#but its really just a stomach ache its nothing

[mattscoquette]

reader going through perv!matt’s journal

“i’ll be back in a sec, i just need to run downstairs and help chris with something really quick.”

that’s what matt told you over ten minutes ago, and he’s still gone. you were over at the triplets place hanging out with nick, when matt insisted he show you both his new pc set up. it only took nick five minutes to be over it, but you felt bad when you saw matt’s defeatist expression after nick went back to his room. you decided to stay, but soon after matt abandoned you to go do something with chris.

you could’ve gone back upstairs with nick, but you let your curiosity get the best of you, and somehow you were going through matt’s bedside drawers, seeing what he had in there.

you knew matt had a thing for you, he made it very, very clear. although those feelings weren’t really reciprocated, it was fun to tease him. like, really fun.

before you could stop yourself, the leather binding of matt’s journal was in your hands, itching to be opened and read. you thumbed through the pages, reading matt’s chicken scratch handwriting while he wrote about whatever. you didn’t want to be too invasive, but his journal piqued your interest a lot. you wondered if he ever wrote about you, or if he only kept those thoughts in his head.

your eyes skimmed up and down the pages, nothing really standing out to you until you saw your name.

today y/n came over to see nick. she had on this rly short skirt, i think they were going out to a bar or something later. i don’t really care. i overhear her talking to nick about the guys she gets with. i could be so much better than them. i would make her feel so good, where she’d be begging me for more. god her moans are probably so fucking pretty.

your cheeks got hot as they blushed a deep red, fingers flipping to the next entry.

it’s been a few days since i saw y/n, i miss her so much. i’ve probably touched myself to her more times than i can count in the last day or two. i don’t know what it is with her, but she just gets me so worked up. she doesn’t even have to do anything and i’ll literally get hard from her. a couple weeks ago we were at her place and i heard her in the shower. it turned me on so much i couldn’t handle it. i want her so bad.

there’s gotta be something seriously deranged about me. every time that y/n sleeps over here, i always sneak up to nicks room and take a pair of her panties. she has to have noticed by now. i can’t help it though. i use them to get myself off. sometimes she has really pretty lace ones, other ones are really really skimpy. i don’t care though. i wonder what they’d look like on her. she’d probably think im a fucking creep if she ever really found out. i wonder what she’d do.

at this point, your stomach was doing somersaults, and your thighs were pressed together, trying to relieve the ache that had grown in your cunt. maybe it was weird what he was doing, but the level of obsession was turning you on. bad.

you were quick to find a pen somewhere in the bedside drawer, popping the cap off and scribbling underneath the entry in your loopy handwriting.

you naughty boy. you didn’t learn that stealing was wrong? i would probably punish you and not let you cum. i would tease you, get you all wound up and make you hold it. id use my pretty pink panties around your cock to get you off and let you cum in them after edging you for so long. maybe i’ll use my hands too, or my mouth if you’re really good for me.

you grinned to yourself as you shut the journal, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth before returning the notebook to its rightful place, exactly how you found it.

you knew that matt wouldn’t do anything about it, either. he would see the note, and probably get off to it a million times, but never actually reach out to you. until then, he’d just have to learn how to keep pleasuring himself alone.

© mattscoquette | taglist

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ inspired by this fic from my girl @st7rnioioss ♡︎♡︎ perv!matt is soooo back i miss that freak

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Sometimes I feel like celiac disease doesn't actually count as a disability since it's so easy and stress free compared to deadly allergies, but then I remember that I have to meticulously plan every trip I go to and play 4D chess with uni campus restaurant menus and for a brief moment there was genuine consideration if I should be put on growth hormones because I was so small from not getting enough nutrients

[kakashisbabymama218]

lol so this ended up being wayyy longer than i expected, just under 3k

Also, not edited so hopefully there aren’t many mistakes! If so I’ll fix it when I wake up cause ya girl is sleepy lol.

You can read part 1 here

you were barely halfway through your shift when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. you decide to ignore it for now, instead getting back to the task you were working on.

its ten minutes later when you're able to take your break, you head out towards the parking lot, seeing your car parked in the middle of the sea of cars and walk over towards it, unlocking the door and sitting down in the drivers seat.

you pull your phone out from your pocket and open it, noticing a new text message from katsuki. your fingers instantly click on the notification only to see its a video he sent.

you remember he said something about going to a party with eijirou and denki and figure its just a video of the three of them drunk off their ass and yelling into the camera or something like it usually is.

however, when you click play it doesn't take long for you to realize that this is not anything like the normal videos you receive. your eyes widen instantly and your head snaps up, looking back and forth and even behind you just to be safe, making sure no one else is in the parking lot before your eyes are dropping back down to your phone just in time to see katsuki pushing his pants down on his hips and his cock springing free.

your mouth waters at the sight, your legs squeezing together instinctively, eyes glued to the phone. you swallow as he takes his length into his hands, letting his hand drag up and down his dick and your ears perk up at the sound of him groaning softly in the background, hands instantly moving to turn the volume up all the way, wanting to hear each and every sounds that falls from his lips as he pleasures himself.

his thumb rubs at his tip, smearing the precum that dripped from his tip along the purplish tip and you can practically taste him on your tongue.

katsuki lets his dick go, and you watch , eyes moving along with it as if hypnotized, as it bounces up and down softly before settling. movement above catches your attention and you watch as katsuki begins racking his nails up and down his stomach, something you know he loves when you do it to him.

the hand that isn't holding your phone moves down to your legs, rubbing your thighs as you continue to watch katsuki touch himself.

you jump the first time he says something, not prepared for him to talk.

“fuckkk pretty girl—” and shit he already sounds so fucked out and he's barely even started.

your hand begins to slip inside the waistband of your pants, wanting nothing more than to give throbbing clit the attention its begging for when the quiet rumbling of an engine pulls your attention away from the video, your head raising as you see a car pull into the spot directly next to you and you immediately click out of the video, pulling up a random app you have on your phone as your cheeks heat up at the fact that you were really about to play with your pussy in the parking lot of you job.

after a minute or two you glance over at woman in the car next to you, wishing she'd hurry up and get out already so you can keep watching the video, but she's looking down at her phone and you can tell she's not going anywhere anytime soon. you let out a groan and look around the parking lot wishing she parked literally anywhere else.

your damp panties cling to you uncomfortably and you squeeze your legs together to get some sort of friction to your throbbing clit, silently reminding yourself that you are in fact in public so you cant actually make yourself cum.

the sound of a car door opening pulls you from the ache in your pants and you see the woman getting out of her car, closing the door behind herself and walking in the direction of your job.

alone again, you do another quick sweep of the parking lot, making sure there's no one around before your clicking back over to the video.

“wish it was you bouncing on this dick”

and fuck so do you, you wanna feel the fullness you feel everytime you sink down on katsuki's fat cock, the stinging stretch you feel no matter how many fingers katsuki uses to stretch you out or how long he preps you for. he's just so... thick, that it always brings a painful kind of pleasure.

 “don’t worry pretty girl, imma come stretch that pussy out when you get off”

at the reminder of your job your head raises. you take your bottom lip between your teeth, debating.

you leaving early wouldn't really be that bad, you guys were overstaffed for it to be such a slow night, and you have complete faith in your coworkers that they can handle the rest of the night without you.

it doesn't take you long to make you're decision, you're completely exiting off of the video and stuffing your phone back into your pocket, not bothering to finish the video, you'll be getting the real thing soon anyway.

you head back inside of your job, going towards your managers office and knocking. after telling her some shitty excuse about having a family emergency and how you have to go you grab your stuff, calling out a goodbye to your coworkers before you back outside and speed walking to your car.

you know katsuki is at his place because of the message he sent you after sending the video.

this party sucks. going back home, come over when you get off.

luckily his apartment wasn't too far from your job and in less than ten minutes you're pulling up to the familiar building. you park and hurry towards the door, using the key katsuki gave you to let yourself in.

you take the stairs up to the third floor, not bothering with the elevator until you're standing in front of katsuki's door. you fumble around with your keys a little before finding the right one and pushing it into the key hole, twisting it until it clicks. You walk inside, toeing your shoes off at the door.

its dark inside, the only light inside coming from the small space under katsuki's bedroom door. you hear him curse before he's calling someone a shitty extra and you figure he's playing his game.

you make your way to the door, pushing it open, flooding the dark hallway with light. katsuki's head turns at the sound of his door being opened and a surprised look crosses his face. he turns his headset off and sets it down before turning back towards you.

he glances up at the clock on the wall above your head and back down at you.

"what are you doing here so early? I thought you didn't get off for three more hours." he says but you don't respond, instead you're taking his controller in your hand and tossing it onto his bed before crawling into his lap.

your hands tangle in his blonde strands as you press your lips into his. katsuki's hands find your waist, pulling you closer as he kisses you back, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip. your lips part instantly and katsuki doesn't hesitate, pushing his tongue into your mouth and slotting it against yours.

he tastes like mint with the lingering taste of weed and you moan at the combination, tugging on his hair as you grind yourself down against his growing erection, groaning at the clothing barrier that separates the two of you.

you pull away to mess with the strands of his sweatpants, untying them before trying to push them down. katsuki lifts his hips off of the chair, helping you pull his pants down enough to free his cock.

"you didn't answer my question" he says, watching you spit in your hand before wrapping it around his length. "what are you doing here so early?"

you don't answer, too focused on pumping him fast, your grip tight as you stare down at his cock.

he takes your jaw between his hands, squeezing your cheeks together and forcing you to look up at him. the hand you have wrapped tightly around his cock pauses as you stare into his red eyes, darkened with arousal.

"don't tell me you left work early just to get some dick. fuckin cock slut."

the words are mean but they're completely true, you did leave work early to get fucked and you were a cock slut— his cock slut.

"i saw your video" you tell him, as you begin moving your hand again, slower this time but your grip still just as tight. katsuki smirks.

"yeah?" he questions, tilting his head to the side. you hear him suck in a breath when you begin thumbing at his tip, smearing his precum the same way you say him do in the video.

"yeah. got so turned on i was ready to finger myself right there in the parking lot. probably woulda if someone didn't park next to me"

katsuki's dick twitches in your hand at the mental image of your spread out in the backseat of your car, fingers pumping in and out of your tight pussy as you watch him jerk off for you.

you let out a surprised yelp when katsuki places his hands on your ass before lifting you both out of the chair, he walks the few steps over towards his bed. he tosses you onto the soft mattress before pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere in the room.

he crawls onto the bed, settling himself between your legs, his head directly in front of your clothed cunt. he drags his finger up and down your slit, feeling the warmth even through the layers of clothes you have.

in one swift motion, he has your legs pushed up with your knees by your head, pulling both your pants and panties down at the same time until they're pooling at your feet, you kick them off the rest of the way, letting the drop to the floor as katsuki takes his place between your legs once again.

the first lick against your sensitive clit was too much, after being ignored for so long the pleasure of finally being touched is almost enough to make you cum right then and there. your back arches off the bed, hands yanking at katsuki's hair.

his eyes are focused on your face, watching as your mouth falls open in a long moan when he takes your clit between his lips and starts to suck and slurp at the bundle of nerves.

"shit katsuki—fuck" you grind your hips up against his face, one of your hands coming to push your shirt and bra up over your chest, freeing your tits to the cool air circulating throughout the room, knowing katsuki likes the cold. your nipples harden even more when the cold air hits them and you take one of them between your fingers, pinching and rolling the nub as katsuki laps at your clit.

it doesn't take long— it never does, not when katsuki is sucking on your clit just right—for you to feel the familiar tightening in your tummy, your toes curling as you moan out a pathetic broken version of his name. two of katsuki's thick fingers plunge inside of you, he doesn't give you time to adjust as he curls his fingers upwards, looking for that spot that'll have you screaming out his name in seconds.

he knows he's found it when you're crying out and trying to close your legs around his head. he focuses his thrusts on the same spot, over and over again until your back is rising off the bed completely and your screaming out his name.

he continues lapping at your cunt, drinking down every drop of slick that gushes out of you as you cum on his tongue. his fingers slow down but never stop moving as he helps you ride out your orgasm. you're panting by the time he moves his head from between your legs, instead moving to lay next to you on the bed, his hand stroking his cock as he spreads his legs.

"cmon pretty girl, want you to ride me" he says, licking his lips and patting his lap.

you swing your leg over his, feeling his hard cock under your cunt and you grind back and forth, hissing and letting your head fall against his shoulder when it rubs against your overly sensitive clit.

you lift yourself up as katsuki lines himself up with your opening. you moan out in unison as you begin sinking down onto his cock. katsuki has to stop himself from wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest and fucking up into you fast and hard.

he'll let you take the lead... for now that is.

your hands find his chest, feeling his muscles under your fingers and you barely have to think before you're dragging your fingers up and down his pecks, letting them slide down to the tiny red marks on his stomach from where he scratched himself earlier at the party.

you lift yourself up on shaky knees, before sinking right back down, still not taking the whole thing inside yet but slowly moving down inch by inch.

"fuck kats', your so big'" you whine out when you finally take him in to the hilt. you feel so full, your tight walls clenching tightly around him as you let yourself adjust to the stretch.

katsuki tisks, thrusting up into you—hard. "thought i told you to ride me" he says with hard slap to your ass. you whine out again at the sting but lift yourself up anyway. you begin properly riding him, sliding yourself up and down on his length, grinding your hips against his, moaning as your clit rubs against his pelvis.

katsuki lifts his head off of the pillow and pushes his face into your chest, taking his lips and wrapping them around you nipple, one of his hands coming up to toy with the other one.

he can tell you're getting tired when your movements become sloppy, so he takes that as his que.

"hold on tight" he murmurs against your chest.

you barely hear him, grabbing onto his shoulders at the last second before your breath is stolen right from your lungs.

katsuki wraps his arms around your middle and plants his feet on the bed below him. he holds onto you tightly as he pounds into you, the sounds of skin slapping against skin immediately bounces off the walls at the pace he fucks you.

"ka— kat-suk-iiii fuckkkkk" you cant even think straight, the feeling of katsuki's cock plunging in and out of you rapidly must have your brain all jumbled because the only thing you can think of is dick dick dick dick dick, the word repeating itself over and over again in your head as you claw at his shoulders hard enough to draw blood, but katsuki barely even notices, too busy using you as a human fleshlight to worry about something as trivial as a few drops of blood.

he's close, dick twitching deep inside of your walls and he can tell by the way your squeeze him so tightly that you're close too. he slows down, dragging himself out slowly, leaving nothing but his tip in before snapping his hips forwards, knocking the wind out of you with each thrust, trying to hang on just a little long so that the two of you can cum together.

he flips the two of you over, laying you flat against the mattress with your head resting on the pillow.

"play with your pussy" he tells you, pulling away from you just far enough to let your hand slip between your legs, fingers ghosting over your clit.

"i'm not gonna last much longer" you tell him as you apply pressure to your clit, moving your fingers in circular motions.

"me— shit, me either" he tells you, hips stuttering a bit as you clench down tightly around him, fingers speeding up the assault on your clit. "gonna cum with me pretty girl?" he asks against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"mhmm... yeah fuck"

katsuki pulls back, angling his hips and hitting your gspot head on. thats all it takes for you to cum, body convulsing as your orgasm crashes into you, your toes curling as katsuki continues to fuck your through your orgasm.

it doesn't take long before you feel his warm seed shooting deep inside of you, pushing further inside of your walls as katsuki continues to thrust into you until he's positive he's emptied his heavy balls inside of your cunt.

you feel as it begins dripping out of your hole the second he pulls out, flopping down on the bed next to you, breathing hard and sweating. he looks over at you, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

he leans down and pokes your cheek "i can't believe you really left work just to come get some dick"

[webism]

★ sometimes, sukuna makes you ride his thigh instead of his lengthy fingers, or his sharp face or prodigious cock.

it's meant to be a punishment, a deprivation of what so often leaves you breathless and stupid, but you can't find fault in the muscled ridges of his thighs. maybe if your sharp-toothed lover was less active, less built, you'd struggle a bit more to find pleasure in his thigh.

you don't even know why you're being punished. it could be for your sharp tongue, or for touching yourself unpermitted, or for some other perceived sin. but as far as the space between you and ryomen stretches; he is the church and you are to kneel over his thick thigh and repent.

so repent you do. you rock your hips, grind down against his bare thigh as if seeking your own climax is apology enough for wronging your lover. if you wronged him, that is—sometimes sukuna punishes you unprovoked, the protests you give when you've really done nothing wrong get his dick hard. though you've cum more times you can count now, surely he can't punish you longer.

you can practically taste his cock it's so close, hard and throbbing and resting against his stomach just waiting to be doted on. you could reach out and grab it, and your fingers ache to feel the weight of his length against them, as does your tongue—but you know your ministries wouldn't go unpunished. and touching him when you're not permitted to doesn't reward you with the fun punishments like fucking yourself on his thigh; your ass would be sore for days.

"faster," his voice is steeled, painted nails digging into your hips. it hurts, how harshly he holds you, but it hurts in a searing way you'd miss if he were to let go. his touch is mean, you love it about him.

you oblige, rock your hips faster despite the sweat that pricks at your skin and the increasing work it takes for your lungs to provide you with enough oxygen to stay clear-headed. sukuna tsks, though, bares his teeth and forces you down harder against his solid thigh. it's a mess of your lust, glossy with your slick and you don't doubt he'll have you clean him up once you're too fucked out to think. perhaps with a cooling bath; perhaps with your tongue.

"you're a mess," he chides. "fucking filthy. stupid brat, so dumb and you're not even taking my cock. you couldn't."

harder, he presses your cunt against his thigh, pulls you to grind down on him. your desperation isn't lost on you, but sukuna's words prick at your stomach.

"i could. let me, please, i want—"

"you want?" he growls. "you don't want. you need my cock, brat, and i'm denying you a necessity."

you know he gets off on using you like this, playing with your threshold for pleasure. just how many orgasms can he rip out of you using his thigh alone? he's controlling your movements like you're the toy despite the lack of physical stimulation he gets from this. he's fucking you mindless and all he's doing is sitting nice and still for you.

when he manages another orgasm out of you, the slurred mewls of 'too much' falling of his deaf-by-choice ears, you realise your punishment isn't pleasure. it is the denial of himself: your newfound addiction, his reverent touch. he won't give you his cock, his tongue, his fingers or even the heel of his palm. all you get is his thigh, and you unravel from that alone. he finds it pathetic and all too erotic in the same breath.

is there really any denying you if he can draw pleasure from you using just the frame of his build?

thanks sutton for star hehe its so fun. i need to write more two-dick-sukuna writing him with one dick here felt wrong

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[ebodebo]

no thoughts...just simon discovering you sitting on the grimy curb outside a club and pretending to be your boyfriend bc of unsavory men being nasty towards you. (tw: men)

-

A chill lingered in the air as you sank down onto the curb, the cold concrete pressing against your thighs while your short dress bunched up, revealing even more skin.

It wasn’t the wisest choice, considering you were just inches away from the road, but your aching feet and pounding head begged for a break.

And not only did you feel a mess, but you also looked it too.

Your eyes were bloodshot, and your eyelids feel heavy and sticky, weighed down by smudged eyeliner, mascara, and whatever glittery eyeshadow you had tossed on in a rush.

What had once been a carefully styled updo was now a tangled mess, with strands of hair falling haphazardly around your face.

You couldn’t be bothered to put it back up; even the thought of managing it made your head spin more than it already did.

Your friends were off somewhere, probably with people you didn’t know, and honestly, you didn’t care anymore.

You just needed to escape that stuffy club.

The lights were flashing so intensely and rapidly that it felt like you might faint.

Now, here you are, sitting on the grimy curb, your mind racing with anxiety.

You had hoped the alcohol would dull your worries, but all it did was amplify them.

Stressing about the rent that you can’t afford this month.

The difficulty of finding and keeping a decent boyfriend.

And let’s not forget about your terrible job that pays next to nothing!

On top of it all, your mother won’t stop calling and complaining about her new boyfriend, who you can’t stand.

“What a pretty girl you are,” a low voice calls out from behind.

His words feel distant, like an echo floating in your mind.

You turn your head slightly to catch a glimpse of the guy, vape in hand and hoodie pulled up, flanked by two friends grinning widely.

You roll your eyes, turning your head away, choosing not to engage with him or offer any response.

"Hey! I’m talking to you," the same voice calls out, its tone growing more assertive.

You turn your head again; this time, he’s closer than before. "Will you just fuck off?" You groan, your eyes barely hanging open.

"The fuck did you say to me.”

Okay.

Now he is mad.

And usually, you could take care of feeble men.

They touch you; they get a knee straight to their balls.

But, right now, you can’t even walk straight.

Let alone balance and swing your leg.

“Sorry—I,” you sputter, carefully standing and almost falling as he draws nearer.

“Think you can talk to me like that?” He snarls as he moves to stand right in front of you.

You look up at him.

His eyes are dark.

You feel your stomach churn.

"Sweetheart," you hear the deep British, gravelly voice before the man who carries it steps beside you. "Been lookin' for you.”

Your eyes dart to him in an instant.

He’s tall, like really, really tall.

Quite built, and looks intimidating as hell with an ominous mask covering his face.

And…fuck, he’s decked out in black and gray military gear.

You feel an odd sense of security, so you thread your arm through his and tuck yourself into his side.

“You yellin’ at my girlfriend?” His voice is so deep, and raspy.

The guy’s eyes nearly bug out of his head at the sound and sight of the man at your side.

“No, no,” the guy scramble. “I—I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend. I would have never—”

“Shouldn’t do it anyway, you pisshead,” the man next to you spat before turning to face you, voice softening. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m—I’m alright,” your murmur, voice uneven.

The man next to you turns his head to face the guy, his eyes darkening at the sight of you upset. “Get on your knees and apologize to her.”

“Wait, wha—”

“I’ll bash your head in.”

The guy fell to his knees, desperately searching for the right words. “I’m sorry. Fuck—I’m really, really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that; I fucked up. I’m so, so sorry,” he word vomits, voice trembling.

"Thank you," you whisper, your eyes widening in surprise at how readily he complies.

Your gaze drifts down to catch sight of a small friendship bracelet adorning the wrist of the man beside you.

It looked so out of place on him.

The bracelet features a black-and-white pattern of beads, with "Simon" spelled out in gray letters at its center and two skull beads surrounding it.

"Simon," you murmur, simply glancing at the letters without much thought.

His head swivels to you.

“Yeah, baby?” He quickly responds, eyes on you in an instant.

"We should—we should get going," you manage to say, feeling another flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

He nods, his hand lingering near your waist. You shift slightly, allowing your hand to slip into his, where you intertwine your fingers effortlessly.

Simon leans in closer, lowering his head to hover near the guy's ear, and whispers so you can barely catch what he’s saying.

“If you ever yell at my girlfriend, let alone another woman again,” Simon’s voice goes down an octave, low and stern. “I’ll find you and crack every fuckin’ bone in your body.”

The guy's face drains of color as he frantically tries to escape—not just back to his friends, who are just as terrified but well out of reach.

"You’re so…tall," you manage to say, your words coming out a bit slurred.

He lets out a gruff laugh. “Come over here.”

Simon tightly grips your fingers, gently guiding you around the corner and away from the club.

“Shouldn’t be alone,” he utters. “You’re drunk.”

“I know,” you admit, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. “I just needed to get out of that crazy club. It was too bright and too hot and too stuffy!” You let out a dramatic sigh. “I thought the alcohol would help clear my mind, but it only made me more anxious, you know?” You look up at him and shake your head.

“My rent is overdue; I can’t get a stupid boyfriend, and, oh God, my mother,” you continue to ramble; you were drunk, after all. “I’m a mess,” you exhale softly, tears clinging to your lashes.

Had you been crying that whole time?

“Listen,” he urges, hand pressing onto your shoulder. “If you want, you could live with me. Been lookin’ for a roommate. Could be nice,” he adds with a casual shrug.

You sniffle, hand wiping your tears. “You—you would do that for me?” You ask, heart warm from his generosity.

“Eh, sure. Why not?” His tone is relaxed and straightforward.

You’re beaming as you pull him in for a tight hug, burying your face in his abdomen while repeatedly expressing your gratitude.

He doesn’t say anything, but he wears the stupidest grin under that mask.

He wouldn’t tell you, but he was so, so ecstatic at the prospect of you living with him.

He could use a few more friends, and you vowed to ensure he stayed well-fed.

Besides, it certainly didn't hurt that you were a hot little spitfire who had him straining in his cargo pants.

He would hold out for you.

Roommates now, husband and wife later.

-

author’s note: crazy how he’s the only man ever

[playfully-sadistic]

Getting yourself off again, angel? Second time today, isn't it? Or already the third, fourth, fifth? You're such a greedy, insatiable thing. Now, now, don't stop on my account - no, keep going, you're doing great.

But your touches are a little too intense, don't you think? A little too... on the nose, too obviously intended to make you come. Good little pets don't finish fast - if at all - no, they edge and edge, over and over again, until they finally get permission to let themselves go and succumb to their primitive needs. So... Lighter. Slower. No rubbing, only caressing, no fingering, only teasing your hole with your fingertips.

