#fighting the urge to yap so hard

[toasterdrake]

"No offense, but you're the last person I expected to see."

Dimples impressing her cheeks, Yasmina was still smiling, so Robin didn't take offense, shrugging instead. "Then my surprise worked." The charismatic grin she wore softened into a real smile. "It's good to see you, Yaz."

"Hell, you too." Yasmina tugged her back in for a stronger hug, hands folding firmly into the leather of her jacket. "You have no idea," she added quietly, voice muffled by her place nestled in the crook of Robin's neck.

writing their reunion in oasis got me like

bonus bc theyre cringe losers:

if anyones wondering yeah yaz does punch robin. are we surprised?

[chrlotpony]

I don't even wish misophonia on my worst enemy

my main misophonia triggers are YAWNING (i hate it so much), breathing, humming, laughing, singing, coughing, snoring, sniffling, whistling, mouth smacking, and... oh my god. zipper. I hate zipper sounds sm, I always have since kindergarten

other sounds are faint noises (like music seeping through earphones or whispering), repetitive noises (like cars passing by), chewing, teeth biting 😦😬😦😬, pennies on wood, and knife swish sounds.

for some reason, most sounds I mentioned don't actually trigger if I hear it from a recording. I may not like the sound of chewing or munching but I love watching muckbangs that pop up on my fyp or ytshorts. so thankfully I'm not like some misophonics with this who do get triggered by sounds from their phones or computers

sounds I don't mind but other misophonics do are chip bags, windchimes, glass clanking, purring, hair ruffling, paper sounds, balls bouncing, and musical sounds.

the opposite of misophonia is asmr and my only asmr is literally any animal eating anything of any texture. if it's human eating asmr, not really. it specifically has to be an animal, primarily dogs, cats, racoons, deers, and horses

[kingkatsuki]

— will you love me till it hurts? (never leave me at my worst)

Kaji hates himself when he gets like this, but luckily for him he has you to bring him back from the brink.

Pairing: Kaji Ren x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship, exhibitionism, public sex, dirty talk, spanking, choking, blood!mention, fingering, creampie.

Word Count: 4.6k.

Kaji hates it when he gets like this.

The anger and frustration of the world work to tear every inch of the resolve he’s built around himself brick by brick. Demolishing the wall to leave him surrounded in the rubble of his destruction as he’s back to worn foundations and forced to try and find himself again.

He was already running late to meet you, something that had regret swimming in his chest at the thought of you waiting outside pothos looking all pretty while he made his way through the town. Deciding to cut through a back alley to avoid going through the market street to avoid any early evening crowds he managed to run into a group of four guys who were hunched in a circle.

He tried to ignore them, he really did— with absolutely no intention of ruining your date night again. But the taller one out of the four just had to say something. The only word he was able to make out over his music was Furin, as Kaji’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. Exhaling softly, he turns his headphones up, drowning out the asshole with heavy metal. Kaji palms his jeans pocket and groans when he feels no chupa chups inside the denim.

Fuck.

He heaves a sigh as he shoves his hands inside his grey hoodie pocket in tight fists. Trying to resist the deep-seated urge inside him to throw hands as icy blue eyes darken and he continues forward, deliberately stepping around the asshole guys in front of him— but of course, they just had to try and cause problems. Stepping in front of Kaji the taller guys shoulders barged into him roughly, knocking him sideways as the anger continued to surge through his veins.

Kaji thinks of your face, and it helps, but this one guy in the group just won’t stop fucking yapping. He can’t hear it over his headphones, but he can see his big fucking mouth moving— and when there’s a pause in loud music to change tracks it’s all he can hear.

“—fuckin’ pussy.”

“What was that?” Kaji pulls his headphones down, any chance of backing out long gone.

“I said. These Furin guys like to act hard but you look like a fuckin’ pussy.” He enunciated the final words and that was it— all Kaji saw was red.

Nothing can stop his fist from swinging, a mean rear uppercut that has the guy raised from the ground before losing his footing and tumbling down like a tree in the forest. Kaji feels the satisfaction shoot through his veins as he narrowly dodges a punch to the side of his head, knocking his headphones off as he prays the crack he heard wasn’t the plastic breaking. He’s quick to land another punch as two guys take him on at once, swinging his leg to boot someone back as he hates that he can’t bring himself to stop.

Another crude crack sounds as his fist collides with a guy's nose, a hit that has blood running down his chin and onto the brick beneath him as the damage has the guy running. His friends gathered with fists raised as if deciding whether the fight was still worth it— there was always strength in numbers, but somehow Furin strength seemed to defy that simple logic.

Kaji is about to make their choice for them as the raging hatred still ebbs through his veins, unable to discern the difference between his opponent’s as he swings for whoever’s closer— feeling a rough hit to his eye, enough to draw blood against his brow as warm crimson trickles down his temple.

“Ren!” A voice shouts, and it permeates the monster that’s reared its ugly head inside him, but not enough for him to keep swinging, “Ren!”

“You should keep that mouth shut and those legs spread, doll.” Another one of the guys sneers, but it’s enough to have Kaji’s attention now— if they so much as touched a single hair on your head he’s certain he’d kill for you, “That’s all you’re good for.”

Kaji takes the chance to lead uppercut the guy distracted by you, knocking his jaw and he’s certain he hears you call his name again. But his vision blurs as pure ferocious anger takes over as he continues hitting the guy for saying anything about you.

“I’d happily break one of Furin’s whores.” It was like this man was trying to push Kanji even further into becoming a beast, as you fought to keep him where he stands.

“Ren, don’t!” You winced as you heard the shlick sound of fists colliding with cartilidge as the guy cried out in pain, positive Kaji had broken his nose.

“If you guys don’t fuck off I’ll scream so loud half of Furin will be here in five fucking minutes.” You bluff, close enough to pothos that it could work as truth. There was always at least one member of Furin in there at any given time, it was at least something.

“Yeah, yeah. He ain’t fuckin’ worth it—” He sneers, holding his nose. Thankful that his friends decided to break off into a run before the lead guy turned to leave, “You’re with a fucking wild animal, doll.”

You bolted towards to Kaji as they left, who still stood at the corner of the street. Tentatively reaching up to palm his cheek as you pushed yourself up on tiptoes to assess the damage from the cut oozing blood on his brow.

“Ren, what the fuck happ—” You begin, but he’s quick to cut you off with a fierce kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. Unforgiving and and relentless he forces his tongue between your lips as they part with surprise, swallowing your objections with his mouth as he pushes you against the nearest wall.

You taste the sharp metallic tang of his blood on your tongue as you moan against his lips, your palms splayed across his chest to push him back with worry as you search his eyes for answers.

“Ren, what happened?” You murmur, but Kaji doesn’t respond. Instead, he crashes his lips back against yours with far more insistently this time. His hand cups the base of your skull to keep you pressed against him as he tongues the roof of your mouth, pressing his toned body against yours as he pins you to the wall, firm and insistent.

He pours everything into the kiss, calloused fingers dig into your skin roughly as you find yourself moaning into his mouth in a mixture of pain and pleasure. It’s hard to keep up with Kaji when he’s like this, his movements frantic and rugged. His nose bumps yours as he tilts his head slightly, his palm moves from the back of your neck to circle your throat as he squeezes. The lack of air leaves you lightheaded as your eyes roll back, fingers pawing at his hoodie to keep him close as he bullies a thigh between your legs to keep you firm against him.

“Fuck,” You whine against his lips when you feel rough denim graze your panties, creating a salacious friction that has you shamelessly grinding down against him.

Kaji’s hand tightens against your neck to press you down harder against his thigh as he pulls more pretty sounds from the back of your throat. The sounds you make work to slay the fierce beast that rages inside him, now replaced with a new monster as he seeks to devour you whole.

Your hands are persistent as you card soothing hands through his hair, tugging slightly at the root as you rip more pretty sounds from deep in his chest.

“Ren.” You chance his name again, the sound paired with the heat from your touch scorches him as Kaji feels you slowly bring him back to himself.

“Don’t leave me—” The hand around your throat loosens as blue-grey eyes begin to soften, his chest heaving as he lays his forehead against your own, regret begins to ebb away at him when he notices his blood dried against your skin.

“What the fuck happened?” You hum softly, fingers stroking through his undercut as your nails scratch at his scalp, “You had me so worried.”

“Fuckin’ pricks,” He shakes his head, pushing some of his hair away from his forehead as his chest continues to heave.

You bring him back. He starts to feel the ache from his knuckles and the persistent throb against his brow. Letting you cup his cheeks in soft palms as you assess the damage with a worried frown, lips curled into such a pretty pout that Kaji has to restrain himself from kissing you again.

“Tried jumping me when I was coming to meet you,” He continued, taking the opportunity to lean down and bury his face in the curve of your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply, “Started talking shit about Furin.”

“So why didn’t you ignore them?” You murmured, pressing a kiss to the base of his jaw as he curled into you.

“Couldn’t.” It was then you realised the lack of sucker between his lips as it all started to make sense, “And then he said shit about you and I—”

“That doesn’t matter,” You whisper, pecking his lips, “Whatever they say doesn’t matter.”

“But it’s always you comin’ to protect me when I should be the one protectin’ you.” You can feel the sadness in his voice as you shake your head, shrugging your shoulder slightly to garner his attention.

“Don’t say that shit, Ren. I know you could’ve handled that, and you did,” You continued, holding his cheeks in your hands as he stared down at you with cold eyes, “But you would’ve hated yourself if I’d let you continue, and I would’ve hated myself too—”

You stroked the tender skin along the apple of his cheek, giving him a regretful look when he winced beneath your ministrations.

“You’re way too good for me.” He muttered as you shook your head.

“Shut up,” You smiled gently, pressing another kiss to his lips, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“It’s true, though.” He sighed.

He was nothing like Hiragi or Umemiya. He couldn’t treat you as well as they probably could— You deserved far better than him, someone who could look after you, protect you—

“You deserve better.”

You really did— and you looked far too pretty today all dressed up for your date together.

“Okay, now I’m convinced the lollipops are to stop you saying dumb shit.” You scrunched your nose in irritation, reaching into your jacket pocket to pull out a wrapped cherry chupa chups, “Let me shut you up again.”

Of course, you always carried around spare suckers for him.

Kaji watched as you began to pull at the base of the wrapper before his fists wrapped around your wrists tightly, holding you firm to stop you from unravelling it.

“Yeah— make me.” Kaji rasped huskily as the seams of his lips curled into a slight grin. Catching you off guard as the sucker dropped to the floor between your bodies and he pressed a sultry kiss to your glossy lips.

“Ren, you’re hurt.” You chance, wondering if he can even hear you as you feel his fingers flex around your throat in acknowledgement. His palm strokes against your clavicle, venturing lower to palm one of your breasts through your thin shirt before reaching down to palm the fat of your ass.

Using his grip to pull you against him so you could feel his need against your tummy, hard and pulsing through thick denim.

“Stop talkin’.” His lips press against the curve of your jaw, teeth grazing the soft skin as he reaches out to cup your warm sex between your thighs.

He makes it difficult for you to think, surrounded by the comforting scent of him as you breathe in the honeyed scent of candy mixed with the musky sandalwood that feels like home. Ignoring the fact that anyone could walk by and catch you in such a compromising position as you seek out your pleasure. Leaning into his touch his fingers brush the soaked crotch of your panties, pressing down on your fluttering hole through the fabric as he teases you with two fingers.

It’s pathetic really, how easily he has you like this. Debauched and needy in public no less, your clit throbbing with neglect as you shamelessly rolled your hips into his touch.

“Ren, someone could see—” You chance; but it’s futile.

“Let them.” He doesn’t mean it, not really. Every single part of you should be for his eyes only— he’d lock you away in a concrete castle and throw away the key if it meant that no one would so much as glance in your direction again or be the savage dragon that guards its entrance and protects the princess as he becomes a monster in order to keep you safe.

Your hips jolt when you feel him push your panties to the side, dragging two calloused fingers through your drooling slit as he pressed the wetness to your puffy clit. Delighting in the needy whine you made as he circled it slowly, half-lidded eyes focused on your face as he worked you with calm precision.

He was going far too slow for a man that had you pinned against a wall like this in public. The risk of anyone walking by and catching you was high enough as it is, but the fact that this was one of Furin’s patrol routes made it even worse— Any one of his team could walk by and see you like this at any given moment.

“Ren—” His name fell on deaf ears as he plunged two digits inside your tight heat, watching your head roll back against the cold brick as he began to pump them inside you with intent. Marvelling at the way your velvety walls pulsed around him, desperately trying to coax him deeper.

Kaji paused his movements, stilling his wrist to watch as you unabashedly fucked yourself against his fingers. He deliberately curled them towards the spot inside you he knew like the back of his hand as you keened at his touch. Clinging to his broad shoulders as you rocked yourself into his touch, thankful for his body pinning you to the wall, otherwise you were certain your legs would give way and you’d end up on the floor. You ground yourself against him, trapping his palm between you and his thigh as he pressed his leg firmer against you.

“That's it, pretty girl,” He rasped softly, reaching his thumb up to press sloppy circles against your clit, “You get yours.”

You leaned into his touch, greedily using him for your release. Rolling your hips to press his fingers against that same spot inside you as you felt the telltale signs of your impending climax.

“Oh, fuck, baby—” You whined, Kaji’s other hand was quick to slip between the back of your head and the wall. His sore bruised knuckles brushed against the tough brick to prevent your head from knocking against the hard surface as you found your bliss.

Kaji began to move his fingers with purpose as you met your end, taking over from your hips as he fucked you through your release. Pulling more airy sounds from between your pretty lips as he pressed lingering kisses against the corner of your lips.

“That’s it—” Kaji murmured, his persistent fingers prolonging your release as you writhed against him, “My good girl.”

His words had that same heat blooming inside you, from the tips of your ears down to your toes as your mind was shrouded in a lusty haze. Whining when he pulled his digits from your cunt to press them against your glossy lips, watching you take them inside your mouth as you sucked them clean. Tasting yourself on your tongue as he pressed down on the hot muscle, feeling your moans vibrate at the back of your throat.

“Stop teasing me,” You whined around his fingers as Kaji languidly pulled them from your warm, wet mouth. Dragging down on your bottom lip as he moved to dry them off against his pants.

You bit your lower lip between your teeth as you reached out to palm him through his skinny jeans. Annoyed that the rough denim had little give as you pathetically tried to wrap your palm around him, barely able to grip it between your fingers and yet it was enough to have Kaji’s hips jerking roughly. He grunted low and gravelly as he pulled his slick-soaked fingers from your core, busying himself with the button on his jeans as he tugged the zipper. Letting the denim hang around the curve of his ass, just enough to free his aching cock.

The length of it drooped towards the ground, hot and heavy as you immediately reached out to wrap slender fingers around it. Collecting the bead of pre that glistened against his leaking tip to smooth it down his length Kaji hissed through gritted teeth, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed thickly. Smiling coyly at his reaction, moving your hand back up to thumb his slit, collecting more fresh pre as you wrapped him back in a firm fist.

“Who’s teasin’ now?” He huffed, placing his palm on top of yours to tighten your hand around his cock. Holding it steady as Kaji began to fuck himself into your fist, rutting his hips as you let out a salacious whine at the sight.

“Look who’s talking,” You gasped when he moved his other hand to the back of your thigh, propping it up on his hip as your skirt bunched at your waist.

“Oh, fuck.” You practically whimpered when you felt the swollen tip of his cock nudge your clit as he dragged it through your folds. Coating himself with your slick as he gave a tentative jerk of his hips, his lips pressed against your ear as you felt the vibration in his tone when he caught against your tight hole.

Kaji moved his hand away from his cock in favour of leaning back to watch as you guided him towards your entrance with your fingers, pressing down on the thick, bulging veins as he felt the resistance of your fluttering hole. Seeking out your warmth as he slowly began to press himself inside you, immediately groaning when he felt the heat engulf him. Certain he’d never tire of the sensation, no matter how many times he had you like this.

You made it difficult to think— to breathe sometimes. Stealing every conscious thought as you shrouded his very being, plaguing him with thoughts of you that he was so certain there was nothing else in this life worth having if he didn’t have you.

“Ren, hurry up,” You brought him back from his thoughts with a jerk of your hips, “We don’t have time, someone could see—”

Kaji was positive that he didn’t even give a fuck if the whole of Furin saw once he was buried inside your warm, wet cunt. The overwhelming pleasure etched away at him as he could only think of you—

“Let them see.” He snarled brazenly, flashing his sharp fangs and gums.

