#he's about to throw hands with an old lady

[sleepyheadnat]

Don't look a gift automaton in the mouth

"Why don't you take this big guy with you? I'm certain any king would love to have an automaton as a knight," Ragnelle called from inside the cave; that was how all their encounters had taken place so far.

She, just like most of the people of Camelot, did not know what his majesty was actually like. It made sense—the true king had only recently returned, and, thank Chaos, he was nothing like his impostor had been. King Sonic would, indeed, welcome the automaton with open arms, but he would be much more interested in getting to know the thing than using it for war.

Lancelot had never seen what the lady looked like, nor had he ever been welcomed inside her cave. They had met by pure chance in one of his lone strolls in the woods, and all he knew for certain about her was that she was under some sort of curse (which she refused to elaborate upon); that she was a jewel thief, a treasure hoarder, and someone surprisingly easy to talk to. The latter was what kept him coming back, despite his enduring refusal to trust her completely.

He eyed the war-machine she spoke of, sitting inactive by the mouth of her cave. It had been built with a tall and broad body of metal that would put even the sturdiest sword to shame. It would make quite the addition to the king’s ranks, but its origins were unknown—he would need to ascertain its safety before he took it anywhere near the castle. 

"Where would you even find something like this?" he asked, the exasperation clear in his voice.

She laughed mockingly at him, the sound echoing across the cave she made her home—it made the knight wonder exactly how big it was on the inside. 

"The woods gift all kinds of presents to those who know where to look! You ought to know that better than anyone—after all, the woods gifted you lil' old me~ And now it’s gifting you this! I call him Galehaut; is that not a mighty name?" When her plea was met with silence on his part, her voice shifted to the faux-whining one he knew she used when trying to get her way. "Please, take him with you. He takes up way too much space, and I have treasures to store, you know? I would throw him out, but—" A pause. She chose her words carefully. "I would not want such a glorious treasure to go to waste."

Lancelot smothered a smirk; she was almost successful in convincing him she did not care. "Let us make a deal out of this, then."

"Oh, of course you would say that," she scoffed, but quieted to hear his proposal.

"I shall take the automaton off of your hands in exchange for the Chaos Emerald I know you have on you."

The hedgehog could hear the exact moment Ragnelle's breath hitched. "And who says I have one? Where would I even find such a thing?"

He busied himself with heaving the machine over his shoulder. "Were you not the one who told me great treasures will always find great treasure hunters?" With that, Lancelot turned towards the cave’s mouth and reached his hand out to receive what he had asked, as one would if dealing with a toddler. 

Ragnelle let out an indignant huff. The gem rolled across the forest floor, stopping when it bumped on his feet. He bent down to pick it up with a self-satisfied smile.

"Why, thank you ever so much."

"Just leave before I regret letting you walk away from me alive." He did not miss the hint of amusement in her tone.

Here's the longer version! Read the drabble version here.

[pain-in-the-butler]

A compilation of art for my Dadbastian fanfic Coattails that I commissioned from the incredibly talented @karafina! They went above and beyond with the details... Each picture feels as cozy and warm as a storybook, right? I'm so delighted with how they turned out!! Thank you for making each one so beautiful! 🥹🥹🥹

[seumyo]

just thoughts of growing old with bakugou.

“Y’alright, old lady?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” You shot back with a huff, but the laughter in your voice softened it. “You’re not exactly a spring chicken yourself, Mr. Dynamight.”

“Hah? I could still beat your ass in a race.”

“You could barely bend down to get your keys this morning.”

He clicked his tongue but didn’t deny it. “Should’ve let you get them. You’re closer to the ground anyway.”

“Now you’re just asking for trouble.”

You two walked a few more steps before he noticed your breathing was just a little heavier. Your hand was tighter on his forearm. You hadn’t said anything, of course. He knew you never liked making a fuss. But Bakugou noticed. He always noticed.

Because if he didn’t notice, then he’d think he’s the shittiest husband on the planet.

Bakugou stopped.

You looked at him, confused. “Katsu?”

“Turn around.”

“What—”

“I’m givin’ you a piggyback ride.”

You blinked. “Katsuki, we’re in our sixties.”

“And? You think that stops me?” He crouched a little, wincing more dramatically than he meant to. Despite retaining lighter exercises to keep his body in tip-top shape, age still creeps in like a barnacle to his back. “C’mon, get up before I change my mind.”

“You’re going to throw your back out.”

“My back’s tougher than yours.”

“That’s not saying much anymore!”

“I’d rather break my back than see you waddle like a fuckin’ penguin with those stuffy shoes.”

“Our daughter gave me these shoes!”

“I know,” he replied. “Get on, woman.”

