the woman said on her way to the door, then stopped and added. “Do it today.”

When she left, you plopped on the bench and stared at your palms. How could you talk to him? After what you’d seen. After what you’d felt. You hoped that he was the man you thought him to be and prayed he wouldn’t make it hard for you. Hard, you murmured and hid your smiling face behind your hands.

You knocked on Joel Miller’s hotel door a few hours later, making sure that the sound was loud enough. Your throat dried up and you cursed under your breath, praying that you wouldn’t have to talk for too long.

To prepare for the conversation l, you had asked for the guest’s name at the reception and learnt that he had booked the room for a week.

Mr Miller opened the door fully clothed this time. He was wearing a white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants. You noticed that he swallowed loudly when he saw you and his expression showed

that he definitely recognised you.

“Mr Miller, can we talk? It’ll take a few minutes.”

“Oh, of course, come in.” He gave you a little smile and stepped aside, letting you enter. You walked into the room and he followed you.

He stopped a few steps away, giving you enough personal space, and you were grateful— it was easier to talk that way.

You dropped your eyes to the floor at his bare feet and said the speech you’d rehearsed a hundred times by now.

”I’d like to apologise for what happened earlier. I assure you, it won’t happen again. I’ll knock harder and announce myself louder next time.”

“Oh no, no, it was my fault,” he said hurriedly and you looked up at the man. He was rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks blushed. It seemed that he was embarrassed just like you and it made you feel better.

“I had an earbud in my right ear,” Mr Miller began explaining. “Noise cancelling.. damnit,” he mumbled under his breath. ”And my left ear is really bad…a work accident. That’s why I didn’t hear you.”

You were glad that your theory turned out to be right and sighed with relief.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It must’ve been horrible to see…damn, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s ok.”

That ‘sweetheart’ made you tingle all over and you smiled to yourself, thinking that it wasn’t a horrible sight at all.

“It was an accident. I’m glad that you’re not angry at me, sir.”

“Angry? Of course, not. I’m embarrassed and very sorry for what you had to see and — wait, please.”

Mr Miller walked to the nightstand and bent over to grab something. Your eyes immediately slid from his broad muscular back, straining his tee, to his ass, looking absolutely sinful in those sweatpants. His body made you feel hot all over again. You quickly snapped your eyes back to his face when he turned to you.

"Oh no, Mr Miller, you don't have to—.”

You shook your head, having noticed a wallet in his hands.

"I insist.”

He walked up to you and pulled a few bills out. He stopped in front of you, leaned closer, took your hand and placed the cash into your palm.

"I'm really sorry."

You felt the warmth of his skin against yours, his smile was warm and timid, and it was a fleeting moment, but the time seemed to feeeze for you. You drowned in his honey eyes, his gruff voice reached the deepest parts of you and a scorching fire licked at your core. Your chest swelled with a feeling so overwhelming and strong that it almost knocked you off your feet.

Trying to hide the tornado inside you, you lowered your eyes and glanced at his hand, so big in comparison to yours. Suddenly, an image of Mr Miller's palm wrapped around his cock flashed in your mind. Your breath hitched, you pulled your hand away, squeaked "Thank you, sir” and rushed to the door on shaky legs.

“No, thank you for your work. And call me Joel. Please. If it’s ok with you,” he added, following you.

”Yes, of course, Mr M—- Joel.”

He smiled widely, when you called him that, and trying not to scream at how handsome he was, you opened the door.

“Oh,” you stopped and turned to him again. “I’ll ask them not to assign me to this floor anymore. So you don’t feel uncomfortable.”

“Hey, no, please.” Joel raised his hands and shook his head. “I don’t mind seeing you again. I— I’d love to, actually. And I promise to be clothed next time we meet.”

You laughed with him gleefully and said ‘goodbye’. Walking through the hallway with a giddy smile on your face, you thought that you’d love to see him again, too. Clothed or not.

You told Ms Hewitt about your conversation with Mr Miller and she seemed satisfied with the way you handled the situation.

All day you couldn’t stop thinking about Joel — he had been so charming, so apologetic and kind to you, that the awkwardness of the morning incident faded out of your heart, and all that remained was a bright, exciting feeling of meeting someone wonderful, someone you wished to get to know better.

Yet not only your heart and mind were occupied by your accidental acquaintance. You felt tingling between your legs every time you remembered Joel’s body, a scorching fire igniting your core.

***

When you came home in the evening and went to take a shower to wash the tiring day off, you found yourself fantasising about the guest in room 605. In your mind the rivulets of water turned into Joel’s strong arms, snaking around your body. You closed your eyes and imagined him standing behind you, naked and gorgeous, just like you’d seen him in the morning. The vision was bright and vivid behind your eyelids, and a needy moan escaped your parted lips.

You could finally quench your thirst. Your hand slid from your neck to your chest, down to your belly and when it reached your mound, you gently massaged your wet folds, envisioning that it was Joel touching you, his fingers were tracing your seam and then pushing inside. In your mind his pads began rubbing your hardened clit, he was the one twitching and pulling your pebbled nipples, and your needy whimpers and moans reverberated in the small bathroom. Joel praised you for your lustful serenade, whispering into your ear,

“Yes, sweetheart, need you to be loud for me. Show me how much you’re enjoying it.”

You were imagining his hard cock push and slide between your thighs, slippery and hot, hotter than the water running down your body.

“Ahhh, Joel,” you whined, as an upcoming climax was licking at your body. Edged by your memories of Joel during the day, it was craving a release. You heard Joel’s gruff ‘sweetheart’ in your ears and came hard, shaking on your trembling legs, holding onto the cold tile wall, trying not to collapse.

Before going to bed you thought of the handsome guest again, wishing to see him in your dreams, to talk to him, to touch him, but your mind didn’t give you that chance, and you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Without any effort on your part, you began seeing Joel often. When you two ran into each other in the hallway, he always gave you a warm smile and your heart skipped a beat every time you heard his ‘Mornin’, sweetheart.”

You were good at your job, but when you worked in Joel’s room, you tried to do everything perfectly. You wanted to make his stay as pleasant as possible and dreamed that he would think fondly of you. Every day you left him more shampoo and conditioner bottles than one man could need in a week and put a little flower on top of his fresh towels.

He seemingly felt your care because every day he would leave you a tip. It was nice but you never needed any money from him - the fact that he thought about you was enough.

You had never snooped around guests’ belongings, it was going against your principles, as well as a big no-no in any hotel, but whenever Joel left anything in the open - on the nightstand or on the desk, you meticulously studied ‘the thing’, not touching it but simply looking, eager to get any information about the man.

Once on his desk you saw a flyer that said ‘Small Business Contracting Expo’. He must be a contractor, you thought. You sighed dreamily, standing in the middle of his room with a turned on vacuum in hand. You found his job incredibly sexy.

But not all the discoveries were pleasant. One day you noticed something that upset you. It was a photo, lying on the nightstand - a Polaroid of him with a 6 or 7 year old girl. She was very pretty and had a beautiful smile. His smile.

‘He has a daughter. He’s married,’ you thought and your heart dropped. Of course. How could such a handsome and sweet man be single? That moment you shared… He was just friendly and your head was full of stupid fantasies.

All the rules and regulations forgotten, you plopped on his bed and tears flowed down your cheeks as you were staring at the photo of the happy family man.

The next day you were in the hallway, rummaging your cart for the right cleaning detergent, when you saw Joel exiting his room. He was wearing a leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. At first, your eyes feasted on the sight of his strong back, straining the shiny leather, and you bit your lip, admiring his broad frame, but then you remembered the photo you’d seen on his nightstand - happy Joel with his little daughter. You hastily averted your eyes from the guest — you’d never be a homewrecker.

Not that you had any plans to win his heart but in your mind Joel had been single and it was fine to daydream about him, yet after seeing the Polaroid, your dreams had been crushed by reality like a glass butterfly by a hammer.

Avoiding Joel, you quickly crouched behind your cart, hoping he wouldn’t see you and his warm ‘sweetheart‘ wouldn’t cut your heart like a blade.

You were cleaning off a non-existent spot on your shoe when you heard a soft ’Hey there’ over your head.

“Are you hiding from me?” Joel chuckled as you sprung up on your feet, your heart racing in your chest.

“No,” you lied with a nervous giggle. “I was just looking for —ehm.” You shoved your hand into the cart and retreated the first thing you touched— a roll of toilet paper. “This. For the room.”