But first things first, fingers off entirely. Apparently, you need someone to guide you through the entire process, don't you? You're just too impatient and worked up, full of hormones and heat, to be able to regulate yourself, poor baby. Don't worry, I'll do it for you, step by step, nice and slow. Nothing makes it easier for you than having someone to order you around and tell you exactly what you're allowed to do. Now, isn't it extra fun that, even though nothing stops you from going further before I allow you to, we both know that you won't? You'll be good and behave, just for me, less even, just for a few written words, the illusion of a dom hovering over your barely clothed body and whispering sweet commands against the shell of your ear.

Touch your chest first. Even if it does nothing for you, even if you barely have any sensation in it, I want your fingers circling your nipples, your fingernails gently scratching over them, pinching them between two of them, pulling, massaging. Put on a show, as if someone was watching you. If you have some clamps around, get them, and tease yourself with them - not quite putting them on, but rubbing over your areola, using it to pinch and pull as well. Feel that, treasure? That's what you get for being patient and taking your time. That nice pulling feeling in your stomach... Yeah, that's good, isn't it? Good job. Toy with your chest and nipples some more, make them swollen, sore, red, make sure they already ache before you finally put on those clamps. If you don't own any, you go ahead right now, and order some. The most humiliating, the prettiest ones you can find. And I want you reading through this post again when they arrive, so you can properly get off to it.

Now, I'm sure by now your legs have fallen open all by themselves, mh? Revealing a soaked, hot mess in between, throbbing and begging for attention. So tempting to put your hand right in the middle of it and grope yourself, but you'll be good for me and keep your hands to yourself, love. For now, all you're allowed to do is let your fingers brush over your stomach... Drawing little circles around your belly button, long swirls that slowly go further down, ah, there's that nice feeling of your guts tensing up, isn't it? God, you're so predictable, such a simple thing. Oh, it's fine, you're merely a body in need of being fucked right now, no wonder your brain turns into simple mode.

Gently tease yourself with your fingernails along your lower stomach, before you move onto your thighs - oh, my, you're really desperate, spread them out as far as possible, and let me guess, you only just noticed now how far you've opened up, haven't you? A proper slut for the taking, good job, my angel. Touch your thighs, not the inner parts yet, just explore yourself, palms tracing your muscle, reaching up to your hip, moving onto your stomach again, where that nice, tight feeling comes back. Slowly let your fingers glide to the inner part of your thighs, where your ticklish, and it usually only works to get touched there when it's someone else's fingers, but, oh, fuck, darling, today's different, isn't it? Touching yourself so intensely, yet thoughtfully, it's really showing its effect on you, mh? That's perfect, you're doing so well, yeah, touch and tease your thighs some more, move those fingers up until...

Now you're allowed to move them right in between your legs. That feels good, hm? Finally letting your fingertips feel your own heat, swollen and twitching, feeling your own wetness, only caused by a post. Doesn't that truly show how desperately you need guidance and being made to feel utterly submissive? Don't keep those moans in, show everyone that you're such a needy, horny doll, so desperate to touch themselves. Why the modesty? Let it out. Rub yourself - slowly, dear - and feel yourself up, and know that you've done anything to this point because you followed orders, because you obeyed, because you just couldn't do it yourself and needed someone else so fucking badly, you needed someone to tell you what to do, does it feel like I'm there with you, do you like it, mh? Does it turn you on to know that I took the time writing this, for you to follow every step and work yourself up?

If you own a vibrator, you'll use it now. If it's the kind that you shove inside your needy hole, then do it, don't be gentle, don't be slow, shove it inside of you on the highest settings, as deep as it can go, and use your hand to continue rubbing. If it's the kind that you put on yourself, lay it on you, don't press it against you - we wouldn't want you to get too excited now, would we? - and shove your fingers inside of your instead. Fuck yourself. Make it good. Make it hard to not fall off the edge. Make it as rough and fast and overstimulating as you possibly can. Make it feel humiliating how fucking close it gets you that you're doing this in the first place. Feel the weight and tension that your heat brings - lean into it. Open your mouth, let the moans and whines and all those pretty noises out, don't close it to swallow, let your drool run down your chin - pant. It's getting hard to not come, isn't it? Poor baby.

Do you want me to give you permission? You do. I know. It's okay, baby, relax, keep fucking yourself open like that. A little patience.

Getting harder, mh? Feeling it in your guts already? God, you're so...

Think you can manage a bit longer?

Soon, my angel. You sound so good when you're desperate.

Almost there.

Ready, love?

Come for me, right now.

[luxaofhesperides]

the beginning - danny

0.

The Lazarus Pit brings Danny back.

The child who went into them, however, is gone forever.

Danyal al Ghul is the soul who should reside in this body. Danyal has a life still to live and Danny died ages ago, old and surrounded by loved ones, ready to spend the rest of his forever in the Infinite Realms.

Something's gone terrible wrong, he thinks rather wryly, squinting through the cold green water that surrounds him. An ache echoes through his body and he brings a hand—small, a child's hand that shouldn't belong to him— to his stomach, where he can feel a large wound slowly pull itself together.

Did I get stabbed?

He means to continue the thought, but a sharp pain hits his head, making him curl up. He gasps and air bursts from his lungs, water rushing to fill in the empty space. Danny chokes, panicking, as memories slide into place, the lives of Danyal al Ghul and Danny Fenton fighting for dominance in his head. His lungs burn, throat working futilely to push water out, but there's nothing to be done.

Danny is a child again, and just like last time, he dies young.

1. So.

Assassins.

Danny honestly can't tell if this is a step up or a step down from mad scientist parents. On the one hand: he knows they loved him, as clumsy as it was, even though they loved their work more. On the other hand: assassin cult sounds like something out of a fairy tale, and while cool, is definitely not safe for kids.

And Danny, somehow, is a child again.

This really wasn't what he expected when he woke up on the sandy bottom of the pit. He's in ghost form, which is an unpleasant shock, but at least its familiar.

He is also, if his memory as Danyal serves him correctly, nine years old.

Kinda sucks that he died so young this time round. Didn't even make it to the double digits before he was taken out of the running.

He can't remember what it was like being so small in his last life. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a child and run them through with a sword. It's a cruel world he's woken up in. It's made worse by the fact that he's alone.

At least being down here without needing to breathe is giving him valuable time to think.

Danny has lived a full life already. He didn't really need or want another one, content to be a full ghost in the Infinite Realms. But going back isn't really an option, now that he's in a new body. The kid he could have been deserves to live fully, and the least Danny can do is live that life for them.

It'll be hard, but Danny's sure he can manage a decent life for himself.

Being presumed dead will make his escape from the assassins easier, though he'll miss getting the chance to meet his new mother; assassin as she is, Danyal knows her not by her blades but by her soft lullabies and jasmine-scented hair. The loss of her child must be hurting her deeply, but it's necessary. If Danny wants any semblance of a normal life, he has to leave her behind.

Besides, he's seen enough death. He doesn't want to ever be the cause of it.

So, he needs a plan for this new life.

Step one: get out of dodge.

The rest he'll figure out on the way.

2.

Turns out assassins weren't the most shocking thing in this new life.

No, that honor goes to superheroes.

Genuine, honest to God superheroes! With powers and everything!

To think that Danny once called himself a superhero. Ha! As if! He's nothing compared to the likes of Superman or the Flash or even Green Lantern. They're in another league. Literally. They're part of the Justice League, which has a whole slew of other heroes, and Danny is possibly their biggest fan.

Not like that's weird; most people in this world are huge fans of superheroes. Makes sense, since they're the ones who rely on their protection the most.

It does suck to know that his background belongs to that of a villain. Assassins aren't known for saving people, after all.

Part of him contemplates becoming a hero again, taking up the role of Phantom and joining the ranks of Superman. But he's had many years to come to terms with the loss of his teenage years and the bitterness that came with it. That experience, that life once lived, helps him decide each time that being a civilian is the gift this life owes him.

At thirteen, Danny lives in a foster home with six other kids. He's the oldest and has his hands full taking care of everyone else while their foster parents work three jobs between them to keep them all afloat.

When his younger siblings play superheroes, he gladly takes the role of the villain, swooping in with a blanket to kidnap away an innocent bystander that has to be rescued. He falls over dramatically at the end of each fight and praises his siblings' strength and teamwork, making them puff up with pride.

It's all fun and games so long as it only stays fun and games.

Superpowers are cool and all, but his came at the cost of his life, his health, his future. He knows, better than anyone, the price of being a hero. He knows that even Superman carries heavy losses on his shoulders, struggles under burdens no one can see.

He's lucky that the small town he ended up in—Luray, Virginia—has no heroes or villains. Too small a place to be on anyone's radar, apparently.

His classmates often complain about how they wish they could live in a big city where there's more to do, more to see, superheroes flying through the streets to protect them.

Danny is happy where he is. It's quiet, and small, and nothing like what he's used to, but it's safe.

That's all he really wants.

3.

Here's something that stays the same no matter what world he's in: Danny is a magnet for trouble.

If the trouble stopped at bullies, everything would have been fine. Danny could handle Dash, and he could handle Justin just as easily.

But the universe loves to escalate with Danny, specifically, which is why Danny had to reveal his powers when some villain-wannabe school shooter attacked his high school.

And to think he felt bad for Jackson when he didn't make it onto the track team.

Luray does not have a meta population. They're too small to have much of a population at all, and much of it is white which made him, half-Iranian, stand out even before he threw out a barrier of ice to protect his classmates a second before the gunfire began.

"Danny?!" his seatmate, Clarrissa, cries out in alarm.

"Everyone get out the window and run for it!" he orders, "I hold him back as much as I can!"

"You can't stay here!"

"Don't worry," Danny says, offering her a tight smile. "He couldn't kill me even if he tried. Now go!"

His classmates hadn't wasted any more time, sending him shocked looks as they escaped the classroom. A glimpse of his reflection in the window revealed glowing green eyes and blue mist wafting out of his mouth.

Looks like his time in Luray is up. He hopes his foster siblings won't be too mad at him for running away.

The gunfire stops, and Danny takes his chance to leap through his ice, intangible, and tackle Jackson, easily knocking the gun away from him.

"Monster!" Jackson spits at him, and Danny laughs.

"Bold of you to say that. I'm not to one trying to kill people."

He doesn't want to hear anything else that comes out of Jackson's mouth, so he knocks the guy out with a solid hit to a pressure point on his neck. Hopefully that'll keep him down long enough for the cops to get him.

Danny stands and means to leave, but something hits the back of his head hard and he's out before he realizes what's happened.

When he wakes up, he's strapped down to a table in what is undeniably a lab, and sighs.

At least he made it to sixteen before he went into another lab. Maybe in his next life he might even get all the way up to twenty before he's pulled back down here.

4. Though he has all his powers and a ghost form, that doesn't mean he is a ghost in this life.

No, he's fully a meta, which means meta-suppressing cuffs work on him.

It's not exactly a discovery he was hoping to have while locked up in a lab, but it's what he's got, so he has to roll with it. The cuffs are heavy on his wrists and around his throat, keeping him from escaping as a group of people in masks and lab coats bustle around, ignoring him.

His head is still foggy, though likely more from the drugs than the hit he took to his head.

He doesn't bothering talking to any of them; they don't see him as human, and Danny's dealt with enough of that in his past life.

Mad scientists love to talk though, so he still hears the gist of their plans: recreating the meta gene for normal people, making a profit from selling powers, getting rich and famous from their accomplishments. They had been using Jackson to get corpses for human testing, but they got Danny instead — someone they can harvest bio material for, a much better find than a couple dead kids.

If he had the energy to rage, Danny would have killed everyone in the room already. They planned to kill his classmates just for test subjects.

He doesn't want to be an assassin, but he'd gladly lean into those old lessons to make sure they never hurt anyone again.

But the cuffs and drugs do a good job of keeping him docile, barely able to think, as they transport him around to different locations and cut him open.

He's not sure how long it's been when they ease up on the drugs a bit. It still takes time for his body to work through everything, and he comes too with a throat that's dry and a stomach that hasn't had anything in it for quite some time.

The first thing Danny does when they start asking him questions is throw up on them.

If they wanted cooperation, they should have treated him better. This is fully on them.

It makes for a convincing argument for food and water and a bathroom break, at least, so he gets what he demands and takes care of his human body under the cold gazes of three scientists.

"You guys suck," he says conversationally. "Keeping test subjects alive is like basic knowledge. No wonder y'all suck at your jobs."

"Your comments aren't needed," one of the scientists says primly. "Get up. We need to study how using your powers affects your body."

They hook a bunch of different things onto him, then lock him in a glass cage and use the cuff around his throat to send jolts of electricity through him when he doesn't do anything. He throws a chunk of ice at them, watching as it breaks apart into small pieces when it hits the glass. The scientists scribble in their notepads, and when they look at him again, he flips them off.

He gets shocked again, but it's worth it.

The process repeats for another few hours, then he's pulled out of the cage, gets an IV stuck in his arm, and drops off into drugged oblivion before he has time to start throwing hands.

5.

It must have been months. Danny's not sure; it's hard to keep track of time when locked in isolation.

He knows he's fed at least once a day. He's been getting a tray of bland food at random times, but he's counted over 50 trays sliding through the little slot on the bottom of his cell door.

Turns out insulting scientists and their procedures is a bad idea, especially when he has the language to really bruise their egos.

So.

Isolation sucks.

But at least they don't drug him anymore!

The cuffs do their job of keeping him in place, and if he didn't have memories of another life to keep him company, he definitely would have lost his mind long ago.

There's other people in here, other metas. He's heard them screaming and begging for mercy. He's heard them go chillingly quiet. He wonders why there are so many superheroes in this world when not a single one has come to save them.

Surely at least one would notice metas disappearing and would investigate?

But no.

No one ever comes to save them.

So Danny needs to figure out a way past the cuffs, and then he can be Phantom again long enough to free the other metas and make every scientist involve pay for their crimes.

He just needs to wait.

He just needs—

6.

When Danny wakes up, the alarms are ringing. It makes his head pound, throbbing with each piercing sound.

He stumbles up, using the wall to keep his balance, and freezes when he sees that the door to his cell is open.

…Huh.

The hallway is bathed in red light when he steps out. No one's around. He wanders around the facility, searching for answers and only finds more questions.

There are other cells, also empty. Certain rooms have blood splattered across the walls and the floor, but no bodies. Labs are destroyed, broken glass on the floor. But every room is empty.

He wanders until he finds what must be a security room. There's a strange device dangling off a keychain on a rack, and Danny eyes it curiously. He runs his fingers around the cuff on his throat, feels the little depression where the collar comes together, and takes the rounded device. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work.

But if it does work…

The cuff pops open easily, as if it hasn't been his greatest foe these past few months.

All at once, his strength returns to him. He has forgotten what it was like to breathe easily, to feel his powers come to his call so easily, to be reassured that he can take care of himself.

It's almost like coming back to life.

He transforms, settling back into his ghost form with relief, and flies through the facility in search of any other metas that may need help. He finds no one, but he does catch a glimpse of the outside.

The sky is so blue it almost hurts to look at. Part of the facility has been blown apart; rubble surrounds the place and the surrounding forest has been flattened. It looks as though a fight has moved through the area.

Maybe a superhero did come to save them? Rude of them to leave only Danny, though.

He continues his search, poking his head into different rooms and hallways. He finds a staircase going down and follows it into the basement. More labs greet him, and the glow of computers and strange vials of liquid leave him unsettled.

There's a green glow coming around the corner than reminds him of the Lazarus Pit he flew out of, once upon a time many years ago, and that's what draws him forward.

Tucked away in that familiar glow is a small body, floating in a tube of liquid. There's an oxygen mask attached to her face, but that doesn't stop Danny from recognizing her.

"Ellie?"

7.

Just like in one life, Danny is cloned. The difference is that this time, there's no reason for it, no insane godfather trying to recreate a version of him that will choose him.

No, this time it's from a group of scientists who should have known better, who decided to mess around with his genes, and brought his once little sister now daughter into such a cruel, dangerous world.

Danny barely remembers breaking the glass to get her out of there. He doesn't know where he found the coat to bundle her up in, flying out of the facility as fast as he could. He feels sick, knowing it's his fault that she's here now, forced into a painful, terrifying existence because he wasn't strong enough to save himself.

He's a runaway meta victim of mad science. He can't take care of her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," he whispers to her, pressing a kiss against her head. "I'm so sorry."

She small in his arms. She barely weighs anything.

Danny blinks back tears and tries to find some place he can stop and rest, somewhere safe he can gather his thoughts and figure out his next steps.

This isn't like when he first woke up in this world, with both sets of memories.

This is Ellie.

She deserves more than just a wish and a half-baked plan for a better life.

She deserves a family that wants her, that can care for her, that can protect her. She deserves to grow up normally and not worry about destabalizing or being a replacement for him or being hunted down.

She deserves one life to be a kid and grow up safe and be whoever she wants to be.

Danny will never be able to give her that.

But maybe he can give her to someone who can.

8.

Danyal grew up with an assassin mother and a cruel grandfather who expected far too much from a child. He was taught to kill and be more weapon than child. He was taught the world was something for him to take, to protect, to water with blood.

Danyal was meant to be the next Demon Head, and the next Bat.

Danny knows he can't go to his mother. If they're both lucky, he will never have to see her again. Knowing his luck, he's already planning explanations for why he never went back to her.

Danny's father, on the other hand…

It didn't take much to put the pieces together. The notorious Bat is Batman, Gotham's vigilante and one of the founders of the Justice League. While a child would have been left confused by the many comments his mother made about his father, it was simple enough for Danny to line them up with what he learned about the heroes of this world and realize, oh, that's my dad.

It takes a few weeks of research, using public libraries with Ellie tucked securely in a wrap to his chest, but he's able to learn more about Batman.

The most important thing being that he has kids.

Of course, none of this is officially acknowledged, but everyone knows that the Robins are his kids. Current Robin, especially, likes to remind people that he's 'the son of Batman'.

Okay. Cool.

Danny has siblings.

Awesome.

He's… not looking forward to those conversations.

At least it means more people to look after Ellie. Assuming they take her in, which Danny's really hoping for.

But it's the best he can do, so Danny sets course for Gotham and hopes that just this once, everything will work out.

9.

Meeting the Bats of Gotham is a lot harder than he expected.

A week in the city and he's barely caught more than a glimpse of them. He can't dedicate a lot of time to tracking them down either, needing to break into grocery stores to get food for him and Ellie.

She's so quiet as a baby, and it terrifies him. She's only cried twice the entire time he's had her, and Danny spends every day begging her to hold on.

Time during the day is spent catching naps and researching common vigilante spotting areas in Gotham. He's got a map of Gotham taken from a library and has been steadily marking it up, putting stars in the best places to find a Bat. There are places all over the city, and Danny has no idea how to know which ones are the best.

The only thing he can do is wait at a different rooftop each night, clinging to Ellie, wondering if this is the last night he has with her.

On the ninth night, someone finally arrives.

"Step away from the edge," a voice demands.

Danny turns to see Robin approaching, hands held out as if to catch him. He's bigger than Danny was expecting. Which makes sense; most of the stories Danny got online are from when Robin was a kid, and it's been a few years since then. He must be a teenager now. Older, but still young.

"Robin," he manages to say, his throat tightening. It feels almost like there's a noose around it. It feels like that meta-suppressing cuff has clicked back into place, leaving him helpless.

"Step away from the edge," Robin repeats. "There is no need for this to be your last resort."

"But it is," Danny whispers.

Robin darts forward and wraps a hand around Danny's wrist, yanking him towards the center of the roof. "Why on Earth would you come up here? Surely you must have known that someone would stop you."

"Batman," he gets out. "I need to speak to Batman."

"What for?"

"I'm… I was told, once, that I'm his son."

10. Robin stares at him for a long moment.

Then he takes off his mask.

Danny knows those eyes: he sees them every time he looks in a mirror.

"Danyal," Robin breathes. "You died before I was born."

"I did. Are you…?"

"Mother told me about you."

So he has a little brother. If only he hadn't left first chance he got, he could have known his little brother, gotten away from that place before it hurt him too. Danny has made many mistakes since he arrived in this world. Missing a little brother is perhaps the worst of them.

"Mother…" Danny repeats. "She put me in the Lazarus Pit. I remember that. She didn't want me to die."

"I was born to replace you."

Just like Ellie.

So many mistakes repeating. He's never felt like more of a failure.

"Batman. Our father. He treats you well? You are safe with him?"

Robins brows furrow, but he nods, which is enough for Danny. "Yes. Of course. Isn't that why you're here now?"

"I'm not asking for me." Danny carefully, gently, unwraps Ellie. "I'm asking for her. Please, take care of her. She deserves more than I can give her. Ellie… she'd be your niece."

Robin's eyes are wide. He's frozen until Danny pushes Ellie against his chest, forcing him to lift his arms to hold her.

"Wait, what about—?"

When Robin looks up, Danny's already gone.

It's for the best.

(masterpost for all parts)

[nottswitch]

⋆౨ৎ bully!theo teaches you a lesson for talking back to him in public

nav // aus / bully!theo // more

and so, bully!theo is born! read at your own discretion, and i hope you’re gonna enjoys this lil fucker of a man <3

warnings: 18+ mdni, kinda dubcon, oral (m receiving), rough throatfucking, throat bulge, size kink, choking, gagging, mentions of vomiting, hair pulling, slapping, spitting, degradation, praise if you squint, cursing, smoking

you knew you probably shouldn’t have done it. theo had warned you against it many times, and yet, you still couldn’t resist – the smirk he had when he completely obliterated you for the hickeys he, himself, left the night before was simply grating on your nerves too much. so, you retorted with a sharp quip; did you really have to bring up his dick size? maybe not, given that you knew for a fact it wasn’t ‘smaller than a pickle’, but it just seemed like the right thing to say at the moment.

now, you had to deal with the consequences – theo’s huge cock mercilessly destroying your throat as you kneeled on the cold floor of the guy’s bathroom. his hand painfully fisted your hair as he shoved your face into his crotch and back, again and again and again, showing no signs of stopping any time soon.

"you think you’re so cute, huh? so fucking smart, aren’t you?" he hissed, pulling you off his cock for a moment and leaning down, his ragged, smoke-smelling breath hot against your skin. you swallowed a thick mixture of his precum and your saliva, feeling your throat constrict after at least ten minutes of non-stop pounding. your lips were swollen and stretched out, your chin dripped with liquid, the stains at the front of your blouse rapidly growing in size.

a strong slap landed on your cheek, causing your head to snap to the side. your ‘ow’ was loud and high, but it did nothing to make theo even wince. he squished your cheeks between his fingers, his darkened eyes almost drilling a hole in yours with their intensity. the muscles of his jaw rolled back and forth, his nose scrunched up in contempt.

"where’s the fucking attitude, huh?" he shook your face in his hold, making your head go dizzy for a moment, and yet you couldn’t deny the wetness that pooled between your thighs at the gesture – at every one of them, really. maybe you were sick for it, but your body had its own story to tell.

"yeah, thought so." theo scoffed at the lack of your reply; the only sounds that came out of you were the rapid, shallow breaths you took due to the exertion of sucking him off so furiously. he fixed you with another look of disdain and then, without any warning, spit right on your face. his saliva trickled down the side of your nose, making you wince – not that it was the first time, yet it still felt equal parts as degrading as it was arousing. you had half a mind to spit back, but then realized you’d probably end up with a completely dysfunctional throat.

theo smirked darkly, the anger still seeping through his every pore, and dragged his fingers all over your face, smearing his saliva over your cheeks and lips. then, without any real resistance on your part – was it the lack of strength, or was it the buzzing ache in your lower belly, you couldn’t quite place it – he shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you gag; your hands flew up to his thighs to steady yourself, but he shook them off, slapping you once more. your skin stung, and your brows were furrowed, but it didn’t deter theo in the slightest.

"keep still," he muttered, pressing at the base of your tongue. your gag reflex flared up, and you felt the familiar churning in your stomach as you tried to hold back as much as possible. before you were ready to give in and just throw up, theo took his fingers out of your mouth, providing a brief sense of relief, but then immediately replaced them with his cock.

the gagging never stopped; in fact, it only got worse as theo started roughly thrusting into your throat again, his hips moving in a quick, steady rhythm. your hair was in his painful hold, tight against his body; no way you could pull away, even though your throat was sore and aching.

"’s all you’re good for," theo rasped out through his low groans, the smirk obvious in every word that left his mouth. "a fucking cocksleeve, yeah? stupid little thing, but fits my cock so well, shit–"

you hummed incoherently around his length, trying at least an attempt to express your disagreement, but it only made your throat open some more, and the tip of theo’s cock hit deeper. you could feel the bitterness of bile rising to the top, but the huge, throbbing erection was an obstacle that kept it at bay. theo could clearly see the way your body trembled, and for a moment, he held you down, your nose pressed right into the trimmed hair on his pelvis.