With a chuckle, you carefully climbed onto his back, your arms wrapping around his neck like they did all those years ago when you two were barely adults sneaking out for late-night walks. He held your legs securely under him, your weight familiar even after all this time. You rested your head against the back of his neck.

He lifts you like it’s nothing.

“Still got it,” he mutters, somewhat relieved.

Because Bakugou wants to give you a piggyback ride—or just carry you as many times as he possibly could.

“You’re insane.”

“Yeah, well. You married me. So there’s nothin’ we could do about that now that we’re five decades in, huh?”

You nuzzled your cheek against his shoulder, your voice muffled. “Best decision I ever made,” you hum. “Do you ever think about what we were like back then?”

“All the time,” he replies.

“Do you miss it?”

Bakugou exhaled. “Nah. I mean, it was good. Great, even. But this…” He shifts you a little higher on his back. “This is better.”

“You’re carrying your wrinkly wife down the street, and you think this is better?”

“Hell yeah,” he replies without hesitation. “You still make fun of me. Still make me laugh. Still kiss me like we’re teenagers. And even if you walk slower now, you still walk with me.”

You were quiet for a moment. Then, softly, “That’s so sappy. I hate you.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

You chuckled.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

“I know,” Bakugou says, and then, a little quieter, “I love you too. Always have. Even when you fell asleep during Die Hard.”

“I knew it. You were paying attention.”

He laughs. Full, unguarded, and warm. His chest feels full, like it always does when you’re near. The kind of full that doesn’t need fixing. Doesn’t need anything more.

-

“See?” Katsuki muttered breathlessly, settling you down onto a wooden bench that overlooked the town below. “Didn’t break my back.”

“Not yet. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“Tch. Still mouthy,” he said, but there was nothing but tenderness in his voice. He reached for your hand, calloused fingers lacing with yours. “Old or not, you’ll never stop talkin’, will you?”

“Not if I can help it,” you murmured. “Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes.”

“You tickle my toes when I’m about to fall asleep, you psychopath.”

“As I said, keep you on your toes.”

You two sat there in silence, side by side, watching as the last of the day faded into hues of soft purple and gold. The town below lit up slowly—windows glowing, streetlights flickering on one by one. It was the same town where you built a life, where you came after retiring from the city, where you spent quiet afternoons and lazy mornings and stormy nights curled under blankets.

“I was thinking earlier,” you said, tilting your head toward him. “Remember that old apartment? The first one?”

“The one with the leaky pipes?”

“And the hole in the wall.”

Bakugou made a noise between a groan and a laugh.

“Don’t remind me. That place was hell.”

“But we were happy. And it was our first.”

He nodded. “It was.”

“You used to stay up late grading case files while I was asleep on the couch.”

“And you’d drool on every pillow,” he said, smirking.

“That’s love,” you quipped, “sharing spit on furniture.”

“Disgusting,” his eyes crinkled as he chuckled, quiet and deep, before falling into a softer stillness.

“Do you think we did okay?” you asked.

Bakugou turned to look at you. Your eyes were searching his face—not out of doubt, but for reassurance.

“We did more than okay,” he said. “We loved hard. Fought harder. Got old. Grew up.”

You smiled faintly. “We grew softer.”

He squeezed your hand. “You did. I stayed badass.”

You laughed, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah… you did.”

A breeze blew past, and you shivered slightly. Bakugou was already tugging his jacket off before you could protest. He knows you well enough that it comes second to breathing. Something that he could never forget because he needs to remember it to survive.

“You don’t have to—”

“Shut up. You’re cold.”

You let him drape it over you, fingers brushing his wrist as he tucked it close. It was nice. This was nice.

“I still remember the first time I saw you,” you said after a while. “You were yelling at someone, I think.”

“That sounds right.”

“I thought, ‘What an ass.’”

“And yet, you married me.”

“Because you were very persuasive,” you told him.

He snorted. “Uh huh.”

Time passed like that—peaceful and unhurried—until the sun was a mere sliver on the edge of the world. Fireflies blinked into view. The quiet of the hilltop wrapped around you like a blanket.

“I’m tired,” you murmured quietly, closing your eyes for a moment against his shoulder.

“Want me to carry you home?”

“No, just…” You paused, then exhaled. “Let’s just stay here a bit.”

Bakugou nodded. “Yeah. We can stay.”

“You’ve always been stubborn.”

He grunted in acknowledgment.

“But also the kindest man I’ve ever known.”

He didn’t reply right away. He just looked at you—really looked at you. Your hair had silvered, your cheeks had thinned, but your eyes held the same sparkle that made him fall in love with you years ago. You were still [Name]. Undeniably his.

And he was still Bakugou. Your.