“Yeah, ok.” Joel was standing in front of you with his hands shoved in his jeans pocket, and his lopsided smile and a twinkle in his eye told you that he wasn’t buying it.

Then he raised his hands a little, palms towards you.

“I hope I don’t weird you out. You know? Because of… the way we met.”

Your breath hitched when he said that but you tried to keep your cool.

“No. I was really just looking for the paper.”

“Ok,” he mumbled, rubbing his scruffy beard. ”I’m heading out and I need help.”

“Yeah?” You were lost in beautiful eyes for a second and then your gaze slid down to his thick neck, his strong arms, covered by the leather. You locked eyes with him again - beautiful and deep they seemed to stare right into your soul, bringing you comfort and torment at the same time.

“What do you think?”

Fuck! You got completely mesmerized by Joel while he was talking and asked you for help. Help with what?! You had no damn idea.

“I’m sorry, could you say it again? I got lost in thought for a second.”

“Yeah, I see”, Joel smirked, a playful joy glinting in his irises, but kindly repeated himself.

“I need a gift for my daughter. I promised her a souvenir from the trip. Do you know any nice stores nearby? I don’t think she’d like a magnet from the hotel shop.”

“Yes, daughter,” you uttered, your face falling at the reminder of your discovery. Trying to hide sadness in your quiet voice, you asked,

“How old is she?”

“7.”

You thought for a few seconds and smiled when an idea came to you.

“There’s a store on the opposite side of the street. It’s next to a bank, you’ll see it right away. They sell these super cute handmade plushies. They’re adorable!”

Joel’s eyebrows shot up as he nodded.

“Yes! She loves plushies.”

“Oh, and they have all kinds of pretty stationery there too. Kids love that, right?” you asked with a little smile.

Joel took a step closer to you and put his warm palm over your hand, which was resting on the cart.

“Thank you so much, sweetheart. I’m sure I’ll be the world’s best dad when I get home.”

“I’m sure you already are,” you said quietly and dropped your head, your heart heavy.

“Are you ok?” You heard Joel’s lowered voice.

You looked up at him and lied.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

***

The next day you hoped not to see him at all. Your feelings were cruelly scratching at your chest, making your smile fake, your work day longer. Every minute felt like hours, and to make matters worse you started plucking at your own soul. You were single and lonely, saving up for college and dreaming of a career you probably would never achieve. Why would you want something if all you got at the end was disappointment?

Usually cleaning helped you to put your mind and heart at ease, to organize the thoughts swirling in your head like a bunch of stinging bees, but not that day. That day you wanted to dump all your hopes and dreams in one giant pile and set the useless trash on fire.

***

You decided to skip Joel’s room that day and was on your way to the neighbouring one when his head popped out of the door and he called for you.

”I thought I heard your cart. Sorry, can we talk, sweetheart?”

You smiled weakly at the pet name, and walked up to his room.

Joel motioned for you to step inside and you followed him. He was wearing a white Henley and jeans and you couldn’t help but ogle him. So stupid of you to think that a man like that was available. Especially for you.

Involuntarily you took a deep breath of his scent that was filling the room, piney and fresh with something so him. You felt at ease right away. He was almost a stranger and an emptiness inside was swallowing you bit by bit but his presence made you calm and relaxed.

“Look what I got for Sarah.”

Joel grabbed a toy sitting on his pillow - a cute fluffy bunny, wearing blue overalls, and brought it to you.

“I think she’ll like him.”

“I’m sure she will,” you assured him, petting the plushie, before giving it back to him. It was soft and pretty.

“And I bought her a bunch of pens and stickers and stuff. Thank you so much for your advice. Oh, and..”

Joel walked to the drawer and pulled something out.

“This one’s for you. A little thank you gift for your help.”

He was handing you a cute plushie cat, fluffy just like the bunny. “Had to hide it in case you’d come to my room.”

“You didn’t have to,” you said, accepting the present with a smile.

“I wanted to. Thought about you when I saw it.”

“Why?” you giggled.

“I don’t know. It’s beautiful and you’re—.” A slight blush appeared on Joel’s cheeks and he cleared his throat before adding, “Jus’ thought you might like it.”

“I love it.”

You didn’t lie. His gesture was so sweet that you had to take a deep breath, fighting an urge to cry.

“You’re a great father, Joel,” you said with a shaky voice, your eyes set on the toy, and then added,

“And I’m sure a wonderful husband.”

The words escaped your mouth before you could stop them. It seemed that the despair you’d been carrying in your soul made you bolder, more numb. It was easier to talk to him when all your feelings for the man lost a taste of sweet hope, leaving only bitterness.

“Thank you,” Joel uttered, placing the bunny back on the bed, ”but it’s just me and Sarah.”

Your eyes snapped back at him, and you stared at him in surprise. Your chest swelled with hope and joy. That man was single, but now it sounded almost impossible in your head. How could he be single?

Joel was completely oblivious to a whirlwind of thoughts inside your mind and kept talking,

“Well… there’s also my younger brother, Tommy. She’s staying with him now. Frankly, I’m not sure who’s looking after who,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

You laughed, maybe a little too loudly and too happily, but it was hard to keep your emotions contained.

“I'm sure they’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“Yeah. I call them every day and they haven’t burnt the house down yet — so — it’s great.”

You giggled and Joel seemed to notice your sudden mood uplift. His eyes narrowed as he asked,

“What about you? Husband, boyfriend?”

You bit your lower lip, hiding a smile that would be too revealing of your feelings - his interest flattered you greatly.

“No, none of those.”

Joel hummed and unlike you, didn’t hide his smile.

Your eyes connected and something electric appeared between you two. It started hard to breathe and the tingling warmth spread all over your body. Joel’s gaze slid from your eyes to your lips and you took a sharp breath, scared of the strength of your feelings. Panicking, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind,

“Where are you from?”

As if having forgotten where he was, Joel looked around the hotel room and cleared his throat before replying,

“Austin, Texas.”

You felt flustered by the moment you two had shared, your legs felt like they were made of cotton.

Joel noticed you shifting on your feet and offered you to sit down. You chose to take a chair at his desk, as sitting next to him on the bed could be inappropriate.

“Are you on business here?” you asked, trying not to think about the last time you had seen him on that bed.

“That’s right, ma’am,” Joel bowed his head with a smile and the gesture made your heart flutter. “Tommy and I are starting our own company,” he continued. “Contracting. Very small for now. There's a big expo here this week so we thought it’d be useful to meet people, do some networkin’.” Joel pinched the bridge of his nose and gruffed, “if that’s what it’s called. I’m still learning all the business lingo.”

In spite of the visible self-doubt, Joel’s eyes were glinting with excitement when he was talking about their plans. Then he leaned forward, placed his elbows on the knees, and asked,

“What about you? Do you like working here?”

His soft baritone was caressing your ears and sending heat to your core. His piercing eyes set on you weren’t helping either so you took a deep breath to calm down and replied,

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m saving up to go to a law school. Next year I hope.”

As you were sharing your plans with him, Joel was listening to you attentively, nodding and asking questions from time to time. It was easy to open up to him and the conversation flowed smoothly until you heard someone talk in the hallway and remembered that you were supposed to be working.

“Oh my God, Joel, I’m sorry I need to go.”

You got up, pressing the plushie cat close to your chest, and headed to the door.

“I hope you're not gonna get in trouble because of me,” Joel said, following you. “Some old man lured you into his room…”

You opened the door and walked to your cart, giggling, and then turned to him, smiling widely.

“You’re not old. And you can lure me anywhere anytime.”

Joel scratched his bearded chin, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips.

“Goodbye, Joel,” you purred, and feeling bold, gave him a playful wink.

“See you, sweetheart.”

You felt his eyes on your back and - hopefully - on your ass as you sauntered to another room as gracefully as you could, pushing your cart forward with the cutest plushie cat, sitting on top of it.

***

It was difficult for you to fall asleep that night. You were tossing and turning, hugging the kitty Joel had gifted you and thinking about his smile, his eyes, his hands, his body, his voice. You kept replaying your conversation over and over, your face aching after smiling so much. You were used to the constant tingling between your legs when Joel was on your mind and it wasn’t surprising - he was a handsome man, big and strong, but what stole your sleep that night was the feeling in your stomach. Something warm filled your belly, it was pushing up against your lungs, stealing your breaths away again and again. The sensation was so encapsulating, so pleasant and exciting that you had no doubt what it was. You fell in love with Joel. You fell in love with a guest.