“Ren.” You whined back.

“So fuckin’ needy.” Each word was enunciated by a sharp rut of his hips as he set a rough, fast pace.

Kaji hissed, feeling your cunt clamp down around him from his crude tone. Your hands clinging to his shoulders as he eased his hips back before surging forward. His skin was coated in a thin sheen of sweat beneath his hoodie as he felt the heat practically radiate from your warm body.

His balls slapped against the curve of your ass as the sound of skin against skin filled the alleyway. It wasn’t exactly a public path, but you knew many people liked to make the shortcut towards pothos through here, so the thought of being caught sent a discomfiting heat straight to your pelvis.

But Kaji fucked into you with purpose, settling on a desperate pace that had him willing you towards your climax hard and fast. The material of his hoodie was too thick to feel his body through, as you moved your hands to the back of his skull to feel skin against skin as you delighted in the sticky tack of his sweaty body against yours.

The rough brick scraped against your back with each sharp thrust, certain to leave marks behind as you tried your best to meet his movements from your precarious position.

“You’re always so good to me, pretty girl,” He rambled, his blunt cockhead grazing against your cervix with each forward motion, “So perfect.”

Kaji’s love is like a tsunami— indiscriminate, ferocious and all-consuming in its power. His waves crash down to encompass you, and carry you out to sea. It’s pure, unbridled power and it terrifies you sometimes quite how much you love him in return.

“Oi,” He smacks the curve of your ass playfully before gripping it hard, fingertips dip into the plush skin as he changes the angle of his thrusts, “What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“You.” You answer truthfully, as though there could ever be another answer.

Kaji’s lips curl into a small, genuine grin at your answer. Unable to stop himself from leaning forward to bring you into a sloppy kiss, drowning out your moans of pleasure as he continued to pound his cock into your dripping cunt.

You were positive you wouldn’t last much longer, especially with the way his cock moulded you into the shape of him. The prominent veins dragging against your inner walls with each cant of his hips, paired with the way the hairs at the base of his cock gave a delicious friction to your puffy clit every time he buried himself inside you the hilt had you racing towards your impending climax and you weren’t going to last much longer.

“I know you’re close,” He rasped gruffly, teeth nipping at your pulse point, “I can feel you clamping down around me.”

“Fuck, Ren.” Your lips parted in a near-constant groan when Kaji slipped a hand between your connected bodies to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing messy figures of eight against the sensitive nub as he pushed you towards your end.

Your lashes fluttered as you felt him bite down against your jugular, his tongue salving the mark as your walls clenched in response. Teetering on the precipice of bliss you continued to moan from each messy rut of his hips inside your wet heat before you found yourself falling into euphoria.

“Oh, shit.” You gasped as you felt your climax flow through you in harsh waves, your hips jerking as you came undone against him with a jumbled cry of his name. Your nails dug into the back of his neck as your thighs shook with pleasure, feeling Kaji continue to fuck you through your release as his thumb kept consistent against your clit. It was all too much and not enough at the same time as your walls continued to pulse around him, trying to milk his cock of his spend as you rode out your release.

“Ren.” Your lips parted in a constant pant as you tried desperately to remember to breathe, tongue almost lolling out from between glossy lips as Kaji adjusted your thigh on his hip. Holding you tight as he began to use your body for his own pleasure, fucking into you with haste as he searched for his end. His balls were heady and swollen with cum as they begged to spill into your eager hole, “I wanna make you cum too,”

“You don’t even have to fuckin’ try.” He grunted, your walls clung to him even tighter since your release. Increasing the pleasurable sensation as his pace became languid and desperate, messily thrusting his lips into you as he cherished the way your walls were squeezing around his cock, “I’m gonna—”

“Do it inside.” You barely managed to rasp out breathlessly as Kaji let out a sinful groan in response. Your nails digging into the back of his neck only heightened the pleasure as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts before spilling his spunk inside you with a debauched groan.

“Fu-uck.” Kaji’s hips pressed snugly against yours to the hilt as he emptied his heavy balls inside you. Shooting streams of whited, hot cum inside your water walls as your cunt continued to clench around him in satisfaction.

“Take it.” He whispered gruffly, pressing a kiss to the seam of your parted lips as you continued to pant, pathetically trying to capture your breath back.

You basked together in the afterglow as Kaji indulged in you for a moment longer, delighting in the fact you were pumped full of his release as you reached up to push his sweaty fringe away from his face, exposing his forehead as you gave the gash on his brow another frown. The blood now caked and cracked against his skin as Kaji snorted at your face.

“Don’t look at me like that after we just had sex.” He pouts, as you playfully push your finger against his lips to try and push them back down.

“Your cuts gonna get infected— ahh,” You broke off into a whine when Kaji began to pull his softening cock from your tightness, his wound immediately forgotten as he moved his focus to the mess now seeping out of your trembling hole and drooling down your inner thighs. Kaji was quick to save the moisture as he collected it on his two fingers, dragging it back up to your abused sex to push it back inside you as you gasped in surprise. He was quick to move your panties back into place as you grimaced at the sensation of your combined essence soaking the fabric.

“I’ll be fine.” He teased when you gave his wound another look, “I’ve been through worse.”

“That’s not the point.” You deadpanned, watching as Kaji moved back slightly to tuck his softening cock back inside his skinny jeans. Your head rested back against the brick wall as you held onto his arms to prevent your legs from giving out and collapsing to the floor. His touch was gentle as he smoothed your skirt back down your thighs and adjusted your top that had ridden up during the tryst. Unable to stop himself from stealing another kiss from your pouty lips.

“How could I not be fine when I have you to look after me.” Kaji grinned as he bent down in front of you to pick the fallen sucker up from the ground, fingers working at tugging the wrapper off before shoving the stick between his lips.

“Yeah, well you owe me another date night.” You pouted as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders to lead you towards the local konbini. Practically feeling the warmth still radiating from him as he pulled you against his side.

“What’s wrong with going out now?” You turned your head to look up at him in exasperation as you scrunched your nose.

“You’re ridiculous— you realise you’re covered in blood and I’m now full of you,” You huffed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks at the smug smirk Kaji gave you as you jabbed his chest with a firm finger, “We’re gonna grab some supplies from the konbini and I’m taking you home to fix it.”

“Sounds good, I need to pick up some more suckers—” He smiled, ignoring the throb that still ebbed through his head from the hits he’d endured barely an hour ago as he squeezed your shoulder playfully.

“Kaji!” You glared at the man beside you.

“Don’t call me that when I was just balls deep inside you five minutes ago, sweetheart.”

[sugarypinecones]

DODGE!!!!! god i want dodge so bad i want to lay between his stretched out legs and wrap my arms around one of them and rest my head on his thigh while he plays with my hair while we watch smth together but it's all background noise because his dick is so close to me mouf and i js wanna run my nose against the little outline from his washed out jeans IS THAT A CRIME IS THAT SO TERRIBLE please oh my god his strong rodeo arms i just wanna sit on his lap and rub my hands all over him im sorry i think im ovulating

(in lois griffin voice) whoever that was.. thank you….

NO because ur SO real.. like i audibly went holy to this, had to screenshot, send to council, and come back to re read again like that one sarah paulson video.

this was meant to be a tiny tiny blurb but it turned out way longer than expected so sorry lolz + f!reader

ALSO! if you sent an ask i am working on it, but i was on vacation so now im finally home and yupppp

send more asks. anything. i will try and match ur freak as hard as i can pls god, and anyways that being said:

like, get me; it starts out somewhat innocent. tired and lazy because of all the panic bullshit, you two decide to just stay home rather going out to all the random parties and events thrown between each game.

dayna and his mom don’t care that he has you over — they find it nice he found someone, a nice distraction from inside his head.

as for the show, it’s probably some random documentary or reality show: first thing he saw when logging into the streaming platform. he, genuinely, is probably engrossed in it, but you’re engrossed in him: how close you two are.

you’re laying between his legs, obviously, and his hands are strung around you messily, just wanting to have some sort of hold on you. how he’s holding you, you probably have no idea what, focused on the washed-out jeans of his — weathered from wear by rodeos or helping anne or anything else.

he’s probably yapping about something on the TV — “i don’t see how bestfriends could do that to eachother..” bla bla bla, you’re not really focusing in on it - humming, trying to sound interested in whatever it is he’s actually talking about. some “oh really?” and “i know..” are strung throughout the humming, but you have no idea if it’s actually appropriate to his talking.

he seems to catch on, though, unbeknownst to you. it’s hard not to notice his pretty girlfriend’s eyes focused directly on his crotch every few minutes, head shifting back and forth ever so slightly — making his dick twitch with need.

you wondered if his jeans are always this tight — wondering if you looked earlier you could’ve seen it, but the truth was, you really couldn’t. this only happened after the fact you got in the car — but obviously, you weren’t keenly aware of his crotch up until the minute you got in bed.

his hands run up and down ur back softly, and god it just makes the URGE to run ur face along the outline so much worse !!! he’s fallen quiet, so u slightly wonder if maybe something’s wrong or maybe he caught onto your disinterest in his words, so you glance up out of the corner of your eye, only to realize he’s been watching you for god knows how long.

he probably says something stupid, like: “you know the tv’s over there, right?” or “interesting?” something really dumb and smart-assy. you roll your eyes, probably say something back, and one thing leads to another and he’s nonchalantly trying to suggest you could do it if you wanted to.

so you do. and god !! does it feel as good as u thought it would. he twitches beneath u and tries to act like it’s really not turning him on as much as it is, but it’s hard not to, a sticky, wet patch is already forming at the tip of his cock; itching to bleed through the light jeans.

he ends up pulling you closer, forgetting all about the tv, bringing you into a hasty kiss, needy and desperate but still filled with tenderness.

you fix yourself on his lap, smiling into the kiss, glad you got your way, like it was ever a fight to begin with — it never was, he would give you anything you asked for whenever you wanted.

he’s so gentle when he touches you. his large hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you even closer into his lap, his eyes closed, enjoying the kiss for a few more moments before pulling away, panting softly, breathless.

"you’re really not very good at paying attention." he mumbled breathlessly, a small smirk on his lips as he looked down at you.

he moved his hands down your sides, running them up and down your thighs, his thumbs brushing against the skin beneath the hems of your shorts as he shifted underneath you slightly.

“what’s going through your pretty little head, hm?” he mused, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face.

you hummed softly, looking up at him with a small, playful pout on your lips.

“well… i was listening,” you pouted, “kinda.”

he chuckled softly at your response, his hands continuing to run up and down your thighs, the touch of his palms warm and rough against your skin.

“you’re so cute,” he murmured, “but i don’t think you were listening at all.”

he leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on your nose, before continuing to trail his lips down your jawline and down your neck.

“i think you were too distracted by something else,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin as he nipped at your neck softly.

he knew you far too well - he knew the way your body reacted to his touch. he knew how to make you melt.

he continued to nibble at your neck, gently, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to send shivers down your spine.

“can you even remember what i was talking about?” he murmured playfully, his hands still running up and down your thighs.

“of course,” you retort, clearly defensive. “you don’t get how best friends.. could do that to eachother.” it’s clear you were listening to him, but not the television.

he chuckled softly, his lips pressed against your skin as you spoke.

“of course you remember that part,” he teased, knowing damn well you were paying more attention to his jeans than the television.

he gently nipped at your skin, sucking on a small patch of it for a moment, before pulling away.

“you were paying more attention to something else, weren’t you?”

you flush. obviously you were — who could blame you ?? :(( he was just soo close to u and so there..

he caught the flush of your cheeks, a smirk playing at his lips as he lifted his head to look at you.

“aww, you’re so cute when you blush, you know that?” he teased, “especially when you realize you’ve been caught.”

he chuckled softly, his hands moving up to your waist, his fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

you pull him into a needier kiss this time, hands roaming all over, as if trying to find the right place to grab: but all seemed so promising, that you couldn’t actually settle.

he groaned softly into the kiss, matching your neediness with his own. his hands gripped at your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pulled you close into his lap.

he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, requesting access that you happily gave him. his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring it hungrily, as his hands roamed across your body.

he trailed kisses down your jawline and down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. he nipped at your collarbone, leaving small, love bites in their wake.

he slowly pushed himself back against the back of the bed, pulling you with him so that you were now laying on top of him, your legs on each side of his hips.

his hands roamed down to your legs, gripping your thighs as he shifted beneath you, his hips rolling up against yours.

he groaned softly as he felt the pressure against his lap, his lips still moving across your neck, leaving little love bites in their wake.

“you drive me crazy,” he mumbled against your skin.

you hum in response — too overwhelmed with pleasure to say anything other than jumbled messes, so simplify yourself with a hum.

his hands moved up, slipping underneath your shirt, and running his palms across your skin. he could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it only made him want you more.

he pulled away from your neck, looking up at you with his blue, lust-filled eyes.

“i want you,” he breathed, “so badly.”

your breath hitches — and you want to tell him to have you — right there, however much he wanted, but you can’t strangle any words out.

he moved his hands up to your hips, his grip tightening as he pulled you tightly against him, grinding his lap up against yours.

he let out a soft groan, his head falling back against the back of the headboard as he felt the friction against his straining jeans.

“you’re so beautiful,” he panted, looking up at you with a look of need in his eyes, “so damn beautiful.”

he slid his hands up further, pushing up your shirt as he did, exposing your stomach. he ran his hands up across your stomach and up to your ribs, his touch leaving chills in their wake.

he bit his lip as he looked up at you, studying your face, taking in your features as if he hadn’t seen you a million times before.

“i want you,” he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse with need, “all of you, darling.”

you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“well,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “what’s stopping you?”

he looked up at you, his eyes darkening with need.

“nothing,” he replied, his grip on you tightening as he spoke.

he shifted beneath you, pushing himself up so that he was sitting up properly against the back of the couch.

“except for these damn jeans,” he muttered, his hands moving to the button on his jeans.

you’re quick to help him — eagerly pawing at the button, undoing it with ease.

he let out a soft gasp at your eager touch, his hands moving to grip your waist as you undid the button on his jeans.

he lifted his hips as you began to pull down the jeans, a small, needy whine escaping from his lips as the fabric slid down his legs and hit the floor with a toss of your hand.

“so fucking needy..” he groaned softly, his hands running up and down your sides.

he pulled you back down onto his lap, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he settled you against his lap.

his hips bucked up slightly, his arousal pressed against your thigh as he moved.

“you’re so good to me,” he panted, his hands roaming up and down your back as he spoke, “i’m so lucky to have you.”

he tilted his head, his lips tracing a path down your neck, nibbling at sensitive spots along the way. he left a trail of little love bites, his teeth grazing against your skin in a way that made you shiver.

“i want to touch you,” he murmured against your skin, his hands running up your thighs. “please let me touch you.”

you could give him permission a million times over — and he’d still ask before doing anything else in the process, so gently; a contrast difference to his rough hands.

“please.” you retort softly.

he groaned softly at your response, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled you closer.

“always so polite,” he muttered, his lips still trailing down your neck.

he slowly moved his hands up your thighs, his fingers slowly sliding under the hem of your shorts.

“i need you so badly,” he panted, his hands moving higher, “can i..?”

you nod vicariously.

he let out a soft sigh of relief at your response, his hands moving further up your thighs, until they reached the edge of your panties.

he ran his fingers along the edge of the fabric, groaning softly at the realization that he was so close to what he wanted.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, “so perfect..”

you hum contemptibly, smiling.

he smiled at your hum, his hands slowly moving up, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

he ran his fingers over your skin, his touch gentle and soft, as he slowly moved towards your center.

he could feel you shiver with each touch, his own hips rolling slightly beneath you as he grew impatient.

he slowly moved his hand down, his fingers sliding across your sensitive flesh, his touch sending shivers up your spine.

“you’re so warm,” he murmured, “so ready..”

he gently began to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch light and teasing, as his other hand moved to your hip, holding you in place.

he groaned softly at the feel of your reaction, his eyes studying your face intently.

“so beautiful..” he repeated, his fingers slowly increasing their pace.

he watched as you began to move against his touch, your hips rolling in response to his touch.

he groaned softly as he felt you press against him, his own arousal growing more and more with each small movement you made.