"so, cara," he drawled, his fingers running along your scalp in almost soothing motions, even though they were anything but. "you still think i have a small dick, hm?"

you couldn’t reply even if you wanted to but still tried to move your head in a ‘no’. theo huffed, finding your squirming to be amusing, and his free hand glided around your neck, feeling the bulge his cock created at the front of it. you were breathing through your nose, or at least attempting to, but it didn’t really help: every single twitch of theo’s steel-solid length made you gag a little over and over again. your entire cleavage was soaked in your own drool at this point, and it was obvious that theo would have something to say about it later.

"you don’t think so?" he raised an eyebrow, as if your admittance was a surprise. he started stroking himself through your throat, fingers curling into your skin, and somehow, it felt even more humiliating than simply being throat-railed: he wasn’t even using it anymore, your body being just a means to jerk himself off. "cazzo, you feel so fucking good silent."

theo let his head fall back against the wall, groaning as his hand sped up. the other one pressed you even further into his crotch, and seconds later, you felt thick, hot spurts of cum spilling inside you one after the other. the throbbing of his cock almost choked you, added to the pressure of his hand from the outside, and you pushed at his thighs, trying to finally get him out of you. it seemed like he didn’t want you to actually die – good – because he let go, pushing you head back in return. the emptiness you felt after letting go of his still half-hard dick was strangely disappointing, the sickeningly pleasant buzz in your soaked pussy only intensifying. you sucked in the drool connecting your swollen lips to theo’s cock and wiped them with the back of your hand; it didn’t help much, you were still completely drenched.

knowing you wouldn’t get anything more, you sighed and stood up on wobbly legs, taking a couple of steps towards the bathroom sink. as you splashed your face with some cold water, you heard a click of a lighter. in the mirror’s reflection, theo was bonelessly slumped against the wall, lighting up a cigarette and taking a deep first drag.

"might need a repeat of that tonight." the words came out along with a swirling cloud of smoke, grey and undoubtedly bitter. you scoffed, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the puffiness but only making it worse in the process.

"you fucking wish," you muttered, but your voice lacked conviction. it was a well known fact that ‘might’ meant ‘will’ in theo’s vocabulary, and you also knew full well that you’d give him what what he asked – no, demanded – for.

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

goodnight moon

how spencer turns college!reader's bad sleeping habits into very good sleeping habits.

MDNI | smut! word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), slightest teensiest bit of overstim, fluff to the moon, spence and reader just being sweet, spence just being obsessed and concerned with every little thing about reader authors note: hiiii. soooo this is TERRIFYING. why is smut soooooo scary and vulgar. but i've been working on this one for a long while and i think i'm happyish with it??? idk. its not really adding anything new or revolutionary to the world but i think its cute!! lemme know your thoughts. i think smut is something i'll get better at writing with time but yk. okay whatever have a lovely day and i hope you enjoy!!

There’s a noticeable tension in your shoulders as you lay down on top of the covers of your bed. Your face crushes into the soft down of many pillows, nose buried into the crevices. You trace out the clean smell of Spencer's shampoo that manages to linger on your sheets even after a week of him being away on a case, the fragrance making your head become even heavier with each deep inhale you take.

You can physically feel the exhaustion clawing at your soul. Eyes shut, blocking out the harsh shine of the overhead light you definitely forgot to turn off, you reach your arm up to work on the knot in your shoulder. You roll it back, feeling an unsettling click that probably shouldn’t be there. 

Spencer would be able to work the knot out like it was nothing, if he were here.

You shift your leg up, thinking. When did he say he’d be home earlier today? You had called him before your final exam this afternoon, for some encouragement and reminders on the principles of astronomy.

The all-consuming fog in your brain prevents you from remembering any of the important details of the conversation, such as when he’d be home, so you choose instead to just replay the soft I love yous he had said into your ear. 

By this point you’re sprawled across a good portion of your bed, back to the ceiling with one leg bent, head turned to the side. Your spine sinks down into the mattress, relieving the aches just a bit, and the sweet, sweet release of sleep ensues minutes later.

Until it gets quite rudely interrupted.

You don’t hear him enter the room. You haven’t even opened your eyes to see him. The only thing you notice when you wake is the feeling that you’re being picked up from your hips and rotated, a complete 180.

“Hello?” you ask loudly even before your eyes open.

When they do open, they see your lovely boyfriend standing above you, grimacing like he’s been caught. Spencer’s hands are holding you mid air, and you look at him, wildly confused, as you blink away the sleep in your eyes.

He’s still wearing his work clothes, the thick sweater vest that you got him last year for his birthday layered over his button-up. He must have just gotten inside, his bag was still crossed over his body. 

“Hi honey. What are you, um, doing?” you ask quietly. His nose scrunches in a cute attempt to push his glasses up his nose without using his already occupied hands.

“Hi. Sorry for waking you up.” He ducks down to kiss your forehead. “You just really shouldn’t be sleeping on your stomach. Bad sleeping posture can actually worsen chronic pain more than any other factor in your daily life,” he explains, setting you down but keeping a firm grasp on your waist. Your mouth forms an awkward little smile, matching his. “I had to intervene.”

“I know. It’s just so uncomfy. But why’d you pick me up? You could’ve just nudged me, or, you know, asked…” you grumble. You make room for him, however, as you speak. He sets his bag down and clambers into bed next to you, body seemingly rivaling yours in exhaustion. He leans against the headboard, turning his head to look at you.

“I wouldn’t normally do that, but I knew you were exhausted, so I figured you’d be less likely to wake up if your body was physically touching fewer things,” he justifies, logic drawing a soft giggle from you. You settle into a comfortable silence, the room still bathed in artificial light and Spencer still in his work clothes.

He eventually breaks the stillness after a minute, turning towards you. “How did your astronomy final go today?”

“I think I did alright. Our study sessions paid off, I think. But it was never my strong suit,” you reply, tracing your fingers over his leg. “I’m so achy now though. It’s strange what four hours of math can do to your body.” 

His hand slides up your arm in response, lightly pressing on the tense spots. 

“It’s strange what four hours of math and sleeping like a contortionist does to your body,” he corrects with his little know-it-all look, fingers circling a bit more firmly into your shoulder.

“I also really, really missed you,” you add, smiling back at him. “So be nice to me.”

“I missed you,” Spencer responds, even sweeter. “And I am being nice.”

You roll your eyes and he reaches over to kiss you gently. “Would you like me to be nicer?” he whispers softly. Your brain is all but short circuiting as you look at him, his eyes flitting between yours like he was searching the stars.

Your head is nodding even before you can actually realize what he means.

Then, his body is gone from yours. You stay silent, trying to regulate your breath, eyes following him as he stands and walks over to turn off the big light. Your eyes flicker to adjust, but with the moon’s gentle shine pouring into your window, it’s absolutely perfect. 

A blush, that you're hoping the new darkness will conceal, creeps up your cheeks when you see the soft outline of Spencer’s back as he takes off his sweater vest and pulls at his tie. He turns back and looks at you, eyes all soft and full of adoration. “Yeah? Not too tired?”

“Nope,” you murmur, convincing yourself as much as him. He finishes getting into his PJ’s and walks back to you. You straighten your back, trying to appear as awake as possible. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he says back at you, voice gentle. “You can barely keep your eyes open.” A kiss, this one to your cheek, softens the blow of his words. You shake your head, but he continues. “You were sound asleep not even ten minutes ago, and you’ve yawned six times in the last five minutes.” His hand strokes the side of your waist.

“Spencer. I'm fine,” you huff. He smiles a little and sits next to you on the bed. His mouth is on yours, kissing you firmly, sweetly. 

A hand, always in motion, always calculated, slides up to your nape and presses you closer. The other slides down and thumbs under the hem of your top, grazing lightly over your skin, making it erupt in goosebumps.

His brow scrunches softly. “You’re so worked up.”

You stay silent, begging him with your eyes. He dips down and kisses right where he touched, and your hips lift a bit in response. 

“Honey. Lie back,” he says, and you do so. He readjusts his body so he’s on top of you, one leg slotted between yours. He kisses your forehead, cheeks, nose, and then moves down to your neck. He kisses that one spot beneath your ear that makes you gasp quietly. He then does it again, and again, and again, in that focused way of his. 

Wordlessly, he slides down further. His nose bumps underneath your belly button, in the thin stripe of skin showing where your top meets your panties. “Okay?” he asks.

“Yes. Please. Please, Spence,” you whimper softly, head feeling like a cloud of gas from the endorphins. He peppers even more kisses there and ghosts his fingers over your hip bone. He slides your panties down an inch and immediately kisses the skin that’s revealed.

“I thought about doing this to you all the time while I was away,” he murmurs. He presses another kiss more firmly on your hips, even closer to your soaked core, sucking gently and leaving a mark. “These should be off by now,” he muses, gently pulling your underwear down. 

His hand is immediately where you want it, two fingers pushing up against your folds, and to your clit. He touches in little circles, sending jolts of pleasure up your stomach, eyes looking up to yours to gauge your feelings. 

You almost hate Spencer for how fucking good it feels. You let out a soft moan, heart pounding. And when his middle finger sinks into your entrance with no word of warning, you toss your head back and close your legs around his hand. Spencer’s mouth twists into that little smile of his, pushing ever so deep into you, and says, “It feels better when you keep your legs open, sweet girl. If you need more, tell me.” You nod immediately, desperately. 

“Yeah. I need more,” you whisper, and he bends down and gives your clit a kitten lick. Your hand goes to his hair, softly pushing him closer. He gets the message and presses his tongue flat against it, eliciting a moan from you.

“You’re so pretty like this, under me. I missed you.”

You really do almost forget just how nice it was to have him on top of you after a week, telling you nice things and making you feel so good. He pushes his ring finger in to match his middle, stretching you slightly and adding pressure to where he knows it feels good. Your eyes screw shut and you furrow your brow in overwhelming pleasure, a soft exhale coming from deep within you.

“This good?” he asks, other hand coming to take care of your clit in his mouth’s absence. You nod frantically, looking down at Spencer. He watches where his hand comes in contact with you, pushing in and out at a steady pace. “You’re not normally this quiet. Is it a lot?”

“Yeah,” you whimper. “Feel so sensitive.” He presses a soft kiss onto your clit, and you jolt.

“Sweet girl. It’s been a little while, huh? Even right before I left, I didn’t use my mouth." You shake your head in agreement. “You’re doing so well for me though.” 

He resumes with his tongue, working you into oblivion. His free hand holds your hips steady, hindering you from writhing away from the mind-numbing pleasure.

His mouth is occupied and your brain is utterly ruined, so the only noises coming from the two of you are your soft exhales and whimpers, and the obscene sound of his hand pushing incessantly into you.

And eventually it does, in fact, become too much. He sends you into orbit. You lift your hips, practically pushing yourself into his face, pleasure coursing through you.

“Spence, I’m. I-” your voice gets caught in your throat. 

“I know,” he says, calm and collected. A stark contrast to whatever the fuck you’re feeling right now. 

He keeps going in the same way, steadily driving you through your orgasm. You let out one last moan and your body relaxes and limps around him, chest moving up and down rapidly. 

You come back to earth and grab his arm to tug him away. But he stays, pressing kisses all over you, watching you with his imploring eyes.

“You can take it. Missed you so much. Just one more,” he says in broken little sentences, parting with your core for just a second before resuming, hand picking up speed again. But this time, you don’t feel as awake. As alert. Your chest feels heavy, and your eyelids even heavier.

The post-orgasmic haze has settled even more into your bones, pressing you down deeper and deeper into the dark chasm of sleep once again.

The last thing you see before you succumb is the moon casting a perfect glow onto Spencer, still diligently pressing soft kisses onto you, holding your hips still so you won’t roll over in your sleep like before.

[r3starttt]

GHOSTFACE ELLIE

PAIRING: Ellie x reader

SUMMARY: Quiet girl turns out to be a psycho <3

CW: phone sex. guided masturbation. fingering. knife play.

AN: as always @clairoscharm thanks for reading my stuff and supporting my delusional ass AND total creds to this for the dialogue

TAGLIST | KINKTOBER: @s4pphic-myth @levilvrr @girlkisser168 @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @softlikesilk-chiffon @grey-jedi12 @slut4ellienabby @roos4lm4 @elliezlils11utt @1-800-fantasy @ellieswifee232 @rob1nbuckl3ys @abbys-muscles | ELLIE'S TAGLIST: @ilovetaylorrr @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @elliesmistress @aouiaa @chlobearsworld @crispers @bruhhtsukjf @twopeoplee

Lying in bed, the glow of your phone the only light in the room, you scroll mindlessly, your limbs heavy with the dull ache of hours spent in the same position. A pillow is wedged between your legs, more out of habit than comfort, and the phone in your hand holds you captive in an endless loop. It’s been five hours, maybe more.

Your attention flits from one post to another until, once again, you land on her. That girl. The one you’ve been following for months now. She’s pretty, but not in an obvious way. She wears glasses, those chunky ones that somehow make her even more intriguing, and her wardrobe is an exercise in minimalism: basic tees, old Converse, jeans that have seen better days. Yet, it suits her. She doesn’t need anything more.

She’s intelligent, too. You’ve seen it in the rare moments she speaks up in class, offering insight that stands in stark contrast to the usual drivel from the self-assured brunette at the front of the room, whose every comment is met with the weary nod of a teacher who’s simply given up.

But not her. She’s different. She only speaks when she has something worth saying.

You’ve never really spoken to the girl you’re watching now, the quiet one, the one with the pins on her backpack that match all your obsessions. But you’ve heard her, overheard her really—laughing with her small group of friends, a sound that’s more music than noise. And that laugh, paired with her intelligent, effortless aura, keeps you coming back to her profile. You scroll through her feed again, trying to piece together more of who she is. But it’s hopeless, really.

You know better than to hope.

You’ve overheard her laughing with her friends, and once—just once—you caught a snippet of conversation that seemed to be about someone like you. They joked about how a person like you would be the perfect way for her to "get out of her comfort zone," before she rolled her eyes and tossed a gummy at her friend, who ate it off the floor with a grin. The image of that moment clings to you, taunting. Maybe if you were the kind of person who ate floor gummies, maybe if you filled your pink backpack with pins and trinkets like hers, she’d notice you. Maybe then you wouldn’t seem so insignificant.

But it’s a foolish thought, really. All of it becomes irrelevant when you see her newest post, a fleeting story—her hair, damp and messy, clinging to her face, and an oversized red shirt, soaked through in the same vibrant hue. The image is imperfect but mesmerizing. Did she mean to post it? Probably not, because just as you finish taking a screenshot, Instagram glitches, and the story vanishes, no longer available to view.

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, a single word of frustration, though it’s nothing compared to the soft whimpers and low murmurs that follow as you shove your hand between your legs. That same position you were in a few minutes ago now doing the opposite, relaxing your stiffened body into something comfortable and private. Something that gets interrupted by your phone vibrating in a disturbing tone.

Your eyes open, your mouth closes and the finger teasing your clit quickly abandons its place to rest over your stomach. The sudden sound taking your breath with the vibrations. The pad of your thumb slid over the screen, hanging the call without even glancing to look at the number. Whoever it was should be able to use their fucking fingers and type whatever message they needed you to know at ten pm on a Friday.

The agitation slowly faded into that anxious palpitation in your heart, your body catching your needs again as the wet under your panties grew again. You took your time, sliding your shirt over your head, the small shorts being tossed somewhere in the floor and your panties and bra resting at the edge of the nightstand next to you beside your phone.

She was in your mind- creepy, but it'll be enough for your horny brain to work into making you cum. And truly it was working amazing, circling at your clit, caressing your own skin in hopes to trick yourself it was someone else. Your thighs clenching whenever you were too harsh on yourself. Nipples hard between the pads of your fingers. Your mouth opening the slightest to catch your breath at the somehow pretty sound of your wet.

But the vibrations appeared again. A disturbing sound that made you anxious.

With a groan you turned yourself on the side, managing to grab at the phone with wet still on your hands. Who cared anyway.

The phone buzzed in your hand, the screen flashing with an unknown number. You hesitated for a second, half-expecting it to be a wrong number or maybe some random perv dialing at the worst possible time. Or maybe it was just some grumpy old person calling the wrong number altogether—some mundane accident that you could dismiss with a quick tap.

But then, through the crackling line, your name came through, distorted and warped, like someone speaking through an old, broken radio. Your brow furrowed, confusion setting in immediately.

"Who’s this?" you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. Had you been too careless? Maybe given your number to someone you didn’t remember in class?

"Long time, huh? Didn’t think you’d answer," the voice replied, dripping with mockery. The eerie, disembodied tone was layered with heavy breathing, the kind that made your skin crawl.

You sat up straighter, fingers gripping the phone tighter. Your confusion only deepened, your eyebrows knitting together in suspicion. "Who is this?" you repeated, but instead of an answer, the voice laughed, a low, unsettling sound that rattled your nerves.

"Don’t be so impatient," they teased.

A heavy silence followed, stretching on far too long. Your heart started to race as the seconds ticked by, tension building until you almost hung up. Just as your thumb hovered over the screen, ready to end the call, the voice cut back in, calm and unnervingly intimate.

"I think you left the door open."

Your eyes immediately shot to your bedroom door, closed just like you’d left it. But something about the way they said it made you second-guess yourself. You suddenly wanted to throw the blankets off, get dressed, and rush downstairs to check every door, every window. You always locked up before bed—double-checking, even—but now that doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind.

"You know," the voice continued, smooth and casual, "you shouldn’t leave it unlocked. Makes it too easy for someone…"

Your pulse hammered in your ears, and a cold chill settled deep in your stomach. Every word felt like a creeping shadow, something lurking just out of view. You tried to force yourself to move, to shake off the growing panic, but their next words stopped you cold.

"I wouldn’t do that," they said, a twisted hint of amusement in their tone. "I’ve been watching you."

A wave of nausea rolled over you as the realization hit. This wasn’t a prank. This wasn’t some random caller. Whoever they were, they knew too much—things they shouldn’t know.

Your mind raced, heart pounding as you scanned the room, trying to process what was happening. "Who the hell are you?" you managed to stammer out, your voice shaking, but they ignored the question entirely, continuing as if the conversation was on their terms.

"How long do you think you have left?"

The playful edge was gone now, replaced with something colder, more deliberate. The words cut through the air like knives, sharp and precise. Whoever this was, they weren’t guessing—they knew something you didn’t, and it left a sick feeling crawling up your spine.

"I don’t—" you began, your voice faltering under the weight of the moment, but the distorted voice on the other end silenced you. "Go lay down again," they whispered, the words almost affectionate, but twisted in a way that sent every nerve in your body on high alert. "Come on, if you're good enough maybe I'll have pity. You're good at causing that." They definitely knew you.

You hesitated but obeyed their every command. Each step against the cold floor of your room sending a shiver up your warmth body, a thin layer of sweat growing on your forehead at the silence between the line. "There we go." He mocked you.

"See? wasn't so hard to obbey." You heard their slow, heavy breathing, each breath dragging out in an unsettling, deliberate rhythm. It was shallow, almost raspy, like they were too close to the phone. "Come on, lay down." His tone was quieter, almost a mumble. You did as they ordered, adjusting yourself in almost the same comfortable position you were in, before this creepy guy called to entertain himself tonight.

"You're shy now?" he chuckled. Your body reacted before you could even process, trying to make this have any sense. Your eyes wandered all over the dark in your room, there was absolutely nothing. Not a window half open or the courtains allowing much inside view, the door was closed too. "Spread your legs, yeah... just like that. Now, put your hands over your thighs- no, lower... yeah, closer." His every command was followed. The tip of your fingers caressed the inside of your thighs, sliding your hand up and down, over your knee and then down until you got too close to your pussy, the wet growing shamelessly fast. He didn't really put any more rules, his breathing increasing withint every touch you applied over your body. growing into it eventually.

"Good, good girl"

Your hands stopped in the inside of your thighs, gripping at your own flesh at the mix of fear, shame- mostly wanting her to just come inside and finish the main plan she'd had on her brain when you answered her call. "Don't stop now, you were doing so good..." Her voice had a fake pity on it, mocking you. "Move them over your stomach, come on."

But you didn't.

"I know you wanted this." Ellie whispered, it was the closes her tone got to that robotic distortion you've heard before. "You were whining my name."

Your breathing was unsteady, your stomach tightening in everything but pleasure.

"Let me hear you again."

Your hand slid between your legs, hesitant on the show you were about to give her. She must be able to see, right? somehow.

You rubbed small circles on your throbbing clit, scissoring your folds to make it last longer. "Fuck- good girl.... just like that." Your lips parted open, allowing the front teeth to show up a little. Whines coming in the warmth of your breath before her name started to slip in between. You were ridiculously wet. each touch on your pussy loud and explicit. Profanity elicting out of you withing every touch over you nipples, down your stomach and against your pussy. She didn't have to ask, you'd do anything for her, anytime.

"Fucking pretty girl... hear that. So wet for me." Her voice was almost a whimper. there was no shame and fuck if she was here. actually seeing it in front of her eyes. She'd be on her knees for you, offering to help, to touch, to clean. "Yeah... fuck- please-" her breath was loud, a cruel trick to make yourself think she was close.

"Wanna cum?" you nodded as if she could see. she had to see. "Stop- stop." the tone was firm and you had nothing to do but whine at it, rubbing your clit one last time. You did leave your hand there, just needed any sorth of pressure between your wet pussy.

The call ended. And you desperately abandoned your body to pick up the phone and call again. The tone would ring and ring until it didn't, was it a joke?

The back of your head crashed against the messy pillow behind you, catching your breath for the millionth time this hour. There was a mess consuming you. The fear and uncomfortable of being seen by her, as creepy as it could be, it made you wet. She was a craving you would kill to suffice anytime and you've got her so close. Even if she was cruel, if this was a joke to laugh at you, you'd still do it again.

Your eyes drifted to the end of the bed, glancing at your naked body before crawling to pick up your clothes. You made it to the mere edge of the mattress, stretching to pick at your shirt and maybe at your shorts too.

The door cracked slightly, letting in some light from the hallway. But no one came in, there was no sound, no step, no loud greeting. "Dressing already?" your attention turned to meet at the strange mask covered person- her. The black robe adorning her body, way too loose. Her boots were so loud against the floor, almost as loud as the sound form the door when she slapped it closed. You were drooling.

"Eager?" Her knees folded slightly, getting to your height. You heard the shine of her blade, watching it just a few seconds later beneath your chin. "Put that back." Her head tilted to the side, you could barely see her through the dark circles covering her eyes. It took you a while until you put the shirt back to where it was, tossed somewhere you'd think about later.

The cold of the blade dig the slightest into your neck as you turned back around. Her other hand was quick to get rid of the mask, allowing you to have the prettiest sight. There was no actual reaction but a whimper that had to brush through your lips as you sensed her lips over yours. It was sloppy and gross and desperate, all while the mere tip of the knife cut between your breasts, digging hard enough to let the blood drip down your stomach, stopping the second your back hit your matress. It eventually stained the pretty blankets beneath.

She slid under your neck, nibbling and sucking at the skin while her knife rested flat against the fat of your thighs. Her legs crawled to trap you in between, leaving enough space for your legs to spread a little, enough to fit her hand in your pussy, really. Which didn't take long, craving to hear your voice this close, right next to her ear again. "Fuck baby, so fucking wet for me?" you nodded, already a disturbing mess at the feeling of her hand cupping at your cunt, slapping at it.

Her digits got trapped the second she landed on your clit, not paying too much attention as she could only care about tasting you, licking at your skin and sucking at the trail of blood under your breasts. Leaving her name stained on your tender withint every kiss and sucking and touch.

"Lemme hear you, come on." She slid her digits with ease, thrusting in and out of your wet pussy. You clenched at her, cupping the back of her neck- up her hair, and forcing her to kiss you, needing to savor her for once. She was whining, as wet as you beneath that tough costume.

"Fuck- just like that baby? yeah? gonna cum for me..." There was a sloppy kiss between each word. Quiet whines and moans pressed against your skin to overlap the wet of her thrusts on your pussy. "Ellie- Fuck- els...." she chuckled at your words. Her quiet ego being fed at the sight of you, so fucked for her. "My good girl, mhm?" her weight felt too heavy, and her kissed too overwhelming. But she was fucking you good, way better than what you've imagined.

The knot on your stomach grew bigger with every praise, every squeal of her fingers against your pussy, every moan she'd let out and the vibration you'll get on your skin.

But the knife cut deeper this time, just as you'd open your mouth to have the orgasm you've been denied for so long. You saw her eyes, her flushed cheeks and those freckles you'd admired from afar in hopes to someday see them this close.

The warmth on your stomach now growing- drenching on the sides of your body. But fuck it was a good sight to see, what she'd been craving for a while now. Your pretty whine and her hand drenched in your wet not transformed into pure horror and pain.

"Good girl, yeah baby. I know" your hands wandered anywhere, not even thinking on defending but holding her, pressing her closer to you. Have her one last time. "I know."

[maskedbyghost]

it's a happy ending, i promise!

The first thing Simon registers is pain.

A dull, burning throb in his ribs, a sharp sting along his jaw, and the constant, nagging ache of his wrists tied behind the chair he’s strapped to. The room is dimly lit, damp with the scent of mildew and blood—some of it his own. He keeps his breathing even and controlled, despite the way his head pounds from the last hit they landed.