***

The next day you were assigned to a different floor, but your head was full of Joel Miller. You were yawning because of the lack of sleep the previous night and yearning for the culprit of your insomnia. You wondered if he thought about you, too, if he liked you, if he wanted you. An idea to visit him popped into your head but you brushed it off, not wanting to impose and still feeling a little insecure. What if the spark you felt was one sided? What if it all was only in your head?

You were scheduled to work on the sixth floor the next day, so you were looking forward to seeing him soon.

That day everything went wrong. You overslept, probably because you managed to close your eyes only at 4 am, love-induced insomnia to blame again. On top of that, the traffic was horrible, so you missed the morning briefing.

Ms Hewitt looked at you sternly when you came to her office to get your assignments for the day but your genuine apologies and sorry puppy eyes softened her and she gave you all the info you needed.

“Oh, and it’s final cleaning for the 605.”

“What?!” Your heart plummeted into your stomach when you heard the number of the room. Joel’s room.

Trying but absolutely failing to hide your shock you squeaked,

“He—they‘re checking out today?”

“Yes,” Ms Hewitt's puzzled expression told you that the panic in your eyes was evident. She put her hand on your shoulder and asked,

“Are you ok, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart

The pet name was ringing in your ears but it sounded like Joel. A scary thought flashed in your mind, ‘Will I ever hear it again?‘

”What time is it?” You exclaimed.

Ms Hewitt’s brows shot up, before she glanced at her watch.

“Ehm. 10:45.”

“Oh god! I need to go— to clean!”

You excused yourself hurriedly and ran to the elevator.

***

A minute later you were at room 605, knocking loudly. No reply. You didn’t stop, remembering Joel’s hearing problem, but there were no heavy footsteps of the man you so foolishly fell in love with. The realization pierced your heart - he was gone, he was gone forever.

Breaking all the rules you opened the door with your card and went inside.

“Joel!” you called, desperation loud in your voice.

He didn’t reply.

It felt empty, lifeless. Just another standard hotel room. The biggest sign that he had even been there was his scent, still lingering in the air.

You took a deep breath of him and tears welled up in your eyes. Your loud sob shuttered the deafening silence.

“Joel,” you mewled helplessly.

There was something on the bed. You walked there and saw a note with your name on it. You lifted it with shaky hands and started reading.

Sweetheart, I hope you’ll get this note. I couldn’t find you but I’d like to thank you for everything. Meeting you was a highlight of my trip. I hope all your dreams come true. And sorry again for the way we met. Joel

On the bed there was also a big tip and a bouquet of red roses.

Your chest swelled with a myriad of different emotions - it was nice of him to leave you a message and the flowers but it was a goodbye. A farewell forever.

A tear fell on the note in your hands. You wiped it off and smudged the writing, leaving a blue streak.

He wrote it not so long ago. What if you could still catch him?

You dropped the note and ran out of the room. Pressing the elevator button several times with a rushed hand, wiping your tears with the other, you were praying to all the gods to let you see him at least one more time, to hear his husky voice, to feel his warm eyes on you.

Joel—Joel—Joel

His name was booming in your head and your heart on your way downstairs.

On the first floor, not wanting to alarm the guests and other personnel, you walked fast to the reception.

“Birtie, hi, could you tell me when Joel Miller checked out? Please,” you asked the receptionist who furrowed his brows at you, having noticed your teary eyes.

You didn’t care about his concern, your gaze was glued to the entrance. Through the glass door you saw him.

Joel was standing outside, his back to you, his suitcase at his feet.

“Is everything ok?” You barely heard Bertie, your heart was making somersaults in your chest. He’s still here!

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but a wide smile wouldn’t leave your face as you hurried to your most precious guest.

***

“Joel?” you called softly, standing behind him.

He turned to you and his face lit up. All of a sudden he hugged you and you stopped breathing altogether. Feeling his body so close to yours made your head spin. To your dismay, Joel pulled away in a moment and took a step back.

“Fuck. Sorry. I thought you weren’t here today. But you’re and … I’m glad to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you, too,” you smiled at Joel, still feeling his strong arms around you. “I’ve just found your note and came here to say goodbye and— .”

“Yes?” Joel’s puppy eyes were darting between yours as you paused with your mouth open.

What now? Are you going to shake his hand and let him disappear from your life? The thought made you feel sick.

“There’s a problem. With your room. I’m afraid you have to go back up with me.”

Joel furrowed his brows, looking confused.

“What problem?”

Yeah, what problem?

“Ehm.. Can we talk in your room, sir?”

You added ’sir‘ to sound more formal so he wouldn’t think that you were making shit up.

“Of course. No problem. I have lots of time.”

Joel grabbed his suitcase and followed you inside.

You felt Bertie’s eyes on you as you were walking past the reception with the guest who had already checked out but you didn’t care.

When you stepped into the elevator, Joel turned to you.

“What’s wrong with the room, sweetheart? Tell me you didn’t get in trouble because of my note or the roses.”

“Oh, no,” you replied, nervously fumbling with your sleeve. “It’s— ehm—-it’s the hangers. Some are missing.”

“The hangers?”

“Yep.” You averted your eyes, feeling your heart in your throat. You could feel Joel’s confusion. Then you heard a low chuckle. Was he laughing at your stupid lie? You wouldn’t blame him.

“I didn’t steal the hangers, sweetheart,” he snickered, as you were walking to the room. “I promise.”

You felt bad about lying, but when you glanced at his smiley face, you couldn’t help but giggle along. Your excuse was ridiculous, but it was the first thing that came to your mind and, what was more important, it worked.

You opened the door and Joel and you entered the room. The room where you met. The room where you saw more than you were supposed to. Felt more than you were supposed to.

Joel left the suitcase at the door, followed you to the living area and stopped a few steps from you, as always giving you personal space. You didn’t want that space now. A few minutes ago you’d thought that you had lost him forever so you took a step closer to him, basking in the warmth his smile was giving you, his honey eyes mesmerizing you.

Joel followed your lead and inched closer, too. Now one tiny step was separating you two. He lowered his voice and asked, almost whispering,

“It’s not about the hangers, is it?”

You looked down at your hands and shook your head, nerves, excitement, love churning your stomach. You opened your mouth to talk but didn’t find any words. Why have you brought him here? What do you want? What do you want?

The answer to that question came like a flash. You were seeing it clearly then, fears and worries pushed into the corners of your mind, only your desire in the spotlight.

You took the final step towards him and pressed your lips to his. It was a soft little peck, timid and fleeting, but the feel of him flush to you, his warm lips, his heady scent drew you to kiss him again. Joel didn’t pull back but instead put his hands on your waist. His touch was gentle, careful but it set your whole body on fire. Feeling overwhelmed you broke the kiss and looked into his eyes.

You had just kissed Joel Miller. Your brain switched off completely as you were ogling his handsome face up close, his hot breath fanning your lips, the heat of his body seeping through your clothes.

“I wanted to say ‘goodbye’,” you lied, looking into Joel’s darkening eyes. You’d never want to say goodbye to that man.

“Do all the guests get a goodbye like that from you?” he asked as his lips curled into a smile.

You dropped your head and whispered ‘no’. Joel’s chest rose and fell heavily and his sigh tickled your nose.

“Am I special then?”

A shiver ran down your spine when you heard his question. You looked him right in the eye and your voice didn’t waver when you replied,

“Yes.”

Your boldness seemed to touch him deeply, his face lit up as if he’d just gotten the best compliment in his life. His reaction warmed your heart but your eyes still were puffy from the tears, the pain was still fresh in your chest.

“I was afraid you’d left forever. Thank you for the note but, frankly, I hoped you’d leave your number,” you said, sadness coating your words. Joel sighed again and his puppy eyes made your heart flutter.

“I did. In the first note. But then I threw it in the trash.”

“Why?” you mumbled, blinking at him in confusion.

Joel inched closer and took your face into his big warm hands.

“Because you’re young and beautiful,” he whispered, leaning down, and planted a soft kiss on your cheek.

“You have your whole life ahead of you.” – he kissed the corner of your eye,

“I’m a single dad.” — He kissed your nose, your other cheek, until his lips grazed yours for a fleeting moment.

Then he pulled away, his eyes glossy.

“And I live in another state. I didn’t have a right to leave you my number.”

Joel was still holding your face and it was heavenly but his words squeezed your throat with a tight grip.

“Why are you kissing me then?” you murmured, searching for the answer in his sparkling eyes.