“that’s it,” he panted, “just like that..”

he continued his movements, his fingers quickening their pace as he felt you growing closer.

he could feel your body shaking with need, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“just relax darling,” he murmured, “let go for me..”

he continued to rub at your sensitive core, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm, as he watched you grow closer and closer to the edge.

he could feel your body growing tense, your grip on him growing tighter, as you began to whine and pant with need.

“that’s it, just like that..” he repeated, his own hips rolling up against you as he continued his ministrations.

he watched as you grew tense, your body trembling as you reached the edge, your eyes squeezing shut as you arched your back slightly.

he kept up his movements, his hand still rubbing at your sensitive flesh, continuing to bring you closer and closer to release, “come for me, please..” he panted, his own need growing stronger by the second.

he could feel you growing closer and closer to the edge with each second, your breath coming in soft pants and moans as you teetered on the brink.

and finally, you came, your body shaking as you reached your climax, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

he continued to move his fingers gently against you, helping you ride out your orgasm, as he spoke softly, “so perfect..”

he gently pulled his hand away from you, his eyes watching as you came down from your high. he studied your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and messy hair.

“that’s it darling,” he murmured, “just breathe..”

he moved his hands to your hips once more, holding you tightly in his lap as he waited for you to regain your bearings.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

@ablev92 can't leave the boy hanging with nothing. This is not exactly your idea but something that hopefully will still scratch the itch. 🤍✨

His girl

"It's beyond me how you stomach that guy," Violet breathed out, her body slumping onto the mat. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Xaden was desperate to keep her alive. Wasn't hard to see why especially considering that he had so openly brought her to train away from the rest of the group and with the rebellion bunch.

"Less talking more working, give me five more", you tapped Violet's thigh, urging her to do a couple more sit-ups. The girl's muscles were nowhere to be seen. It still was beyond you how she wasn't swept by the wind while crossing the Parapet. She huffed as she pulled up time after time. Then maybe the brain was the better asset to possess. "Rest for a bit, I don't want to see your lunch all over the floor", you threw a water bottle her way that she barely caught, chugging it down in no time.

You let yourself sink to the floor as you too started your warm-up. Itching for a real tassel. You haven't properly fought in a couple of weeks. Even since during one of the patrols you got mixed up in an ambush. You slid down your dragon and injured your shoulder. It was nothing major but the boys were mother hens so you were not allowed to do anything.

"Do you ever fight with him?", Violet gestured to Garrick once more. Your eyes moved over where both Xaden and he threw punches at one another across the room. Shirts were already discarded. But then most of the time these boys trained shirtless. Too much body heat they said. "Shouldn't you only have your eyes set on Xaden? He's a jealous type", you asked her teasingly. Leaning forward to stretch your back. You couldn't see her face but she no doubt was red like a tomato. Violet couldn't hide her emotions for shit. That was another thing Xaden should teach her.

"I thought Xaden was the scary one but...", she breathed. Her yapping was starting to get on your nerves but then Xaden chose you for a reason. The rest of the group would have already broken the girl or she would be crying in the corner. "Don't say it out loud Garrick's ego might explode", you chuckled, reaching to put your hair up into a messy bun. "But do you?", Violet urged. You could understand her fascination this group was quite a sight for sore eyes. "I fought with all of them. Imogen, Bodhi, Xaden, Garrick", you said casually, eyes locking on the person you hoped would finally look your way.

"And you walk off the mat?", you could feel her eyes on you but you were already shrugging your shirt off, leaving only a tight black sports bra on, "Well, I'm standing here, aren't I?", you winked her way as you stepped closer to the mats.

"Looks very fun but I'm borrowing Garrick", you said casually, motioning with your hand for Xaden to step away. The guy simply brushed his hand through his messy hair as he smirked. "I ain't fighting with you", Garrick said coldly, turning his attention back on Xaden as if you weren't standing right in front of him. You could hear oo's sounding all around the room. Even Xaden snickered. "I ain't got all day Riorson, let's...", Garrick grumbled but you struck first, fist colliding with his hand and making him drop his dagger.

"You little...", Garrick bit back as he turned towards you, his big shoulders flexing as he quickly threw a punch of his own. One that you quickly dogged. Elbowing him in his stomach as you turned. It almost looked like a dance as you both swirled around the fight mat. Eyes blazing. You managed to throw him off balance slightly hoping to deliver a final blow with your leg. Unfortunately, it was Garrick we were talking to. He was the best for a reason. His hand quickly wrapped around your ankle as he tugged, your back met the floor as an airy huff slipped past your lips.

"He will kill her", Violet nearly shouted, her knuckles pale as she gripped the water bottle. "Relax, enjoy the spectacle," Imogen mussed. And she wasn't wrong. Everyone had stopped to watch. "He will...", Violet was about to argue more but her eyes caught the smiles painting both of your lips. You had quickly wrapped your legs around Garrick's torso, arm logged in his throat as you managed to turn you both around. Chest heaving for air.

"Want to tap out?", you mussed, leaning closer to him, locking eyes with the man beneath you. Garrick had a proud smirk on his face. You watched him slowly lifting his hand off the mat, fully prepared to walk away from this. But that same hand quickly wrapped around your neck, throwing you off balance as he once again pinned you right beneath him, "Nice try baby", he breathed right by your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine.

"Press harder, I like it", you purred back, making him rare back as you stared at you, "You will be the death of me", he released his grip around you but his warning finger was still pointing at you. "Go fuck it out", Bodhi shouted across the room, making some people laugh. Garrick shot him a death glare. "Be careful, you might be laying beneath him next", you teased back, making Bodhi bite back a laugh as Garrick shook his head.

"Am I off bed rest now?", you asked as you followed him across the gym. "No", he breathed simply, "You're still in pain, your left hand twitched multiple times. It hasn't healed yet", Garrick said plainly as he reached for his water but you quickly kicked it out of reach. Garrick stilled for a heartbeat. The rest of the group was used to you both nagging at each other so almost no one paid you any attention.

"Let me train", you said firmly, only to let out a yelp as Garrick yanked you closer, pushing you against the walk as his frame toward over yours. "I said no", he hissed back. But you knew what this was. You had gone missing that night. They looked for you for two days straight. Well... Garrick did. Against all orders. No sleep. No food. His clothes were damp as he flew over and over. Followed by your dragon. You reached up to cup his face and Garrick instantly closed his eyes.

"I promise you that I'm well", you said softly, "nothing hurts, it's slightly sore, that's all", you tried to reason with this big broody man. "And your fingers", he reached for your palm, you knew what he was looking for, so you quickly moved each of your fingers around. Bending and flexing them. Garrick let out a sigh. "Fine", he breathed. "I can train with Bodhi...", "Like hell is anyone else touching you", Garrick hissed back, making you roll your eyes.

Stepping on your tippy toes you wrapped your arms around his neck, Garrick rose to his full height, making your feet dangle as you held up. His hands instantly reached down to cup your bum as you wrapped your legs around him. "You're lucky that I love you", he muttered as he carried you back to his preferred corner. You gave him your best angel smile that he only shook his head at. "I love you too, thank you for trusting me", you kissed the side of his neck softly, before your eyes darted back to the room. "If you feel..", Garrick started but you cut him off quickly, "Even the tiniest sense of pain I will tell you and we will stop". He nodded at your words, frown disappearing. Violet stood there with her big eyes still on you two. You quickly saluted her. "They're like...", she breathed out, making Imogen let out a chuckle, "Dating, fucking, loving - all of it", the female mused, "Just don't stare too much Garrick doesn't like it". Imogen tapped Violet's shoulder making her turn for the mat that exclusively belonged to Garrick. She knew without having to ask that your roll of training Xaden's girl was now her responsibility.

[theetherealbloom]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

Chapter One: I Know He's Crazy, But He's The One I Want

Summary: After harboring a crush on your dad's charming best friend, Joel Miller, you graduate college only to be confused by something he supposedly said to you, but then he and his daughter Sarah, reluctantly move away due to his work. Six months later, Joel returns to town, and you're desperate to confirm if his words were real. Both you and your dad eagerly await his arrival but for entirely different reasons. As feelings intensify, you realize that falling for him might not be temporary after all.

Paring: Dbf!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, AGE-GAP Romance, Reader is Early twenties and Joel is in his late 30s to early 40s, Secret Romance, Sneaking around, FLUFF, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, Heavy Make Out Session, Kissing, Barely any plot, Relationship, Swearing, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Flattery, Awkward, Virgin reader, inexperienced reader, slightly Self Deprecating, Suggestive Content,

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Happy “The Tortured Poets Department” release! I couldn’t help but shriek with joy when I heard But Daddy I Love Him. Literally, dad best friend Joel Miller coded. I would like to thank @wheresarizona for dealing with my spam in her messages from me as I was yapping about the new album and gushing over her writing; she’s literally one of the best writers ever. That is a fact and I will die on that hill.

This fic is heavily inspired by all of the dad's best friend books and dbf!Joel Miller fics I have read over the years. It is with great honor (and a lot of fucking fear) to present to you this Frankenstein of all of my fav tropes!

Heads up, I’m actually dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: But Daddy I Love Him by Taylor Swift

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

As you walk past the neighboring house, you observe the real estate agent meticulously placing the 'SOLD' banner onto the weathered for sale sign. A strange sense of satisfaction washes over you, knowing that someone has finally purchased the property.

Entering your home, you release a sigh of relief as the familiar comfort washes over you. With a casual toss, your keys and bag find their place on the hallway table. The urge to call out to your dad bubbles up, but it freezes in your throat when you're met with an unexpected sound drifting from his home office.

Your heart quickens as you peek inside, only to find your dad's best friend, Joel Miller, lounging on the plush brown lazy boy. His deep, resonant voice fills the room, sending shivers down your spine even before you lay eyes on him.

Clutching the doorframe for support, you fight to steady your nerves. With trembling fingers, you manage to force a smile onto your lips, though it feels strained. "Hey, Dad. Hey… Joel," you manage to squeak, the mere sound of his name stirring a flurry of emotions within you.

The room feels stiflingly quiet as you wait for a response, the weight of Joel's gaze almost tangible. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as his intense eyes meet yours. His attention feels almost palpable, his gaze lingering on you in a way that sends a rush of warmth through your body. With a low, almost imperceptible grunt of acknowledgment, Joel's gaze finally breaks away, leaving you breathless in his wake.

You try to avert your gaze out of sheer habit, but it's futile, like trying not to be drawn to the most captivating, exquisite sight in existence.

God, it's as if he's been carved from pure perfection, each time you lay eyes on him.

That same intense, brooding look he wore the day of your college graduation, late last year, still grips you. And it seems Joel's gaze has the same effect on your dad, eliciting a familiar reaction. With a quick double-take, your dad shoots a glance at his best friend before swiveling in his seat.

"Hey there, sweetheart, just catching up with Joel. He dropped by for a surprise visit," your dad starts, but he halts mid-sentence, noticing your undeniable reaction. Concern etches his features as he addresses you. "Honey?" he prompts, his voice laced with worry, as you struggle to find your voice for the umpteenth time in mere seconds.

Joel's gaze narrows, his jaw clenching as his intense scrutiny roams over you, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

As you cling to the doorframe, you can't help but notice the subtle movement of Joel's prominent Adam's apple, betraying his own unease.

Breaking the tension, your dad's nervous chuckle pierces the silence, attributing my apparent moodiness to your usual banter. He turns back to Joel, commenting on his friend's expression.

"What's going on with you two?" he quips, his tone shifting from light-hearted to serious in an instant. "Feels like there's some dirty secret between you," your dad adds, the jest evaporating from his voice. Yet, Joel remains unfazed by your dad's observation, his gaze still locked onto you as a faint smile curves his lips.

His lips curl into a smirk, accentuating the charming dimple that appears in his slightly scruffy beard whenever he smiles—a sight that never fails to tug at your heartstrings.

But as your dad's suspicion lingers in the air, Joel's demeanor shifts, yet you still struggle to connect the dots regarding why he's been giving you that look since graduation.

That day was meant to mark a pivotal moment in your life, celebrating the culmination of years of hard work in college. Yet, Joel's presence, the way he gazed at you, and the unexpected intensity of his hug during the congratulations... It's forever etched in your memory for reasons beyond the academic achievement.

And at the center of it all is one word: Joel.

He's a towering figure, a mix of solid muscle and the comforting softness of his belly. In the moment, you brushed off his tight embrace after receiving your diploma as merely the enthusiasm of the occasion.

But as you felt his whole body pressing right into yours during that hug, you knew it wasn’t your regular type of embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear. And though you didn’t catch his next words as clearly, you're certain he said something else that day. “…You feel so fuckin’ good….”

At least, that's what you've been convincing yourself he said. You recall gazing up into those big brown eyes, the same intense look he's giving you now, and wondering the same thing. How could an older, dangerously attractive man like Joel be even remotely interested in someone like you? Apart from being your dad’s best friend, he's more than twice your age and lives on the other side of the country with his daughter, Sarah.

You can almost picture the scandalized gasps of the single older women and ex-wives in your town, clutching their pearls and whispering, "What a mess," if you and Joel ever got together; if he was even remotely interested in you like that.

But you've replayed that scene in your mind every day since, and no matter how hard you try, there's just no denying your secret crush on him.

It all started long before college, your feelings for Joel simmering beneath the surface. Back then, you couldn't quite grasp what it was you felt for him. All you knew was that it felt right, and that feeling remains unchanged. Despite the nerves and shyness that being around him brings, there's another undeniable effect he has on you.

Like the overwhelming desire to sink back and beg him to indulge in things that his best friend's daughter probably shouldn't be fantasizing about. It's been a while since you last saw Joel, but he still exudes the same charm and looks even more handsome and fit than before, thanks to his job in construction as a contractor.

And when you receive that same look from him today, when your dad even jokes about his suspicions, you know Joel remembers that day too. The intensity in his eyes mirrors the moment he pulled you close, a memory etched as your most cherished moment so far.

"Well, I reckon’ my presence here might come as a bit of a surprise," Joel rasps, his gaze locked with yours as he emits a low chuckle for your dad's benefit. Unnoticed by your dad, Joel shoots you a sly wink, and you watch as your dad's tension melts away. He's relieved to know he wasn't imagining things, and undoubtedly thrilled once he hears Joel's news. "I'm moving here, right next door with Sarah. Tommy should be dropping her off here tomorrow," he announces with enthusiasm, but you feel the pit of your stomach drop.

Joel... here? For good? Oh, fuck.

Your dad erupts into loud whoops, raising both hands in the air. "It's about time, buddy! I knew you were keeping something from me," he adds, turning to you once again. "You were aware of this?" he asks, furrowing his brow with a hint of confusion. 

"You knew Joel and Sarah were coming to town, didn’t you?" Dad repeats, finally grinning like a child at the news. Smiling like a dad who's pushed aside any notion of his best friend showing interest in his only daughter. And you catch a sly grin on Joel’s face as he comes to your rescue. "Oh, I mentioned I might pay a visit. Buttercup here wasn't aware of the specifics or that Sarah and I would be relocatin’ back here," he explains to your dad.

But when Joel smoothly fibs to your dad, insinuating that you were aware of his impending move back to town, even though it caught you completely off guard, he seals an instant and secret pact between the two of you with a single glance. His deep brown eyes wink at you, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. You realize you're in deeper trouble than you initially thought. And strangely enough, it's the kind of trouble you welcome with open arms.

In that fleeting moment, a silent understanding passes between you and Joel. With just a wink from him, your chest flutters with excitement, and a wave of anticipation rushes through you, leaving you feeling unexpectedly aroused at the prospect of having him nearby all the time. You're fully committed now, Joel's lie to his best friend serving as a shield for both of you, deflecting attention away from the undeniable tension between you.

"Sarah called last week," you fabricate, deciding to play along with Joel's deception. "As we were chatting, Joel mentioned something about visiting. It must've slipped my mind to mention it to you," you explain to your dad, hoping he'll buy into the white lie. Joel's low growl of contentment as he leans back, causing the leather chair to creak, reassures you that he approves of your little ruse.

Your dad's elation at the news of his best friend's return to their quaint little town is palpable, enough to overshadow any scolding he might have had for your omission about Sarah and Joel's supposed call.

But the truth remains: Sarah never called, and Joel's mysterious behavior is raising more questions than answers.

A surprise visit is one thing, but the intensity of Joel's gaze? The way he makes you feel? It's enough to give your long-standing crush on him a serious run for its money.