A man steps forward, cracking his knuckles. "You’ve killed a lot of our people, Ghost." The way he says his name makes Simon's stomach churn. "You really thought that wouldn’t come back to bite you?"

Simon doesn’t answer. He’s learned silence is its own weapon.

The man chuckles and gestures to one of his men, who rolls a small television stand into the room. The screen flickers to life, static at first, before it settles on an all-too-familiar image.

Simon’s house.

His breath stills. The camera angle is high—hidden, probably in a corner of the living room. And there she is.

You.

Moving around the kitchen, completely unaware. A soft glow from the stovetop lights up your face as you hum to yourself, stirring something in a pot. Simon can almost hear your voice, that familiar melody you always hum when you’re cooking.

Ice settles in his chest.

"You see," the man continues, circling Simon like a predator, "an eye for an eye. You took our people from us. Now we take something from you."

The screen changes. Another angle. The front of the house now, where three men slip through the unlocked door like shadows. They move fast.

"Now, we could just kill her," the man muses, crouching beside Simon. "But where’s the fun in that? Maybe we start with a few fingers. Maybe a knife to that pretty face."

Simon jerks against the restraints, the chair creaking beneath him. His muscles coil with panic, and rage. His voice is muffled against the tape over his mouth, his heart hammering in his chest.

He watches as the men move closer—one creeping toward the kitchen doorway. He wants to scream, wants to warn you, to do something.

And then—

You turn.

And everything shifts.

The first man lunges.

You sidestep easily, grabbing a pan off the counter and slamming it into his face so hard he crumples instantly. The second man barely gets a hand on you before you spin, kneeing him hard in the gut before driving an elbow into his throat. He staggers, gasping, and you grab a knife from the counter, plunging it straight into his chest.

The third man hesitates.

Simon can see it—hesitation—as if he just realized this isn’t the easy job he thought it would be. He tries to pull a gun.

But you’re faster.

You twist his arm, forcing the gun toward his own leg before squeezing the trigger. He howls, dropping to his knees, and you grab the knife from the dead man’s chest, slashing the last attacker’s throat in one clean motion.

Silence.

The only sound is your heavy breathing.

The room Simon is in is frozen. No one speaks. No one moves.

"What the fuck," one of the men behind the camera mutters.

Simon can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. His body is still tense, his pulse still erratic, but his mind is caught between disbelief and something close to admiration.

He didn’t know you could do that.

Hell, he didn’t even know you knew how to throw a punch properly, let alone take down three armed men like it was nothing.

On screen, you quickly search the bodies, taking one of their guns and their earpiece. Then, without missing a beat, you grab your jacket and bolt out the door.

The man next to Simon snarls, grabbing a radio. "Find her!" he shouts. "She couldn't have gone far!"

Simon lowers his head, exhaling through his nose, swallowing down the relieved laugh bubbling in his throat.

That’s his girl.

It takes hours for you to track Simon down. Hours of listening in on enemy radio chatter and moving with the precision you never thought you’d need outside of training. Your heart pounds, but your hands remain steady as you grip the stolen gun.

When you finally pick up on the radio chatter—"Move the prisoner to the safehouse outside the city"—you know exactly who to ask for help.

The moment you contacted Price, he didn’t even hesitate. "We’re on it," he had said, and that was that. Now, as you move through the safehouse with the Task Force, the sound of suppressed gunfire fills the air as they clear the rooms.

Your thoughts are simple. Find Simon. Get him out.

When you reach the back room, you kick the door open so hard it nearly flies off the hinges.

Simon lifts his head at the sound, and the sight of him knocks the air from your lungs.

He’s tied to a chair, his wrists raw from the rope digging into them. There’s blood at his temple and a bruise darkening along his cheekbone. His mask is gone, and his hair is damp with sweat. But it’s his eyes that stop you in your tracks—sharp despite the exhaustion, locked onto you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters.

"Jesus, Simon," you breathe, already moving.

You reach him in seconds, hands shaking as you rip the tape from his mouth.

"Fuckin’ hell, love," he rasps, his voice hoarse.

"You look like shit," you mutter, and his lips quirk up at that, just a little.

"Feel like it too."

But you’re already working, fingers fumbling at the knots around his wrists, trying to ignore the way they’re rubbed raw. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you? How bad is it—"

He cuts you off.

"Marry me, woman."

You freeze. "What?"

"Marry me." And there’s no hesitation in his voice.

You blink, mind struggling to process. "Simon, are you concussed?"

"Dead serious, love," he mutters. His head tilts slightly, eyes flicking to the doorway behind you. "Get me outta this chair first, then we’ll talk rings."

Behind you, a low chuckle sounds. "Well, that’s one way to propose," Price comments, stepping into the room.

"Should we give ‘em a minute?" Soap adds, grinning.

You don’t even look back. "No, because I’m gonna kill him."

Simon snorts, and somehow, despite everything, that tiny sound makes your chest ache.

Your fingers work faster, finally loosening the ropes enough for him to yank his arms free with a hiss of pain. The second he’s out of the chair, your hands are all over him—checking his bruises, pressing against his ribs to see if anything gives under your touch.

He catches your wrist. "I’m fine."

You glare up at him. "You’re not fine."

"M’fine now that you’re here."

And there it is again—that way he looks at you, like you just flipped his entire world upside down and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

You shake your head, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, exhaling hard. "You scared the hell out of me, Simon."

His hand slides up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your jacket. "Didn’t know you could fight like that, love."

"Yeah, well, I don’t advertise it." You pull back just enough to meet his gaze. "Didn’t think I’d ever need to."

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Lucky me."

"Lucky you," you agree, voice softer now.

Simon’s thumb brushes against your cheek, and there’s something raw in his expression. "So, that’s a yes, then?"

"To what?"

"Marry me."

"Simon—"

"You literally just saved my ass. Killed three men in our kitchen. Lookin’ downright stunning doin’ it." He squeezes your waist. "Think I’d be an idiot not to put a ring on you."

You stare at him, pulse thudding in your ears. "Simon, you’re literally bleeding out right now."

"And?" He tilts his head slightly, looking at you like he’s already made up his mind. "Still waiting on an answer, love."

You groan, pressing your fingers to your temple. "Can we please get you out of here first?"

"So that’s a yes?"

"It’s a 'get moving before I knock you out myself.'"

His smirk is lazy, but there’s something warm in his eyes, something real. "Close enough."

Behind you, Soap snorts. "Bloody hell, that was the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard."

Price sighs. "Sort it out later. We need to move."

You shake your head, but when Simon tugs you just a little closer before letting go—you know he already knows your answer.

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

@daydreamerwoah

[rowarn]

shadow entity!ghost part: one | two | three

cw: angry!ghost, umm he hurts u )-:, but he feels bad so it's okay, a bit shorter than other parts

the mystery surrounding ghost was driving you insane. living with a primordial entity of unfathomable horrors was already a mindfuck but now you realized it could just...erase people from existence.

no one had asked about phillip, no one had shown up to seek you out since you were the last one to see him before he vanished. you even wandered into the bar he said he frequented -- and he seemed well known in. and...nothing. no one even brought up how he went home with you and never returned. no one asked about him.

it was unnerving. had ghost somehow pulled all memory of this one human out of the world along with its physical form? where did phillip even go? all you remember was being surrounded by the shadow and how hard it was to breathe -- and the horrible, inhuman scream before silence.

it had already confirmed that it wasn't a ghost. so what was it?

"ghost?" you called into the house as you returned from the bar, "can you come out so we can talk?"

as you stepped into the living room, you took a glance at the scorch mark on the floor before your attention was diverted to it -- a shadowy manifestation across from you.

it didn't speak, simply stood there. usually you would divert your eyes from its face because something about it unsettled you, but this time you stared right at it. shapes formed and faded before your eyes, making you wonder if you were really seeing them in the first place. eyes, sometimes two sometimes dozens. a vague, fading silhouette of a skull face. you wonder if it intentionally let you see these images or if it just was.

"i-i want to know..." you swallow thickly around the nervous lump in your throat, "is phillip dead?"

it was quiet for a moment, "not quite."

"what's that mean? where is he?" you prod, furrowing your brows as you stare at it, hoping that it can understand your pleading.

"why do you care?"

"b-because..." you sputtered, licking your dry lips, "i just...want to know."

"he's in the pits," it finally supplies, sounding almost bored.

"...of hell?" you sputter, "so you're a demon?"

"your hell is a bastardization of the pits," it explains, "where i come from is not hell. it's worse, darker. that's where i put the human."

"can you...can you bring him back..?" you whisper.

ghost's shadow flickers and it falls silent for a moment before speaking again, "i could. but you don't want that."

you can't help but think you'll regret asking but you do anyway, "...why?"

"he's not the same anymore," it explains, "it's much kinder to simply leave him in the pits."

you're not sure how to take that. it doesn't answer any of your questions. what exactly are the pits? what happens in them? what is happening to phillip down there?

"ghost..." you take a small step back and you swear you see it's head cock to the side curiously, "what are you?"

"you can consider me a demon if you wish," it responded, taking a step forward to follow you.

your heart skips a beat, "but you're not."

"no," it answers with ease.

"so tell me what you are," you demand, growing tired of these mind games it's playing with you.

"i don't think your human mind can comprehend just what i am," it says.

"try me," you challenge, already mentally slapping yourself.

"no," it responds.

your temper flares, "just tell me, damn you! what the hell are you?"

suddenly, the shadow grows in size -- as do your eyes. you watch as it takes up more space in the room, that overpowering weight on your body making you wince. it makes the room feel so heavy, makes your bones ache to the marrow.

you're not sure how you know -- despite the fact it's not saying anything; you know you've made it very angry. your eyes lock onto his shadowy form, making out the horrible, unsettling images of eyeballs inside the darkness that flicker in and out of your vision.

nausea settles like a pit in your stomach and you double over, dropping to your hands and your knees to keep yourself from throwing up. your head throbs and aches, a ringing in your ears only makes the pain worse. it feels like your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets from the overwhelming pressure growing inside your skull.

"s-stop..." you manage to choke out before you slump against the floor.

then, all at once it's gone. you gasp for air once it finally feels like there's nothing coiling around your lungs and tears trickle down your cheeks. you're not sure if you're trembling from the pain or from the fear you just experienced.

you can't bring yourself to uncurl yourself from the ball you've found yourself in on the floor.

you're acutely aware that ghost hasn't left -- in fact, you can hear it's heavy footsteps on the creaky wooden floor as it approaches you. it kneels down, disturbing the air around you with the movement.

you feel a strange weight on your head and it takes your foggy mind a moment to realize that it's touching you. as if it had reached a hand out and was tenderly petting your head, consoling you.

a silent apology before it vanishes completely.

when you finally uncurl and look around, you see yet another strange, scorch mark on the ground where it had stood.

you realize instantly that those scorch marks are a manifestation of it's anger. pure, unbridled rage that leaves a physical mark on the ground where it stands.

you swallow thickly and close your eyes again, deciding that standing is much too hard for now.

do not repost to third party sites. reblogs okay!

[joelsrose]

Tangled in Paradise: Chapter 3

my masterlist ~ previous chapters

warnings: oral f!recieving heheheh dirty talk joel is a dirty sexy bastard?! also sorry if its toooo longgg

The next morning, you woke to an empty bed, the sheets beside you cool and undisturbed. You rolled over, squinting at your phone. 10 a.m. “Shit,” you muttered, groaning as you stretched your arms overhead.

The sound of the door opening made you sit up, the grogginess quickly melting away. Joel walked in, his hands full—one holding a drink carrier, the other a bottle of water.

He looked maddeningly good for so early in the morning. His skin was sun-kissed, his hair just slightly messy like he’d already been out and about, and that damn t-shirt, snug across his broad shoulders, did nothing to help your situation.

“Hey,” he said, flashing you that easy, devastatingly handsome smile. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice still raspy from sleep as you rubbed your eyes. “Sorry for sleeping in.”

“Don’t apologize,” Joel said, shaking his head as he crossed the room. “We’re on vacation. You’re allowed to sleep in.”

Before you could respond, Joel sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He reached over, setting a cup on your nightstand with a soft clink.

“Iced vanilla latte,” he said, his voice warm but casual, as if this wasn’t the sweetest gesture in the world. “And water. Figured you’d need it.”

Your heart stuttered, the ache from earlier dissolving into a wave of warmth that spread through your chest. “Joel,” you murmured, reaching for the latte. The condensation cooled your fingers as you held it, and you glanced up at him. “That’s sweet—you didn’t have to.”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into a lopsided grin that made your stomach flip. “Ain’t nothin’,” he said, but the way his gaze stayed on yours—steady, almost searching—betrayed the weight behind his words. “Anyway, Maria and Tommy left for a hike… like five hours ago. Apparently, they’re tryin’ to be one of those couples.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “God, they’re ambitious.”

“Or insane,” Joel added with a smirk, leaning back farther until his weight shifted onto one arm. His eyes flicked over you, a soft intensity in them that sent a small thrill down your spine. “So, I guess it’s just you and me for a while.”

Joel’s lips curved into that slow, wicked smile, the one that always made your pulse skip. He reached out, his fingers brushing over your knee lightly before retreating just as quickly.

You arched a brow, holding his gaze as you sipped your drink again. “What’d you have in mind?”

"Well," he drawled, his tone casual but his eyes glinting with something warmer, "we could sit by the pool. You could read me one of those romance novels you’re always pretending not to like," he added, nodding toward the book resting on your side table.

Your jaw dropped in mock offense, and he laughed, leaning back as if he’d scored a point.

“Joel Miller, I do not pretend.”

“Oh, you definitely do,” he teased, his voice rich and smooth. “Let me guess—billionaire bad boy falls for the sweet, innocent girl? Sound familiar?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Wow, somebody’s projecting.”

“Hardly,” he shot back, his grin widening. “I’m more of a ‘charming Texan sweeps her off her feet’ kinda guy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you set your drink down. “You’re insufferable.” You bit your lip, trying not to smile too wide.

“Fine,” you relented, brushing a hand through your hair. ��Pool it is. But I’m not reading to you.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You bit your lip, turning toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. The bikini was flattering—more than flattering, really—but no matter how you adjusted the straps or smoothed the fabric over your hips, that familiar knot of self-consciousness tightened in your chest.

A soft knock at the door jolted you out of your thoughts. “Hey,” Joel’s voice came through. “Can I come in, or is this a no-roommate zone right now?”

“Uh… yeah, come in,” you called, your hands automatically tugging at the fabric one last time.

The door opened, and Joel stepped inside. He froze, just for a second, his eyes dragging up your body in a slow, deliberate sweep. His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, the cocky charm he usually carried seemed to falter. “Shit.”

“What?” you asked, your cheeks immediately heating under the intensity of his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Joel blinked, his mouth twitching into that lopsided grin that somehow managed to be both infuriating and heart-stopping.

“Nothin’. You’re just—” He gestured vaguely with one hand, his words trailing off as his gaze dipped again, lingering on the curve of your waist. His voice dropped lower, rougher. “You’re gonna give the lifeguard a fuckin’ heart attack walkin’ around like that.”

You let out a huff of laughter, though your cheeks burned under the intensity of his gaze. It wasn’t just his words; it was the way he looked at you—like he was savoring every second of it. “Joel, stop,” you murmured, trying for exasperation, but your voice betrayed you, sounding far too soft.

He didn’t budge, didn’t even blink. If anything, his grin deepened, a slow, lazy curve that made heat curl in your stomach. His eyes shamelessly roamed over you, trailing from the slope of your shoulders to the length of your legs, before snapping back to your face. “Not my fault,” he drawled with a casual shrug, though his voice was thick. “You show up lookin’ like that, you can’t expect me not to notice.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, shifting awkwardly under his gaze. Turning your back to him, you pretended to adjust something on the nightstand, hoping the movement would distract from how flustered you felt.

“Hey,” Joel said softly, his voice closer now. A warm hand landed on your shoulder, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, then swept it away from the back of your neck. His touch was unhurried, intimate in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

“What?” you murmured, your voice catching as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Don’t gotta hide from me,” he said, his tone low, the kind of voice that could coax secrets from you without even trying.

“I’m not hiding,” you mumbled, though the way you kept your gaze averted didn’t exactly help your case.

Joel’s smirk deepened, his hand lingering on your shoulder just a moment longer before he let it slide down your arm, his fingers brushing yours. “No? Could’ve fooled me,” he said, his voice soft but teasing.

You turned to face him, finally meeting his eyes, which were dark and full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I’m not,” you insisted, a little firmer this time, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“Alright,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “If you say so.”

Your breath hitched at the way his eyes locked on yours, dark and amused, like he was daring you to argue. Before you could muster a retort, Joel turned away, striding over to where his tote bag rested on the dresser.

“C’mon,” he called over his shoulder, the smirk still audible in his voice as he rifled through the bag. “Let’s go cause some medical emergencies.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You found a quiet spot by the pool where the loungers were spaced far enough apart that it felt private, secluded.

The soft sound of the water lapping against the edge of the pool blended with the faint hum of conversation from a few sunbathers nearby. You sank back into the lounger with a sigh, adjusting your sunglasses and stretching your legs out in front of you.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel said, his voice cutting through the tranquil moment.

“What?” you asked, peeking up at him over the rim of your sunglasses.

"Did you know," he began, his tone light and teasing as he flipped the sunscreen bottle in his hand, scanning the label, "that not wearing sunscreen is one of the top causes of skin cancer? Says so right here." He tapped the back of the bottle for emphasis.

You frowned, pushing your sunglasses up into your hair. “Joel…”

Joel crouched beside you, the sun casting a golden glow over his tanned skin, making every line of his toned arms stand out as he shook the sunscreen bottle. “Sit up,” he repeated, his voice carrying that soft but undeniable authority that made you instinctively obey, even as your brow furrowed in playful annoyance.

“You’re bossy, you know that?” you muttered, adjusting yourself on the lounger.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” Joel shot back, uncapping the bottle with a smirk. His gaze flickered over your shoulders, his expression softening slightly. “You got burnt yesterday. Can’t let that happen again.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you teased, though the way his eyes lingered made your chest tighten in a way that was anything but maternal.

He chuckled low, leaning in to smooth the sunscreen over your shoulders. His hands were warm, strong, and far too deliberate for your heart to stay steady. “Relax,” he said softly, his voice almost a purr as his thumbs kneaded gently into your skin. “Not my first rodeo.”

“You do this for all your roommates?” you quipped, though your voice wavered when his hands slid down the curve of your shoulder blades.

Joel paused, his lips quirking upward as he leaned just a fraction closer, his breath ghosting against your ear. “Only the ones I like.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. “How kind of you,” you said instead, your tone light, though your pulse was anything but calm.

“What can I say?” Joel said, his grin turning downright wicked as he shifted to smooth sunscreen over the tops of your arms. “I’m a giver.”

The insinuation hung in the air, thick and electric. Your cheeks burned hotter than the sun, and you cursed your brain for immediately flashing back to the things he’d said last night.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, your breath hitching slightly as his fingers grazed the nape of your neck, “not much to say when someone’s slathering you in sunscreen.”

Joel chuckled, the sound low and warm, rumbling against your back. “There,” he said, his voice lighter now.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, though the way Joel’s hands lingered for just a moment too long sent an undeniable thrill through you. You tried to ignore it, shifting back against the lounger to lie down, but Joel coughed.

“What now?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin faint but mischievous. “You forgettin’ ’bout me?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re a grown man, Joel. You can put your own sunscreen on.”

“Yeah, but I can’t reach my back, genius,” he said, giving you a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. “C’mon. I just hit you with a cancer fact. You really want me to get cancer?”

You groaned dramatically, sitting up. “You’re insufferable.”

Joel just chuckled, his grin widening as he said, “Good girl.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, low and rough in that way only he could pull off, and you hated the way your heart stuttered in response. Joel turned, presenting his back to you as he handed over the bottle of sunscreen.

You squeezed some into your hands, rubbing them together before pressing your palms against the broad expanse of his back. His muscles tensed immediately under your touch, the warmth of his skin making your breath catch.

You slapped the last bit of sunscreen onto his back a little harder than necessary. “There. Cancer-free.”

Joel laughed softly, the sound rumbling through his chest as he turned to glance over his shoulder at you. “Thanks, roomie,” he said, flashing you that crooked smile that made your stomach flip.

You shook your head at his antics before glancing around. Something caught your eye—a woman nearby sipping a colorful drink that looked particularly refreshing. Sitting up, you brushed your hair out of your face. "Hey," you said, turning to him. "I’m gonna grab a drink. Want anything? A beer?"

Joel cracked one eye open from where he was stretched out on his lounger, his expression shifting instantly from relaxed to alert. “What? No,” he said, already moving to sit up. “You stay here—I’ll go.”

“Joel,” you said, laughing softly. “I can handle walking a few steps to get a drink. I promise it’s not a Herculean task.”

He scoffed, standing and grabbing his wallet from the side table. “Not happenin’. I’m Southern. We don’t let the ladies lift a damn finger.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Oh, is that right?”

“Damn right,” he said, throwing you a lopsided grin as he stood over you, the sun casting golden highlights across his face. He shifted slightly, sliding his wallet into his back pocket with practiced ease. “Now, what’ll it be’?”

You tilted your head, pretending to deliberate. “Hmm… surprise me,” you said finally, leaning back with a smirk.

Joel raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he bent slightly toward you. “Oh, you must really trust me now, huh?”

You shrugged, doing your best to appear nonchalant despite the way his proximity made your stomach flutter. “Guess we’ll see,” you teased.

Joel straightened, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. “Alright. Don’t move. Be back in a sec,” he said, giving you a parting wink before sauntering toward the bar.

You couldn’t help but watch him go, the way his broad shoulders shifted, the confident, easy sway of his steps.

He reached the drinks bar, leaning casually against the counter as he spoke to the bartender. After a moment, he glanced back over his shoulder, catching your eye. Joel smiled, that damn charming smile of his, and raised a hand to wave. You waved back, warmth blooming in your chest despite yourself.

And then, of course, you noticed her. The waitress — insanely beautiful, with flawless skin, a dazzling smile, and a figure that made your confidence waver in an instant. She was laughing at something Joel said, her glossy hair catching the sunlight as she leaned a little too close.

You felt your stomach twist as she placed her hand lightly on Joel’s forearm, the gesture casual but intimate. Joel didn’t pull away. Why would he? He was single, a man—of course he’d flirt back. And he did, flashing her that same charming smile he’d given you just moments ago.

You tried to shake it off, leaning back in your lounger and adjusting your sunglasses, but the ache in your chest wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t jealousy, you told yourself. Not really. Joel was free to talk to whoever he wanted, flirt with whoever he wanted.

Finally, Joel returned, two drinks in hand. He moved with that same easy confidence, the kind that felt both infuriating and magnetic, like he had no idea the effect he had on people—or maybe he did. His expression was casual, but as he got closer, you noticed the slight furrow in his brow, like he’d picked up on the shift in your mood.

“Guess which one’s yours,” he said as he settled down onto his lounger. He balanced the drinks carefully, one a beer and the other a concoction that looked like a unicorn had exploded into a glass, complete with glittery sugar on the rim.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hmm…” You pointed to the beer, a small smirk playing on your lips. “That one.”

Joel let out a loud, buzzer-like sound, shaking his head with a grin. "Wrong." He handed you the colorful drink, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment before he leaned back with his beer. "Here," he said casually.

"Thanks," you murmured, taking the drink from his hand. You hesitated for only a second before adding, "So," a playful edge creeping into your tone, "Blondie seemed pretty interested."

Joel lowered his beer slightly, turning his head to look at you through his sunglasses. You felt the weight of his attention, and it made your pulse quicken. “The waitress?” he asked, his tone unreadable, casual in a way that somehow made it worse.

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging as you adjusted your posture. You hoped you looked relaxed, but the ice rattling in the glass betrayed you. “She was all smiles and giggles. You should, uh… go talk to her.”

The words felt heavy, wrong. You hadn’t meant to say them. Why did you always do this? Push men away, pretend you didn’t care, when every fiber of your being was screaming at you to hold on tighter?

Joel chuckled softly, a low, gravelly sound that sent a shiver down your spine. He set his beer down on the small table between you, the bottle clinking softly against the glass top. Then he pulled his sunglasses off, revealing those sharp, dark eyes that always seemed to cut straight through your defenses.

“Now why would I do that?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with something you couldn’t quite name.

You blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of his question. “Because she’s interested in you,” you said, your voice quieter now, almost unsure.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his gaze steady as he studied you, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. The corners of his lips twitched, and he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “Well,” he said, his voice softer now, “I’m not interested in her.”

Your breath caught, your heart stuttering in your chest. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and yet, the way his tone softened at the end made the words hit differently, made them linger.

“Plus,” he added, his voice lighter now, playful as his foot nudged your leg, “I’d rather sit here with you.”

The words sent a rush of heat through you, even though he delivered them casually, like it wasn’t a declaration but a simple fact. He grinned, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. The weight of his gaze made your skin feel too tight, your heart pounding in your chest.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You wanted to say something clever, something to break the tension that hummed between you, but your brain seemed to have short-circuited.