Joel sighed again and croaked,

“’cause I can’t help it.”

That was when he kissed you. If your first kiss was like a soft breeze, a gentle caress to the skin, his was like an ocean, heady, overwhelming, you both drowning in it in seconds.

Joel’s arms bound you to him, your bodies flush against each other, and when he licked into your mouth, the taste of him made you dizzy, the ache between your legs grew and you bucked your hips against his thigh.

Joel growled, feeling your need, and your wet arousal leaked into your panties when you heard that he craved you, too. You broke the kiss and panted,

“When’s your flight?”

“In six hours.” Joel’s blown out eyes were darting between yours as he offered, “Can I spend this time with you?”

“Yes,” you replied immediately, having never been more sure about anything in your life.

Joel was beaming at you, his grin wide and happy. His hands were running up and down your arms as he mused,

“We can have a walk. Or we can stay here. What do you prefer?”

You dropped your head, contemplating your answer, and in a second you knew exactly what you wanted to do. You had about three hours to spend with the man of your dreams and you decided to use them to the fullest. There was no time to be shy.

“Can we stay here?” you asked quietly and Joel eagerly nodded.

“Yeah, sure, sweetheart. I’ll call the reception, see if I can have this room for today. Ok?”

“Yes! If it’s not booked, it shouldn't be a problem.”

Your belly was full of butterflies, your core was on fire, and it was hard to think straight, but suddenly you remembered that you had work to do.

While Joel was talking to Bertie, you pulled your phone out of your dress pocket and quickly texted Max.

Need to leave. Cover for me pls. I’ll explain later.

She sent you back an ‘ok’ just as Joel hung up.

Judging by his wide smile, the room was available.

“We can stay here.” He took your hand in his and you whispered a breathy ‘good’, already under the spell of his dark eyes.

He pulled you into his embrace and kissed you. His lips were moving gently against yours until they travelled lower to your neck, his moustache and beard deliciously tickling your skin. The sensation was intoxicating, your whole body was buzzing, craving him, your heart was beating fast.

You couldn’t wait any longer, your poor pussy was crying and begging for him, so you took his hand and led him to the bed.

“Thank you for the roses,” you purred, looking at the flowers, their crimson colour a bright contrast to the whiteness of the sheets. “They’re very beautiful.”

Joel barely glanced at the bouquet, he had eyes only for you.

“You’re beautiful, baby.”

***

A few kisses later you were making out, sitting on the edge of the bed, you’re on Joel’s lap, straddling his thighs, your arms wrapped around his thick neck. Joel’s hand was gently cupping the back of your head, the other, pressed to your lower back, keeping you close. You were softly whimpering into his mouth, your tongues tangled in a passionate dance.

“Ahh, Joel,” you moaned and began grinding your burning pussy against the big bulge in his jeans. Timidly at first, but the growing desire gave you courage to take what you wanted.

“I’m here,” Joel breathed out. “My needy girl.”

He broke the kiss and dropped his head down to watch your hips move, the hem of your uniform dress inching higher, exposing more and more of your tights-covered thighs.

“I need you too, sweetheart,” he confessed but then his hands left your hips and flew up to your face. He searched for your eyes and asked,

“You sure you want this? We can just kiss, baby. You don’t have to—“

“No, please, I want you,” you panted, surprising even yourself. You weren’t hiding your feelings anymore, you were begging him to give you more, to put down the fire burning you on the inside.

“Ok,” he nodded, his lips in a lopsided smile. “I needed to make sure.”

“I’ve never done this,” you mumbled, nervously chewing your lower lip. “Never been with a guest— like this.”

Joel brought his hand to your mouth and glided his thumb over your lip to stop you from hurting yourself.

“Me too, sweetheart. Never got a hotel room to —. He paused and you noticed a light blush painting his cheeks. Joel ran his hands down your neck and traced your neckline with his knuckles, lightly grazing your skin and sending chills down your spine.

“Can I undress you, baby?”

His voice was low and raspy, gorgeous and alluring, and you swallowed a moan when you heard his question. You replied with a sultry ‘yes’ and got off his lap.

Joel’s hands were gentle and slow. Standing behind you he unzipped your dress on your back, pulled it off your shoulders and helped you to step out of it. He slid the tights down and off your legs.

His fingers were gliding up and down your arms, his breath fanning your shoulder before he pressed his lips to the crease of your neck. You moaned, melting in his arms, turning into a puddle when his hand slid down your neck to your chest. You looked down and just then remembered what you were wearing that day- a simple flowery bra and unmatching black panties.

“Shit—,” you mumbled, your cheeks heating up. “Wish I was wearing something sexy. Lace or something…”

Your voice was small, your head downcast. Joel walked around you, took your chin between his fingers and gently lifted your face. A pair of dark-as-night eyes met you, there was a bright fire in them, a desire that echoed deeply in your own body.

”I don’t want ‘lacy’. I want you.”

He cupped your covered breast with his big hand and began kneading it. Even through the padding the sensation sent lightning of pleasure to your core, and you moaned shamelessly watching him caress your other breast.

Then his hands snaked behind you.

“Can I…?”

You uttered a needy ‘yeah’ and Joel unclasped your bra, letting it fall on the floor.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, looking at your naked breasts, and you smiled, taking it as a compliment. ”You’re gorgeous.”

You were standing in front of him topless while he was still dressed. It was turning you on but you couldn’t wait to see him naked. Again.

“My turn,” you purred and grabbed the hem of his tee. You took it off him and ogled his golden skin, his toned shoulders, his muscular arms and a happy train on his soft tummy. Your hand impatiently flew to feel his broad chest, but having dreamed of it all week, you feared that he would disappear like a mirage.

“Joel,” you whispered his name like a spell, binding him to you at that moment, making it real in your mind, you and him there, exposed to each other, needing each other desperately, ready to dive into something beautiful and exciting.

You pressed your thighs together and a lustful shiver ran down your spine.

“C’mere, baby.” Joel probably thought that you were cold and caged you in his warm embrace. Your nose found its home in the crease of his neck, your heart close to his heart, your arms around his torso. It felt like his body was meant for you- to bring you comfort, to warm you up, to caress you, to make love to you.

You kissed his collar bone and Joel pressed his lips to the top of your head.

You two stood like that for a few moments, simply relishing the feel of each other's skin, sharing warmth of your bodies.

Then Joel’s hand slowly slithered down your back, covering your skin with a new set of goosebumps, and cupped your asscheek. He squeezed it gently and you moaned.

“Get on the bed, baby.”

He knew what you wanted, there was no uncertainty in his words, it sounded like a command, and you were happy to follow it.

You put the roses on the nightstand and climbed onto the soft bed. Your back against the pillows, you were watching Joel discard his jeans.

When he was only in his boxers, your jaw involuntarily dropped at the sight of his huge bulge. Apparently your memory wasn’t kind to him, because in your mind his cock was smaller. In reality he was hung like a god, and as handsome as one. A part of you got scared that he would split you in two, but the heady mixture of desire and love erased any doubts in your heart and head. You desperately needed him. Starved to have him inside you.

Joel lay down next to you and dived into your arms right away. As you were kissing, his hands were exploring your body, caressing your soft skin, gently squeezing your breasts, twitching your hardened nipples. You were hungrily feeling him too— with a soft drag of your nails down his arms and his back, with your fingers running through his silky curls. Your legs intertwined, you began rubbing your covered pussy against his hairy thigh.

“Joel— please,” you begged and with a fast hand he pulled your panties down. Now he could see all of you and you’d have probably got shy, but Joel’s eyes full of hunger and need, gave you the courage to throw your legs apart, to invite him to the most sacred place of your body.

”Jesus, sweetheart, you’re so wet,” Joel growled as his fingers were tracing your slicked up seam before pushing inside. With the pads of his two digits he drew a circle around your clit and you almost came, shuddering against the crispy sheets and his body. Joel noticed your reaction.

“Been needing it for some time, baby?”

“Yes, Joel, since the moment I saw you. Here, on this bed.”

You paused, scared that the memory of the incident would embarrass him, but Joel smirked, brought his lips to your ear and whispered,

“Did you like what you saw?”

You opened your mouth to reply but Joel made you gasp, when he slowly inserted his middle finger into your soft hole. He began thrusting it in and out, and you quickly turned into a moaning, dripping mess.

“I take it as a ’yes’”. His voice was strained with lust as his lips brushed against your cheek. “Did you think about me after that? About my hard cock?”