"But damn, Sarah will be here tomorrow?" your dad groans before chuckling. "A bit more notice would've been nice, but hell, it'll be good to see you, buddy."

"Listen, I've got something I can't postpone tomorrow. Maybe my daughter here could accompany you to pick up Sarah from the airport?" your dad suggests, turning his attention towards you.

Somewhere behind you, a strange sound escapes—it's you, emitting a sort of mewling noise that you know Joel catches, his smile widening in response.

"Sounds perfect," he agrees before you even have a chance to process it.

"Sweetie?" your dad asks, his tone sheepish now that he's volunteered you without asking if you were available.

You can only watch as the room seems to spin around you, nodding in agreement. "Yeah... sure, I don't have any tutoring sessions tomorrow."

"Perfect!" your dad sighs with relief, promising Joel they'll catch up later. "But I really need to get back to the shop. Are you alright here with her to help you settle into your new house with whatever you brought? The rest of your stuff hasn't arrived yet."

"Yeah, we'll be just fine," Joel assures in his trademark baritone, locking eyes with you.

You were so fixated on Joel's presence that you hadn't noticed the bags by the side of the home office.

"Sweetie? You sure you're okay to help? You look kind of..." your dad starts, but you take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before replying, "Yeah, I'll be fine. We'll be fine. I can help."

"Alright then," your dad grabs his car keys, ready to leave the home office. He gives you both a final glance, kissing the top of your head. "I'll be back for dinner. Have fun, you two!"

You and Joel remain frozen in place, him on one side of the room and you by the doorway, both listening to your dad's fading footsteps and the rumble of his truck as he drives away.

You’re so fucked.

It's been six long months since you last saw each other, and for Joel, it's felt like an eternity. The day of your graduation marked the first time he laid eyes on you in over three years, and it was as if he was seeing you for the very first time.

You've grown into a remarkable adult, and Joel couldn't help but feel the overwhelming need to be there, not only for his buddy, your dad, but also for his sweet Buttercup. Witnessing his little girl all grown up and ready to embark on her journey into the world with her diploma was a moment he'll never forget. He'd never seen his best friend prouder, yet his gaze lingered on you for entirely different reasons.

Reasons and desires that had never crossed Joel's mind until that day. He couldn't resist pulling you close, feeling the warmth of your body pressed against his.

What was he thinking? Surely, everyone could see the effect you had on him.

But Joel wasn't thinking, he was acting on instinct. He was claiming what he knew belonged to him. Telling you he was proud of you was one thing, but he's still unsure if you heard what else he said about how good you felt in his arms.

Yet, he doesn't regret it. Because it was true then, and it remains true now. He just wishes he knew if you felt the same way. If you felt it in the same way he did. But how could you possibly feel the same way about him as he has about you these past six months?

Joel couldn't deny that there were many reasons why the relationship between you was complicated. For one, there was the age difference - you were more than half his age. Apart from having the kind of body he could grip, suck and fuck for a lifetime, additionally, you were his best friend's daughter, a bond that ran deep and could not be ignored.

That day, Joel took a risk, blurring the lines and potentially jeopardizing not just his friendship with your dad, but also the bond he shared with you by being so affectionate.

Surprisingly, you didn't seem to mind his gestures, and Joel was convinced that your dad hadn't even noticed. Despite the undeniable attraction he felt towards you, a feeling that lingered and intensified with every thought of you, Joel couldn't shake the worry that his actions might have caused a rift.

As days turned into weeks without any word from your dad, Joel's mind raced with doubts. He couldn't help but question if you had confided in your father about his behavior. Perhaps your dad had sensed Joel's infatuation with you, leading to a silence that spoke volumes.

Intrusive thoughts plagued Joel, wondering if you had been uncomfortable with his displays of affection. The fear that you might have someone else in your life to hold onto gnawed at him, leaving him restless and anxious about the potential consequences of his actions.

Joel and your dad used to share conversations daily, a bond that time and life's demands have gradually weakened, particularly with Sarah still navigating middle school. They both acknowledge the need to reconnect more often, yet something always seems to intervene.

But Joel's decision to visit your father in person wasn't impulsive; it was a deliberate choice, driven by a desire to stay for good this time.

No more fleeting visits. This time, it's permanent.

And it's all because of you.

Since your graduation day, you've occupied Joel's thoughts relentlessly. It's more than just an obsession; you're the sole focus of his mind, consuming his every waking moment.

You are the only thing he can fucking think about.

Joel would never dare voice his thoughts to your dad, not just because of his feelings, but also because your father had a history of using his fists to settle matters. If he even suspected a fraction of what Joel's mind was consumed with regarding his daughter... Well, Joel would never be allowed in your home, with your dad likely ensuring Joel carried a permanent reminder of his displeasure.

Despite his reluctance to keep secrets from his lifelong friend, Joel's motivation to act stems from a burning need that is beyond his mere desire to reunite with you.

He doesn't just want to see you again; he craves it with a fervor that borders on desperation. And the only way to satisfy this yearning is to summon the courage to ask for more.

Reconnecting with your dad was pleasant, but the sight of you, standing in the doorway of the home office, unleashes a torrent of emotions within Joel. It's as though he's been trapped in a deep freeze for the past six months, and your mere presence ignites a firestorm within him.

Every curve of your silhouette, every strand of hair framing your face, fuels Joel's desire until it simmers beyond control, all for you.

As you watched him, his gaze never wavered from your presence, taking in the way your chest rose and fell with each breath. He was grateful for the chair that supported him, as he felt the insanely hard erection you gave him.

Your natural grace and beauty had left him breathless, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

All from just being yourself. All without you even trying to do anything. 

You really are just fucking perfect in every way.

You're now an adult, poised to embrace all the challenges and pleasures that adulthood entails. The mere thought sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you once more, evoking memories of his touch on that unforgettable graduation day.

The intoxicating blend of his woodsy cologne, the creak of his well-worn leather jacket, and the soft fabric of his grey tee shirt against your skin linger in your mind, igniting a longing for more.

The sensation that floods Joel as he lays eyes on you in person after so long defies description.

It takes all his willpower to resist the impulse to stride over and scoop you up, succumbing to the overwhelming desire to claim you as his own and to drag you into your bedroom. But he restrains himself, clinging to the last shreds of his resolve, waiting for any sign from you that you're ready for his embrace.

When your gaze meets his, he witnesses the hitch in your breath, and he can't help but murmur, "Come here, sweetheart." Your response is like a magnetic pull, drawing you into his strong, steadfast arms. As you melt into his embrace, he's struck by the sense of finally being home. You are his home now.

Joel inhales the sweet fragrance of your hair, longing to whisper countless sentiments into your perfect little ear nestled so close to his mouth.

But all he can muster, without risking scaring you away, is a simple declaration in his southern drawl, "I missed you, my little buttercup."

You bury your face into his checkered flannel, your words muffled against his shirt as you confess, "I missed you too, Joel."

Your body instinctively gravitates towards his, fueled by both necessity and reflex. The memory of his last embrace has haunted your thoughts for the past six months, and as his massive, comforting arms envelop you once more, it feels as though you're picking up right where you left off. He feels even better than you remembered, and the mingling scents of his cologne and freshly laundered clothes stir a desire within you to cling to him forever.

Reluctantly, he releases you from the hug, clearing his throat as you take a small step back, managing to squeak out, “Do you want a cup of coffee before you get settled in your new house? You look kinda tired.”

“Sure,” Joel nods, and you sense him hovering behind you as you descend the staircase and enter the kitchen. You can feel his eyes tracing your movements from behind.

You busy yourself preparing the coffee as Joel sets his things down, knowing it'll provide the perfect opportunity to sit down and have a proper conversation.

As Joel takes a seat at the table, his gaze remains fixed on your curves as you move around the kitchen. In that moment, he realizes there's no way he can stay in this house for more than an hour, without confessing his feelings to you.

“You got a boyfriend?”

The sudden question nearly causes you to spill hot water all over your hand, and you freeze, feeling a slight tremble coursing through you.

“Well?” Joel's deep voice sends shivers down your spine, as if you're caught in the midst of the most exhilarating earthquake imaginable. Your mouth hangs open, unsure of how to respond.

“Boyfriend or not?” he repeats, his tone commanding. “Not,” you answer instantly, not minding the question one bit, especially when you see its effect on Joel.

“Good. Perfect,” he rumbles in a low tone.

Turning back to the kitchen counter, the clinking of ceramic cups fills the room, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as the heat spreads throughout your body and to the tips of your ears.

“Cream and sugar?” you ask, turning your head just long enough to inquire.

The sight of your body shifting under your clothes already ignites fantasies in Joel's mind, imagining all the ways he could pleasure you, even right there on your dad's kitchen floor if you desired.

“Joel?” you prompt, breaking him out of his daydream.

“Uh… Sure. Cream and sugar,” he echoes, noticing your continued blush and slight trembling as you prepare the cups. As you approach him with the coffee, the sudden sound of your dad's voice startles you, causing you to drop one cup, which shatters on the floor.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asks, concern etched on his face as he rushes to the sink to run cold water over the affected area.

"I'm fine, Dad. Really," you reply, trying to hide your embarrassment.

"I thought you were gone," you add, unable to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

"I just forgot something. I came back to get it," your father explains, his eyes darting nervously between you and Joel.

Your father's gaze is fixed on Joel, his eyes narrowing as he takes in Joel's obvious concern for you. Anyone could see the way Joel feels about you, and your father's disapproval is palpable.

But you're not a child anymore, and you're tired of your father's disapproval. "Dad, I'm fine. You just startled me, that's all. Why do you always have to sneak up on me like that?" you ask, trying to keep the anger out of your voice.

Joel opens his mouth to speak, but the words don't come. He sighs and shakes his head, gathering the pieces of the broken cup and tossing them in the trash on his way out. The sound of his car speeding away speaks volumes.

"Maybe I should go," Joel suggests, but you wave off his concern.

"Don't worry about my dad. He's been weird ever since I graduated from college," you say, dismissing his concerns.

But Joel knows that your father's suspicions go back further than just this morning. He moves to help you clean up the mess on the floor, ignoring the broken glass and coffee spill. Gently, he takes your hand in his, wincing at the stinging and burn.

"Let's get this under some cold water," he says, leading you to the sink. You lean back against him as he guides your hand under the icy flow, your body yielding to his touch.

"Feel better?" he asks, his voice low and soothing. You nod, leaning into him as the cold water soothes your burn.

Joel's heart races as he holds you, feeling your warmth against him. He knows that your father doesn't approve of him, but he can't help how he feels. He's fallen for you, hard, and he's not going to let your father's disapproval get in the way.

"It feels better now," you whisper, your breath sending shivers down Joel's spine. He moves closer to you, feeling the pressure of your back against his aching cock.

"I can't help but notice how your body is responding to mine," Joel says, his voice low and husky.

"Should we start over?" he asks, leaning down so his mouth is close to your ear.

"You mean with the coffee?" you ask, playing coy. But your body is telling a different story.

"I mean starting over without your dad around," Joel clarifies, moving his hand to stroke the back of your neck.

You turn to face him, looking up into his deep brown eyes. "Just stay," you say, biting your lip.

Joel nods, his hands resting on your hips. "I'm not going anywhere, darlin'," he promises. "I'll be right next door, whenever you need me."

You stand there, close enough to kiss, but Joel holds back. He wants to savor this moment, to make it last.

"I meant what I said that day you graduated," Joel whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. "You feel so fucking good."

His words send a jolt of electricity through your body. You feel his arousal pressing against your back, and he grips your hips, pulling you closer.

You plead with Joel to stay, not just because of how the morning has unfolded but because deep down, you need him by your side.

The words you long to say to Joel linger on the tip of your tongue, but the rush of emotions leaves you speechless. Your heart races as you grapple with the intensity of your feelings, unsure of how to express them.

As you run your hand under the cold water, trying to steady your nerves, you suggest preparing the spare room as a distraction. Anything to divert your thoughts and feelings that are swirling inside you.

The tension between you and Joel crackles in the air, the unspoken desire palpable. His longing mirrors your own, creating a charged atmosphere that leaves you both on edge.

"Is your hand goin' to be okay?" Joel's voice is laced with concern as he looks at you, and you nod in response.

"It's just a minor burn from the coffee," you murmur, trying to focus on the task.

"Shall I make us more coffee?" Joel offers, already cleaning up the mess on the floor. But your attention is drawn to the undeniable presence pressing against your back, sending a rush of sensations through you.

Your heart races as you realize the extent of Joel's desire, his arousal evident in every inch of his being.

"I'm not tired," Joel says, his voice low and intimate as he picks up the broken pieces of the mug.

"And I meant what I said earlier," he adds, his tone dropping to a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

The intensity of the moment overwhelms you, making it hard to focus on anything else. You should feel embarrassed, and remind him of boundaries, but the magnetic pull between you is undeniable.

"What did you mean?" you ask, a hint of defiance in your voice, craving his words like a drug.

His lips curl into a knowing smile as he repeats his earlier statement, his gaze lingering on you suggestively.

"You feel so good," Joel says, his words sending a surge of heat through you, your cheeks flushing with desire.

"Is that why you came back?" you inquire, emboldened by the charged atmosphere between you.

"What do you think?" Joel replies, closing the distance between you, the space crackling with unspoken promises and desires.

You feel trapped, torn between your desires and the weight of your past.

Your hands tremble as you press them against Joel's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. You slide your fingers down, curling around a button on his flannel shirt.

"My dad, for Sarah," you croak, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath your touch.

"I didn't come back to town just to see your dad," he says, his voice low and steady. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable either."

He pauses, taking another deep breath before he continues. "What I mean is, what I'm tryin’ to ask you, is could you have feelings for an older man? A man like me, maybe?"

His eyes bore into yours, a half-smile playing at the corners of his lips. You know what he's asking, and your heart races at the thought of giving in to your desires.

"I want to hear it from your lips," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine.

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "I like you a lot, Joel," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel pauses, his eyes never leaving yours. "But?" he prompts, giving you an out if you need it.

You look up at Joel, your eyes pleading with him to make the decision for you. But there's no hesitation in his gaze. He leans in, pressing his warm lips against your hand, and you feel a jolt of electricity shoot through your body.

"Does it feel like this?" he asks, his voice low and husky. You nod, unable to find the words to describe the heat that's building inside you.

"Do you really want me, darlin'?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You moan, unable to contain your desire any longer.

"Yes," you gasp, your voice barely audible. "Yes, I want you."

Joel growls, a low, primal sound that sends shivers down your spine. He presses your hand against his stiff erection, and you can feel the heat and hardness of him through his jeans.

You trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, forgetting all about the burn on your hand, the hot coffee, and even your dad and his house. All that matters is the feel of Joel's body against yours, the heat and hardness of him that you've longed for since graduation day.

"Then come here," he growls, leaning down further and taking your face in his palm. You shudder one last breath of uncertainty before the warmth of his mouth over yours means neither of you will ever have to ask that question again.

Joel's lips are soft and tender, but his kiss is urgent and demanding. You feel yourself melting into him, your body responding to his touch with a hunger you've never felt before.

His hands roam your body, exploring every curve and contour, as if he's been waiting for this moment for years. You respond in kind, your hands tugging at his flannel shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

The heat between you builds, until you're both panting and gasping for breath. Joel's hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you dizzy with desire.

Joel can't help himself as he lifts you up and sets you down on the kitchen counter, your legs wrapped around him as he devours your mouth with his own. His hands roam your body, feeling the curves and contours of your figure as if for the first time.

You respond eagerly, your hands tangled in his hair as you deepen the kiss. Joel's touch sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel yourself growing wet with desire.

Joel's hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that make you gasp with pleasure. You arch your back, pressing yourself against him as you feel his hardness against your thigh.

He makes you purr and moan, fulfilling every fantasy you've ever had. Your hands move down to his throbbing cock, gripping and squeezing him through his denim, but you both know this is just the beginning.

Joel has already crossed the line he set for himself, unable to resist the pull between you. He wants more than just a physical connection; he wants all of you, your heart, your soul, your everything.

He envisions a future with you, a life where you're by his side, where you're free to be yourself, to indulge in every desire and dream. He wants to give you a home, a place where you can be truly happy, where the two of you can explore each other endlessly.

As you catch your breath, Joel eases his hold on you, sensing the need for a moment of clarity. Your smile and the flush in your cheeks speak volumes, reassuring him that you're on the same page.