“So,” Joel said, breaking the silence as he reached into his bag. “You remember our bet, right?” His lopsided grin deepened as he pulled out a weathered baseball cap and placed it on his head.

His hair, sun-kissed and tousled from the day, peeked out in messy waves beneath the brim, and his lips—slightly pink from the beer and sun—curved into that easy, damnable smile that always made your heart skip.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning back in your chair as you tried to match his nonchalance. “Whoever guesses when Tommy will propose gets... what was it again?”

Joel tilted the brim of his hat, pretending to think. “The other’s social security number,” he deadpanned, his tone as casual as if he were suggesting splitting an appetizer. “Nothin’ big.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. Why did he have to be so damn cute and funny? It wasn’t fair.

“So,” Joel said, his voice dipping just enough to make the air feel heavier as he took another sip of his beer, “you think he’ll do it during the hike?”

You tilted your head, considering it. “Hmm,” you mused, tapping your finger against your glass. “I don’t think so. I mean, Maria will want to look good when it happens, you know? Not sweating and gross. Plus,” you added, glancing at him with a grin, “I have a feeling we’ll be there for the actual proposal. Tommy’s the kind of guy who’d want witnesses.”

Joel’s brows lifted slightly, a hint of impressed amusement in his gaze. “You make some valid points,” he admitted, his voice low and thoughtful, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smirk. “I’m startin’ to worry I might lose to you.”

You tilted your head, your grin growing as you leaned just a little closer. “I have a feeling you’re not used to losing, Miller.”

Joel chuckled, leaning back in his chair, the brim of his hat tilted just enough to shade his eyes. “Not often,” he admitted, his tone light, almost like he was testing the waters. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, sharp but unreadable, before he tipped his beer bottle toward you. “Guess it’ll be good for me. Keep me humble.”

Joel leaned back now, his broad shoulders catching the sunlight in a way that made it impossible not to stare. You caught yourself looking as he pulled out his phone, scrolling for a moment, his thumb moving lazily over the screen. Then, with a sudden movement, he sat up straighter, his face lighting up as if he’d just remembered something.

“Shoot, I almost forgot,” he said, setting his phone down and turning toward his tote bag.

“What?” you asked, sitting up a little in your lounger, intrigued despite yourself.

Joel leaned over to dig into the bag, the muscles in his arms flexing as he rummaged through it. You swore he was doing it on purpose. “Got ya somethin’,” he said casually, his voice almost too casual.

You took a sip of your drink, eyeing him warily. “Should I be scared?”

“Terrified,” he replied with a smirk, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Great,” you muttered, your tone dry, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Alright,” he said, pulling something out of the bag and holding it behind his back. “Close your eyes.”

“Seriously, Joel?”

“C’mon now,” he coaxed, his grin widening. “Promise it’s nothin’ kinky.”

You squinted at him, unimpressed. “Wasn’t even worried about that, but now I am.”

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent a flutter through your chest. “Trust me. Just do it.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes dramatically but obliging him. “Fine. But if it’s something weird, I’m chucking it in the pool.”

“Hands out,” he instructed, and you could practically hear the sly grin in his voice.

With a sigh, you held out your hands. “Wow,” Joel teased, his tone thick with innuendo. “So obedient.”

“You’re a perv,” you shot back, laughing softly. But then something soft and light landed in your palms, and your curiosity piqued. “Can I look now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You opened your eyes, and there it was—a Hawaiian Hello Kitty plushie, complete with a tiny grass skirt and a pink flower tucked behind its ear. The sight of it hit you like a wave, disarming and unexpectedly sweet.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, clutching the plushie. “This is so cute.”

Joel laughed, the sound warm and easy as he took a sip of his beer. “You like it? I was pickin’ up snacks for us to try later, saw it, and thought of you. You know, cute, girlie…” He shrugged casually.

“I love it,” you said, the words spilling out without hesitation. Your heart swelled as you held it closer, running your fingers over the soft fabric.

“Good,” Joel said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “Thought you might be missin’ Mimi.”

The mention of your cat made you laugh, a soft, genuine sound that eased the tension you hadn’t even realized you were carrying. “She’s gonna be so jealous when I get home with this.”

Joel shook his head, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “Glad you like it,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost shy. For just a moment, the teasing melted away, leaving something warmer, deeper in its place. His eyes flicked down to the plushie in your hands, then back up to your face, as though he was committing this moment to memory.

“Well, now I gotta get you something,” you said, your voice lighter, trying to shake off the way his stare made your chest feel tight.

Joel leaned back in his lounger, casual and effortless, his grin slowly spreading. “I can think of a way you could pay me back,” he said, his tone laced with just enough suggestion to make your stomach flip.

“Oh, God,” you groaned, rolling your eyes even as your cheeks warmed.

Joel chuckled, his voice low and warm. “Geez roomie. Get your dirty mind outta the gutter,” he teased, his grin turning mischievous. “I meant you could try stayin’ on your side of the bed for once. You know, as payment for my generosity.” He leaned over to poke your side gently, his finger brushing against your ribs.

Your blush deepened, and you hugged the plushie closer to your chest. “Sorry about that,” you mumbled, though you couldn’t help the small, sheepish smile tugging at your lips. “I didn’t realize I was such a bed hog.”

Joel’s grin softened, his teasing easing into something gentler. “I’m jokin’,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “I like it. You’re cute when you sleep.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

It hadn’t even been ten minutes of peaceful reading when you heard a long, exaggerated groan from the lounger beside you.

You turned your head, eyebrows raised in amusement, to find Joel sprawled out, one arm slung lazily over the back of his chair. His book was balanced precariously on his lap, his impossibly short red shorts leaving little to the imagination. “You good?” you asked, your tone half-curious, half-mocking.

“I’m fuckin’ bored,” Joel declared dramatically, tipping his head back to glare at the sky. Then he turned to you, his dark eyes locking on yours. “You’re ignorin’ me when we could be chattin’.”

You sighed, snapping your book closed with a soft thud. “What happened to reading?” you asked, gesturing toward the book he hadn’t even bothered to open.

“Got bored,” he shrugged, the motion impossibly nonchalant, as if his restlessness was your problem to fix.

“Jesus,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair. “You’re like dealing with a child.”

Joel’s grin spread slow and wicked across his face, his tone dropping into something deeper, richer. “Nothin’ childish about me, darlin’,” he drawled, the insinuation hanging thick in the air between you.

You rolled your eyes, but your chest tightened at the way his gaze lingered on you. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though the edge in your voice wasn’t nearly as sharp as you’d hoped.

Joel turned his body fully toward you now, resting his forearm on the armrest and leaning in slightly. His expression turned mischievous, his grin full of trouble. “So,” he started, his eyes flicking to your phone resting beside you, “you one of those Instagram influencers or somethin’?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

He gestured vaguely, his grin widening. “I dunno. Just got the vibe, is all. Pretty girl. Always readin’ or sippin’ iced coffee. Bet you got a ton of followers.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m on private,” you said, leaning forward to grab your drink. “I think I’ve got, like, 300 followers. Maybe.”

Joel hummed, his grin softening into something warmer as he tilted his head. “Green flag,” he teased, his voice playful but with an undertone that made your stomach flip.

“Oh, and you?” you shot back, leaning toward him now. “You add all your Hinge matches on Instagram?”

Joel let out a laugh, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Nah,” he said, smirking. “They don’t get that luxury.”

You rolled your eyes, sipping your drink to hide your grin. “Sure.”

“C’mon,” Joel said, shifting closer, his arm draping over the back of his lounger as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Lemme follow you.”

“You wanna follow my Instagram?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged, the motion effortlessly casual. “We’re friends, right? Ain’t that what friends do?”

You smiled despite yourself. “Alright,” you said, giving him your username as he typed it in.

As you accepted @JoelMiller91's follow request, Joel sat up straighter, his attention fixed on your Instagram profile as he scrolled through it. He angled the phone so you could see the screen, his thumb moving deliberately, pausing on a photo of Mimi curled into a perfect ball.

“Damn,” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of something warmer. “This is, like, a full-on Mimi shrine. Look at this—‘Mimi in the sun,’ ‘Mimi with a bow,’ ‘Mimi judging you.’”

You snorted, leaning over slightly to peek at the screen. “She’s very photogenic.”

He grinned, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You got, what? Three photos of yourself on here, tops?”

“Well, Mimi’s cuter than me,” you said, shrugging as you sipped your drink.

Joel hummed, a low, thoughtful sound that made your stomach flip. “Agree to disagree,” he murmured, his eyes still scanning your feed.

Your breath caught as his gaze flicked back to you, his grin widening. “Alright,” he said suddenly, sitting up on his knees and setting his beer aside. “We gotta fix this.”

“Fix what?” you asked, watching him warily.

He gestured to your phone. “This ratio. You and Mimi. I’m takin’ some pictures of you.”

“What, now?” you asked, your voice incredulous.

“No, tonight when you’re half-asleep and grumpy. Yes, now.” Joel was already on his feet, standing in front of your lounger, phone in hand.

“Joel, I’m not exactly the ‘pose in a bikini’ type,” you muttered, squirming slightly under his intense gaze.

“Who said anything about posing?” he said, crouching slightly to adjust the angle. “Just sit up. Relax. I’ll do the work.”

You groaned, but before you could protest further, the shutter sound clicked. “Oh my God, Joel!”

“C’mon,” he teased, grinning at you over the top of the phone. “You’re gorgeous. The world deserves to see.”

You flushed, shaking your head. “I’m really bad at posing.”

“Don’t pose, then. Just…” He gestured vaguely with the phone. “Pretend to read your book.”

“Fine,” you muttered, picking up your book again and settling back against the lounger. You tried to focus on the words, but your mind was too occupied by the way Joel moved around, crouching and angling himself like some overly enthusiastic photographer.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his tone softening. “These are nice.” He stood up straight, his gaze flicking back to you, and for a moment, you swore you saw something unguarded in his expression.

You couldn’t help but blush. “Alright, are we done?”

“Not yet.” He gestured toward your drink. “Take a sip.”

You rolled your eyes, but you did as he asked, lifting the glass to your lips.

“There she is,” he said under his breath, his voice almost reverent. “Atta girl.”

You set the drink down and glared at him playfully. “Happy now?”

Joel grinned as he settled onto your lounger, the chair dipping under his weight. It was too small for one person to sit comfortably, let alone two, and the proximity sent your pulse fluttering in your throat. His thigh pressed against yours, warm and solid, as he leaned in, his phone angled toward you.

“Look at this one,” he said, his voice carrying a boyish excitement as he swiped to a photo. He tilted the screen toward you, leaning in just enough for you to catch the faint, sharp scent of his aftershave. “You look like a Victoria’s Secret model or somethin’.”

You flushed, heat prickling at the back of your neck as you pushed the phone away gently, your gaze darting toward the pool instead. “Stop,” you murmured, trying to laugh it off. “I don’t need to see.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he turned the phone back to himself, glancing at the picture again like he couldn’t fathom what you were talking about. “You’re kidding, right?” His tone was softer now, laced with something tender and earnest.

You shook your head, still not meeting his eyes. “I’m not...,” you muttered, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear in a nervous gesture.

When you eventually met his gaze, the usual mischief in his brown eyes had melted into something achingly sincere. “You’re gorgeous,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “How can’t you see that?” His brows knit together, a flicker of frustration in his expression, as if he couldn’t understand how you didn’t see it yourself.

The words settled over you, heavy and warm, and for a moment, the world around you—the sounds of splashing water, distant laughter, the hum of conversation—faded into nothing. All you could hear was the soft, steady cadence of his voice and the way it made your chest ache.

You cleared your throat, trying to dispel the tension that wrapped around you like a vice. “Alright,” you hummed, finally setting your book aside and breaking the spell. “Let’s see yours then.”

Joel froze, his expression teetering between amusement and mild panic. “Oh, hell no,” he said, quickly pulling his phone back as if to shield it from your view.

“What? That’s so unfair,” you protested, swatting his thigh playfully.

“Alright, alright,” Joel groaned, rolling his eyes before surrendering the phone with a reluctant sigh. “Here. Take it.” He passed it over, leaning back into the lounger and taking a sip of his beer, his eyes fixed on you as you started scrolling through his photos.

The first photo was a group shot at the beach—Joel and a handful of friends standing knee-deep in the water, beers in hand, all of them grinning like idiots. Joel stood off to the side, his smile easy and boyish. “Aw,” you cooed, tilting the phone toward him. “Look at you. So wholesome.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel muttered, waving you off. “Keep scrollin’.”

The next photo made your breath hitch. Joel, shirtless, standing beside a grill with a spatula in hand. His skin was sun-kissed, his hair slightly tousled from what must’ve been a long day outside. He wasn’t even looking at the camera, his focus instead on whatever he was cooking, but damn. You swallowed, the image burning itself into your brain.

“Jesus,” you muttered, quickly swiping to the next photo. “Do you have something against shirts, or…?”

“You complaining?” he smirked, his tone playful.

You shook your head, laughing softly as you scrolled to the next post. It was him and a woman—a beautiful woman. She was smiling brightly, leaning against him as his arm rested loosely around her shoulders. The caption read, Alright company. Your chest tightened inexplicably, and you fought to keep your expression neutral.

“This your ex?” you asked, feigning nonchalance, though your voice came out a touch too casual.

Joel leaned forward slightly, peeking at the screen before letting out a deep laugh. “My cousin,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Oh,” you said, relief washing over you far too quickly for your liking.

Joel didn’t let it go, though. His grin widened, and his dark eyes glinted with mischief. “What’s this, huh?” he teased, his voice dropping an octave. “You jealous?”

“Please,” you scoffed, trying to mask the embarrassment twisting in your chest. “As if.”

Joel tilted his head, watching you with that knowing smirk that was both infuriating and dangerously charming. “Alright,” he said, his tone light but teasing.

Joel set his phone aside, leaning back against the lounger with an easy grace, his arm wrapping lazily around your shoulders. His fingers traced absent patterns up and down your arm, sending shivers across your skin in a way that felt both casual and entirely deliberate. Then, without a word, he reached up, pulled off his baseball cap, and plopped it onto your head, ruffling your hair in the process.

“There,” he said, his lips curving into a satisfied grin as he tilted his head to admire his work. “Looks better on you.”

You huffed, reaching up to adjust the cap, but the warmth blooming in your chest betrayed your feigned annoyance. “You’re seriously cockblocking me right now,” you muttered under your breath, lifting your drink to take a sip, hoping it would hide the telltale flush creeping up your neck.

Joel’s eyebrows shot up, and then his mouth curved into a wide, teasing grin. “Me? Your fake vacation boyfriend, cock-blocking you? I’d never.”

You rolled your eyes, aiming for exasperation, but the heat on your cheeks gave you away. “Sure,” you muttered, leaning back in your seat, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to linger on you a moment too long.

His grin faltered, just slightly, and he glanced down at the beer in his hand, swirling the bottle idly. The teasing air around him softened, replaced by something quieter, almost contemplative.

“What?” you asked, the shift in his tone pulling your attention. You tilted your head, your gaze narrowing as you tried to read him.

Joel’s fingers tapped against the glass of his beer before he looked up at you, his eyes dark and steady. “You tryna find a boyfriend here or somethin’?” he asked, his voice low, casual—too casual.

You blinked, caught completely off guard by the question. “What?” you repeated, letting out a light laugh. “No, Joel. God, no. But even if I was…” You hesitated, fiddling with the condensation on your glass. “I don’t think anyone would dare approach me. Not with us sitting here looking like we’re… like this.”

Joel tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. “Lovey-dovey, huh?” His lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but wasn’t far off either.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his hand, warm and rough, drifted to your thigh. He traced slow, deliberate circles against your skin, his touch light but impossible to ignore.

“Maybe,” Joel said after a moment, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, “maybe I don’t want anyone approachin’ you.”

You froze, your breath catching as his words hung between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his, and the way he was looking at you—soft, sincere, and a little unsure—made your chest ache.

“Joel,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but he cut you off with a slight shake of his head.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your leg now, his touch grounding. “Maybe I like this. Us… like this.”

Your chest tightened, your mind racing to keep up with the sudden shift. You furrowed your brows, forcing out a laugh to lighten the weight of his words. “You flirt too much,” you said, trying to sound teasing, though your voice wavered.

“I flirt,” he admitted, his lips curving into the faintest smile, “but this ain’t that.” He paused, his gaze locking onto yours, earnest and unguarded in a way you hadn’t seen before. “This is me bein’ honest.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as his words lingered between you. The weight of his gaze, the sincerity in his voice—it was too much, too raw. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way your chest ached. “We should get back,” you murmured, brushing your hand against your thigh as if the movement might ground you. “Don’t wanna get burnt like yesterday.”

Joel’s expression flickered for a moment, something unreadable flashing across his face, but then he nodded, his lips curving into a small, almost reluctant smile. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, easy, but it carried an undercurrent you couldn’t quite place. “Let’s go.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Dinner was, as always, lively and full of laughter. Maria and Tommy regaled you with tales of their hike, Maria’s animated hand gestures making you chuckle as she recounted, with dramatic flair, how “Tommy slipped and almost died.”

Even with Joel’s quiet confession from earlier still echoing in your mind, the two of you fell into the same easy rhythm as always. If anything had shifted between you, neither of you let it show. Joel teased Maria about exaggerating, you joined in, and Tommy feigned indignation, his grin betraying him.

The living room had become your little sanctuary after dinner, where everyone gathered to wind down. The warm glow of the lamp bathed the space in soft amber light, casting flickering shadows that made the room feel cozier. The low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses filled the air, a soundtrack to these lazy, contented evenings.

A half-empty bottle of whiskey lounged on the coffee table, surrounded by an assortment of glasses and a scattered pile of peanut M&M’s that had clearly been Joel’s doing. You tugged at the hem of your silky pink pajama shorts as you made your way in, the fabric brushing softly against your thighs. Settling into the chair facing the couches, you tucked your legs beneath you, stealing a quick glance around.

“Ooh, pink,” Joel drawled, his voice pulling your attention. He leaned back on the couch, one arm slung lazily over the cushions while the other popped another M&M into his mouth. His dark eyes flicked over you, a teasing grin curling his lips. “I like that color on you.”

Your cheeks flushed instantly, the warmth rushing to your face faster than you could hide it. You glanced down for a beat, then back up, offering him a shy smile. “Thanks,” you murmured, your voice soft as you adjusted your position, tucking your legs a little tighter beneath you.

Joel’s grin widened, but he didn’t push further, though the playful glint in his eyes lingered, making your heart race just a little faster than you’d like to admit.

Maria, seated next to Tommy on the other side of the couch, suddenly reached for the remote, pausing the movie they’d been half-watching. “Okay,” she announced, sitting up with an energy that made you suspicious. “Tonight, we’re gonna play…” She turned dramatically toward Tommy and Joel, clapping her hands together. “Drumroll, please!”

Tommy immediately leaned forward, drumming his hands against the coffee table. Joel, always the joker, slapped his thigh loudly, his grin turning into a laugh when Tommy gave him an exasperated look.

Maria threw her hands in the air. “Truth or Dare!”

You let out an audible sigh, sinking further into your chair. “Really?” you asked, your tone somewhere between amusement and dread.

“Yes, really,” Maria said, narrowing her eyes at you. “Don’t be a party pooper.”

You glanced around the room, your resolve slipping under Maria’s playful glare and the way Joel was watching you with that infuriatingly charming grin. “Alright, fine,” you said, relenting with a dramatic sigh.

“Atta girl,” Joel chimed in, his voice warm and teasing. “But why’re you sittin’ so far away? C’mon, I don’t bite.” He patted the empty space on the couch beside him.

Hesitating for just a moment, you finally stood, smoothing down your pajama shorts as you crossed the room. Joel’s gaze followed you, warm and steady, and when you lowered yourself into the seat beside him, his arm draped casually over your shoulder, the movement so seamless it felt almost automatic.

“See? That’s better,” he murmured, his voice dropping slightly as his fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder. His scent surrounded you—something clean and woodsy, mingled with the faintest hint of the beer he’d been sipping—and it made your head swim. You fought to keep your breathing steady as he leaned back, his thumb lazily tracing an idle pattern on your arm, his presence entirely too consuming.

“Alright, brother,” Joel said, his voice light with mischief. “Truth or dare?”

Tommy leaned back against the couch, his arms spread wide like he was ready for anything. “Dare,” he said confidently.

Joel laughed, the sound rich and deep, already brimming with amusement. “Alright, I dare you to…” He paused for effect, his eyes sparkling with wicked delight as he grinned at Maria. “Suck Maria’s toes.”

“Ew, Joel!” you exclaimed, nudging him in the ribs. “That’s disgusting.”

“What?” Joel said, feigning innocence as he rubbed the spot where you’d elbowed him. “It’s a dare. Ain’t my fault Tommy said he’d take one.”

Tommy, to everyone’s surprise, slid off the couch and onto the floor in front of Maria. He pointed a finger at Joel, his expression dead serious. “You think I won’t do it, Joel?”

Maria shrieked, pulling her legs up onto the couch and hiding her feet under a throw pillow. “No, Tommy! Gross! Don’t you dare!”

“C’mon, baby,” Tommy said, reaching for her ankles with exaggerated determination. “I ain’t losin’ to my brother.”

“You’re disgusting!” Maria yelled, laughing uncontrollably as she swatted at him. “Get away from me, oh my God!”

Joel was laughing so hard he nearly doubled over, his hand brushing against your knee as he steadied himself. “Oh man,” he said between breaths, “this is better than I could’ve hoped for.”

Still chuckling, Joel straightened up, his hand lingering just a moment too long before he pulled it away, leaving a phantom warmth behind. He pointed toward the tequila bottle on the table, his smirk turning mischievous. “Alright,” he said, his drawl playful and commanding. “You failed your dare. Gotta drink.”

Tommy groaned, grabbing the shot glass and downing it in one go, his face twisting in dramatic agony as he slammed the glass back onto the table. “Ugh, that’s brutal,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Rules are rules,” Joel said with a smirk, leaning back on the couch and looking far too pleased with himself.

“Alright, wise guy,” Tommy said, poking Joel in the chest with one finger, his competitive streak clearly coming to life. “Truth or dare?”

Joel’s eyes flicked to you for a moment, a faint spark of mischief dancing in them before he leaned forward with an exaggerated air of confidence. “Dare,” he said, his voice slow and deliberate.

You let out a groan, leaning your head back against the couch. “Why do men always choose dare?” you murmured.

Joel turned his head, smirking at you. “Because, darlin’, truth’s too easy. Dares keep things interesting.”

Tommy’s grin turned downright devious as he scanned the room, his gaze settling on you like a predator locking onto its prey. “Alright,” Tommy said slowly, dragging the word out for maximum effect. “I dare you to give this lovely lady…” He pointed directly at you, his grin widening. “…a full Magic Mike lap dance.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, sitting up straight, your cheeks instantly burning. “No way. Absolutely not.”

Joel let out a low laugh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. “You’re somethin’ else, Tommy,” he said, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you. “But hey, a dare’s a dare.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re not seriously going to do this.”

Joel shrugged, his grin turning slow and wicked as he stood, rolling his shoulders like he was gearing up for a performance. “What can I say? I don’t back down from a challenge—especially if it’s an excuse to take my shirt off.”

“Joel,” you said, your voice rising slightly in protest, but he was already stepping around the coffee table, his movements smooth and confident as he approached you.

“Oh, c’mon,” Maria chimed in, laughing as she nudged Tommy. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Do it, Joel!”

Joel smirked, his gaze locked onto yours now, playful and teasing but somehow disarming all at once. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’ll keep it PG.”

You couldn’t decide if that made things better or worse.

He stopped just in front of you, tilting his head slightly, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, his tone low and dripping with charm. “You ready for the show of a lifetime?”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, feeling your face heat as you instinctively covered it with your hands. Joel’s laugh was low and warm, and you could feel it ripple through you, making your pulse quicken.

Tommy, of course, had found Pony on his phone, and the unmistakable opening beat filled the room. The sultry lyrics—I'm just a bachelor…—sent Maria into a fit of laughter. Joel turned his head toward you, a slow, deliberate grin spreading across his face, one that practically radiated mischief. Trouble. Before you could say a word, he leaned in, his hands bracketing your body as you instinctively sank further back into the couch.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled, his voice a warm murmur against your cheek. “I’ll be gentle.”

Your heart raced, your breath catching as you tried to process the nearness of him, the way his eyes flicked over your face like he was gauging every reaction. Before you could form a response, Joel straightened, his expression shifting to something far too smug as he stepped back and began to move.

And God, did he move.

His hips swayed to the beat, slow and deliberate, his hands running through his hair before trailing down his chest with exaggerated precision. It was ridiculous and yet… not.

Joel had a way of commanding the space around him, making every motion seem effortless, every glance deliberate. The energy in the room shifted, a mix of laughter and something heavier—something you couldn’t ignore.

Shit, he was sexy.

Then, with the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, Joel reached for the hem of his shirt. Slowly, agonizingly, he began to lift it, revealing a sliver of tanned skin and the faintest hint of muscle as he moved to the beat. Your stomach flipped as you watched, your breath hitching when he met your eyes again.