His soft husky voice, his words, his finger caressing something delicious inside you - everything at once was overwhelming and your eyes fluttered shut, your mind begging for any respite.

“Yeah, Joel, so— so much,” you slurred, unable to speak clearly.

“That’s my girl.”

Joel lightly nibbled on your earlobe, a satisfied growl rumbling in his chest, and then added another finger to penetrate your sopping heat.

Your moan was loud and shameless and Joel echoed you with a groan. His lips drew a path from your cheek, down your neck and soon he kissed your pebbled nipple. Your hand flew to his curls, legs opened up wider and your eyes rolled back, when he began sucking on your bud, while his fingers were opening your cunt up for his thick cock. Joel hummed at the taste of your skin and his low grunts made your pussy drool more around his digits. He parted from your tit and asked, breathing heavily with arousal,

“Tell me what you wanted me to do to you. When you thought about me, baby.”

“Wanted you —to fuck me.”

“Oh, baby. I thought about you, too. Fuck.. non stop, all these days.”

“Really?“ You panted, searching for his eyes.

“Yes, sweetheart. I thought— what if you’d stayed— would you wanna watch me?”

You bit your lip and purred,

“I would.”

Joel licked his smiling lips, his eyes blown out, and gave you a wink before saying,

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”.

Carefully, so as not to hurt your pussy with his fingers, he sat up and kneeled next to you on the bed, then using his free hand, the hand that wasn’t fucking you, he pulled down his boxers and let his stiff cock spring free. It was as gorgeous as you remembered, thick and long, curved up at the top, glistening in the sunlight, leaking rivers of precum.

“Now you can watch, sweetheart,” Joel groaned, wrapping his palm around his member with a sigh and beginning to jerk it.

You were watching him fuck his fist, while his fingers were fingering your wet pussy, until your plea interrupted your moaning.

“Can I do it? Please.”

“Yes, baby.”

Joel let go off his cock and your little hand immediately replaced his. You could barely circle your fingers around his girth but you applied all of yourself and began pumping his fat cock. Joel’s grunts were making your head spin. His pleasure was giving yours an ecstatic, exquisite, divine taste. You were revelling in the feeling of bringing ecstasy to him, your hand pulling up and down the soft skin stretched over the hot steel of his cock.

“Joel…what else did you think about? Tell me,” you moaned, tilting your hips up to give him more access to your crying pussy. His fingers were curling inside you and an upcoming climax overshadowed your shiness.

”Everyday I dreamed about pulling you close and kissing you, baby.”

“Just kissing?” you teased.

“Hngg, ‘course not. Wanted to tear your cute dress off, throw you on the bed and lick your little pussy.”

“Oh my god, Joel.”

“Then fuck you on every surface in here.”

His confession drew a needy whine out of your mouth and you began squeezing his fingers with your pulsating cunt. A hard orgasm was shaking your body, your pussy bursting with pleasure and wetness against his hand. You stopped jerking Joel off and just held his cock in your hand, too focused on the waves of euphoria rippling through you.

“Yeah, like that, baby,” Joel growled, watching you explode on his fingers. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. So sweet and beautiful. I’d give anything to bounce you on my cock, to kiss your pretty tits.”

His mouth latched onto your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple, his fingers were still massaging your g-spot, prolonging your orgasm.

When you relaxed and your hand fell off his cock onto the bed, Joel carefully pulled his drenched fingers out of your stretched hole.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he whispered, taking you in his arms, and kissed you again, slowly and sensually, letting you rest in the warm ocean of his caress.

You were in heaven. Basking in the afterglow of the climax, relishing Joel’s embrace and his soft kisses, you couldn’t be happier.

He pulled away and looked into your hazy eyes.

“You ok?”

“Yes,” you murmured with a smile, tracing his handsome features with your gaze, mesmerized by him once again. Then you averted your eyes and bit your lip.

“What is it, baby?” Joel furrowed his brows and you heard a trace of worry in his tone.

You cupped his cheek and he melted against your touch.

“I want more, Joel. I need you inside me.”

Joel’s body shuddered at your words, his cock twitched, and you had no doubt that he desperately wanted it, too.

“I’ll give you anything you want, sweetheart. But— I don’t have condoms. Do you?”

You shook your head and hid your face in his neck, too shy to look at him, as you whispered.

“Can we do it without them? I’m clean, I promise.”

Joel stroked your head and kissed your temple.

“Me too, I haven’t had—, " he cleared his throat and continued, “had anyone for a while.”

“Ok.” You smiled, raising your eyes at him.

“Ok,” he echoed you.

***

You sat up and carefully straddled Joel’s thick thighs. His cock was engorged, crying and ready for you. But were you ready for it?

You swallowed loudly, fear noticeable in your expression, and Joel rubbed your thighs with his palms.

“We’ll go slowly, sweetheart. And.. if you’re not ready — I can kiss your pretty pussy instead.”

His words made you gush more, your head spun at the image of Joel’s lips on your cunt, but you shook your head with determination.

“No. I want you— want you to bounce me on your cock,” you quoted him with a timid smile and Joel half chuckled-half groaned. His cock twitched and you saw a drop of prefuck juice bead on the reddish slit.

“Baby, if you keep talking like this… I’m afraid I’ll come too soon.“

You playfully bit your lower lip, his words giving you much needed confidence. You felt desired, sexy and beautiful.

You got up on your knees and moved forward until you were hovering over his cock. It brushed against your folds and you impatiently gripped it at the base and glided his tip over your seam, before teasing your puffy clit with the bulbous head.

Your lustful whimper rang loudly in the room, fusing with Joel’s moan. Your palm planted on his hairy chest, you slid his tip down, and when it notched the source of your wetness, you began lowering your hips, slowly sinking on it. The sounds you both were making seemed like an epitome of pleasure, a beautiful melody of two bodies becoming one. They weren’t lewd, they were pure and sincere.

You seemed to lose an ability to talk or think, your whole being was overtaken by the feeling of Joel filling your core. The stretch sent shivers down your spine, but the dull pain got overshadowed by the bliss in your body. Joel’s palm was gripping your hip when the other slid up from your lower belly to your sternum, then to your chest until he surely could feel your heart, beating loudly in unison with your pussy, that was hungrily swallowing his length.

”Oh, baby, oh, yes,” was everything that Joel could muster when you took all of him. His eyes were dark with desire but the affection and warmth within them pulled you to him. You leaned down, lay down on his chest, uniting your heartbeats, and your lips met. Your eager tongues tangled with passion, your fingers ran through his curls, damp with sweat, his palms were exploring your body.

When Joel squeezed your asscheeks and gently lifted your hips up, you mewled, realizing what he wanted. Making out with him, you began slowly moving your hips up and down, your walls massaging his shaft, your mouth drinking his growls, that inevitably turned into moans. You smiled against his lips, happy to be giving Joel so much pleasure, but also getting an immense amount of it as well.

No one had ever made you feel so sexy in your life and the elation in your heart gave you the courage to break the kiss and sit up proudly on Joel’s cock, letting him see all of you again. With his mouth slightly open Joel looked completely drunk on you. His gaze slid over your body and he panted,

”Look at you, baby. Wish you could ride me like that every day till I die.”

You smiled and took his hand, that was kneading your breast, and kissed his palm. The next moment Joel sat up and you moaned at the position shift, feeling his cock even deeper inside you like that. He cupped the back of your head, and holding you close, kissed you hard. Your legs wrapped around his hips and you stilled, pierced by his member, melting in his arms.

His cock was thumping in your heat, your pussy was crying more and more around it, begging for a release.

“Joel,” you whined and, as if having read your mind, he grabbed your asscheeks in his strong hands and started lifting you up and down on his cock, moving your body easily, bringing you both closer to your peaks.

Your sensitive clit was deliciously rubbing against Joel’s hairy lower belly and soon you felt heat rise in your tightening core and your pussy started fluttering around Joel’s length.

“I’m coming,” you mewled and dug your nails into his broad shoulders, grounding yourself to him.

“That’s my girl,” Joel praised you, his eyes focused on your face, and then groaned through his teeth,

“Gonna come, too. Where d’you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please,” you begged, still trembling with the second orgasm.

“Yeah?” Joel grunted, “wanna be full of my hot cum?”

“Yes—yes—yes,” you chanted, bouncing on his cock, prolonging your pleasure.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I want it, too. Want your pussy wet with me for days.”

Pushed over the edge by the image and your walls gripping his member, Joel roared and began filling you up. You greedily milked him of every drop, pressing your body to his, burying your nose in his neck, relishing the scent of his heated skin.