"Holy shit," you exclaim, breathless and exhilarated. Your hands rest on his chest, feeling the strength and warmth of him beneath your touch.

Joel exhales slowly, realizing he may have moved too quickly for you. "Too much, darlin'?" he asks with a chuckle, relieved when you giggle and nod in agreement.

But he sees the worry in your eyes, the need for understanding and space. You grip his flannel, pulling him close for a quick kiss, your words a mix of desire and uncertainty.

"I want this... I want you, Joel. I do," you confess, your voice filled with longing and hesitation.

"Just... not right now, not like this," you trail off, and Joel finishes your sentence, understanding the need for time and space to process everything.

He lifts you off the counter, noting how light you feel in his arms. He watches you pace the kitchen, a mix of emotions playing across your face. He settles on a stool, giving you the space you need to sort through your thoughts.

"I didn't think you were leading me on, and I didn't mean to be so forward," Joel says, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time, process everythin’ darlin’.”

Joel's phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he knows it's your father. He takes a deep breath and answers the call, trying to sound casual. You've stopped pacing but still look dazed, as if you're trying to process what just happened between us.

"Hey, man," Joel greets, hearing your father's voice from his car, still on his way to the office.

"Joel, I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I guess I'm the one who needs a nap, but I can't afford the time right now," he says, sounding sincere.

Your father has always been honest and upfront, and Joel feels a mix of pride and guilt as he listens to his apology. He knows that your dad will be upset once he finds out about the two of you, but until then, Joel thinks it's best to keep your secret a little longer.

"You don't have to apologize, buddy," Joel says, trying to reassure him. "When do you finish work today?" he asks, already thinking about the time they have left alone together.

More time to take things slow? Joel isn't sure. He wants to savor every moment with you, but he also can't wait to explore every inch of your body.

As your father continues to talk, Joel watches you, his mind filled with thoughts of the two of you together. He knows that things will get complicated soon, but for now, he's happy to be in your presence, to feel your warmth and energy.

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Joel says, ending the call and turning to you. "Are you okay?" he asks, taking a step closer to you.

You nod, still looking dazed, and Joel wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. He knows that the two of you have a lot to talk about, but for now, he's content to hold you, to feel your heart beating against his chest.

The future may be uncertain, but Joel knows one thing for sure - he's never felt this way about anyone before, and he's not about to let you go.

As Joel holds you close, your head resting on his chest, you finally voice the question that's been lingering between you.

"I guess we can't do this sort of thing around my Dad, huh?" you ask, your voice soft against his skin.

Joel strokes your hair gently, his heart full of emotions he never thought he'd feel again. He marvels at how easily and perfectly this moment has unfolded, how right it feels to have you in his arms.

"We probably shouldn't, not yet," Joel replies, his voice tinged with longing. He feels you nod in agreement, and he knows that keeping this secret will be a challenge.

Joel had left town to escape the past, to build a new future for himself and his daughter Sarah. But now, as he returns to the place where it all began, he realizes that his future is intertwined with yours.

He sees a future with you, a life filled with love and possibility. He dreams of a family with you, of building something lasting and meaningful together.

As he holds you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your body against his, Joel knows that this is just the beginning. 

As you and Joel waste no time getting settled in the new house, the air crackles with anticipation. Joel turns the key in the door, and as you step inside, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of desire.

Without a word, you set down his bag, and Joel takes your hand, pulling you close. He lifts you effortlessly, spinning you around in a dizzying whirl of passion and need.

The lock clicks shut, sealing you both in a world of raw desire and longing. The house feels like a sanctuary, a place where only you and Joel exist, at least for the next hour or so.

"Aren't you gonna show me around first? I had no idea the inside was so nice," you giggle, your head spinning from the intensity of his touch and the day's events.

"I thought you might like to show me around... your sweet fuckin’ body," Joel rasps in your ear before claiming your lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. Each touch, each kiss, ignites a fire within you, driving you to the edge of reason.

"You tell me if it gets too much, alright darlin'?" Joel murmurs between kisses, his strong arms wrapped around you. You nod eagerly, your body craving his touch, his presence.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, you gravitate towards the nearest soft surface, a luxurious leather sofa in the living room. Joel stops in front of it, but you're consumed by the need for him, the hunger for his touch.

You try to nod, talk, and kiss him all at once, but the overwhelming desire he stirs in you leaves you breathless and unable to form coherent words. "Yeah... fuck... yes, I will," you pant, your body arching into his touch as he explores every inch of you.

Joel lowers you onto the couch, his eyes fixed on you with a hunger that matches your own. He drops to his knees in front of you, parting your legs with a firm grip, his gaze locked on your body with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna eat your little pussy, make you come until you beg me to stop,” he says in a firm tone.

His hands move with purpose, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you. You gasp and groan as he explores every inch of you, his fingers and tongue setting your body ablaze with pleasure.

As he delves deeper, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony, you feel a wave of pleasure building within you, each touch pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

You writhe and moan under his touch, your body responding to his every move with a hunger that matches his own. The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure, the air thick with desire and need.

His elbows prop your knees wide, and half-reclined on the worn leather, you can't help but feel a thrill at the sensations coursing through your body.

The scent of old leather and his cologne mingles with the musk of your arousal, creating a heady mix that only heightens your desire. You're ready for Joel, and you know it won't take long for him to bring you to the edge.

With a rough yank, he tears your panties aside, the sound of fabric rending adding to your arousal. You never knew you could feel this horny, and every moment with Joel only intensifies your desire.

He takes a moment to admire your slick folds, his thick fingers gently parting your lips. You grip his silver-flecked curls tighter as he moves down to taste you, your body trembling with anticipation.

Your moans fill the room, mingling with Joel's deep groans of pleasure. His tongue finds its mark, and you can't help but cry out, your body writhing under his touch.

Joel's mouth covers you completely, his tongue replacing his fingers as he explores every inch of your sex. You're on the brink of climax, your body trembling with need.

"Be patient, darlin'," Joel whispers hoarsely, his voice filled with desire. He grips your thighs, pushing them wider apart until his massive head is pressed between them.

You shift your grip to his broad shoulders, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Joel... Joel," you moan, trying to tell him how close you are, how much you want him. But all that comes out are animalistic sounds of pleasure.

Joel's body quakes with silent laughter, his voice deep and reassuring as he promises you can come all night. You trace the outline of his jaw, your body trembling with need as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

If heaven exists, you're sure you've found it in Joel's arms.

AN: I'm such a fool to think that this would be a one-shot... ya'll this is now a mini-series. Don't worry... this will be a two to three-chapter kinda series. 🤍

[yunniestars]

☆ pairing: lyney x gn!reader ☆ tags: friends to lovers, confessions, lyney is whipped and lynette is done

when lyney has a crush he’s either flirty or extremely shy

like he just has the urge to be bold and LOVES using pickup lines and magic tricks to fluster you because he loves seeing you get all shy

though when he’s on the receiving end, usually he fights back

but if it’s his crush he goes all giggly and feels like he’s going to explode

like he could literally just burst

he tries hard to hide it but fails miserably because he just cant contain himself if he’s around you

sometimes he’d ask you if you’re free just so he can be with you, and treats you as if you two were on a date (but he brushes it off as a ‘friendly gesture’)

when lyney likes someone he likes to give them something that reminds him of them

for instance, he once gave you a lakelight lily because its elegance reminded him of you

“it’s as serene and ethereal as you, m’lady” he says as he goes on one knee and give it to you

whenever you two go out alone he loves the time being spent with you because he gets to learn more details about you that you never mention and is seen within your actions

“this is their favorite color, their favorite flower, favorite food… oh and this is the kind of shoes they wear…” he says to lynette, who just feels done with him.

but even if she wants to bonk his head when he yaps about you, she helps set you two up alongside freminet

even father knows

so the day that lyney confesses to you, they made sure to set everything up so it can be simple yet romantic enough

he confessed to you on the beach near poisson, with a dinner table and everything, including scattered rainbow roses and lanterns that lynette and freminet crafted, alongside the candles father lit up

when lyney confesses to you, he fumbles a bit on his words since he’s not used to heart-to-heart conversations like this, becoming extremely open and quite vulnerable

he was afraid of rejection but deep inside he couldn’t contain the feelings he had for you, so he held as long as he could until finally deciding to reveal the love he has in store for you

imagine how over the moon he was when you told him that feelings he had were reciprocrated

he felt like all those nights overthinkng whether you loved him back or not finally had answered thoughts

he gave you the longest hug and the sweetest kiss on the lips, staring at your eyes like you were the most precious jewel he could ever hold.

“i can't believe you’re all mine now, mon ange.”

[ written with love, yunniestars. ෆ ]

a/n: hi hello! thank u for reading my first work here, i hope it was enjoyable even just a little bit. i appreciate that u read it !! ෆ

[howlsofbloodhounds]

(I usually ask anonymously because I'm shy asf but I wanted to ask non-anonymously because I don't think anons get notified when their ask gets answered.)

I feel like you know enough about Killer to tell me If this sounds solid or if it's dogwater. (Also to know if this idea had already existed or not sksksk). Please tell me if I made any mistakes, though! My brain is kinda fried lately and I had the strong urge to yap :'D

So I think it has been established that Killer's bones are constantly melting due to the high amounts of determination inside of him, and he'll eventually melt away and die. I think it is also mentioned somewhere that Color promises to find a way to 'fix' his soul?

I think the viable solution would be the Determination (DT) Extractor machine. In the Undertale game, in Alphys's True Lab we see the DT Extractor machine, it is used to extract DT from the human souls to be later injected into monster bodies. I wonder if we hypothetically can use this to solve Killer's perpetually melting problem? Has anyone thought of it?

(I do think there's some sort of like Sans fights animation where Killer is thrown to the DT Extractor in the middle of battle and he loses his DT. But my memory is fuzzy...)

Thank you, have a nice day (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

I suppose that’s an option they could try, especially since Color said he knows a guy and perhaps he meant his AU’s Gaster, but would it work, and would it work without killing him or grievously injuring him? Is killer willing to risk the possibility of being changed yet again.

Would it do anything to his code? That’s changed now too.

He’s arguably spent more time with DT as apart of his being than without it. Is it just a part of him now?

It invaded his soul like a parasite, perhaps it’d be hard to remove at all (almost like it doesn’t want to be removed) (stage 4 is described as pure Determination. perhaps in a way its also like rejecting 4.) and any intense pain and trapped feelings would provoke stage 3 into instinctively fighting back and trying to survive.

which is ironic, considering how 3 could remember the feeling of invasion and wants the invading parasite out.

Perhaps killer’s biggest struggle in trying to ‘fix’ himself is himself. And instead he should focus on trying to heal and recover.

I imagine it’d be a strange feeling. watching your body struggle and fight against something you wanted and willingly agreed to, as if it doesnt understand that this was going to (supposed to) help.

maybe they make or find a smaller syringe like version to slowly take out and remove small amounts in certain times of the day, if only to prevent more damage on his body and further slow down the melting and rotting.

I’d imagine this would not only bring up trauma around his soul and people touching it or injecting/extracting things in and from it; but may also bring up a whole lot of concerns about becoming weaker, unable to protect himself and worries about having to rely on someone else.

Not only do i still feel like 3-4 would cause rather violent resistance against the idea of extraction DT (one instinctual, the other because it means losing connections to chara/the player and failing the deal), and 2 wouldnt want it for the mentioned above.

1 likely would, even if it kills him and especially if it weakens him (he’s accepted death a long time ago, it’s the final rest for him, and losing DT just means freedom and less pain and less suffering for others and him he thinks), while 2 may bury his wants deep down and go along with it if it seems to make Color happy.

But of course, if Killer doesn’t seem fully on board and enthusiastic about it, Color’s not going to make him.

{ @dseval }

[plusultraetc]

for the dvd commentary meme: show me where to find the silver lining, from:

“It could be broken,” Aizawa says.

to:

“Recovery Girl,” he says. “Now.”

Tysm for sending an ask!! You are so good at picking out like. the FIRST scene I wrote in a fic omg (I went back to at least Draft 2 and this scene remained almost entirely unchanged for the 14-ish months I was making tiny, picky edits to this fic!)

also I am stealing your & @blinkeasy's format for these, whoops <3

“It could be broken,” Aizawa says. Because you landed on it like an idiot, he doesn’t need to point out. “You’re not doing yourself any favors waiting for it to start swelling.” He tilts his head a little more and Hitoshi fights the juvenile urge to hold the injury away from him. “Scratch that. It is swelling. We’re going to see Recovery Girl.” “What?” Hitoshi gapes as Aizawa stands. “I don’t need to see Recovery Girl.” When his mentor only looks at him, one eyebrow raised, he says, “I don’t. I just leaned on it too hard, but it doesn’t even hurt now.”

First thing that comes to mind here is that I worried a lot about Shinsou's characterization in this fic being inconsistent with the rest of the expansion pack--too outwardly expressive, and somewhat childish. We've seen Shinsou in pain & beating himself up before, and most of the time he gets quiet, which is... kind of the opposite of what he does in this section, and more in line with his behavior later in the fic. But in the end, I let him have a moment because 1) he did just literally break his wrist, and the surprise is both somewhat masking the pain and making him act out a little; and 2) he is sixteen lol. He's also a lot harsher on himself in this one than he is in almost* any other fic I've written from his POV, for reasons I will inevitably yap about in a moment.

*I say almost because I have another all-but-finished Shinsou fic hanging out in my docs in which he confronts the relationship between his quirk and other people more directly and 😬

This lie very clearly doesn’t go over as smoothly. “It’s swelling,” Aizawa repeats flatly. “Sprains swell.” “It’s red.” Hitoshi looks back at his wrist, which is actually inflating kind of fast and is most definitely a specific shade of early-bruising red. There is a chance, however slim, that Recovery Girl should look at it. But—

Skip this little paragraph to avoid a kind of gross fact!! I chose the word "inflating" here based very much on a real injury I witnessed (everyone was ultimately okay, obv, it was just kind of freaky to see in real time)

"There is a chance, however slim, that Recovery Girl should look at it" makes me laugh every time I read it. I love referencing memes in Shinsou's internal monologue specifically, although I do sometimes fear the ones I choose are too dated for someone his age. Then again, MHA is set in sci-fi superhero future Japan, so I try not to worry too much about whether or not my memes are accurate lol

“I can go after training.” Aizawa’s expression flattens with one of those hard-to-read emotions, but in this case it might be a close neighbor of exasperation. “I’m letting you go early today,” he says, and Hitoshi’s heart sinks. “Therefore it is now after training. Get up.” “I can keep working,” he insists. He casts around for an argument that isn’t I bet you don’t send people like Midoriya to Recovery Girl in the middle of class because they fell down, even though what he wants to say is I bet you don’t send people like Midoriya to Recovery Girl in the middle of class because they fell down, or maybe I’m not made of glass just because I’m not in the Hero Course yet and I thought that’s why you agreed to train me, so what gives? “I can still move my fingers. It’s not broken.”  

Okay I actually love the Midoriya comparison in this paragraph so much. I've talked about this before, but I really enjoy his & Shinsou's dynamic--as mirror characters, as occasional rivals, and eventually, as friends. At this point, Midoriya is very much the bar Shinsou measures his Hero Course aspirations against after Midoriya knocked him out of the Sports Festival tournament, which is ironic, because they have more in common than Shinsou could possibly know. (This is another reason that I find it incredibly funny when they see each other again at the joint training exercise and are both immediately like REMATCH REMATCH REMATCH.)

I also love the Midoriya mention bc like. Early on in the series, Aizawa spent a lot of time telling Midoriya to stop breaking his own bones and trying to discourage him from relying on that 'strategy.' Shinsou says 'why can Midoriya break his arm and keep training >:(' and Aizawa replies 'my quirk was literally introduced in a scene in which I stopped him from doing that, try again'

(I feel like Aizawa has strong but complicated opinions about training with, or to the point of, physical injury. For no reason. Something something experience, something something necessity.)

Aizawa eyes Hitoshi’s wrist skeptically. “If it’s hurting you, it doesn’t matter if it’s not broken.” “I can still train.” Even to his own ears, he’s sounding a little hysterical. Logical, he reminds himself. Aizawa likes logical. He tamps down on his rising panic and a surprising, irrational flare of anger, and tries a different tack. “What if I get hurt on patrol when I’m a pro? Or in a fight? I’m going to need to learn to work around it.”