“Oh my God,” Maria wheezed, slapping Tommy’s arm. “He’s really doing it.”

Joel ignored her, his focus entirely on you.

The air between you seemed to crackle as he tugged the shirt higher, revealing more of his toned stomach, the faint trail of hair leading down from his navel making your face burn. He didn’t stop there, pulling the shirt over his head in one smooth motion and tossing it aside, his grin growing as he caught the stunned look on your face.

“Joel!” you hissed, mortified and utterly unable to look away. “This is insane.”

“Yeah?” he drawled, stepping closer, his voice rougher now, a teasing edge layered with something deeper that sent a shiver down your spine. His gaze locked onto yours, dark and smoldering, his smirk a devastating mix of cocky and alluring. “Thought you liked a little crazy, darlin’.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to throw out some quip to defuse the growing tension, but the words caught in your throat as Joel reached for your hands. His fingers wrapped around yours, warm and steady, and he guided them slowly to his chest.

Your breath hitched as he directed your hands downward, over the taut planes of his chest, across the curve of his ribs, and lower still. His muscles flexed under your fingertips, firm and defined, as he moved your hands across his abdomen with deliberate slowness. The heat of his skin radiated through his shirt, every motion purposeful, intimate.

You should pull your hands away, tell him to stop, but you couldn’t. You were utterly mesmerized, caught in the intoxicating push and pull of his presence.

Then, Joel dropped to one knee in front of you with a smooth, deliberate motion, and before you could fully process what was happening, his hand was on your knee. Gently but firmly, he pried your legs apart just enough to step closer, his movements so fluid it left you stunned.

Your instinct was to close them again, your body reacting on autopilot, but Joel’s other hand caught your knee, holding you there. “Ah, ah,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. His voice was teasing, but his grip was steady, unyielding, as he tilted his head to meet your wide-eyed stare. The music thrummed around you, its sensual beat matching the rhythm of your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Holy shit,” Tommy howled from the couch, his laughter breaking the spell for just a moment.

Joel ignored him, his attention fixed entirely on you. He reached down for his shirt, which he’d tossed on the floor earlier, and in one smooth, exaggerated motion, twirled it above his head. The playful movement drew laughter from the room, but his eyes never left yours, daring you to look away.

You didn’t.

Finally, Joel stood, his grin softening as he stepped back and ran a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling with each breath. He turned to Tommy and Maria, throwing his arms out dramatically. “There,” he said, his voice light but tinged with satisfaction. “That good enough for ya?” as he tugged his shirt back on

Tommy doubled over, his laughter echoing through the room. “Hell yeah! That was worth it.”

Maria was practically in tears, clutching her side as she tried to catch her breath. “Oh my God, Joel! That was… I don’t even have words. If all else fails, you could always be a stripper.”

“What’d ya think?” Joel asked, stretching out on the opposite side of the couch. His long legs sprawled lazily in front of him, one arm draped casually across the backrest.

You blinked, your heart still racing from the impromptu performance he’d just put on. “Yeah,” you stammered, barely managing to meet his gaze. “You’re… good at that.”

Joel chuckled, the sound rich and deep, his grin widening into something wickedly self-assured. “Must’ve done somethin’ right if I got you sweatin’ like a sinner in church,” he teased, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief.

Your cheeks burned, and you cleared your throat, looking anywhere but at him.

His grin deepened, downright devilish now, as his gaze locked on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers drummed idly against his thigh before he leaned forward slightly, pointing at you with a playful edge that felt like a challenge.

“Alright,” he drawled, his voice low, honeyed, and full of trouble. “Truth or dare, roomie?”

You sighed, already regretting your life choices. Both options seemed like traps in Joel’s hands, but you had to play along. “Fine,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “Truth.”

Joel’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming like a cat toying with a mouse. “Truth, huh? Guess I’ve gotta make it worth your while.”

“Joel…” you warned, narrowing your eyes at him, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you rubbed your hands against your shorts.

His smirk deepened, and he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he sat up and reached for his drink. “What’s your favorite sex position?” he asked, his voice smooth as silk, as if he’d just asked you the weather.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you almost choked on air. “What?!” you sputtered, your eyes wide as heat surged to your face.

Maria gasped loudly, covering her mouth, while Tommy froze mid-drink, his eyes darting between you and Joel.

Joel just shrugged, taking a slow sip of his beer before setting it down with deliberate ease. “What?” he said, feigning innocence, though the playful tilt of his lips betrayed him. “It’s a valid question. You said truth, didn’t you?”

“I—” You blinked, completely thrown off. “That’s not… You can’t just ask that!”

“Sure I can,” Joel replied smoothly, leaning back again and stretching an arm across the back of the couch. His gaze never wavered, and the smug confidence in his expression made you want to throttle him—or possibly kiss him. You weren’t sure which. “You agreed to play, roomie. Can’t back out now.”

“C’mon now,” he said softly, his voice dipping lower, more intimate. “It’s just a question. I’ll keep it between us if you’re shy.”

Your heart pounded, your brain scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t make things worse. Joel’s gaze was unrelenting, playful yet intense, his presence almost suffocating in the best way. The teasing lilt in his voice, the challenge in his eyes—it was all too much.

Finally, you folded your arms across your chest like armor and muttered, “I don’t have one.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’re lying,” he said simply, his voice low and sure. “I can tell.”

“I’m not,” you shot back, your voice a little too quick, a little too defensive.

Joel tilted his head, smirking as he picked up the bottle of tequila and poured a splash into a glass. He held it out toward you, his grin never wavering. “It’s called Truth or Dare—or Drink,” he said, his tone maddeningly casual. “If you’re gonna lie, you gotta drink.”

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at him as you felt the heat rising to your face. “You’re the worst.”

Joel chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I get that a lot.”

You stared at the glass for a moment, weighing your options, but you knew drinking would be as good as admitting defeat.

“Fine,” you mumbled.

Joel leaned in closer, his movements slow and deliberate, his smile softening just enough to make your pulse stutter. “Go on,” he urged, his voice low and coaxing. “No judgment here.”

You hesitated, your gaze darting to Maria and Tommy, who were both watching with barely restrained glee. Joel must have noticed because he glanced at them and smirked. “Eyes on your drinks,” he said, waving them off with a flick of his wrist. “This ain’t for y’all.”

Maria giggled, Tommy groaned, but they both obliged, turning their attention to their drinks—though you could feel their barely contained curiosity lingering in the air.

Joel turned back to you, his gaze locking onto yours, steady and unyielding. “Alright” he murmured, his voice softer now. “What’s it gonna be?”

You exhaled shakily, your cheeks blazing as you forced the word out. “Cowgirl.”

Joel blinked, his grin faltering for just a fraction of a second before it returned, slower this time, a little more dangerous. “Cowgirl, huh?” he drawled, his voice rougher now, lower. “That’s… a solid choice.”

Your face burned hotter as you avoided Joel’s gaze, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shorts. You wished the floor would swallow you whole, wished for anything to break the tension thrumming between you. “You said no judgment,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

“And I meant it,” Joel said quickly, his tone softening, though the teasing edge in his voice hadn’t fully disappeared. “Matter of fact…” His lips curved into a lazy grin as he leaned back, his arm draped casually across the back of the couch. “Think that’s my favorite too.”

“The question wasn’t for you, Joel,” Tommy teased, shaking his head as he pointed at him. “Why are you always tryna make it about you?”

“This is an open discussion,” Joel shot back smoothly.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands for a brief moment before peeking at him through your fingers. “What do you like about it?” he pressed, his tone dripping with playful curiosity.

“I didn’t realize there were follow-up questions,” you said, your voice dripping with exasperation, though your lips twitched with the beginnings of a smile.

Joel just raised an eyebrow, waiting, his patience maddeningly effective. You sighed, shifting in your seat under the weight of his gaze. “I don’t know,” you said finally, your voice quieter now. “It… feels good. That’s it.”

“Huh,” Joel murmured thoughtfully, leaning forward slightly as if he were considering your words like a philosopher pondering the meaning of life. “What about missionary?”

Your eyes snapped to his, wide with disbelief. “Joel!” you exclaimed, your voice high and mortified.

“What?” he said, completely unbothered, gesturing around the room. “We’re all adults, right? Just a question.”

Tommy groaned, tipping his head back against the couch. “Man, you need a hobby.”

Maria smacked Joel lightly on the arm. “No, he needs to stop.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, shaking your head as Joel turned back to you, his grin still firmly in place. “Well?” he asked, ignoring everyone else entirely.

You rolled your eyes but decided to play along. “It’s… fine. With the right person, it's ... nice.”

Joel nodded as if you’d just given the most profound answer. “Fair enough,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “And doggy?”

“Okay!” Maria interrupted, throwing her hands up as she pointed at him. “You. Cold shower. Now.”

Tommy burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as Joel raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright,” he said, though the wicked grin on his face told you he wasn’t remotely sorry.

He turned to you one last time, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Guess I’ll just have to get your opinion on that one later.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Joel stepped into the room, the towel slung dangerously low on his hips, water still dripping from his hair. A toothbrush hung from the corner of his mouth, and he glanced at you, his eyes crinkling at the edges in amusement.

You were sprawled out on the bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, but the moment he entered, the casual atmosphere shifted. The sight of him—damp, shirtless, and so effortlessly masculine—made your stomach flip.

He leaned against the wall for a moment, then started doing pushups against it, the muscles in his back and arms flexing with every movement. “Ninety-nine, one hundred,” he counted, his voice gruff but teasing.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “God, you’re such a man,” you said, emphasizing the word with mock exasperation.

Joel straightened up, spitting the toothpaste into the sink as he grinned. “Sounds like a compliment to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Put some pants on,” you muttered, trying to focus on your phone again, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

“Sure thing,” he said, opening the drawer and pulling out a pair of boxers, which he slung casually over his shoulder like he had all the time in the world.

Then, with an infuriating smirk, he turned toward you. “Cowgirl, huh?”

Your jaw dropped, heat flooding your face. “Joel, stop.”

He shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. “Just making conversation,” he said with a wink. “Alright, close your eyes.”

“What?” you asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“I’m changin’,” he said simply, tugging at the knot of the towel. “I’ll be naked in like three seconds.”

“Oh my God,” you groaned, slapping a hand over your eyes. “We have a bathroom for a reason.”

“Yeah,” Joel said with a laugh, “but where’s the fun in that?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, but your curiosity got the better of you.

Just a peek, you thought.

You cracked your fingers open just enough to catch a glimpse, and your breath hitched. Joel’s back was tan, the muscles rippling under smooth, sun-kissed skin as he reached into the dresser. The sharp definition of his shoulders tapered into a strong, narrow waist, the dip of his spine leading down to—

Oh. My. God.

The towel fell to the floor, revealing the most perfectly round, firm ass you’d ever seen, framed by powerful thighs that looked as though they could crush steel.

And then you saw his cock.

It hung thick and weighty, the shaft resting against his muscular thigh, even at rest. The skin was tanned like the rest of him, a darker, ruddy hue gracing the head, which was perfectly proportioned and smooth. A faint, darker vein ran along its length, drawing your attention in a way you couldn’t look away from.

The base was framed by a neat patch of dark, coarse hair, blending seamlessly with the faint trail that started at his navel. It was the kind of cock that made your stomach flip, intimidating in its sheer size and girth but undeniably captivating.

Even soft, you couldn’t help but imagine how much bigger, harder it could get, and the thought sent heat rushing through you. You clamped your eyes shut again, your cheeks burning hotter than ever, but the image was burned into your mind now, seared there like a brand you couldn’t shake.

“I’m such a perv,” you thought, your stomach twisting with a mix of embarrassment and something warmer, something far more dangerous.

“All done,” Joel said casually, snapping you out of your spiral.

“Good,” you croaked, your voice barely audible. You risked a glance as he slipped into bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He turned toward you, his gaze soft and a little too knowing, the corner of his mouth pulling into a lopsided smile.

Gosh, why was he so handsome? The soft lamplight caught the curve of his jaw, the faint flush on his cheeks, the tousled mess of damp hair falling over his forehead.

He smelled like coconut—probably from the hotel body wash—and you felt your stomach twist in ways you didn’t entirely understand.

“Before we go to sleep,” he hummed, his voice low and easy as he propped himself up on one elbow, his head resting on his hand, “truth or truth.”

You laughed, caught off guard. “Joel, I think we’ve had enough of that for one night.”

“Please,” he said, drawing out the word in a way that made it sound so much softer. “Truth or truth,” he repeated, his lips curving upward just enough to betray a hint of nerves behind his teasing tone.

You stared at him, momentarily lost in the way he looked right now—so boyish, so earnest. His pink lips were slightly swollen, his cheeks still a little red, his wet hair falling over his temple in a way that made you want to brush it back.

“Fine,” you murmured, unable to say no when he looked at you like that. “Truth.”

Joel’s grin faltered for the briefest second, the playfulness in his expression dimming as he searched your face.

“Okay,” he said slowly, his voice quieter now, like he was working up the courage. He hesitated, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before his eyes locked on yours, something unguarded and raw in his gaze. “Are you… attracted to me?”

Your heart stuttered, your chest tightening. “What?” you breathed, your eyebrows shooting up as heat rushed to your cheeks.

He shrugged, but the movement was almost self-conscious, like he was trying to play it off even as his eyes stayed steady on you. “It’s a fair question.”

“Joel, I—what are you even talking about?” you stammered, your voice shaky as you tried to process what he’d just asked.

“C’mon,” he said softly, the teasing edge gone now. “Just… tell me. I’m not gonna hold it against you.”

His sincerity threw you off more than the question itself. Joel Miller didn't strike you as the type of guy to be vulnerable like this—wasn’t supposed to ask questions that left your stomach flipping and your heart racing.

But here he was, waiting for an answer, his expression open, his usual confidence tempered with something quieter, something unsure.

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears as the air between you seemed to thicken, charged with something unspoken. And for the first time, you didn’t know how to hide.

“You’re a handsome guy,” you shrugged, trying for nonchalance. But the way your voice wavered betrayed you.

Joel tilted his head, his expression unreadable, though there was something sharp, something quietly intent in the way his eyes stayed on yours. “That’s not what I asked,” he murmured, his voice soft but insistent.

Your gaze flicked to him, startled by the shift in his tone. He was watching you so carefully, so thoroughly, like he was trying to decipher every flicker of emotion across your face.

“What?” you said, your breath hitching slightly.

“I said,” he repeated, slower this time, his Southern drawl wrapping around each word like a secret, “are you attracted to me?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, the words landing heavier than they should have. “I—” you started, then scoffed, shaking your head like it could somehow dispel the heat rushing to your cheeks. “What kind of—who even—”

Joel didn’t interrupt, didn’t move. He just kept looking at you, patient and unyielding, his gaze steady and unrelenting as if he had all the time in the world. And that was worse somehow—because it left you nowhere to hide.

You huffed, breaking under the weight of it, your voice coming out quieter than you meant. “Yeah. Fine. Yes, Joel. I’m attracted to you. Happy?”

He nodded once, the movement slow and deliberate. His eyes softened just enough to make your chest tighten, though his expression remained unreadable. “Good,” he murmured.

You bit your lip, a nervous laugh escaping before you could stop it. “What?” you asked, trying to fill the charged silence. “You needed that for your ego or something?”

Joel shook his head, his lips curving into the faintest smile, though there was something different about it this time. Something shy, almost unsure. “No,” he said quietly. “Just… wanted to know.”

Your heart tripped over itself at the simplicity of his words, and you shifted slightly, your fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt.

The question tumbled out before you could stop it, your voice barely above a whisper. “Are you… attracted to me?”

For a moment, Joel didn’t answer. He just stared at you, the silence stretching unbearably as something flickered across his face—something you couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” he said finally, the single syllable carrying enough weight to knock the air from your lungs. His voice was low, gravelly, and sure. “Yeah, I am.”

Your chest tightened as Joel leaned in slightly, his hand braced against the mattress, his movements deliberate yet hesitant. His dark eyes flicked to your lips for the briefest moment before snapping back to meet your gaze.

Joel’s voice broke the silence, low and quiet, almost like he didn’t want to scare the moment away. “Thought it was pretty obvious,” he said, his lips twitching into a soft, self-conscious smile as a quiet laugh escaped him.

The sound made your chest ache, the vulnerability in it catching you off guard. He shifted slightly, leaning back just a fraction as if he was giving you space to breathe.

“Anyways,” he murmured, his tone softening even more, “it’s late. You should get some sleep.”

You blinked, your heart still racing as the tension eased, replaced by something warmer, gentler. Joel’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, like he was trying to memorize your face, the curve of your lips, the way the moonlight painted your skin.

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the room dark and still except for the soft sound of Joel’s breathing beside you. He was sound asleep, his features softened in a way that almost felt unfair.

His brow, usually furrowed with intensity or mischief, was relaxed. His lips, so often curled into a smirk that drove you crazy, now rested in a slight, peaceful curve. He looked so sweet, so angelic, nothing like the devil he became when he was awake and teasing you mercilessly.

Your eyes lingered on the way his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, the steady rise and fall of his chest as the light sheet barely covered him. His hair was messy, slightly tousled, the curls resting against his forehead. He looked younger like this—soft, unguarded, and warm.

You sighed softly, your chest tightening as the weight of his earlier admission settled over you. The honesty in his words had left a crack in your defenses, and now, staring at him like this, you couldn’t help but wonder if he realized just how completely he’d unraveled you.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would erase the ache in your loin. You shifted under the covers, restless, your body betraying you at every turn. Joel’s antics earlier—the damn lap dance, his relentless teasing, his towel slipping, the dip of his hips, his cock. Jesus, his cock.

You pressed your thighs together, heat blooming between them as the memory of it all replayed in vivid detail. And now, lying here in the dark with him just inches away, asleep and completely unaware of the havoc he’d wreaked on your mind and body, it felt unbearable.

Needy. That’s what you were. Completely, hopelessly needy. And it was all Joel’s fault.

Padding out into the quiet living room, you sank onto the couch, curling your legs beneath you as the cool leather met your skin. The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of your phone as you scrolled aimlessly, searching for a distraction that could ease the tension winding tightly through your chest—and lower. But nothing seemed to work.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the soft pad of footsteps until they were right behind you.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice came, low and rough from sleep, and it made your pulse skip. You turned to see him rubbing at his eyes, his hair even messier now, sticking up in disheveled tufts that only added to his boyish charm.

He was barefoot, the hem of his sweatpants riding low on his hips, and his shirt hung lazily over one shoulder, revealing the toned expanse of his chest.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice softer now as he stepped closer, the faint rasp of sleep still clinging to it.

You swallowed, dropping your phone into your lap as you sighed. “No,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Sorry for waking you.”

Joel shook his head, plopping down beside you on the couch with a small, tired groan. “You didn’t wake me,” he murmured, though you could tell he was lying. The slight squint of his eyes and the tousled mess of his hair gave him away.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, squinting slightly in the dim light. “It’s 1 a.m.,” he said, his lips curving into that familiar lopsided smile. “You’ve been up this whole time?”

You shrugged, pulling your legs up to your chest. “Just couldn’t fall asleep.”

Joel leaned back against the couch, studying you for a moment. His gaze, still heavy-lidded from sleep, softened as it swept over your face. “Hey,” he said after a beat, his voice lighter now, teasing as he nudged your knee with his hand. “I got an idea.”

You raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious. “Oh, no. What kind of idea?”

Joel’s grin widened, the kind of mischievous, devil-may-care smile that made your stomach flip in the worst—or maybe the best—way. “One that involves changin’ into your swimsuit,” he said, his voice low and coaxing, his Southern drawl making the suggestion sound almost innocent. Almost.

You blinked, heat rushing to your face. “Joel…”

“Come on,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand. His grin softened, something gentler lurking beneath the teasing. “Trust me. I’ll wait.”

You hesitated, glancing from his outstretched hand to his face, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite name. But there was something in his expression—a quiet steadiness behind the playfulness—that made it impossible to say no.

With a small sigh, you slipped your hand into his, his palm warm and solid against yours. “This better not be one of your bad ideas,” you murmured.

Joel chuckled, tugging you gently to your feet. “Oh, it’s definitely bad,” he drawled, his grin flashing again. “But you’ll love it.”

⋆🌺˚.⋆ꪆৎ.🐚⋆❀˖°

Not long after, you found yourself padding down the resort’s quiet, dimly lit hallway, Joel leading the way with his hand wrapped around yours. His grip was warm and steady, entirely unnecessary but impossibly reassuring. You didn’t dare pull away. The gentle pressure of his fingers against yours sent a thrill up your arm, a sensation you tried—and utterly failed—to ignore.

Joel walked confidently ahead, his bare chest catching the faint glow of the overhead lights. His swim shorts hung low on his hips, his relaxed stride exuding an effortless confidence. Beside him, you felt the cool air against your skin, the bikini you’d hastily thrown on feeling all the more revealing in the stillness of the night.

“Joel, this is insane,” you whispered, glancing nervously over your shoulder. “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you with that infuriatingly cocky grin that made your stomach flip. “Hey,” he said, his voice low and warm as he tilted his head, his hair still charmingly messy. “We’re payin’—” He paused, his smirk widening as he corrected himself. “Actually, Tommy’s payin’ a shit ton of money to be here. If we wanna use the pool at 1 a.m., we’re gonna use the damn pool at 1 a.m.”

You sighed, a blend of amusement and exasperation bubbling to the surface as you reluctantly let him pull you along. “This feels like a terrible idea.”

Joel glanced back at you, his grin sharp and teasing under the dim glow of the resort lights. “The best ones always do.” His thumb brushed against your knuckles, a small, almost thoughtless gesture, but one that sent a ripple of warmth up your arm. The air was thick with the scent of salt and hibiscus, the soft rustle of palm fronds above only amplifying the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Joel pushed open the gate to the infinity pool with a soft creak, holding it open as his hand tightened briefly on yours, guiding you through before letting it close behind you with a gentle clang.

And then your breath caught.

The infinity pool stretched out before you, its surface still as glass, shimmering under the silver caress of moonlight. It was a vision of serenity and magic, the water reflecting the stars like liquid silk.

Subtle underwater lights glowed in hues of soft blue and white, their faint ripples casting dancing patterns onto the surrounding tiles.

Beyond the pool’s edge, the dark expanse of the ocean stretched into infinity, its gentle waves blending seamlessly with the star-strewn sky.

The world felt quieter here, as if the night itself had conspired to create this pocket of intimacy, a secret space carved out just for the two of you.

Joel stepped up beside you, his hand slipping from yours at last, leaving behind a fleeting chill you weren’t ready for. “See?” he said, his voice low and reverent, like he didn’t want to disturb the stillness. “Told ya it’s even better at night.”

The pool lights cast a gentle glow across the water, the soft hues of blue and silver rippling over his skin. Shadows played along the strong lines of his shoulders, the curve of his chest, and the defined cut of his back, every movement a study in quiet power.

The faint shimmer of moonlight danced against the tan of his skin, and for a moment, he looked almost otherworldly—like something pulled straight out of your imagination.

Joel took a step into the water, the muscles in his legs flexing as he descended. He turned to you, his smirk fading into something softer, more inviting. “You comin’ in, or what?” His voice was low, coaxing, with an edge of something that sent heat straight to your core.

You swallowed, the warmth rising to your cheeks undeniable as you tried—and failed—not to linger on the way the water lapped at his waist, highlighting every inch of him. “Yeah… yeah, I’m coming,” you murmured, your voice betraying the flutter in your chest.

Joel didn’t move, just stood there in the water, his eyes fixed on you. His gaze was steady, quiet, as though he was waiting for something. The faintest curve of a smile tugged at his lips, and then he extended a hand toward you. “C’mon,” he said softly, the words like a thread pulling you closer. “Water’s perfect.”

You took his hand, his grip warm and steady as he guided you into the pool. The water lapped at your skin, cool and refreshing, sending a soft shiver through you as it rose higher. Joel’s fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary before he let go, and you floated alongside him, both drifting naturally toward the edge of the infinity pool.

Joel leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the pool. His hair, slicked back from the water, caught the faint glow of the underwater lights, droplets clinging to his tanned skin and glinting like tiny jewels.

His expression was unguarded, almost boyish, as he let out a soft sigh. “Shit,” he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of quiet sincerity. “This might be the best trip of my life.”

You turned your head toward him, his words settling warmly in your chest like a flicker of something you didn’t quite want to name. “Me too,” you admitted softly, your voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the water.

Joel glanced at you then, his gaze lingering a moment too long, his eyes searching yours as if trying to piece together the thoughts you weren’t saying.

“So,” he said finally, breaking the silence, his voice lighter now but laced with something deeper. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

The question hung in the air, far too close to the truth. Your heart stuttered as you turned your gaze back to the water, the soft glow of the pool lights casting ripples of light across your skin.

How could you possibly admit it? That Joel’s lap dance, his teasing, his cock—all of it—had left you restless, needy, and completely unable to quiet your racing thoughts.