“Even if I get reincarnated,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now, “even if I forget everything—I hope I find you again.”

He swallowed hard, jaw tightening. “You will.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah. I’ll find you too,” he said. “You’re too damn loud to miss.”

You smiled. Your hand, much more wrinkly now, more fragile than it used to be, reached up to his cheek. Your thumb traced the scar that time left near his jaw.

“I love you,” you said.

He leaned in, pressing your foreheads together. “I love you too. Always.”

And in the stillness, with the cool air surrounding you and the stars beginning to blink into view above, you leaned into each other—together in warmth, in memory, in everything you two ever were.

Your hands stayed intertwined, steady.

And when the wind finally hushed, you drifted off into the quietest, most peaceful sleep.

Together, one last time.

Forever.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[nezuscribe]

arguing with arranged!gojo is difficult because he’s not used to arguing with women and you’re not used to arguing period.

it rarely happens, but when it does it gets really heated between the two of you. you pace around your room, huffing as gojo stands there with his arms crossed, nose flaring.

like that one time he found out that one of the new guards the brought in from the west was somebody you used to fool around with.

yeah that was bad.

“why do you even care!” you snap at him, and he can’t find a plausible reason aside from the fact that he was purely jealous.

this guard that they’d brought in from the west, much to your shock, was somebody you used to see in the late hours of the night. you never did anything frisky, just some shared kisses here and there.

but the moment you saw him, your whole demeanor changed. and gojo could tell. it took a bit of picking and prodding (which gojo is great at) but you eventually told him the story.

and he was not excited to hear it.

“i want him gone,” he tells you and you roll your eyes, shrugging indefinitely.

“fine,” you throw your arms up, “get him out. but what about those girls? you think i don’t want them gone whenever we walk into one of those balls or those dinners? when i see the way they look at you? you think that’s easy for me?”

“it’s different,” his tone is unwavering and cold.

you scoff, shaking your head in dismay.

“what? what’s so different? that i kissed him? big deal!” you feel like you want to cry and yell and jump and scream at the same time.

because it was different. for you. because the men didn’t seem to care that gojo had a new wife, or that he cared for her. but the ladies did. they gossiped in frenzied tones, batted their eyelashes at him even more as if that could cast him away from your spell.

so you didn’t know why he cared so much about this one man. why it should matter to him when he’s had far, far more experiences than you.

you felt hurt that he doubted you, angered with his hypocrisy, and tired from spending the entire day ignoring each other.

“this is going nowhere,” you mutter eventually, picking up your pillow as his eyes drop to your hands, “i’m sleeping somewhere else.”

“what-”

“and don’t follow me,” you bite out, not even glancing behind your shoulder as you begin to sulk out of your shared bedroom to your old one all across the estate.

and sure, maybe you’re not being entirely fair. there’s been some petty arguments when he bumps into one of his old girls, but it didn’t hurt nonetheless when he accused you of lying, when the conversation of your old romantic life was just never brought up.

you wipe at the stray tears on your cheek as you slug down the stairs, sniffling to yourself as you curse your husband to hell and back, when a force unlike any other picks you up from behind.

“what?” you squeal, your body manicured over a strong shoulder, your legs near his torso, your eyes facing his back as you kick at him, “let me go, i’m going to fall!”

“don’t make me laugh,” gojo murmured, one strong arm around your waist, the other around your thighs as he hauls you back up the stairs.

“i told you not to follow me,” you grumble, pinching his back but he doesn’t react.

“you’re funny if you think i’ll let you sleep alone.”

your brows furrow, feeling the need to kick him, but also not wanting him to drop you.

it doesn’t take long for him to reach your bedroom, opening the door with his free hand (unbridled strength if the greatest warrior of the north meant he could pick you up with just one hand) and plops you back on the mattress.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking away, hoping he can’t see the tear marks.

because it did hurt. his words hurt you. they cut deep. and he notices, his gaze softening slightly.

“don’t cry,” he whispers, leaning down to trace your tears away but you swat his hand off of your face.

“then don’t make me cry,” you say with a heavy sigh, siting upwards, back slightly hunched.

you take a deep breath, rubbing at your eyes as you glance upwards at him. it’s been a while since the two of you had fought, and the first time over something serious, and he looks awful.

“i don’t judge you for being with those girls,” you start with a heavy whisper, “you did what you could to stay sane. but don’t judge me for doing the same.”

gojo breathes deeply through his nose, blinking.

“you’re right,” he says after a heavy second, causing you too look up in confusion.

he nods again, his big hand cup your jaw, his thumb rubbing your cheek as he catches the stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“you’re right and i’m sorry,” he repeats, and you’ve never had somebody agree with you before, “i just…saw the way he looks at you and…i didn’t like it.”

you offer him a small nod.