The key word for me in this section is 'surprising.' Shinsou doesn't really know why he's lashing out at Aizawa right now; he's aware, of course, that tensions have been running high at UA and beyond since the training camp disaster, the Kamino Incident, and All Might's retirement, but it's really hard in the moment to realize just how much that background anxiety is influencing his day-to-day thoughts and feelings. I talked about this a little in the end notes, but I really wanted to touch on that subtle, end-of-an-era anxiety in this fic, although I go back and forth on how effective I was at doing so.

It also feels relevant to mention that, in the wake of the All Might vs AFO fight & in spite of Aizawa's later comment about pain and injury being more temporary than ever due to quirks like Recovery Girl's, Shinsou's mind immediately goes to the idea of getting hurt and having no choice but to keep going, keep fighting, anyway.

Aizawa’s eyes narrow, his mouth a thin line. “You’re not a pro hero right now,” he says, a note of steel in his voice. “You’re a student—my student.” “Yeah, well,” Hitoshi says, clipped. “Your students get hurt all the time.” The words surprise him almost as much as they surprise Aizawa. Unnervingly, Hitoshi sees his surprise—a flicker across his face, fleeting but obvious in a way that’s almost uncomfortable. The regret hits him like a bus, flattens his own anger beneath its metaphorical tires, but it’s too late. Aizawa’s expression closes down faster than UA’s security wall when someone trips the alarm.

I REALLY LOVE THE UA SECURITY WALL METAPHOR. It's one of those things that I think both sets the tone & utilizes the setting at once--like, the first 'very fast thing' that this teenager would think of is the big metal wall that can spring up around his school at any given moment, just in case villains attack them. Again.

Also: surprised Pikachu Aizawa. I actually reblogged a post a couple days ago that featured surprised Aizawa dot gif, which is like. Kinda close to the expression I was picturing here lol. I feel like the key word 'surprising' thing applies here as well--Aizawa and Shinsou have settled into a certain rapport since they started training together, and this is definitely an out-of-character outburst that just so happens to relate to the thing Aizawa has definitely been beating himself up over for weeks, if not months. Fortunately, as Aizawa teaches teenagers, he's also pretty used to their outbursts.

“I didn’t mean—” he starts, but Aizawa cuts him off. “Recovery Girl,” he says. “Now.”

Shinsou very much interprets Aizawa's shortness here as anger, but really, this is the Let Aizawa Rest fic. We've talked before about how USJ and the training camp are like, Aizawa's worst fears made real, and now this man is just a big ball of exhaustion and validated paranoia dragging himself from life-and-death responsibility to life-and-death responsibility. Not only do I not really see him taking offense to what Shinsou said, but even if he did, he just. Doesn't have the energy to. The kid is right, after all :(

[idontplaytrack]

hii um idrk how this works (milenial core) anyway I'd like to request a fic w Janis bc she's actually the love of my life. I'm at like a really low point in my mental health so I need some comfort with fictional people. So maybe you could do like reader is just really exhausted and just needs like comfort and Janis isn't good at it but tries her best?! idk I'm just yapping. Also I love your work!💕

Where you lead, I will follow

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader

Warnings: coarse language, stress, anxiety, low moods, fluff

“All you have to do is call my name, and I'll be there on the next train”

— Where You Lead, Carole King

“Hey, darling. What’s up?” Janis held her phone between her ear and shoulder, busy putting away her paintbrushes and other art supplies after working on a painting for the last two hours.

“Um…” You hesitated, “Nothing, it’s fine.”

Janis heard something in your voice that instantly worried her. “Babe, not nothing. Please, you can talk to me about anything.” Janis fought the urge to sigh, fingertips tapping her thigh anxiously.

“Are— are you at home?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

She heard the dial tone. You had hung up. She texts you to ask if you were okay and if you wanted her to pick you up. You didn’t respond. But a couple minutes later, Janis hears a hurried string of knocks on her garage door. She runs over to open it and you entered immediately. “Hey, hey. Breathe. It’s okay.” Janis soothed, placing a tentative hand on your shoulder. “Breathe, in and out, y/n. Please? Can you do that for me?”

Slowly, you began to follow her breathing exercise which gradually helped your breathing even out.

You walked past her and sat on her bed, “Can I stay here tonight, please? I don’t want to be at home because my mom and dad are fighting and they’ve been doing that all week. And I’m just so tired of hearing their yelling, having to mediate their arguments…I’m— I just want one night of peace and quiet so I can actually rest instead of stair at my ceiling hoping neither of them will smash something or yell again.”

She plops down beside you, somewhat looking at the floor. You knew it was hard for her to comfort anyone, but she always tried her best. She always did. Even her presence was enough to comfort you and make you feel at ease.

Janis replied, “You can stay for as long as you want to stay, I love having you here. I’m glad…you feel safe here. That’s what I’m here for, I’m here for you, I’m here to help you, protect you, y/n. Because I love you, babe.”

She held her hand out, it was hovering over your back. Janis wasn’t great with showing affection because she had her own…stuff she was dealing with— thanks to a specific incident in middle school involving the one and only Regina George. Her trouble with showing affection was only one of the results of that whole bullying that took place at the time. When she shared that with you, you were appalled by what the blonde did. Not to mention absolutely furious. A few seconds later, you did feel her palm on your upper back, rubbing soothing circles over an area of it.

“Get some sleep, kay?”

You nodded, crawling upwards to the head of the bed and under the covers, “Thanks.”

“Have you had anything to eat?” She asked, moving up a little to join you.

“No, not hungry.”

“Babe.” She sighs. “You need to eat something, come on.”

Well, you were a little hungry. Lunch was no doubt chaotic. So you abandoned your meal halfway through and just cooped yourself up in your room until you couldn’t take it and came over here to Janis’.

“I’ll go make you something to eat. You just stay here and rest.” Janis patted your knee and got up out of bed.

Like she had told you to, you just laid there and shut your eyes. You managed to get some shut-eye until you felt her shake you awake, gently.

“Here, I made you a sandwich and a camomile tea.” She says, handing you the plate and leaving the mug on her nightstand.

“Thanks.” You told her softly. She’d made you your favourite sandwich. That was nice.

Janis smiles, patting your knee before her hand settled on it, caressing your thigh comfortingly. “Wanna watch some TV while you eat?”

“Okay.” You agreed.

She sat with you while you finished up your food. It was silent apart from the sounds from the TV, but comfortable. You absolutely did not mind it. You put the plate down on the nightstand after eating and just laid down. “Good night, babe.” Janis rubs your back briefly then leaned down to press a kiss to your head.

“I love you.” You told her before you drifted off to sleep.

Seconds later, causing you to be pleasantly surprised, Janis replies, “I love you too.”

🏷️ Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

Thank you so much for the request, hun. Sending you all the good vibes & the biggest hug <3 sorry it was a little short.

[anyalovesu]

necessary reminders:

angst!!! contains smut towards the end.

mentions breeding ( jas has an iud lol )

mentions of safeword ( not used ), nicknames ( pretty, slut )

bas2s bawal sa bata hehehe

NOT PROOFREAD!!

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆.✧˚ eight ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆.✧˚

The two of them sat there, in one of Sunday Vine’s back rooms that Tobi managed to book through Bella, behind Jacynthe’s back. The silence was deafening. By now, Jas has already made up a five minute speech reprimanding Tobi for what he did and for hurting her feelings in the process, but all that seemed to be thrown out the window once she arrived in the restaurant. 

Tobi wasn’t any better. He had all of it written on his phone’s notes and even took the time to practice what he had to say in front of his bathroom mirror before he left his home. Now all of it seemed cliche. Anything planned didn’t seem like the both of them anyway. Nothing they ever did was ever planned—which in hindsight what got them so drawn to each other in the first place. 

The impulsivity and devilish thrill of it all, somehow made them stay no matter how hard the feelings were to deal with. There was no other feeling of comfort in the chaos and uncertainty, and it felt good. And it’s one thing the both of them agree on: it feels wrong to replace something good with something right.

At the end of the day, they were id driven adults just trying to cope with how life made them feel. In the midst of it all, the lust ended up turning into something else stronger than they knew how to handle, leading them to where they are right now.

In silence after their entire dinner.

Avoiding each other’s gaze.

Not knowing what to say.

Not knowing what to do next.

“How was the weather in New York?” he blurted out, after they were done with their full course meal.

Stupid ass question. Jas thought. “I don’t know, I’m back in QC.”

The cold tone of Jas’s response sent chills down his entire spine as he slowly began to doubt if everything was as dealt with as his mom promised. God, he wanted to run away and just accept that it’s going to be this fucked up for the rest of his life. That this was unfixable, and Jas will slip away from him. It would be easier.

“How was your flight?”

“Good,” Jas replied, starting to get annoyed by how long he has been stalling already. “You know what, kung hindi lang rin ako ang kakamustahin mo—”

“I should just leave, right?” Tobi was ready to bolt, tell his mom how he is a big disappointment and he always will be. Years of trying to build his ego and confidence, yet here he is again. Back to square one. Letting the girl slip away because he was a coward and was too afraid to step forward and actually do something.

Tobi was ready to go, but he stood there frozen when Jas’ cold tone broke, making bile rise to his throat as he finally looked at her, finding that she was already staring at him, eyes pooling with tears..

“Walk out and all of this will be done for, Tobias,” she mumbles. “Hindi na kita tatanggapin uli. Wala ka nang maririnig sa akin. It’s either you stay and talk about what the fuck is happening or you walk out like the coward you are and will always be.”

Tobi just stood there, fighting the urge to just pounce on her and kiss that pretty mouth that always has something to say. He loved that pretty mouth so much and the mind that dictates what it had to say. God, he loves her. He is in love with her and every fiber of her being. He was an ass for even stepping close to Kashi—but being around her made him realize how much he loved Jas and he would only be merely a shell of a man without Jacynthe. 

2 weeks without her made him realize how dull life is without Jas yapping his ears out. Life would be dull without Jas. It would be sad and colorless. Goddamn it. Would it even be worth living? 

“I don’t want to go,” he murmurs, shamefully. No. He promised to stay this time. He’s not going to break that. “I don’t know what to do. Hindi ko alam kung paano ka mamahalin, Jacynthe but I don’t want to walk out.”

“Then stay,” she says simply as she stands up from her seat and moves over to where Tobi stood.

“Figure this out with me,” she hums, reaching for his face, caressing it, making hi, look directly at her honey-filled eyes.  Oh did he love looking at those eyes. “Stay with me, Tobi.”

“Teach me how to love you, pretty,” he breaks down, hands reaching to wrap around her torso as his head falls down on her shoulder. “Ayokong mawala ka sa akin.”

“Stay,” she repeats. “Follow through your promise na hindi mo ako iiwan. Let’s start with that.”

“Aalis ka rin naman,” he whimpers against her neck as he holds her tighter, as if begging her to stay.

“I never intended to leave, Louis,” she mumbles. 

“Sira ka ba?” He almost looked appalled at what had just slipped out of Jas’ mouth. “You rejected them?”

“No,” she replied. “Ma’am Bia managed to negotiate that I do some work for them but also stay here in QC with 11:59 Records. But that’s for another time, Tobi.”

“What do you mean—I’m confused.”

“Hindi ko kayang sumulat about love when the people I love are halfway across the world from me,” she explained. “It would not make sense.”

“So hindi ka na aalis?”

“Even if I was, if you’re willing to do it, I’m going to make it work with you,” she mumbled quietly. “So I’m asking you once and never again, do you want this to work, Tobi?”

“Fuck yes,” he grinned. The same grin Amina Park had when she admitted her feelings for her son. She remembers her saying that Tobi looked exactly like his father. She hadn’t seen him in a while—for more than a week back then—but seeing him now, she would have to disagree. Amina Park and Tobi had the same grin. That charismatic grin that you can easily distinguish as genuine even from a mile away. 

And just then, Tobi’s lips were pressed against her, all wet and hot, making her insides feel warm as Tobi held her face ever so carefully. “Liligawan kita, okay?” he declares as soon as they pull away. “Liligawan kita. I will introduce myself again to your mom, to your grandparents, to your friends—whatever it is that people do kapag nanliligaw, let me do it.”

“If that is what you want,” Jas smiled at him before bringing her lips over his once again. Which admittedly, caught Tobi off guard. Jas never kissed him. He always kissed Jas and the pretty girl would always kiss back but she never kissed first. And god fucking damn it, was she a good kisser. “I’m all yours, anyway.”

“Yours, Tobi,” she moans against his mouth as he pounds harshly against her, the sound of skin slapping echoing inside of his bedroom. “I’m all yours.” 

Jacynthe lost count of how many times she’s said it from the moment she was pressed against the wall of Tobi’s dim lit bedroom. All of it happened so fast, she was sure them scramming out of Sunday Vine after Tobi had settled the bill would be something they would laugh about if she was not being fucked to oblivion at that very moment.

“Yeah?  My pretty slut, right?” He chuckles darkly as his thumb reaches in between them just right above where they were connected and begins toying with her sensitive nub. “All mine.”

“Too much, lovey,” Jas whimpers, eyes burning with tears as she tried to cover her face, “Too much.”

“You have a safe word, pretty,” he groans next to her ear as he takes both of her legs on both of his shoulders. “You’d use it when it’s really too much, right?”

“Tangina, you’re sucking me in so well, pretty,” he laughs. “You can take more. You’re gonna take more for me, no? You’re gonna take lovey’s cock like the good little slut you are.”

Tobi took his time looking at her pretty fucked out face, trails of tears all over her face, remnants of his own release still stained her cheek which admittedly railed him up even more upon recalling how Jas had given him head and how deep down her throat he was. Fuck.

“Yes,” she babbles, over and over, only the thought of Tobi clouding her mind as she bucks her hips against him, feeling him hit the certain spot inside of her. “Fuck, lovey, right there.”

“You like that, hmm?” Tobi couldn’t help but feel his heart melt all the while Jas was pressed flush against his bed underneath him. Was he trying to be hot? Did he want to fuck the living daylights out of her like he usually would? Or did he want it to be like the last time Jas was pressed against his bed? When he first told her that he wanted to make love?

Fuck it. The only thing Tobi wanted to do right now was to make up for all lost time. Three painfully long weeks was enough, he’s never going to put the both of them through not communicating properly for that long just because he was being a coward and an ass.

“I fucking missed you, pretty,” he thrusts even harder, making Jas let out an unrestrained moan out of pleasure as Tobi undoubtedly kissed her cervix like it was nothing. “I love you so fucking much.”

Tobi pressed yet another passionate kiss on Jacynthe’s lips, groaning as he felt her cunt squeezing him a bit more as she mewled against him. “I can feel you getting close, pretty,” he hissed against her ear, “open your eyes, pretty. Let me see them while you make a mess on me.”

Although hesitant, Jacynthe did end up opening her eyes, meeting Tobias’ dilated eyes, high from all the orgasms they both had since they began fucking. “My beautiful, beautiful Jacynthe.”

Both of their heavy breaths mixed in between the small space in between them, as Jas began to feel the knot in her stomach getting tighter and tighter, “You can do it, pretty. Cum for me.”

It crashed on Jas like a tidal wave as her hips twitched against Tobi’s staggering thrusts as he chased his own high. 

“Lovey,” she pleads, reaching for a handful of Tobi’s hair for some sort of stability to calm herself down but it did not seem useful as Tobi continued thrusting, sending her to overstimulation as if she wasn’t already. “Cum inside, let me have your kids…”

The thought of it makes Tobi snap in a millisecond, pushing himself as deep as he could as he follows through her pleas. God, the thought of having kids with Jas was a wonder within itself. Fuck, he hoped that they would all look like Jas, think like her, and learn how to love as deeply as she always does. He wants them to grow up like Jas. Have good friends, and the support system that she has. God, he loved Jas so much it hurts him to think that there was still a chance that their kids might take up after his godforsaken self. 

“I love you, Louis,” she hums in comfortable silence as Tobi laid on top of her, the both of them still panting. “So fucking much.”

Tobi couldn’t help but grin at the endearment. He wasn’t close with any of his parents, but he recalls very vividly how both of his parents would call him lovingly with that name back when Leon was merely an idea. He loved hearing it. Louis. It brings him back to a time when there was no competition for love and attention, there was only Louis. And he was all that mattered. Like how he feels right now with Jacynthe. 