“Not sure,” you murmured, shrugging and avoiding his eyes, your voice quieter than you intended.

Joel’s eyes narrowed slightly, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh, come on,” he said, his voice low and teasing, yet laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine. “Usually, you’re out like a light. Somethin’s on your mind.”

Your heart raced, your defenses crumbling under the weight of his gaze. “I told you,” you muttered, forcing a casual shrug. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

Joel tilted his head, studying you like he was working out a puzzle, his grin turning downright devilish. He leaned in slightly, his elbow braced on the edge of the pool, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Shit,” he drawled, his tone equal parts teasing and dangerous. “Baby… are you…” He paused, letting the question linger as his grin widened. “…horny?”

Your breath caught in your throat, your face heating instantly. “Joel!” you hissed, your voice a mixture of indignation and mortification as you swatted at his arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He laughed, low and rich, leaning back just enough to let you breathe but not enough to create distance. His grin was positively wicked, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “What?” he said, feigning innocence. “Just tryin’ to help. Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong.”

You bit your lip, your gaze darting to his before skittering away again, the tension coiling tighter in your chest. “You’re wrong,” you said, forcing the words out, but your voice wavered, betraying you.

Joel’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it softened slightly, turning into something warmer, more disarming. “Darlin’,” he said, his tone low and coaxing, “you’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

Your eyes darted to his chest—broad and glistening under the soft glow of the pool lights—and lingered for just a second too long. When you realized what you’d done, you quickly looked away, cursing yourself internally.

He chuckled, the sound quieter now, almost fond as he shook his head. “Christ, girly,” he murmured, his voice dipping even lower. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

You groaned, looking away as your cheeks burned. “Joel, I’m not answering that.”

“Oh, you are,” he said, his grin still firmly in place. “C’mon, I’m dyin’ here.”

When you stayed quiet, Joel’s teasing softened just slightly. “Seriously,” he said, his voice more curious now, less playful. “When?”

You sighed, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Fine. Like… eight months ago.”

Joel froze, his eyes widening as he turned to fully face you. “What?” he choked, the disbelief in his voice almost comical. “Are you serious?”

You nodded, your gaze still fixed on the ocean, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “Yeah.”

Joel ran a hand through his wet hair, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Eight months?” he repeated, his voice quieter now. “Shit, darlin’… how have you not lost your mind?”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself, turning to look at him. “It’s not that big of a deal, Joel.”

“Right,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Because you got your little toy.”

Your face burned as you groaned, shooting him a glare. “I regret ever telling you about that.”

Joel chuckled, leaning his elbow on the pool’s edge as he turned to face you fully, his grin widening. “Hey, I’m just sayin’. No shame in it,. Gotta take care of yourself somehow.”

“Joel,” you muttered, pressing your hands to your face. “Please stop.”

He held up his hands, mock surrender in his posture. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave.” A pause, and then, with a tilt of his head, he added, “Seriously, though—why not?”

“Why not what?” you asked, looking at him warily.

Joel shrugged, his tone lighter but edged with genuine curiosity. “Why not just… y’know, find someone? It’s been eight months.” His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, his voice softening. “Look at you. You could have anyone you wanted.”

You sighed, your fingers skimming the water’s surface as you avoided his gaze. “Joel, some of us can’t just have casual sex with people.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice dipping lower as his expression shifted, a flicker of something serious passing through his eyes. “What makes you think I can?”

You looked at him, surprised by the sudden change in his tone. “Well… I just assumed.”

Joel leaned back slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he shook his head. “I don’t just go sleepin’ around with everyone, you know.”

Your eyes widened, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said quickly. “I just meant… I don’t know. You seem like you’re more… experienced than me.”

Joel raised an eyebrow, his grin softening into something closer to a smirk. “More experienced?” he repeated, the teasing lilt back in his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

You groaned again, burying your face in your hands. “It means exactly what it sounds like, okay? You’re Joel. You’re… confident and flirty and… you. I figured you’d have had more… practice.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and when you peeked at him through your fingers, he was shaking his head, his grin softening even further. “just because I know how to flirt doesn’t mean I’m out here sleepin’ with every pretty face I meet.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze meeting yours, steady and sincere. “Truth is, I don’t do casual either. Never really been my thing.” He shrugged, his tone lightening again as he added, “Not that I haven’t tried, but… I guess I’m picky.”

“Picky?” you repeated, your lips twitching into a small smile.

“Yeah,” Joel said with a casual shrug, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. “When I was younger, I guess I was more… free, you know? Didn’t think too hard about it. But now…” He trailed off, his gaze dipping briefly before locking back onto yours, a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.

“Now, I gotta have a connection with someone before I…” He smirked, his voice dropping lower as he added, “…rock their world.”

Your laugh burst out before you could stop it, a sound somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Oh, my God, Joel.”

His grin widened, and he leaned back against the pool’s edge, his arms stretching out to rest along the tiles. “What?” he said, feigning innocence. “Just tellin’ it like it is.”

You shook your head, the laugh still lingering on your lips as you looked at him. “You’re impossible.”

“Nah,” Joel said softly, his tone shifting just enough to catch you off guard. “You’ve got a nice laugh.”

Your smile faltered for a beat, your heart skipping at the sincerity in his voice. “Smooth operator,” you replied, raising an eyebrow at him, trying to keep things light.

Joel shrugged, his grin softening. “I mean it,” he said, his voice quiet but sure, his gaze steady on yours.

You bit your lip without thinking, a nervous habit you’d had forever, and Joel’s gaze flicked down to catch the motion. Something shifted in his expression, his smirk faltering just slightly as his brow furrowed, his voice a low mumble when he finally spoke. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” you asked, your voice softer now, the air between you thick with unspoken tension.

Joel shook his head slightly, his lips twitching into a faint smile, but there was something darker in his eyes, something restrained, like he was fighting an internal battle.

The moment stretched, the sound of the waves crashing below blending with the quiet hum of the night. And then—like the universe had a sense of humor—your bikini top came undone, the tie at the back slipping free.

“Shit,” you gasped, clutching the front of your top against your chest to keep it in place. Your eyes widened as you looked at Joel, your heart hammering for a whole new reason now. “Joel,” you whispered, motioning toward your back. “Can you… can you tie me up?”

His gaze flicked to yours, his lips curving into a slow, wicked grin. “And if I didn’t?” he teased, his voice low and dripping with amusement.

“Joel!” you hissed, glaring at him as your cheeks burned, your grip tightening on the loose fabric against your chest. “I’m serious!”

Joel tilted his head, his smirk growing as he treaded water, the glow from the pool lights casting shadows across his face. “What?” he teased, his voice low and playful. “You never skinny dip before?”

Your jaw dropped at his audacity. “No!” you replied, your voice sharp, though the heat rushing to your cheeks made you feel anything but confident.

“Seriously?” he said, his tone shifting into something bordering on incredulous. He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Damn, you haven’t lived, girlie.”

“Joel,” you said again, your voice dropping into something softer, more pleading, but he wasn’t backing down.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice dipping lower, coaxing now. “Turn around.”

You hesitated, your pulse hammering in your chest, but his gaze held steady, warm yet unrelenting. With a sigh, you did as he asked, your back to him, the ocean stretching out into the night as the breeze brushed against your skin.

The sound of the water rippling around him reached your ears, and then you felt his hands—gentle, careful—as they brushed your back. His fingers worked deftly, the lightest graze of his knuckles against your bare skin making your breath hitch.

“Hold still,” Joel murmured, his voice low and intimate, the warmth of it wrapping around you. He finished tying the knot with ease, but he didn’t step back.

You stayed frozen, facing the endless horizon, when you felt it—the unmistakable weight of his hand settling lightly on your hips, his touch firm but not overbearing. His breath, warm and steady, ghosted against the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Joel…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, your heart thundering in your chest.

His grip tightened slightly, grounding you as he leaned in closer, his lips so near that you could feel the faintest brush of them as he spoke. “When,” Joel murmured, his voice low and rough, “was the last time a man made you cum?”

You froze, your breath catching as the question hung in the air, the intimacy of his tone cutting through the quiet night like a blade. Your fingers dug into the edge of the pool, your mind racing as every nerve in your body seemed to ignite at once.

“Joel…” you whispered again, though this time, it wasn’t a protest. It was something softer, needier, like your voice betrayed the thoughts swirling in your head.

He didn’t move, his hand steady on your hips, his fingers pressing just enough to make you hyperaware of every place he touched you. His breath, warm and steady, ghosted over your neck, and you swore the heat of it sank into your skin, making your pulse race.

“I—” you stammered, trying to steady yourself, trying to form words despite the way your heart thundered in your chest. “I told you. Eight months ago was the last time I had sex—”

Joel cut you off, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “I didn’t ask the last time you had sex,” he murmured, his words deliberate, each one like a spark against your already frayed nerves. “I asked when the last time a man made you cum.”

Your breath faltered, your stomach flipping as the weight of his question settled between you. You felt exposed, laid bare in a way you weren’t prepared for. “I…” you started, your voice catching. “I don’t… I don’t remember.”

Joel went still behind you, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly as his breath hitched, barely audible. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, the word low and soft, like it wasn’t meant for you to hear.

You swallowed hard, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. The truth was out there now, raw and vulnerable, and you didn’t know what to do with it. Your hands gripped the edge of the pool for balance, the cool water lapping against your skin doing nothing to calm the heat building between you.

“Eight months,” Joel murmured again, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. His hand shifted slightly, the movement subtle but enough to make your breath hitch.

You could feel him now, the unmistakable press of his body against your back, solid and warm. “And not once…” He trailed off, exhaling sharply before he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “…not once did a man know what to do with you?”

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling, his name catching in your throat. It was a plea, though you couldn’t tell if it was for him to stop or to keep going. Every inch of you felt alive, your senses overloaded by the heat of his breath, the weight of his hands, the raw intensity of the moment.

Slowly, Joel turned you around, his hands guiding your movements like he was in complete control. Your gaze locked onto his, and your breath caught at the sight of him.

His hair was tousled, damp from the pool and catching faintly in the light. His eyes burned with something raw, unrelenting, and entirely consuming. He looked angelic, like a man shaped by the heavens but sent to ruin you—and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of insanity just looking at him.

His voice broke through the haze, low and quiet, but laced with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “Were you wet when you went to bed?”

Your heart stopped, your pulse roaring in your ears as his words hung between you, heavy and deliberate. “Joel…” you managed, your voice cracking as your mind scrambled to keep up. “What are you doing?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone soft but firm, his breath brushing against your cheek as he leaned closer. His fingers lifted to your chin, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and unwavering, and you felt utterly exposed under his gaze. “Answer me.”

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling as the truth clawed its way out of you, unbidden. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible, but Joel caught it. “I was.”

Joel’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk, but there was something almost tender beneath it, something that made your knees weak. “That so?” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your jaw as he studied your face, his voice dipping lower, rougher. “And you didn’t think to do anything about it?”

Your cheeks burned, the heat of his words and the sheer audacity of the moment leaving you reeling. “I—” you stammered, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a response.

Joel tsked softly, shaking his head as his gaze lingered on yours. “Darlin’,” he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine, “what am I gonna do with you?”

The question wasn’t meant to be answered—it was a statement, a challenge, and it hung in the air between you, thick and charged. His hand stayed on your chin, his thumb brushing softly over your bottom lip, the motion feather-light but enough to make your breath catch.

Your head dropped slightly, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. “We can’t, Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Why?” he asked, his tone steady, curious rather than insistent.

You exhaled shakily, searching for the right words. “Because it’ll… it’ll make things weird for the rest of the trip. It’ll ruin the engagement.”

Joel studied you, his thumb pausing on your lip before he let his hand drop, though his gaze never wavered. He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he listened. “Alright,” he said softly, his voice gentle. “I hear you.”

His words felt like a lifeline and a loss all at once. Relief mingled with a strange ache in your chest as you dared to glance at him. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of restraint and something deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” Joel said simply, his voice low and sure, his words laced with an unspoken promise. He leaned back slightly, giving you space, though his eyes still held yours. “But… I’ll say this much.” His lips curved into a faint, wry smile. “It’s a damn shame you’re goin’ to bed needy every night when I’m right next to ya.”

Your heart stuttered, your body betraying you as his words sent a spark of heat racing through you. You shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away, but the weight of his gaze pinned you in place, making it impossible to ignore the truth simmering between you.

“You’re so sweet,” Joel murmured, his voice low, rough, and laced with something softer, something that made your stomach flip. His hand, still resting lightly on your chin, tilted your face back up, coaxing your eyes to meet his.

You looked at him, your breath hitching as your gaze flicked—just for a moment—to his lips. Joel’s gaze was heavy, dark, and unrelenting, and his voice came low, steady, and utterly devastating. “Did you bring it with you?” he asked.

“What?” you whispered, thrown off by the sudden question.

“Your toy,” he clarified, his eyes locked onto yours like he could see right through you.

Your cheeks burned, and you shook your head quickly. “No,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel nodded slowly, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smirk. “So,” he drawled, leaning in just slightly, “you were beside me all wet and needy, huh?”

Your heart stopped, your stomach flipping as his words sank in. “Joel, this is insane,” you murmured, your voice trembling with equal parts disbelief and something darker, something you didn’t want to name.

“You already admitted it,” he said, his voice warm but laced with that maddening edge of confidence. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathed, the word falling from your lips before you could stop it.

He nodded again, his gaze never leaving yours, his voice dropping even lower. “So… were you gonna touch yourself?”

“What?” you asked, your eyes widening.

“Were you?” Joel repeated, his tone calm, deliberate, but the weight of his question hung in the air, crackling between you. “With me next to you, asleep? Were you gonna take care of yourself?”

You shook your head quickly, the honesty spilling out before your brain could catch up. “No,” you said, your voice soft, trembling.

Joel tilted his head, his smirk softening into something almost tender, though the heat in his eyes remained. “Poor girl,” he murmured, his tone turning to a low coo that sent shivers down your spine. “No wonder you couldn’t sleep. Just need someone to take care of you, huh?”

He leaned in closer, his hand brushing against your hip as his lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile. “Wonder if I was to touch you right now…” he murmured, his voice rough and quiet, like a secret just for you. “If you’d be ready for me.”

“Joel…” It was as if it was the only word you knew, the only one you could form, and the way you said it—soft, trembling, and utterly breathless—made his expression darken further.

His hand lifted to your chin again, his thumb brushing lightly against your jaw as he whispered, “Can I?”

The question was low, rough, and full of restrained hunger, but there was a softness in his tone, a thread of care that made your chest ache. He wasn’t pushing—he was waiting. And the way he looked at you, the way his gaze held yours, made it clear that you held all the power in this moment.

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling as the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, the ocean, the night, and the question hanging between you like a live wire.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea. What if it… what if it makes things weird?”

“It won’t,” he said simply, his voice low and sure, like he’d already thought through every possibility. “You’re overthinkin’ it. I just wanna help you feel good.”

“It’s not that simple,” you said, shaking your head, though even as the words left your lips, they felt weak, as though you didn’t quite believe them yourself.

“Why can’t it be?” Joel countered, his tone gentle but firm, his eyes searching yours with a steady intensity that made it impossible to look away. “Not everything has to be complicated, darlin’.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering between his eyes and the curve of his lips. “We don’t have to do anything,” he added, his hand lifting to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. “But I can see it in your eyes—you don’t trust men anymore, do you?” His lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, though there was a softness in his voice that made your chest ache. “Let me help restore your faith a little.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though it came out more like a breathless exhale. “What, by making me cum?”

Joel’s smile deepened, his hand resting lightly on your waist as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur. “That what you want?”

Your heart pounded as you stared at him, the heat in his gaze stealing the air from your lungs. “Didn’t you say every woman you sleep with does?” you asked, your words coming out bolder than you felt.

He nodded slowly, his eyes darkening as his thumb brushed along the curve of your hip. “You wanna put it to the test?” he asked, his voice low and rough, the challenge in his tone sending a shiver through you.

The way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made your chest tighten, your resolve crumbling with every second. He looked delicious. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but give in.

“Fuck it,” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Your hands shot up to grab his face, pulling him toward you, your lips crashing into his.

Joel didn’t hesitate. He kissed you back with a force that left you reeling, his hands immediately finding your waist as he pushed you back against the smooth edge of the infinity pool. The sound of water rushing over the edge was drowned out by the pounding of your heart as you pressed yourself against him, desperate, frantic, consumed.

His hands were rough as they slid along your sides, pulling you closer, grounding you even as everything around you seemed to spin. His lips were warm, insistent, and he tasted faintly of the tequila you’d both shared earlier. It was intoxicating, the way he devoured you, like he couldn’t get enough, like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

You gasped against his mouth as his fingers dug into your hips, his body pressing firmly against yours, his heat searing even through the cool water.

“Shit,” he murmured, his voice rough and breathless. His eyes burned into yours, dark and unrelenting. “Gotta taste you.”

The words knocked the air out of you, leaving you blinking at him in stunned silence. Before you could even process what he’d said, Joel’s hands were on you, gripping your thighs as he turned you toward the entrance of the pool. With a firm but careful tug, he lifted you, placing you on the cool stone ledge so your legs dangled over the edge, the water still lapping at your calves.

“Joel,” you breathed, your voice shaky as you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him with wide eyes.

He stood in the water, the faint glow of the pool lights illuminating the sharp lines of his face and the damp mess of his hair. His gaze never left yours as he pushed his slick hair back, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. “Lay back,” he urged, his voice low and commanding, yet soft enough to make your pulse stutter.

“What?” Your eyebrows shot up, your heart pounding as your gaze darted between him and the vast openness of the pool deck around you. “Here?!”

“Yes, here,” Joel replied without hesitation, his tone steady but edged with amusement, like he found your disbelief charming. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping them just enough to send another spark of heat through you. “Ain’t no one around, darlin’.”

“Joel,” you hissed, glancing toward the resort, your mind racing. “We’re gonna get arrested.”

He chuckled softly, his grin widening as he leaned in closer, his hands still resting on your thighs. “We won’t. Trust me,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, almost a purr. “Now, lay back.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment before letting out a shaky breath and lowering yourself onto the cool stone. Your head rested against the ledge, the night sky stretching out above you, stars dotting the inky black canvas.

“Good girl,” Joel murmured, his voice softer now, almost reverent. His hands coaxed you down gently, sliding you closer to the edge until your hips hovered just above the water. “Shuffle down a bit. That’s it… just like that.”

Your body moved instinctively, following his instructions even as your mind screamed about the sheer insanity of what was happening. The cool air brushed against your skin, making you shiver, but Joel’s hands—warm, rough, and steady—kept you grounded.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that somehow managed to soothe and ignite you at the same time. “I’ve got you.” Your heart pounded as you swallowed hard, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Joel’s lips quirked into a faint, teasing grin. “All you gotta do,” he continued, his tone soft and coaxing, “is lay there and look pretty. You’re doin’ just fine.”

You sighed, a mix of nerves and anticipation, as his hands began to move. They slid slowly, deliberately, from your thighs to the thin ties of your bikini at your hips. His fingers worked with maddening precision, untying one side, then the other, the slow drag of the fabric against your skin making your breath hitch.

“Joel…” you started, your voice shaking as the last barrier slipped away, leaving you bare beneath him.

He paused, glancing up at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Yeah, darlin’?”

“I swear to God,” you hissed, glancing toward the pool deck, “if someone sees us—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice a whisper that carried more weight than it should have. His lips brushed against the inside of your thigh, a soft, deliberate kiss that made your breath catch. “Stop worrying,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “and let me take care of ya.”

Before you could respond, he hooked both of your legs over his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips to steady you. The cool night air brushed against your bare skin.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” Joel murmured, his voice soft but laced with his signature teasing edge. His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, the weight of it making you feel completely exposed in a way that sent heat rushing through you. “All this fussin’, but here you are, lettin’ me do this anyway.”

But then, to your surprise, he didn’t move. His hands rested firmly on your thighs, his gaze locked onto your bare cunt like he was savoring the moment, drawing it out. The pause stretched too long, and suddenly, the self-consciousness crept in. You started to close your legs, your body instinctively pulling inward.

“Don’t you dare,” Joel said sharply, his voice low but firm, and the command in it made your breath hitch.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, your voice uncertain as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to look at him. The way his gaze burned into you made your stomach twist, the heat in his eyes almost overwhelming.

“Nothing,” Joel said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “I just… shit.” His hands tightened on your thighs as he shook his head slightly, his lips twitching into a faint, crooked smile. “I wish you could see yourself, baby. Drippin’ for me.”

Your breath caught, your entire body going still at his words. He hadn’t even properly touched you yet, and the ache between your legs was unbearable. As if he could read your mind, his eyes flicked to back your core, and he chuckled low, rough, and entirely too confident.

“Christ,” he muttered, his voice roughening as he watched you clench around nothing. “Really haven’t been fucked good in a while, huh? Damn shame.”

Your lips parted, ready to scold him for the audacity, but before you could get a single word out, Joel dove in. His mouth was on you, his beard brushing against your thighs, and the sensation sent a jolt of electricity shooting through your entire body.

“Oh my God!” you shrieked, your head falling back against the cool stone as your hands flew to his hair instinctively. The mix of his rough beard and the soft, deliberate way his tongue moved against you was overwhelming, like he knew exactly how to unravel you piece by piece.

Joel hummed against you, the low vibration sending shockwaves through your body as his hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place. “Taste even better than I imagined,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and muffled, his words brimming with that maddening, casual confidence. It would’ve made you roll your eyes if you weren’t already halfway undone.

Then one of his hands moved, his thumb brushing slow, devastating circles over your clit, and you nearly screamed, your back arching as the pleasure hit you like a tidal wave.

“Baby,” Joel murmured, his voice teasing yet commanding, “you’re gonna get us caught. And then,” he added with a smirk, his lips curving against your skin, “you’re gonna break my streak.”

You gasped, your breath trembling as you gripped the stone ledge for support, every nerve in your body alight. “Joel, you’re so good… shit,” you breathed, your voice faltering as his movements quickened, relentless and precise.

Joel didn’t answer, didn’t stop to tease. He just growled against you, the deep sound reverberating through your core as he devoured you like a starving man who’d been waiting for this moment forever. His lips, his tongue, the rough scrape of his beard—it was too much and not enough all at once.

“Joel, I’m close,” you gasped, your voice trembling as your hands scrambled for something, anything, to anchor yourself, but the smooth stone beneath you offered no reprieve. Your body was suspended in pure sensation, trembling on the edge.

“Shit, baby,” Joel muttered, pulling back for just a second to bite gently at the inside of your thigh, his teeth sending sparks of pain-tinged pleasure racing through you. “That was easy.” And then he was back, relentless and hungry.

Your breath hitched, and all you could do was gasp his name. “Oh… oh, I’m gonna—Joel, I’m gonna cum—fuck!” The words tore from your throat as the pleasure crashed over you, your body trembling violently as waves of heat and release consumed you. Your legs clamped around his head involuntarily, your body overwhelmed as you rode the high, every nerve sparking like wildfire.

Joel didn’t let up. His tongue moved with practiced precision, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure until your body was nothing but sensation. You whimpered, your hands flying to his hair, tugging desperately. “Joel,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Stop—please, it’s too much.”

Still, his lips lingered, a soft, satisfied hum vibrating against you before he finally pulled back, but not without one last, languid stroke of his tongue that left your entire body trembling.

His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, fixed on you like you were a masterpiece he wasn’t finished admiring. Slowly, deliberately, he swiped his bottom lip with his thumb, his gaze unwavering as if he were savoring every second of your unraveling.

Then, with a tenderness that felt almost out of place after the intensity of what had just passed, he leaned back in, brushing the lightest, most deliberate kiss against your swollen, sensitive clit. Your body jolted, a shiver rippling through you that made your breath hitch audibly.

“So damn sweet,” Joel murmured, his voice low, husky, and dripping with reverence, like it was a secret only he was privileged to know.

Finally, with a satisfied hum, Joel pulled back, his lips and beard glistening as he pushed himself out of the pool and collapsed beside you on the cool stone. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he glanced over at you.

You stared at him, your vision hazy, your body still humming from the aftershocks. He looked insane—angelic, even—his hair damp and tousled, his lips swollen and wet, his grin entirely too pleased with himself.

“Shit,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

Joel propped himself up on one elbow, his grin widening. “How’d I do?” he asked, his tone teasing but laced with genuine pride.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, your lips crashing against his as you moaned softly into his mouth, tasting yourself on him. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, lazy circles.

After a moment, you broke the kiss, your lips brushing against his as you whispered, “Too good.”

Joel chuckled, his grin widening as you reached for your bikini bottoms, slipping them back on as you tried to gather yourself. You opened your mouth to say something, but a sudden, blinding flashlight beam broke through the tension.

“Hey! Who’s there?” a loud voice yelled, the beam swinging toward you.

Your eyes widened in panic, but Joel just laughed, the sound low and warm as he grabbed your hand. “Shit,” he murmured, his grin turning wicked as he whispered, “Run.”

Before you could protest, Joel was pulling you to your feet, his hand tight around yours as the two of you sprinted away, your laughter bubbling out of you uncontrollably.