Joel was jerking with every squirt of his load, holding you so tight that it was hard to breathe, but you’d have rather suffocated than left his arms at that moment.

***

“Thank you,” Joel murmured as you two were lying covered by the white sheets, face to face. Your legs were tangled, arms wrapped around each other, your nose against his neck. When you heard his soft voice, you raised your eyes at him.

“What for?”

“For being here with me. For letting me kiss you, touch you…”

His fingers glided over your arm and your skin erupted with goosebumps.

“You’ve done more than touching, sir,” you smirked and he groaned, pushing you over and pinning you to the bed with his body.

”Keep calling me ‘sir‘ and I’ll do it all again.“

“Promise?” you purred, feeling helpless, caged between the bed and his broad torso and your clit twitched again.

“Bad girl.”

Joel’s words reignited fire in your belly, but you felt like behind the playful banter there was something else that he wanted to tell you.

You cupped his cheek, your eyes darting between his, and whispered,

“I’m happy to be here with you.”

Joel sighed with a smile and leaned in to kiss you gently. Then he pressed his forehead to yours, his hot breath kissing your lips.

“What I wrote— in the note. You being the highlight of my trip— I meant it.”

A happy smile shone on your face, when you heard sincerity in his voice, warmth spreading inside your body. Joel lay down next to you and continued, his arm wrapped around your waist.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all these days— wanted you the moment I saw you but that’s not all. You’ve been so kind to me. So sweet. I haven’t felt cared for like that in a long time.”

“I was simply doing my job,” you uttered, drawing patterns on his hairy forearm.

“No, I mean, yes, but — every time I thought of you, I felt something — “

He paused, searching for words. You felt emotions in his voice and you took his hand and pressed it to your lips before whispering,

“I know, Joel. I felt it too.”

”Oh, baby,” Joel pulled you into his chest and you pecked his lips before your eyes locked and you said everything to each other without words, your hearts speaking for you. His warm gaze glossed over and your vision got blurry with your own feelings.

“Joel,” you mumbled, opening your eyes. You woke up from a wonderful dream, where you fell for a handsome guest, who later kissed you, made you see the brightest stars with his lips, his fingers and his cock, and then you fell asleep, cuddling with him.

Fortunately, it wasn’t a dream.

“I’m right here,“ you heard a soft baritone of the man next to you. You wrapped your arms around Joel and he gave you a gentle kiss.

“Had a bad dream, sweetheart?”

A tsunami of emotions flooded your heart - excitement, affection, joy stole your breath away. He was really there. He was really yours. At least for now.

“No,” you croaked, sleep heavy in your voice. “It was the best dream.” You crashed your lips against his, hunger for his caress waking up with you, but a sudden memory flashed in your mind - you had been given just a few hours to be together.

“How long have I been asleep?” Panic was loud in your voice.

“About an hour.”

“Oh no! You should’ve woken me up. We don’t have much time.”

Joel hugged you tightly.

“Shh, we have time, baby. You were sleeping like a little kitten next to me. I couldn’t miss the opportunity to stare at you like a creep.” You two laughed, your nerves seeping you out of your heart.

Joel kissed you and then began leaving open-mouth kisses over your neck, your exposed breasts and a few moments later you were dripping your juices onto the white sheets while he was licking and sucking on your sensitive nipples.

“Sweet thing,” he mumbled against your tits. “Can I have a real treat now?”

“What?” you slurred, already drunk on him.

“You pussy, baby, can I taste her?”

“Oh,” you moaned and nodded with a timid smile.

You had never been eaten out that well before. Joel’s hands were pinning your hips to the bed, holding you open for him as he was feasting on your blooming flower, his hot tongue lapping at your folds and your clit tirelessly. His mouth was gentle but he gave you enough pressure to make your pussy pulsate and explode on his tongue in a few minutes.

You were practically crying with euphoria when he climbed up the bed to let you lick your own nectar off his lips.

***

The rest of the time together you spent naked in bed, talking, laughing, eating the food you ordered to the room, kissing and cuddling. At the back of your mind you kept thinking about how lucky you were - to have met someone you clicked with spiritually, sexually and emotionally. There was no doubt in your heart that Joel was your person and he looked at you like you were his.

Inevitably the precious time ran out and Joel needed to leave for the airport. It took everything from you not to burst into tears, when you imagined saying ’goodbye’ to him, but the day you had shared, the pleasure he had given you, eased the pain in your soul.

When you two were talking and sharing your past, Joel kept mentioning your future. Your future together. He promised to introduce you to Tommy and Sarah, to take you to his favourite places in Austin, and in your dreams you saw yourself forever by his side, getting to hug and kiss him every single day for the rest of your life. It seemed like the most amazing fairy tale, and although you knew by now that life was far from perfect, his enamoured eyes, his gentle hands, his kind words gave you strength to let him go, because your heart was full of hope.

***

You covertly changed out of your uniform in the staff room and sneaked out of the hotel to take Joel to the airport in your car.

When you two arrived, you couldn’t hold your tears back anymore. Joel gently wiped them away with his thumbs but his own eyes were glossy and reddish.

“I’ll call you as soon as I land, sweetheart,” he promised, holding your face in his warm hands, then wrapped his arms around you and kissed you like no one else before, passionately, sensually, claiming you as his, and you stored the memory of his body against yours deep inside your mind.

Many phone and video calls later

The next time you saw Joel again, not on the screen of your phone or your laptop, not in your dreams or fantasies, but in person, in real life, was at the airport as well. Now in Texas.

You spotted Joel first. His honey eyes were searching for you in a sea of people, his expression serious and concentrated. You wanted to run and kiss that deep crease between his brows, wanted to drop your bags and scream with happiness, but then you saw what he had in his hands and your eyes welled up with tears.

He was holding a sign with your name on it. It was sweet, but what made you cry were glittery hearts and flowers, decorating it. Joel definitely wasn’t the type to use glitter and draw pretty hearts and you realized right away. that they were made by Sarah’s hand.

***

Joel introduced you to Sarah a week after he’d flown back to Austin. You fell in love with his daughter right away, she was a lively and funny girl, excellent at trolling her dad, the talent of hers which always made you giggle.

Quickly she became a usual participant of your daily video calls with Joel. You never minded it, falling deeper in love with Joel, when you witnessed what a great father he was. Sarah often told you about her day, asked about yours, and when she shared only with you who she liked at school, you were touched by her trust. Soon you three had breakfasts and dinners together, Joel and Sarah joining you on the screen of your laptop, and it felt like you were a little family.

At night when Sarah was asleep in her bedroom, Joel and you had other types of calls. You quickly realized that the man was a menace. He loved making you needy and desperate with his husky voice whispering filth into your ear. He would tell you in great detail how exactly he would fuck you if he was there in your bedroom. Like a good girl you would be spread for him on the bed, your legs open widely, your fingers thrusting in and out of your sopping hole. You whispered his name again and again, your hazy eyes glued to the screen, where Joel was stroking himself, deep in the pit of desire just like you.

You lost count how many times he came watching you fuck yourself, how many times you unraveled in front of his hungry eyes. It was enough for you two. For the time being.

But your feelings grew and soon you felt like you were suffocating without being able to touch him, kiss him. Joel tentatively asked if you wanted to visit them in Austin and you happily agreed. One night you two were planning your trip, when Joel admitted. that he didn’t want you just to visit.

“Sweetheart... what if we lived together?”

“It would be amazing,” you sighed, smiling at him through your phone screen.

“So why don’t we?”

You were staring at him in disbelief for a few seconds, your heart in your throat, before you asked,

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Joel replied and added, ”I love you, baby.”

His watery eyes told you that he wasn’t joking.

“I love you, too, Joel. So much,” you mumbled, already sobbing with happy tears.

***

It took you a month to quit your housekeeping job, sell the things you didn’t need anymore, pack the stuff you did, say ‘goodbye’ to your friends and family and take a big step towards your future. Future with the man you loved, the man who loved you.

***

Not being able to contain your excitement any longer, you dropped your baggage and ran to Joel, waiting for you at the airport. You were quietly squealing, trying not to alert the people around you, but when Joel noticed you and his face lit up with a widest grin, you finally screamed. He opened his big arms to you and you dived into his warm embrace. Your lips met in a fiery, long awaited kiss, and you didn’t care that people were staring at you two, making out like two horny teenagers, holding each other close. Joel was yours and you were his. Once your guest, now he was your home.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback means the world💞

MASTERLIST

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tonycries · 1 year ago

Text

Brooklyn Baby - G.S.