“You mean the world to me, Jas,” he responds, closing his eyes in contentment as Jas runs her nails against his scalp, scratching it and playing with his hair as they both wait for their highs to subside.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ main post °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[youhavelessproof]

Intro + Blog Info + Commissions + Fics

Intro 🌙

hi I'm Moon. I'm 19 and use he/they pronouns.

idk how to classify my sexuality anymore because I got loud bitches in my brain with varying sexualities but I am polyamorous. (yes I am part of a system. we think it's OSDD1-b but not looking for an official diagnosis.)

diagnosed autistic and ADHD haver. 👍

Blog Info 🦇

General:

this blog is gonna have a mix of NSFW and SFW content so please be an adult if you're actively interacting with me.

this is a Proship blog. just block if you don't like that. for basically any posts about ships I will only tag the ship tags so it's pretty hard to find me if you don't want to see that. that being said, just block and move on if you don't like batcest or proshippers in general. I'm not gonna feed into fights. we can co-exist on the internet without agreeing about fiction.

Ask Box:

the ask box is very open! I'm a yapper and I love yapping with other people! <3 feel free to dump whatever you want in there! stuff about Jaydick, Batcest in general, bottom Dick or Dick in general, really anything! I really don't mind how many asks any one person sends. gives me more opportunities to yap. anon is on!

Writing Commission Information 📝

please DM me on here or Discord if you're interested or have any questions. 🩵

Fics 📖

Nurture or Nature (Jaydick fic with past Brudick exploring Dick's mom/mommy tendencies. full of trauma and angst, but a hopeful ending.)

Puppy Dick (Series) (Jaydick pup play series with lots of feels and eventually smut.)

He Squirms So Pretty (a Brudick fic where Bruce watches Dick get sexually harassed five times and gets off on it + one time he acts on his urges.)

Pregnancy Glow (Omega Dick Week Day 1 where 12-year-old Dick ends up pregnant from an adult Ollie. he's happy with having a pup and is frustrated at how other people pity him.)

Boy Meets Machine (ODW Day 2 set in the Justice Buster universe where Dick gets a heat at 10 because of a drug withdrawal. the Robin AI helps with the mech suit he's controlling.)

Too Pretty (ODW Day 3 where Bruce has been secretly courting a 13-year-old Dick. Dick finds out but before he can run away, Bruce forcefully bonds to him.)

"Let Your Words Release Your Pain, You and I Will Share the Weight" (ODW Day 4 where Dick's instincts are frenzied because he's pregnant. Roy tries to help.)

Friends Definitely Help Friends Through Heats Platonically (ODW Day 5 where Dick was hiding he's an omega until his heat starts on a mission with Wally. Wally helps him out.)

Eggless Nest (ODW Day 6 where Pack Omega Dick cannot get pregnant and this disappointment leads to a false pregnancy.)

Bitching the Mind (ODW Day 7 where Bruce tries to stud Dick and it doesn't work, but it does fuck up Dick's mind to where he has Jason "bitch" him.)

"Room Feels Like a Meat Freezer, I Dangle in it Like Cold Cuts - Missed Calls, Answered Phones from People I Just Don't Trust" (A birthday gift for Mido - Slade shows up at Dick's apartment and manipulates him into sex because Dick has so many issues relating to older men.)

Lightning Rod (For the DC Rarepairs event - Dick/Roy/Wally Rebirth fic about Wally being lost in the Speed Force.)

Snarls and Scratches (A fic for the DGP Halloween event - Dick and Slade being cat shifters that get into a cat fight.)

Robin and the Distracting Panties (A commission for Hex - Dickbin's costume distracts the Fab Five and chaos ensues.)

Dangers in the Depth (A commission for Embers - Garth goes into a rut unbeknownst to him or anyone else and things go wrong when Dick goes to check on him.)

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

Omg,, first time i use the ask and i already gave you a hit idea… only geniuses think alike 💋

No but genuinely you don’t have to thank me, THANK YOUUU!!! For feeding me so well MY GAWD you’re my fav jebiwon writer you always leave me GAGGED.

One the loser note though… imagine purposefully talking to loser!taerae cuuzzzz u know damn well he has a massive crush on you—and you and your homegirls are only doing this to make fun of him later—that’s until you start seeing his physical reactions to when you touch him, like on his shoulder lightly or… when you snuggle a bit closer, and rest your chin on his shoulder to watch him play on his Pokémon gameboy. And you can sense him tense up and his dick slightly twitching

Or loser Matthew who you secretly bond with because you both like some random kids show,, and you only talk to him in private cause you’re embarrassed of being around him lol; and whats so cute is that he doesn’t care cause he gets to giddy that a pretty girl like you is even giving him the time of day 🥺 one day when you ask him to come over so that you guys can watch the new episodes together, you can’t help but tell that he’s been super anxious and clumsy ever since he came into your room,, (bonus points if your bra is hanging somewhere and he’s fighting the urge to sniff it once you’re gone) GIRL. WHOOOO SAID THAT—

I did. Pervy loser matthew all the way ♡ even though i think tae would be a bigger perv then him…

SORRY IM YAPPPPPINNNGG

Can i be bambi anon? Can i also be ur favorite anon? (Not the rizz omg)

😭🩷 thank you!! i’m so glad you enjoy my writing, seriously.

okay i really love both of these scenarios. and i also love perv!zb1, especially in a loser context. having like a private friendship with one of them is such a great idea— and then publicly throwing him under the bus any chance you get. like emotional yo-yoing him so hard he gets whiplash… aaaaagh i have so much brainstorming i wanna do for this!!! (as an intp, i am up for this challenge)

of course you can be bambi 😭 that’s so cute. please feel free to yap whenever you like. also DO NOT rizz me up, it will NOT work (it will absolutely work) 💘 talk soon!!

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Yes or no?

Maria and Martin are in the catwalk, arguing.

"All you're doing here is . . . ."

"Alright, fuck it, here's the deal. Listen, guys."

"Cept fuckin' ME, I guess, but you don't need to bawl at us like we're the floor, awright? How'd you like it if you had to be bawled at by the floor for 17 years? An' yer sittin' the fuck there, chillaxin' like it's no big deal, tossin' yer half-finished metaphors around like they mean nothin'."

"It's Maria, Martin. You too, Miranda. Not the floor."

"Maria. Maria. I'm Maria, like always. Who are you? The Floor? Do you want me to call you Bawled-At-By-The-Floor Maria? You know my name is not Miranda, fuckhead. Call me Maria or shut your fucking yap."

Martin's eyes are glowing a bright, sickly green. On his face is an expression that could be called malevolent, but Maria, after all the fuck-awful shit she's gone through, can no longer muster the full force of fear. The man has his pride -- and his pride is his deathwish. Like an unrestrained virus, it must spread out from his body and find a host in the world, in all of its branching, perverse glory. Like a glutton for punishment, Maria feels no particular urge to fight off this virulent thing that threatens her.

"Maria," Martin says, and his voice sounds not quite like hers, and the reverb that she gets, as the sound bounces and bounces in the tight enclosure of his empty metal head, gets on her nerves.

No, she thinks, I'm not a fucking Nietzschean. I am not like fucking Martin or Miranda, or Chester, or the Floor, or any of this shit. This is not what I want, what I am, and I want it known.

"All you're doing here is killing time. Everyone here is dying. It won't be long before you join us. All you're doing is cheating death, cheating life. Life is a sacred thing. You must live your life, not cheat."

"Fuck's sake, Martin. Fuck's fucking sake. The roof's comin' down, as fucking usual, Miranda's pissed, nothin' new -- are you lookin' for a fuckin' Q&A here, or what? What's with all the speeches? Is it . . . the REVIVAL FESTIVAL TONIGHT?"

Martin grimaces, as though Maria has made a cruel and pointed remark.

"Why are you doing it?" Maria says. "Why are you doing any of it? If you're so sure this will work, if you're sure it'll give us a new chance at life, at a life where you and Miranda and I can be happy together, why are you yelling at us?"

"Because you are not being good to each other," Martin says. "Do you not see that your hatred for one another is as foul as the floor's? You are swallowing the hatred, taking it into your bodies, letting it infect you. Hatred makes you sick, Maria. It kills you."

"How would you know what hatred does, asshole? You never fucking left us, did you?"

"It's Maria," Martin says.

"It's Maria," Miranda says.

Martin makes a sour face. The glow vanishes from his eyes. He is about to go off on Maria again, but Miranda stops him with an instinctive gesture -- a flick of the wrist, and her whole arm swings down hard into the side of her brother's head. There is a loud crack. Martin sways on his feet. He seems drunk.

"Well, don't just leave us hangin' like a fuckin' moose here, ok, we're here, we got a few questions, before we croak, it's good to know what the fuck's going on, y'know, y'want us to croak in peace, sorry, shit, forget it, sorry, forget I said anythin' --"

Martin grabs Miranda's wrist and squeezes. A thin line of blood trickles from her wrist down to her hand. Miranda punches Martin in the face.

[meadowmines]

OC-Tober/Tojoctober Day 24: Friend

[In which Aoyagi is asked to do a special job]

"You can say no to this one," the boss says in that tone of voice that doesn't quite shed the Mad Dog but offers a little peek behind it. "It's gonna be dangerous."

Aoyagi doesn't say anything. He's thinking a whole lot, and fighting the urge to roll his eyes, because they kept having conversations about how dangerous his life was going to be from the second he swore up and, well, none of the doom and gloom the boss was dangling over Aoyagi's head sounded any different from the kind of shit he risked every time he stepped out his front door. Oh, except for the part where he'd have the rest of the family to back him up if the shit came down. That's new.

But he keeps his big mouth shut for once, because the boss is dead serious, and he doesn't do dead serious unless there's a real good reason.

"I want ya to speak up if I'm bein' too hard on yer brother," the boss says. He doesn't have to explain what about that might be dangerous. Aoyagi has seen enough to know.

Most people would probably say no to a job like this. At least, they would if they had two brain cells to rub together and a healthy sense of self-preservation. Aoyagi isn't thinking about that. He's not thinking about how many times he's watched Majima-san haul one of the guys out back to beat the bajeezus out of him. He's not thinking about the significant chance that he himself could end up being one of those guys.

He's thinking about this one night a little over a year ago. The night the boss found him on his hands and knees, filthy and bloody and hopelessly outnumbered, and took care of the situation in exactly the way you would expect Goro Goddamn Majima to. He's thinking about what happened in the hours that followed, about a warm office in the back of a restaurant and a clean blanket around his shoulders and a hot bowl of rice soup that was the first decent meal he'd had in three months and the best goddamn thing he'd ever tasted in his life and the sound of Majima-san's voice while he yapped at someone on the phone about getting some clothes and stuff.

Look, just... think about if you were stranded out in East Bumblefuck with nothin' but the clothes on yer back. Get whatever shit you'd want. ...fuck if I know? He's about yer size?

He's thinking about the guy who showed up a little while later who was, just as Majima-san said, about Aoyagi's size (maybe a few inches taller?) and gave off an aura of utter harmlessness that could even override Aoyagi's justifiable hypervigilance. Who took him back to the family office and showed him the bunk they'd fixed up for him and stood guard outside the door while he showered and changed into some clean clothes. Who helped him into bed and assured him that Majima-san was a little different, that he would definitely make those guys regret being born but he wouldn't kill anyone. Who apologetically helped him out of bed every once in a while because the boss said he needed to walk around a little and drink some water and stuff. Who worried over him while he was recovering and showed him around town once he was feeling better.

They clicked instantly and they've been thick as thieves ever since and there is not a man alive on this Earth Aoyagi would rather call his brother.

So he looks the boss dead in the eye. "Ya really think I'd say no to that? I'd do it even if ya told me not to."

[sceletaflores]

well three’s the only number we know!

pairing: art donaldson x patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: it's probably just the weed hitting you funny, maybe it's the lighting, or the fact that they're both practically naked. you don't know what it is but oh god maybe the girls are right, art and patrick are fucking hot.

—or: things shift between art, patrick, and you.

word count: 4.4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), dry humping kinda, dirty talk, drug use, friends to lovers trope is NOT cringe, patrick going to college instead of going pro cause i said so, slight tashi duncan erasure...she's brought up in conversation but...you guys can still stone me for it, nat not knowing how boarding schools work, porn with WAAAAYY too much plot, no use of y/n, not beta read yell at me if there's any mistakes lmao.

author's note: once again no one asked for this but i had to start writing it as soon as the idea pierced through my frontal cortex. i promise i'll actually write the requests in my inbox i just couldn't get over this hehe it's so dialogue heavy towards the beginning but i love yapping and i need more practice characterizing them anyway lmao okay hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig are your best friends. You’ve known them since you were thirteen and they each punched a guy for lifting up your skirt with his racket at practice once.

You don’t even remember becoming friends with them, after that day they were sort of just always there. Bumping your shoulders in the hallway when they walk past, taking up space in your room when you’re trying to study, cheering embarrassingly loud at your matches, picking you up from practice to drive around in Patrick’s Porsche with the top down every night.

They were, and still are six years later, a constant in your life. They’re so ingrained in your daily routine that you hardly remember your life before you met them, and can’t imagine your life without them in it. They're two six foot, largely obnoxious shadows that you can’t shake.

As the three of you got older, more and more rumors started spreading. You weren’t phased by it, you had no reason to be. Art and Patrick are fiercely loyal, stuck by your side all throughout the “So which one of you is she dating today?” taunts.

You just classified it as petty teenage gossip, thinking it’d just fizzle out once you started college. It didn’t just fizzle out, if anything it actually got worse. You constantly hear the whispers and snickers as you walk around campus, as you sit in your lectures, as you eat lunch in the dining hall. They’re always petty jabs at you, and they’re always fucking stupid.

“Why does she need both of them! Greedy much? God, what a skank…”

“You know they only keep her around cause she totally puts out…”

"I heard she schedules them like appointments. Mondays and Tuesdays with Art, Wednesdays and Thursdays with Patrick, and Fridays are for whoever's lucky..."

"Bet she's got a scoreboard at home, tallying who's ahead in the 'who loves me more' contest…"

“Doesn’t she realize they’re just using her for a good time? How pathetic…”

It really doesn't bother you that much, you even start to think it’s kind of funny. Art and Patrick do not think it’s kind of funny. They scoff and frown at each new comment you relay to them, puffing their chests out all macho man style like they were about to go off and fight everyone on campus for calling you mean names.

“No one talks about our girl like that,” Patrick would say, Art beside him solemnly nodding his head in silent agreement. It’s probably remarks like that one that get people talking in the first place.

You just smile, biting back the urge to tell them that the fierce feelings of ownership and protectiveness they have surrounding you often draws more attention than any bitchy whispers ever could. 

Even the girls on your tennis team give you a hard time, badgering you with question after question of “But they’re so hot! How have you not fucked one of them yet? Come on, you must have at least thought about it…”

It’s more lighthearted coming from them, they don’t really think you’re a tramp or a skank or whatever it is people are calling you behind your back. You roll your eyes every time, telling them to shut up and mind their own damn business.

The truth is you just don’t think about Art and Patrick like that. So what if your relationship is a little different than what other people might consider a “normal” best friend bond. Does that automatically mean you want to jump each other's bones? No. 

Like, Patrick’s just a really physical person, he loves touch. It’s not like he’s sending you “fuck me” signals when he throws an arm around your shoulder as the two of you walk around campus, or when he shoves your feet off the mattress to sit down only to move them right back onto his lap when he’s settled, or when he sits on the floor between your legs when there’s no more room on Tashi’s futon for all four of you. It’s just who he is, he had shitty parents he needs to be validated through touch sometimes.

It’s the same thing with Art’s doting, he just really cares about the people around him. He’s not expecting you to bend over for him every time he massages your sore shoulders after you go too hard during practice, or when he drops to a knee in the middle of the quad to re-tie your shoes after he notices the laces came loose, or when he practically forces you into the hoodie off his back if he even slightly suspects you’re cold. He’s just a nurturing guy, his grandma raised a goddamn gentleman.

It has nothing to do with you. Seriously nothing. They’re still your best friends, closer to you than brothers. You’ve been “their girl” since you were thirteen years old and you weren’t going to ruin it for some one-off, meaningless fuck. 

“They’re just a bunch of jealous assholes,” Patrick commented from where he was perched next to the open window of his and Art’s room, a cigarette dangling from his lips, “They don’t know shit, don't listen to them.”