The heavy footsteps of the security guard pounded behind you, and Joel’s low chuckle filled your ears as he led you through the resort, ducking around corners and weaving between palm trees.

“You’re insane!” you hissed between gasps of laughter, your hand tightening in his as you glanced back at the guard, who was struggling to keep up.

“You love it!” Joel shot back, his grin wide as he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

By the time you finally collapsed behind a cluster of bushes, both of you out of breath and laughing, you couldn’t help but think that this might just be the best night of your life.

TAG LIST!!

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@maryfanson @romanoffthreal @boinkybarness @rosebuds-and-moonlight @quicax3 @flawssy-227

[curlyfriesgalore]

"let it all out, baby."

you've been dating daisuke for a while, already growing accustomed to his body and behavior, but something was off. nothing break-up-worthy, far from it, but you're a little concerned with how quiet he's been in bed.

so one "night," when swansea is too drunk out of his mind, anya is busy caring for curly, and jimmy is doing fuck all, you and daisuke spend some quality time in your room, which miraculously survives the foam.

one thing led to another, and now you're giving him head. however, as much as you want to get lost in your lust, you can't help but focus on his face—not out of your usual affection, but to analyze him.

★ a smut-shot broken down into bullets with dialogue sectioned off into chat-format segments. [2,697 words]

☆ gen tags: post-crash. gn! reader is anya's intern, but your job isn't mentioned in the fic (it's just for lore's sake). daisuke is insecure in his masculinity (some angst). set in our year all because i reference one meme lol.

★ nsfw tags MDNI: dom reader. sub daisuke. fellatio and a handjob. neck biting and nipple sucking. so much whimpering!!!

[ahh, posting again because i found a fic i made for another character two years ago, so i decided to rework it! i was actually really glad to find this 'cause i've been wanting to write daisuke smut, but currently my nsfw drafts are all curly. art by washitquickly on twt —iris🌠]

daisuke squirms as you lap your tongue around the head of his velvety dick, your spit blending with his sweet and sour slick. he digs his gapped teeth deep into his chapped lip. his mouth is in a tight crease, eyes squished shut with brows deep in concentration, wrinkling his lightly pimpled forehead.

he looks so out of breath, yet zilch emerges from that man's mouth. you wonder if your skills have worsened since the crash. maybe it was stress? but no, you knew that couldn't've been the case. your licks have always made him involuntarily writhe in pleasure, and your breath alone was enough to make precum shoot out of his soft slit.

speaking of which, you did exactly that, and a high-pitched moan ensues, finally.

you groan along with him, feeling his clear fluid slide down your throat. when your voice vibrates its low hum, shivers trickle down daisuke's aching cock. it's enough for him to jolt, flutter his eyes open, and mewl out a squeaky whimper.

you look up in awe, expecting to see your loverboy in pure ecstasy, but your heart drops. all you see is his hand clamped over his mouth, eyes wide in horror: the farthest thing from rapture.

gently, you remove yourself, the sensation of smooth skin lingering in your mouth as a trail of saliva connects your lip to his tip. with your hands still on his thighs, you felt him tremble under your palms.

daisuke pulls his legs towards his chest, encasing them within his arms as he buries half his face into his knees. his brows dent into his temple. he mumbles what sounds like an apology and wipes his face against his hinge joints. worry washes away your arousal in an instant.

carefully, you unfold his arms, spreading his legs to reveal the gorgeous mess you so deeply love. you crawl on top of him, resting your stomach on his, feeling his liquid lather onto your abdomen as you softly cradle his chin, bringing his face to yours.

as you thumb away the tiny tears dripping down his acne-scarred cheeks, he carefully brings his gaze to you, revealing the sea of tears swimming in his dark eyes. daisuke looks like a sad puppy, hurt and desperate for his partner's forgiveness, yet you are unsure as to why he's reacting this way.

he tries to gulp down the cries congested in his throat, attempting to force an explanation, but his reasons refuse to be revealed. for a man who spoke so many words, he felt too embarrassed to say any.

so, rather than letting him hurt himself any further, you envelop his warm body in your arms. daisuke silently melts as you comb your fingers through his sweaty hair, caressing his scalp as you try to piece things together. you think back to all the times you guys have had sex.

time and time again, you remember how quietly he'd finish. no matter how intensely his body shook from your touch, nothing but a small sigh would leave his panting chest. daisuke could be a puddle of sweat, drool coating his chin, eyes rolled all the way back as he failed to wait for your cue to let him cum all over your stomach—and yet, the only thing missing were the sounds of his moans.

you didn't question it at first, assuming he was, ironically enough, a quiet guy in bed, but things weren't adding up.

whenever you sneak attack his sides, tickling the air out of him, daisuke would shriek as if he'd witnessed the murder of his favorite pokémon. his face contorts into the physical embodiment of the 'ash baby.'

then there was another time, a month before the crash, when it was jimmy's turn for movie night. the co-pilot pulled up with his favorite horror film, intending to creep the skin off of everyone, and it nearly did for daisuke. he screeched so hard, practically ripping your eardrums, and lunged himself onto you, toppling the others over like dominoes on the couch.

(you recall a very tired captain curly lecturing a sheepish daisuke, telling him to be more careful with his surroundings, as anya aided swansea's sore back while jimmy snickered to himself next to you).

countless times proved how reactive he was, besides the obvious fact that this man does not have an off button. so, for him to be completely silent during sex didn't make any sense.

well, he wasn't completely. you've heard his soft moans and hushed whimpers escape from daisuke, unbeknownst to him, but you knew he could be much louder than that.

like, hello? he's the daisuke juarez, the guy (in)famously known for talking on and on for days without fail; surely, he could groan the life out of his lungs.

because, clearly, he wants to.

he needs to.

but you didn't know why he was so adamant about being super quiet. you wanted an answer so you wouldn't have to constantly try to get a read on his suppressions. and, by the looks of it, you're about to get one.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

you cup his face and caress his warm jaw. daisuke delicately places his hand on top of yours and strokes it back, rolling his thumb against your knuckles.

"can we talk now?" your question drifts into the soft rumbles of the ship.

daisuke carefully nods, one last garbled sob croaking out his throat before he responds, "y-yeah..."

"tell me. what's wrong, baby?" you ask softly as your hand dances around his face, your fingers tracing his features, wet from tears.

"um, do i..." daisuke pauses, briefly breathing in some much-needed air, "do i sound weird when i—y'know—uh, moan...?" he leans his cheek into your palm, and you feel the bumpy indentations in his skin flush into yours. his sights are set on everything but you.

your brows knit, but clarity relaxes the knot in your shoulders. "d'aww, baby..." you pout. "is that what this is?" daisuke, slowly attempting to match your eyes, purses his lips with another nod.

shaking your head, you bring his chin closer to yours, "no, no... not at all, dai." you press your lips into his pursed ones, tenderly transferring your love to him and relieving his tight kiss into its original plumpness. you pull away, resting your forehead against his, "i've always found them very cute..."

"if anything," you chuckle, "i wish you moaned more." finally, he looks at you, and you're met with wide eyes and lifted brows, "really?"

now it's your turn to quirk your brow. "of course, really! what makes you think i'd feel otherwise?" daisuke laughs at that and eats his lips, looking up at the metal ceiling as he sifts through his memory box.

"well- i don't know, i mean, back on earth," you catch a brief dullness in his gaze, "i once heard the girls in my class talk about how weird some guys sound when they moan, and like," daisuke drums his fingers on your forearm, "when i asked, they'd say any dude who sounded too much like them?" when he looks at you, he falters, "ach- how do i say it?"

your eyes narrow, struggling to understand that train of thought. daisuke frowned, not at you but at the following words, "it was something like 'oh! men who whimper are soOo icky to me' and 'dudes should sound deep, not like...'" daisuke winces, heaving a frustrated sigh as he continues to mimic those girls. "'...whatever weak subby boy bullshit that's been circulating online—' i know, it's stupid." he immediately stops when he sees your grimace.

you blink your eyes shut, shaking your head and sighing when you peel them open. "so," your hand wipes over your mouth. "you ended up adopting that?" you ask, tucking your thumb under your chin as your index rests on your bottom lip, elbow propped up on one knee.

"i mean, sort of?" daisuke moves his hands to rub circles on your bare sides, "when i realized that i moan like," daisuke air quotes, "a 'weak subby boy,' i got really embarrassed and well- forced myself to sound more like a man, i guess..." the shame in his face, apparent.

you hum, taking in the information as he continues to explain his insecurities. daisuke tells you all the times he's been egged on by his guy friends for how he sounds when he'd whine after getting hit by a baseball ball (when that shit HURTS for anybody, daisuke emphasizes) or how often his friend group would point out his squeals, joking about how he'd never get laid with a voice like that. the thing is, he consciously understands that his classmates are biased individuals, so daisuke knows that there's no real point for him to act all secretive with his sounds. but he can't help it. he worries that letting himself just... be himself, in this context specifically, might make you find him less attractive.

"hUH?!" you exclaim, making daisuke jump. you're so baffled that you grab his face and squish his cheeks with all the affection your squeeze can imbue. he looks at you, doe-eyed with lips puffed out like a fish. "i—first of all, what an absolutely shitty thing to say to your friend, let alone do it daily. and second of all, not every man moans the same. just 'cause yours is a little higher doesn't make you any less of one..." he attempts to defend them, wanting to say that they weren't that bad, but you hush him, reading through his lie before he could assess it himself. then, when you rationalize his insecurity, he tightens his lip, taking in your opinion as you continued to speak against the toxicity of his friends. noticing he's gone quiet, you rub his cheek, changing your tone into something much softer. "daisuke."

"yesh...?"

as your serious stare delves deep into his soul, you reassure him, "there is no one—and i mean, no one—in this universe that i love more than you."

"oomph, i shink your beftfriends whould be mhad if they hurd thath." daisuke jokes, and you roll your eyes, shushing him as you stifle your laugh, "hey, i'm being serious here...!" to which daisuke chuckles and nods for you to continue, mouthing an 'i love you, too.'

you sigh, "your whimpers... are the cutest, most adorable noises i'll ever hear in my life, and i don't want you to shut them up, ever. i mean it."

"mph- reallhy?" the innocence in his voice made you squish the sides of his face harder as you hummed in agreement, "really."

"i want to hear them," you take a moment to sit up, straddling his thighs as you wrap your fingers around his dick, it instantly springs. "over... and over... and over again." with every pause, you stroke him. your palm tugs at his cock from the hairs on his abdomen to his soaked tip. daisuke chokes out a gasp, his legs squirming as he gulps, "a-ah, fuck... baby." his body trembles, randomly jerking with every drag of his thick cock.

"nothing will ever change the way i see you," you press your lips onto his jaw, feeling the tiniest stubble. "how sweet you are, how handsome you look, or how good you sound to me." you trail kisses down his neck, and latch onto the edge of his adam's apple, nibbling a whimper out of him.

"if anything, your moans make me love you even more than i already do." as you peck along his chest, his whines squeal breathlessly, and his whimpers exceed his vocal cords. every compliment you throw at him sends his brain into autopilot.

"ngh, mh..." none of daisuke's words made any sense, his mouth melding into mush while yours formed dark hickeys on all his right spots. he was panting uncontrollably. looking down at you with those half-lidded eyes of his, ones leaking with so much love and lust. he grips the sheets with one hand while the other carefully combes through your hair.

your mouth was now at level with his nipple. you watch it harden in anticipation as he edges his chest a little closer to your lips, making you chuckle at how needy your boyfriend's gotten. "now, before i let you cum, i want you to be as loud as you possibly can be, okay? for me, baby."

he nods, loving your coos, but uncertainty nearly cockblocks him, "w-wait, babe, what if everyone hears me?" daisuke watches you huff a laugh, "like anyone's cared about us fucking before." you both chuckle, and daisuke relaxes, "oh right, hehe."

"even if someone hears," you lightly circle his nipple, the tiny bumps on its dark epidermis sliding so perfectly against your thumb. daisuke's dick twitches, already biting his lip at the sight of your tongue inches away from his chest's nub. you continue, breathing hot on daisuke's skin. "they get to know how beautiful my baby boy sounds in bed."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke's breathing gradually quickens at the heat. when you finally lick his nipple, his cry is instantaneous. it's the prettiest noise you've ever heard, pulling at your heartstrings as a rush surges through your abdomen.

you close your eyes and focus on stroking his dick with every lick you make, his adorable moans filling the air. the way you roll your fingers and wedge them on the damp head, massaging the precum out his slit, melts daisuke, turning him into a pathetic, panting puddle in your arms. he absentmindedly ruts into your hand out of pure pleasure, sliding his slick all over your skin.

soon enough, his whimpers peaked, his voice consuming the room. you knew he was reaching his high based on the synchronization of his thrusts and your pumps. bed sheets crumple under his fist, and his other hand no longer on your hair but on the small of your back, squeezing your waist as he tries to travel down to knead your ass.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"babe, i'm close...! i'm so close." daisuke blabbers between mewls, his hands clutching onto your hips for support. he spills all of him into your palms, creating a wet patch underneath his thighs. you intensify your already vigorous pumping, simultaneously pinching a nipple as you bite the other, "come on, baby... you're almost there." "i'm cumming—fuck— 'm cumm...ing, nghnghm! ohmygod...!" intense shudders siphon through daisuke's bloodstream, his whole body convulsing as he feels his milk bud, moments away from dripping out his sore slit. "let it all out, baby." you coo, tonguing his nipple with your wet love.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

with one final groan, his cum drenches your hand as he arches his back so far that it nearly sends you falling. all that fills your ears are the sounds of your boyfriend's sweet sobs, easing into an aching sigh.

after tugging his cock with a few more strokes, daisuke collapses further into the bed, his head lying so far back into the pillow that you can see his adam's apple bob after every gasp and gulp. your lips leave his nipple, and he shivers from the cold air hitting his wet skin.

as he's catching his breath, you stretch your back and crane your spine far enough to feel every bubble in your ligament pop down your bones. after rolling your neck side to side, you get a good look at daisuke, who is disheveled and disoriented.

you chuckle and lift his head up, daisuke's teary eyes akin to those of a desperate puppy. you bring your sticky fingers to your mouth, swallowing his sweetness, and daisuke watches, thirsty for a taste.

smiling at the drool dripping down his puffy lips, you bring your face to him, gracing him with a smooch. the kiss muffles his deep moan. his tongue explores yours, devouring his own dick with what lingers on your papillae.

daisuke pouts when you pull away, but before he whines, you wrap your hands behind his neck, sitting yourself up and pulling him into your chest. he sighs into the hug, embracing you as much as he physically can while you massage his wet and messy hair. you kiss his scalp and softly praise him for being such a good boy.

[i was going to expand on the post crash aspect but i got wayyy too tired. but know that the story was originally going to have an afab reader, where you ride daisuke till he cums inside you, so i'd then add a line about how you couldn't care less about getting bred 'cause you were probably dying on the tulpar, anyway 😭 so it was going to be a LOT more angsty. i also intended to write a segment (after he admits his insecurity) of him missing earth and the structure of a home so badly that he's developed a mommy kink, so i could use it later when you guys go back to sexing buuut oopsies. i'll save that for another time 🫠. —iris🌠]

[yanderedrabbles]

What are yours OCs fetishes/kinks? What type of scenarios will make them go mad?

Also how big are they?

Sweet and Sour - yandere boys and their kinks

Warning: slightly dub-con content, blasphemous misuse of a crucifix, lots of anal Shoutout to all the anons who asked for this. I love you, ya little pervs.

Yandere! Cowboy wants to fuck you in the ass. He might try and prep you a little at first, working his fingers in and opening you up. But once he's got the tip in, all his care goes out the window and he's ramming himself into you like a goddamn stallion. Part of him just wants to make you cry again but mostly he wants to be the first in all your holes. They say you always remember your first time right? And he wants to burn himself into your mind. Over and over again.

Yandere! Soldier has the biggest cock by far. A solid twelve inches and thick as a fist. He's got a thing for getting head. He'll sit with his legs spread and his head thrown back, muttering in his native language. He loves popping it out of your mouth and feeling the soft tissue of your cheeks rubbing against his tip.

Mostly, he tries to be nice to you. But sometimes - after a long day or if you give him just a bit too much attitude - he'll stop holding back. He'll grab your neck and squeeze and his lips will just barely brush yours. He loves the way your cunt flutters around his cock when he does it. And some sick part of him likes the way you push at him so desperately and still can't manage to move him. I suggest you be careful. He wants to treat you well but he's still a soldier and there's a deeper depravity to him than either of you know.

Yandere! Boyfriend can definitely last the longest. He's also probably the only one who can successfully stop himself once he's inside of you. Your pleasure and comfort outweighs his own and if you even flinch, he's almost immediately pulling out and making sure you're alright. But trust me, it sure as hell isn't easy.

He adores breeding. The thought of filling you up and starting a family is the only coherent thought he has when he's inside you.

And it's so intimate. The fact that you're letting him spill himself inside you, letting him invade your body like that, is like the ultimate declaration of trust. He also likes wiping up any spilled cum with your panties and then keeping them with him for the rest of the day.

Sometimes he can get a bit mean. Like he'll keep eating you out even when your clit is a swollen, aching mess. Its the one guilty pleasure he allows himself.

Yandere! State Trooper is such an exhibitionist. He wants you to fuck him in the back of his cruiser while he's still on duty. When his dispatcher calls in, he'll press his hand over your mouth and try to sound professional. Even if his voice is nothing more than a growl at that point.

If he doesn't have time for even a quickie, he'll make you get on your knees and suck him off while he sprawls across the driver's seat. With nothing but his open door to keep away prying eyes.

He really loves putting his fingers in your mouth. Even when his other hand is busy finger fucking you, he'll have at least three fingers pressing against your tongue. He loves seeing the drool dripping down your chin and wet fingers are all the better to fuck you with.

And if you don't want to indulge him? He's got his handcuffs and his baton and he sure as hell can make you. So just be a doll and make it easier on yourself, all right?

Yandere! Cop loves chasing you down. Usually it's just for fun, a little teasing between the two of you. But sometimes his eyes go dark and dangerous and some animal instinct makes you run like hell. He'll fuck you wherever he catches you - against a tree, on the hood of his car, against your neighbour's fence. And trust me, he always catches you.

After a night out, he wants nothing more than to fuck you on your stomach with your wrists held together in the small of your back. It's by far his favourite position and he likes ramming you into the mattress so he can fuck your party girl makeup right off.

He likes eating you out when you're on your hands and knees in front of him - so he can grab your ass cheeks and spread them and draw his tongue down across your cute, puckered ass all the way to your shivering clit.

He doesn't say it, but sometimes he thinks about breaking in when he's disguised as your stalker and wrestling you to the floor. Tearing your clothes off and using them to tie your wrists together. Just to teach you a lesson about stranger danger. Maybe then you'll be more careful when you're out partying.

Yandere! Gangster gets hard at just about anything you do. Literally just touch him and he's a goner (gooner?) He's got a major weakness for stockings and heels. They make your legs look so damn good and all he can think about is being on his back with your stilettos pressed against the delicate arch of his windpipe.

Yandere! Incubus wants secret rendezvous. He wants to pull you into the shadowed alcoves that dot the abbey and fuck you against the wall, your habit pushed up around your waist and your rosary jumping against your chest with every vicious thrust. His biggest kink is making you go about the day with his cum still inside you, leaking back into your panties as you kneel for mass and light the votives.

His biggest turn on? The thought of fucking you while he forces a crucifix up your tight little ass. He wants to feel your ass and cunt pulsing, trying to shove him out and take him in all at the same time. And the cross buried all the way to the outstretched arms of the Saviour? He wants to watch it twitch and shudder as he rams into you.

He's a demon after all. What did you expect?

Yandere! Desert Bandit might be the second biggest. He doesn't have Yandere! Soldier's girth but he almost beats him in length at twelve and a half inches.

He's got a thing for feeding you. Most of the desert cuisine is eaten by hand and he gets so rock hard watching your suck his fingers clean.

He secretly wants to share you with his second in command. Him in your cunt and his second in your mouth so they can spit roast you. He's too possessive to ever let the man near your pussy though. And a dangerously proprietary part of him wants to watch you suck the other mans dick while you're down on your knees. Both you and his second in command belong to him, either through marriage or loyalty. And he gets so turned on watching you both and knowing it's only happening because he's allowing it to happen.

Yandere! Academic Rival is surprisingly kinky for such a nerd. He has a whole draw full of toys he can control from his phone. He gets off on making your use them when you're supposed to be studying or taking a test. When he can see you're stressed or thinking too hard he immediately turns them on, usually to the highest setting. If you ever get pissy about it, he claims he only wants to sharpen your focus. If having a shatteringly good orgasm in the middle of a term paper is a distraction, that's not his fault.

He wants you to dress up a bit like his favourite characters. Not really full on cosplay, but usually something dirty inspired by their aesthetic. By the time you graduate, you have a closet full of luxurious and exotic lingerie.

Maybe it's his upper class upbringing, but he has a thing for pearls. He spent a fortune on an extra long necklace that doubles as a leash. He'll stand behind you when you play the piano, tugging at it every time you make a mistake and with his cock growing harder every second.

Yandere! Apocalypse Survivor is a voyeur, make no mistake about it. In addition to sneaking glances while you bath, he'll tell you he's going out to check the perimeter or stand guard but instead double back just to watch you change. Sometimes he'll get lucky and watch you play with yourself, your head thrown back and one hand across your mouth to stifle your gasping.

He's totally into squirting - especially if you'll do it in his mouth while he eats you out. It's filthy and depraved but there isn't really a society left to judge him, is there?

He's big on biting, which is pretty ironic considering the circumstances. He isn't quite sure how to explain it to you without sounding like he's turning into a zombie himself, but he's going to keep trying until he gets it right and you let him sink his teeth into your ass cheeks.

[jjscrybaby]

jj maybank x fem!reader | fluff | (period, cramps, blood stains, loving bf but it should be the norm!)

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

Usually you’d know when you were coming to that time of the month, a day or two before you’d start to get cramps, your boobs would ache and you’d be extra grouchy, you’d be well prepared for Mother Nature to come knocking at the door. That’s probably why you were more so confused than annoyed when you woke up with a sharp pain in your stomach.

It was still dark out, you rubbed your eyes tiredly as you checked your phone for the time: 4:37am. You groaned quietly, moving to lay back down to go back to sleep when that familiar stabbing pain hit once again. You were more aware now, more conscious, and you knew exactly what that meant.

You pulled the covers back, ready to quickly go and put a pad on and get back into bed, when you spotted the dark red stain that had made its way onto the sheets. Instantly, tears welled up in your eyes and anxiety gnawed at your chest. You looked to your left, finding JJ sleeping soundly beside you.

JJ wasn’t a child. Deep down, you knew he would hardly flinch at the fact you’d bled all over his sheets, god knows worse has happened on that bed. But, your emotions were all out of whack and a sob ripped its way through you.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” JJ asked tiredly, instantly sitting up as if ready to attack.

“I’m sorry, Jayj,” you cried, covering your face with your hands.

“Why’re you sorry, baby? You cheat on me in your dream? It’s a’ight, ain’t real,” he soothed, arms wrapping around you as he tried to pull you back into the comfort of his arms.

“No— no,” you argued, pushing his arms off you. You let out another whine, feeling embarrassed to tell him what had happened. You wished you could just get him to leave the room so you could change the sheets and pretend nothing had happened.

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart,” he pleaded, leaving a kiss on your bare shoulder. “I can’t help if I don’t know.”

“I started my period,” you sniffled, a prominent pout on your face as your eyes shone with tears. “Got it on…” you trailed off, waving your hand towards the sheets.

He let out an ah sound, nodding. “Alright, baby. No need for the waterworks. Shit happens. Why don’t you go get cleaned up, do what you gotta do, I’ll sort the sheets out.”

“Really?” You asked croakily, looking back at him.

JJ let out a soft laugh, more like a coo, as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “Yes, really. Don’t be silly, baby. You got cramps? Think there’s some meds somewhere around here.”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, your hand coming to cover your stomach.

“Go on, the quicker you get sorted the quicker you can get back into bed. Sarah’s got pads in the bathroom already, I’ll deal with everythin’ else.” With one last peck, he sent you on your way to the bathroom.

You had a quick shower, the flow was heavier than you thought and you couldn’t just get back into bed like this. You put your pyjamas back on and by the time you came back, the sheets were changed, there was a hot water bottle waiting on the bed, a glass of water and two little pills on the bedside table. Not to mention, your loving boyfriend sat up waiting for you.

“Better?” He checked as you took the pills, crawling into bed next to him. “Got you this.” He held up the hot water bottle.

“Thanks, Jay,” you whispered, a little tearfully. It wasn’t like he wasn’t always attentive when you were on your period, but something about tonight just made you feel extra lucky.

“Can thank me by getting your cute-ass back into bed with me,” he smirked, opening up his arms. “Let me know if those pills don’t work, there are other ways to get rid of cramps, y’know.”

“Mhm, rain check,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his jaw as you closed your eyes. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” he whispered back, hand resting on your back with the hot water bottle taking place on your stomach.