Synopsis. Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. Said Suguru doesn’t want to fuck anyone else but you. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rock star! AU, fwb-to-lovers, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), Suguru is sinfully sexy and in l*ve with you, Satoru is a menace, pet names (darling, my girl), Suguru has tattoos and piercings, swearing.

Word count. 3.2k (DAMN I got carried away)

A/N. Happy Valentine’s day! *throws somewhat-fluffy smut at you and leaves*

Art by @_3aem on X.

Also, wild west! AU longfic with someone dropping on Sunday night (EST), keep your eyes peeled yeehaw.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades.

You did. Your fans did. Hell, you’ve even caught your overworked band manager sneaking a few too many glances.

And, you conclude, the groupies currently batting their lashes at him definitely did.

You watch as they swarm to him during open rehearsal, giggling at his pretty smiles.

Whatever, part of the job anyway.

It’s not like you two were dating. Yeah, a few fucks here and there throughout the years - but what’s one to do when on the road and in such close proximity with a guy that’s practically walking sex?

Trying not to scowl, you turn away from the commotion, continuing to tune the strings of your trusty Fender. You’ve had your fair share of die-hard fans, so lately why did it bother you so much when Suguru entertained their thinly-veiled advances?

“Ohoho~ Quite a look on your face there, why don’t you go and caress his biceps too?~” you hear idiot brigade member #1, Gojo Satoru, cackle from beside you.

If looks could kill, Satoru would’ve been 6 feet under and rotting already. “I thought you stopped writing band fanfiction, Satoru.” you raise a brow.

“THAT WAS ONE TIME.” he whines dramatically, clinging onto you and shaking you back and forth as if to knock the memory of his Wattpad tendencies out of you. “WHY ATTACK ME JUST CUZ YOU’RE JEALOUS? C’MOOON ADMIT IT.”

You were not jealous.

Suguru knew you were jealous.

Sneaking a glance, he had to fight the urge to coo at the adorable little furrow of your brows. How unprofessional would it be if he walked off mid-conversation to kiss that pout off your lips?

He knows it’s just sex for you. But - foolishly - every time he held you he could only hope that he ran through your mind as often as you did through his. It elated Suguru to know you were getting that worked up over him.

That is until, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Satoru draping himself all over you, whispering god-knows-what into your ears.

The rational part of Suguru knows Satoru is a very touchy person, but why was he so…close? And why weren’t you pushing him off?

Smile tightening into something a little more artificial, he turns to the girls fawning over him. “Well, ladies, I’m sorry to say I’ve gotta go practice before Shoko yells at me again. I’ll see you all in the front row, yeah?” he lies smoothly, disappointed whines following him as he makes a beeline for your figure.

“Well! What have we here, Satoru, are you done tuning?” Suguru pops a head between yours and Satoru’s overly close ones, interrupting whatever conversation you were heatedly whispering. What was so important that you two needed to be that close to talk anyway?

He narrows his eyes at Satoru’s surprised ones, an invisible conversation taking place between them before Satoru cracks a smug grin. “Alright alright. I’ll go tune my guitar.” he rolls his eyes, heading for his electric blue Gibson.

Your confused gaze meets the twinkling eyes now boring down at you. “Done with the meet-n-greet already?” you question, eyes darting to the group now watching you two like hawks.

The smile on Suguru’s face grows, “Yeah, remembered I didn’t do my pre-concert rituals right.”

“Oh?”

“Wanna help me with it?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer. Quickly setting down your guitar, he drags you out into the corridor - hand tightly in yours and pointedly ignoring Satoru’s wolf-whistles.

Hallway sex is overrated, Suguru believes - which is why he heads for the dressing room.

“Pre-concert rituals” his ass, Suguru just thinks he might pass away if he doesn’t get his hands on you right now. Make you feel like his.

It’s not long before the door is locked and he has you bent over the vanity, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt.

“S-Sugu! Why now? The concert- Hah-” You gasp in pleasure as two long fingers probe inside of you, ruthlessly searching for the spot that Suguru knows would have your toes curling and eyes watering deliciously.

“Fuck the concert, darling. Barely even started and already so wet f’me.” he drawls out over your whimpers. “Wanted you to come over y’know? And save me from those groupies trying to get in my pants.”

In your lust-hazed mind, you find the words to respond to him, “You s-seemed to - hah - be enjoying that.”

“Of course not.” he leaves a trail of kisses down your back, “Wasn’t my favorite girl.” he whispers into your heated skin.

He’s being rougher than usual, he knows. In the back of his mind he wonders what it was that he was so pissed at. But all thoughts of that are thrown out the window once he presses into that plushy spot inside your wet core, drawing a sinful whine from your mouth. There.

Pulling back to tease your folds with your own slick, he plunges into your swollen pussy once more, easily hitting that spot over and over.

“Hngh- Suguru, more!” you grind your hips to meet his merciless rhythm, clenching around his fingers.

You feel as if you’re losing your sanity when he adds in another finger, walls burning as your cunt stretches around his thick rings.

Suguru was definitely losing his sanity.

Anyone could walk by. The concert was about to start any second now. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck, too focused on how his fingers were being sucked back in every time he pulls out, your pretty pussy dripping all over his numerous bracelets.

He has to hold back a moan at the way your ass jiggled every time your hips buck to meet his fingers.

Leaning down over you, he hums lowly into your ear “So desperate for me, hm?”. Pressing the erection straining against his trousers against you, he huffs out “I’m the same, darling. You drive me absolutely mad.”

He feels the way you squirm in impatience at the large outline of his dick, raising your ass in an attempt to get more friction. Eyes crinkling in satisfaction, he pushes down on his girl’s slutty hips, cold rings digging into the small of your waist.

“Now now…not yet.” he tuts mockingly.

“Please, Suguru. Please let me cum.”

Increasing his pace, abusing your g-spot relentlessly, Suguru knew by your breathy moans of his name that you were getting close.

His hand moves from your waist, leaving behind purple marks to remember him by. They wander the expanse of your body - groping your curves, and pinching your nipples through your thin top - delighting in your mewls.

God, you were perfect. He really needed to take his time with you later.

Suguru’s hands, nail polish chipped and fingers calloused from years of playing, finally rest on your face. He pushes your cheeks together, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth and forcing you to look at him through the vanity mirror in front of you. Your dazed eyes meet his darkened ones.

Suguru was so feral. The man that was usually the personification of grace and poise was falling apart at the seams. His eyes wild and grin spread devilishly as his fingers abuse your cunt never-endingly.

“Look at me when you cum.” he murmurs raspily into your neck, teeth ghosting over your rapid pulse.

You don’t know what it is that sends you over the edge - maybe it was his lustful words, or the way his fingers quirked just right inside of you. All you know is you’re cumming all over Suguru’s fingers, hands clutching the vanity table and eyes locked with Suguru’s in the mirror, mouth dropping into a gasp.

“Fuck! Suguru- Suguru!” you whimper.

Suguru watches in wonder as you ride out your orgasm, using him. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Let them see how beautifully you fall apart because of him.

Finally pulling out, Suguru inspects his fingers. “Now now. That won’t do.” he purrs.

His tongue erotically licks up your juices covering his rings, still holding eye contact with you through the mirror. He catches the way your thighs press together at his lewd act. ‘Oh? Want some?“ he teases.

Before you can retort, he’s bullying his fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself.

The way you moan around him sends blood rushing straight to his cock. Fuck, he has to steel himself from cumming in his pants right then and there - that wouldn’t be very “sex icon” of him.

You have no idea what you do to him.

Not willing to wait any longer, he leisurely takes a seat on the spacious vanity sofa. You whine at the loss of contact before catching the predatory look in his eyes. Suguru was going to eat you alive.

“Come on, darling. Show me how badly you want me.” he grins, legs spreading and prominent bulge on display.

You take a second to admire the view. Tousled black hair falling enticingly along Suguru’s muscled shoulders, tattooed dragon peeking through where his shirt was messed up. His eyes lustful, and locked on you.

He was devastatingly handsome. Your mouth waters at the chance to get what so many people would kill for.

Suguru chuckles as you struggle to unbuckle his belt - did rock stars have to always wear such complicated trousers?

Finally, you pull them down along with his boxers to expose his creamy thighs. Suguru’s throbbing erection lays on his abs, flushed a delicate pale pink.