It’s late, maybe a little after eleven. You snuck into their room after curfew, like you do most nights. You’re technically supposed to be studying for your lab practical in a few days, but Patrick lured you out of your room with a text of ‘WHERE R U??? COME OVER’ followed quickly by ‘WE HAVE GRASS :]’

You were looking for an excuse to stop studying anyway, so you folded easily enough. As soon as you got there you regretted it, Patrick’s texts conveniently left out the fact that their AC was broken and it was absolutely hot as balls in their room. You felt it as soon as Art opened the door to let you in, a wave of heat and humidity spilling out into the hall.

The tiny window was cracked open as far as it could go with the shitty ceiling fan running overdrive in a feeble attempt to let some cool air flow through the room, and so Patrick could smoke without setting off the alarm. 

Patrick and Art were reduced to their boxers, various articles of clothing they were probably wearing earlier strewn all around the room. You were thankful you hadn’t changed before coming over, even the thin tank and shorts you were wearing felt like too much.

“I’m not listening to them,” You repeat for the millionth time, rolling your eyes as you lean back on your hands on the carpet. “I’m just saying, it’s a little hypocritical. Like, why am I always the slut and you guys are the poor souls I’m leading on? What if you guys were the ones taking advantage of me this whole time?”

Art snorts from his spot across you on the floor, shaking his head as he meticulously rolls the second joint of the night. Patrick raises an eyebrow, taking another drag of his cigarette with a smirk. He flicks the butt out the window, walking over to you and Art. “You’re just that irresistible,” He teases, reaching out to tousle your hair affectionately as he passes, "We’re powerless against your charms.”

You laugh dryly, the sound mingling with the lazy hum of the ceiling fan. “Right, my master plan to corrupt you both with my presence is finally starting to work after six years. I should get a medal for my sluttiness.”

Art chuckles softly, lighting the joint with practiced ease before holding it out to you. "If anyone should get a medal, it’s us. Six years of being led astray by your slutty tendencies," he jokes, the words punctuated by a playful nudge against your leg. 

You scoff, but a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You take the joint, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke before releasing it in a slow, steady stream. The familiar sensation starts to seep into your bones, relaxing you despite the oppressive heat. “You guys are such assholes, literally zero help. I knew I should’ve just talked to Tashi, she’s the only normal person I know.”

Patrick joins you and Art on the floor, legs stretched out as he leans back on his palms like you. “Hey, don’t throw me in with him.” Patrick said in mock offense, bringing his hand up to clutch his chest dramatically and nodding his head towards Art. “I’m a saint.”

Art just laughs, shaking his head as he takes the joint from you. “If you’re a saint then I’m the fucking Pope, man.”

The room fills with laughter, the three of you falling into easy conversation as you pass the joint around. The pungent smoke mingles with the already thick air, swirling around in the fan's wind before it filters through the open window. The oppressive heat seems to melt away, replaced by a soothing warmth that always envelopes you when you're around Art and Patrick.

They get lost in their own animated conversation about some new movie coming out that you weren’t really interested in. You lean back, content to just let their voices wash over you. The joint continues to make its rounds, each puff adding to the hazy atmosphere that blurs the edges of reality just enough to make everything feel softer, more manageable.

You languidly study Art and Patrick through half-lidded eyes, watching how easily they interact, how relaxed they are in this moment. Miles and miles of toned, freshly tanned skin from all the tennis they’d been playing recently on display. The sweat making the sharp cut of their hips and collarbones glisten under the shitty light of their desk lamps. How their happy trails disappear temptingly into their boxers, Art’s light and Patrick’s dark. 

You lick your lips, the dryness from the smoke and the sight in front of you combining to make your mouth feel like a desert. The buzz in your brain is making everything seem sharper, more vivid, and you can't help but let your eyes linger a little longer on the defined lines of their bodies. 

You’ve seen them in their boxers more times than you can count, but something about this is different. The heat in the room is almost too much now, but it's doing things to you, and you're not sure if it's the temperature or something else entirely.

It’s probably just the weed hitting you funny, maybe it’s the lighting, or the fact that they’re both practically naked. You don't know what it is but oh God maybe the girls are right, Art and Patrick are fucking hot. 

The realization is like a smack to the face, making you acutely aware of every detail– the way Art’s muscles ripple as he leans to pass you the joint, the obscene spread of Patrick’s hairy thighs making his boxers ride up even higher, the subtle scent of their colognes mixing with the smoke in the air.

It’s all too much and not enough at the same time, sending a shiver down your spine as you try to play it cool, pretending not to notice the way your heart stutters when Art’s fingers brush against yours as he passes you the joint. 

You shift uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of your fluttering pulse and the wetness starting to gather between your thighs. That’s definitely the weed, you’d never get wet thinking about your very platonic closer-to-you-than-even-brothers-would-be best friends if you were sober. At least that's what you try telling yourself, not fully meeting Patrick’s eye as he takes the joint from you.

You must zone out for a bit, shaken by the kind of life-altering realization that you just might, a teensy tiny bit, want to fuck Art and Patrick. You don’t notice the way their conversation slowly trails off, how Patrick notices the sudden shift in your behavior. His eyes rake over you, lingering on the sliver of skin showing where your top doesn't quite meet your shorts. He shoots Art a knowing smirk, kicking his knee lightly. Art follows Patrick’s gaze, eyes darkening with understanding. He looks back over at Patrick, a tiny grin on his face as he gives him a single nod.

“I mean, it wouldn’t even be that big a deal if we did,” Patrick says casually, bringing the dwindling joint up to his lips, “If we fucked, I mean.” He clarified, head lolling to the side sluggishly.

You snap out of it, looking between the two of them– the mischievous glint in Patrick’s eyes as he exhales smoke lazily into the air, the slight pink tint to Art’s cheeks slowly reaching the very tip of his ears as he nervously chews his lower lip.

The weight of Patrick’s words settle over you, adding another layer of nearly suffocating warmth that has nothing to do with the broken AC. The implications of what he just said swirl in your mind, a heady mix of curiosity, arousal, and slight panic. 

You don’t know when or how it happened, but they both seem closer than they were before. The two of them crowd around you, pressing in on either side, green and blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your thighs clench together.

You turn to Art, ready for him to shut Patrick down and defend your honor from his sleazy lines like the good cop he always is, but instead, Art’s grin widens, his eyes never leaving yours. He shifts in front of you, his hand brushing against your knee sends a jolt of electricity through you. “We’re friends,” he says softly, eyes big and earnest, as if reassuring both you and himself, “and we trust each other. It’s not like it would change anything, right?”

Never content being one-upped by Art, Patrick reaches out to settle his hand on your thigh, high up enough that his pinkie makes contact with the edge of your shorts. “Everyone’s already thinking it,” he reasons, stubbing out the joint on the plate Art was using to roll, “why not give them something to really talk about?”

The air grows heavy with tension, each breath you take feeling like a Herculean effort. Art’s fingers trace light, teasing patterns on your knee, his touch both comforting and maddeningly slow. Patrick’s hand remains firm on your thigh, "Imagine," he continues, his voice low and seductive, "what it would feel like to be touched, kissed, fucked by both of us. At the same time."

Art's hand inches higher, and you shiver at the sensation, a soft gasp escaping your lips. "We could make you feel so good," Art adds, his eyes shining dark with desire. "If you want it."

You look at them, gaze trailing from Art’s sweet face to the challenge in Patrick’s eyes, daring you to break the tension or back out. Your mind races, torn between the overwhelming want coursing through you and the nagging voice of caution still present in the back of your head. But as Patrick's fingers toy with the thin material of your shorts, and Art's breath grazes your neck, the decision becomes easier.

“Maybe we should,” you hear yourself saying before you can stop, the words tumbling out, shaky but determined. Patrick's smirk widens, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he turns to Art. His gaze lingers on Art’s calm demeanor, a dare unspoken yet unmistakable. Art meets his eyes evenly, a tiny smile on his lips betrays his facade. They share a look, a sort of silent conversation shared between them before they're leaning in.

Your eyes are closed, but you can still tell it’s Art who kisses you first. Big hands coming up to gently cup your face as he leans in, you can smell the mint from gum he chews constantly. His lips are so soft, so gentle, and so hesitant; almost like he’s worried you don’t really want this. You respond eagerly, throwing your arms around his shoulders and dragging him forward. He’s on you in less than second, arms braced on either side of your hips as he really starts to kiss you. 

Art’s tongue drags over the seam of your lips, licking at your mouth like he’s eating pussy. Laving quick, dirty drags of his tongue until you part your lips on a high moan so he can slip it in to brush against your own. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer as the kiss deepens, getting messy and desperate. You can feel his heartbeat pounding up against his rib cage where his chest is pressed tightly to yours, you can feel the thick length of his hard dick burning a line through his boxers onto your thigh.

You get so caught up in kissing Art you forget Patrick’s even there until he’s trailing sloppy kisses along your jawline. “Shit, guys we should make a fucking porno,” he says into your ear, breath hot and teasing, “we’d get fucking rich.” He huffs with a low chuckle, sliding his hand up your tank to palm at your tits roughly. His chuckle dissolves into a throaty groan when his greedy hands find even more bare skin, no bra.

Art gasps against your lips, hips grinding down onto your thigh at Patrick’s words. “Fuck off,” he snaps, but the strong twitch of his dick gives him away. He rests his forehead on yours, breath coming out in ragged huffs to mingle with your own. He looks fucking wrecked, shiny blue eyes glazed over with lust, lips slick and pink, long lashes fanning over his flushed cheeks. He gives you one last quick peck before his hands come up to your shoulders and gently push you backwards.

You’re confused until you feel the warm, bare skin of Patrick’s toned chest on your back. He looms over you, using his free hand to grip your chin and force your head to the side.

The angle’s a little odd, but neither of you seem to mind. Patrick kisses like he’s trying to kill you, a mess of too much tongue and rough bites to your lips and so much spit it should be disgusting. The slick noise of your tongues sliding together has your cheeks burning with how lewd it is. Normally you’d be grossed out, maybe if it was any other guy you would be. You’d shove him off of you and kick him out of bed, but it’s not some guy; it’s Patrick. You can’t help but whine into his mouth, craving more of his brutal affection, feeling the dizzying rush of passion that borders on pain.

Art’s lips are on your neck, sucking marks onto your skin, his breath hot and uneven as he murmurs something you can't quite make out. You should tell him to stop, that people will talk if they see you all marked up, but maybe you don’t give a fuck anymore. Maybe you want people to talk. His hands are everywhere, fingers digging into your hips, tugging you closer, grounding you in the whirlwind of sensations. Patrick's grip tightens on your chin, biting your lips hard enough to make you whine, and Art responds with a low moan, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

It’s so fucking dirty, so filthy, so demeaning and you’ve never been so wet before. 

You throw your head back, with a loud moan as Patrick plays with your tits under your shirt and Art lick’s a dirty stripe up your throat. “Fuck! God, Pat…” your chest heaves, back arching up into Patrick’s hands, craning your head so Art has more room to trail sweet kisses along your collar bones.

Patrick just laughs, running a hand down your stomach and into your shorts. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, the palm of his hand grinding roughly against the soaked cotton of your panties. “You’re fucking dripping all over me, holy shit,” Patrick breathes, long fingers sliding easily through the wet mess of your folds. He hooks his chin over your shoulder, staring down at where his hand disappears beneath the waistband.

“I think,” Patrick breathes, “that you need to let Art eat your pussy, and I think I need to watch.”

Your mind goes blank, sparks going off at the base of your spine as Patrick’s words echo in your ears. Art’s lips still against your neck, he’s practically whining, greedy hands roaming all over your soft skin.

You feel a rush of heat, your pussy aching with the need for exactly that. The thought of Art eating you out, with his gentle touches and caring eyes, juxtaposed with Patrick's commanding presence looming over the whole thing, sends you spiraling. You can hardly breathe, every nerve ending alive with anticipation and desire. The room seems to shrink around you, the air thick with tension, as you struggle to find your voice, to process the electrifying proposition that now hangs in the air between you.

You meet Art’s heavy gaze, his pupils dilated with a mix of want and need completely swallowing up the blue. His breath is hot against your skin, and you can feel the tremor in his hands as they move to caress your thighs. Patrick's presence is a steady force behind you, his hand gently but firmly guiding you to make the choice you know you both want.

Finally, you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation, “Yes.”

Art wrestles your shorts down your legs quickly, yanking them off and tossing them behind his shoulder. Your panties are quick to follow, rolling and bunching up until he huffs in frustration and rips them straight down the middle, leaving the tattered fabric to hang limply around your ankles. The surprised moan that leaves your lips at Art’s restraint finally snapping is almost loud enough to drown out the sound of Patrick’s laugh at how fast Art’s on his stomach between your legs. 

Patrick hooks his thick legs over yours, keeping you spread open and exposed. Art’s eyes screw shut, his head falling to rest on the ground, like the sight of your slick pussy is just too much. “Shit,” he mutters, hips twitching slight against the floor.

“Come on, Art,” Patrick goads, “know you wanna taste this pretty pussy.” He reaches over and spreads your pussy open in a lewd “v” with his fingers, “Make our girl feel good.”

Art looks up at you, face flushed and eyes wide, blonde curls flopping over his forehead messily. “Is this okay?” He’s so close you can feel his hot breath fanning over your slick, aching clit.

“Yes–” You barely get the word out before Art rushes forward, trailing kisses along your inner thighs. His mouth is everywhere but where you want it to be. You whine, hips twitching towards his face in an attempt to get him to touch you. “Please, Art.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, tone way too earnest for what he’s about to do, finally sliding his tongue through the wet lips of your pussy. He drags it teasingly up the seam of you, all the way up till he’s circling your clit. His tongue laving over the tips of Patrick’s fingers each time.

Being sandwiched between the two of them is almost too much and somehow still not enough. Art splayed out on his stomach between your legs, head buried in your violently trembling thighs. Patrick plastered to your back, sweaty and firm as he spreads you wide open for his best friend's mouth.

Art’s big hands grip the sensitive skin of your inner thighs hard, his tongue licking broad strokes over your pussy as Patrick’s fingers start to rub fast circles on your clit while he spews filth over your shoulder.

“Fuck that’s so hot,” Patrick growls, “look at you, all spread out for us.”

You look down at Art to see he’s already looking at you. Sparkly eyes shiny and wet, brows furrowed as he keeps licking and licking, so messy with it that spit drips down his chin. His nose pressed up against all the right spots, making you see stars every time you blink. You never would have guessed it but he is fucking good at this, either he’s way too humble or selling himself short because holy shit.

Art's moaning and whining into your pussy like he's the one getting head, hands surely bruising your thighs with how hard he's gripping them. The roll of his hips fucking down against the ground is sinful.

“God– fucking shit, Art,” You whine pathetically, shaking with just how much ecstasy is coursing through your body. You think you may pass out.

“You like that?” Patrick asks hotly, lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, “You like watching him fuck the ground like a slut while he eats your pussy?” His fingers raise to give your clit a light slap, your head rolls back onto his shoulder as you cry out.

“Mmph, Patrick-!” Your thighs clench, trying in vain to squeeze shut. Patrick keeps them spread, his free hand coming around to grip Art’s hair, roughly dragging his head up and down your pussy faster. Art groans so loud against your clit that you actually feel the vibration, his hips rutting into the ground faster.

“Art–! I’m so close, God, I’m coming, Patrick, I’m coming, I’m com-” You cry out, cut off by Patrick's mouth slamming over yours, sucking your tongue into his mouth. “Do it,” he spits, biting your lower lip meanly, “fucking come, come all over your best friends face.”

Your thighs shake as you come, hands gripping Art’s hair like a vice as you gush over his tongue. He moans into your pussy, working you through the aftershocks. He drags his tongue along you until the over-stimulation gets to be too much and you’re dragging his face away by his hair. 

“Alright,” Patrick says breezily, dragging his tongue from the corner over your mouth to the hinge of your jaw to catch your earlobe between his teeth. “Art got to have his fun,” he laughs, dark eyes staring pointedly at the wet patch soaking the front of Art’s boxers.

Art's too fucked out to even jab him back, chest heaving with each breath he takes. His lips are slick and red, the complete lower half of his face shining with your come, glazed over eyes half-open and dark. The sight is enough to have your pussy clenching, ready for round two. Patrick’s hips grind into your back purposely, dragging his still hard dick against your ass. “Now it’s my turn.”

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @artemis-b-writes @motopoppp @nhlfs @elaci @myahswrld @angelheavensblog

if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!