Your pussy quivers with excitement as you press wet kisses to Suguru’s leaking head, precum dripping down his length to where you’d gently grasped him. A strangled hiss leaves his mouth as you swirl your tongue around the slit. You find yourself lost in his heady taste - he tastes so good.

“Having fun, darling? C’mon now, use me the way you want.” he murmurs, need laced into his voice.

You’ve never gotten used to how big Suguru is. Soft groans leave his mouth as you flatten your tongue and take him in inch by inch, eyes locked with his blown-out ones.

Suguru’s back arches as the heat of your mouth envelops him, hands bunching your hair into a messy ponytail. His pornographic groans echo across the dressing room as you suck on his cock, tongue swirling in just the way you knew he liked.

He can’t even catch his breath with the way you bob your head so heavenly, sucking the soul out of him. It drives him wild to think about how he’s got his lead guitarist on her knees, choking on his cock as your fans wait outside.

Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you pop off his cock to take his heavy balls into your mouth, moaning around them as you suck on both erotically.

Shit, he was really feeling it today.

Through the bangs now sticking to his forehead, he makes out the way your thighs grind against each other for relief.

You were, too.

If this keeps up he really will lose his sanity.

“As much as I’d love to paint your pretty face with my cum, I think we both prefer it inside, no?” he grits out, cock twitching at the strings of spit and precum connecting you to him as he pulls you off.

“Need you inside me so badly.” you nod, brain foggy and filled with only Suguru.

He’s quick to lift you into his lap, resting your ass against his pulsing cock, sly grin spreading at the way you’re already so fucked out.

Suguru feels like he could cum just from the sensation of your juices smearing all over his length, pussy dripping and aching for his throbbing cock.

“Oh yeah? How bad?” he purrs, eyes half-lidded and already knowing the answer.

“Please. I want you to fuck me so badly, Suguru.”

“Badly enough that you’d fuck me out there - where everyone is? Show ‘em who I belong to?”

“Yes.”

At your whimper, Suguru thrusts fully inside you, a moan of relief leaving you both as you finally get what you’ve been craving for.

“Shit, so tight. Always so good for me, darling.”

Once you start, it’s hard to stop, Suguru finds.

It happened when he first fucked you in high school - in his car after your first show, running on adrenaline and teenage hormones. And, years later, it’s happening now as he sheathes himself in your wet cunt.

He just can’t get enough.

He fucks you animalistically, cock ramming in and out of your hole in a way that makes it feel like you’re missing something without him. Nothing in the world other than your two connected bodies. He feels you clamping down on him deliciously, ego growing at you struggling to accommodate his size.

“F-fuck, darling. Hah- It’s s’tight. Take it like my good girl.”

“Hngh- Suguru, faster!” you groan, fingers delicately playing with the nipple piercings peeking out of his barely-buttoned shirt, euphoric at his drawn-out moans.

Unlike Satoru - who takes off his shirt every chance he gets onstage - Suguru was one to shy away from showing skin, slutty piercings and tattoos hidden to the world. It just makes it all the more satisfying as you lick a long stripe along the dragon on his shoulder.

Feels like your little secret. You wanted to be the only one to see this ethereal sight.

“Ah- So good, darling.” Suguru leans back, allowing you more room to play with him as you please. Cock twitching - so close - as you bore into his eyes, sucking his flashy piercings.

He ramps up his pace, bouncing you on his cock in a way that was carnal. It was so feral, the way his balls sting as they smack your ass, a ring of spit and precum forming around his base.

His cock aches for release, but he wants to see you cum first. His pretty girl, cumming all over his throbbing cock.

You pull yourself off his swollen nipples and attach your mouth with his, tongues swirling sensually as he kisses you like he needed you to breathe.

He’s almost as unforgiving with his mouth as he is with his cock. Almost.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“YOOO I don’t know if ‘pre-concert rituals’ was a code-word for something else but we’re on in twenty minutes.” the unmistakable voice of Suguru’s best friend - and occasional bane-of-his-existence - made you two jump apart.

“The ultimate cockblock.” Suguru sighs out - his pace, however, does not slow down. Each harsh thrust makes it difficult to muffle your yelps of pleasure from Satoru, who was still calling for you two from outside.

Noticing your predicament, Suguru grins dangerously. “Oh? My poor girl finds it hard to stop her moans? Aww, better try harder unless you want dear Satoru finding out.” he mocks in your ear.

Both humiliated and turned on by his words, your dripping pussy clenches around his cock. He lets out a choked-up groan, biting hard into the crook of your neck to stop it.

A satisfied smile spreads across your face, “Who should try harder now, Suguru?”

Ah, perfect. You were perfect, perfect for him.

As Satoru’s yells about “cutting a chunk out of Suguru’s pay” disappear across the hallway, both of you let out exhales of relief.

“Dangerous game you played there, mister.” you raise a brow, teasingly.

He chuckles out, before pulling you to him closer by the waist. Lips ghosting over your own, he whispers “Only with you, my darling.”

Slightly more clear-headed but still dripping with lust, you meet the bounce of Suguru’s hips with your own. Eyes still locked with yours, he stuffs you with every inch - tip kissing your cervix so painfully good.

The steady slapping of skin and synchronized moans fill the room, blocking out the cheering of the audience awaiting your band.

Yet, the air crackled with something different this time. For the first time, it didn’t just feel like just mindless fucking.

Bite mark on your neck stinging, you could feel Sugurus heartbeat thundering under your touch - synchronized with your own.

In this moment it felt like just you two in this world.

You wanted to be the only one in his world. Not his fangirls, not some manager, not anyone else.

Maybe that was the reason for your courage, feeling like everything has finally come to a boiling point.

“S-Suguru.” you breathe out as you feel yourself getting closer.

“Mhm?” brows furrowed, he looks up at you with a tenderness in his eyes that does not translate to the merciless cadence of his hips.

“Be mine.”

And that’s all Suguru ever wanted.

With a final hard thrust of his cock, he pulls you into a searing kiss that sends you both over the edge. He cums in hot spurts, thick ropes of seed filling your quivering cunt. It was feral - and it made you feel like his.

Suguru’s seed drips down the side of his length, forming a white ring at his base as he fucks it deeper into you, letting you ride out your highs together.

As your climaxes bate, he buries his face in your neck, kissing softly over the mark from before. “To be yours is everything I could ever want, darling.” he breathes out, hugging you closer as if to hide this vulnerable moment. But you feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin.

Embracing him, you gather his beautiful black locks in your hand, fingers deftly taking the hair tie around your wrist to tie his long hair into a messy ponytail.

Pulling back, you admire Suguru’s angelic features. Face flushed, lips swollen, and dark eyes half-lidded as he stares up at you in surprise.

“Wanted to see your pretty face.” you huff out a low laugh.

The expression on Suguru’s face is indescribable, such pure adoration in his eyes.

Voice low, he murmurs words meant only for you, “I…I’m in lov-”

“HEYYY I’m serious, stop doing the devil’s tango and GET THE FUCK OUT.” Satoru’s voice bellows once again through the door, shattering the little bubble you and Suguru had found refuge in.

“Ah- um-”

“You-”

Both of you stammer out at once, chuckling at how shy you were acting with one another even after all that had transpired in this room.

“We should probably go, before Satoru and Shoko pop a blood vessel.” Suguru jokes. You laugh out in agreement as he carries you tenderly to the washroom, his interrupted words weighing heavily on both your minds. It’s okay, you have time.

Rapidly cleaned up and dressed, Suguru stops, a hand on the dressing room doorknob. “”Hey..” he starts almost-hesitantly, “After the concert, would you maybe want to-”

“Yes.” you interrupt, excitement lacing your voice.

Chuckling in pure euphoria as you both exit, your smiles turn more sheepish as you’re faced with a bored-looking Shoko and an impatient Satoru tapping his foot. “You horny lil’ fuckers almost missed the show, think of my poor fans~” he exclaims, though the glee in his eyes at your intertwined hands was very evident.

“Hope the sex was good at least.” Shoko drones out, eyes flitting over your guilty flushed faces.

‘Oh yeah, and Suguru - next time you dump your fangirls on me, I chop your balls off.“ she chirps out, pointing her drumsticks threateningly at his neck as you all head back.

Blinding lights.

Deafening screams.

Hair pulled into a messy ponytail, he was fatally beautiful onstage.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades.

But he only wanted to fuck you.

A/N. MMMMM long-haired men.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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