“but he just looked at me,” you shift so that your resting on your haunches, hands in your lap. he towers over you, one hand going to cradle the back of your head.

gojo shrugs, like he can’t put it into comprehensible words how he felt when that guard looked at you with hunger in his eyes. how only he was allowed to look at you with such starvation.

“i didn’t like it,” he can only repeat, and you know he struggles with his emotions, spent years hiding them so that they wouldn’t become his weakness.

“do you want to sleep?” he finally asks you, and you slowly blink, trying to hide the tiredness from your face.

“i’ll still be here when you wake up,” he offers and you crack a small smile, trying to hide it from him.

but your smile drops as you think, eyes darting up to his.

“it’s okay to not like something, and it’s okay to feel angry that you don’t. but don’t ever, ever, make me feel like that again because of it.”

your stare is unwavering, and he feels a certain sense of pride in seeing that. and gojo nods, one steady movement as he drops down to his knees, trying to be level with your gaze.

“you have my full authority to strike me down if i do,” he promises, his hands cupping your face, his words serious but you can’t help but giggle.

“good,” you murmur, tugging slightly harshly on some of the strands of his hair as he winces, pushing you back onto the bed with the sheer force of his body, climbing up into you as he hold you close to him.

you let out another laugh as he acts like a bear cub, not wanting to move an inch away from your warmth as he cuddles into you, trying to finish his massive size compared to you.

the two of you laid in silence, a comfortable one, as he laid his head in your chest, hearing the steady rhythm of your heart.

“i am sorry,” he whispers, craning his neck to look up at you as he rests his chin on your sternum, “i’m sorry.” he says again, his words barely above a sound.

you blink again, moving some of the hair away from his face as you observe his sorrowful features.

“i know,” you whisper back.

gojo finds your hands, interweaving your fingers together, heart tugging when he feels your ring against his skin.

he brings the finger to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the ring as you watch him silently. no other words needed to be said, no words left unspoken as he pulls you into his chest.

because no woman would amount to a sliver of you. and no man would amount to a morsel of him.

[cantharel]

Whenever Simon spent a lot of time away in a mission, the two of you almost had a ritual when he's back, one that Simon loved with all his heart.

Every time he came home, he craved your food. Each time, he felt his stomach rumble when he smelled what you had prepared for him. And don't even mention dessert, because he loves that vanilla cake that only you know how to make.

He loved the feeling of having sex with you after so long away. The feeling was stronger than ever. But that wasn't all, what he loved even more was having you in his arms, so the first thing he did was hug you, tuck you into his arms and stay that way for a good few minutes.

Simon didn't say anything. He just hugged you and smelled you, a comforting smell, uniquely your own, that made him feel at home.

It took him a while to let go of you, and as soon as he did, he would spend time looking at you, a small smile on his face as he kissed your forehead.

He loved you so much, you could already tell by these actions. A silent 'I love you' every time he kissed your forehead, looking at you tenderly even though he was exhausted.

His favorite part was when you pampered him. He would never admit it out loud, but by God, he loved it when you bathed him, massaging and kissing his body while you gossiped about what had happened while he was away.

His hands on your hips, a warm, lazy smile on his lips as you told him that the neighbor had done something in her apartment. Which always fell on deaf ears. He didn't give a damn about the old lady. He just wanted to hear your voice.

He wanted to hear something that would give him peace, something that was different from the gunfire and explosions of that last mission. You let him grounded, reminding him that he was home.

And when it was finally time for him to rest with you, all he did was throw himself on the bed, and he allowed himself to be the little spoon in these situations. It seemed silly, but Simon felt safe when he was in your arms, the feeling of being held by you calmed him down, and when he was tired like that, he would settle down in the comfort of your embrace for a good night's sleep. And it always worked.

But first, he gave your ring hand a gentle kiss, smiling slightly when he saw the wedding band on your fingers, and then he whispered a "I love you," letting tiredness overcome him. He had married the right person, that was enough to make his heart light, to give him a reason to be happy after getting back from a mission.

He has a reason to come home now. And he's more than content with it.

Simon didn't know how long he would be at home, but he would certainly enjoy most of the time with you, his love.

Omg!!! 100 followers! Tyyyy! Thank you so much!💖💖

[eraserbread]

Sigh, thinking about Husband!Nanami coming home after work to his sweet wife and just being overwhelmed by his love for her. Cuteness aggression turned sexual? Because what reason does his wife need to have such an amazing smile if not for him to kiss her lips, both sets while he's at it!

...need i say more? nanami just loves his old lady.

you tried out a new recipe, today. ken's a cookie guy - of course, he is. so, today decorated prettily on a plate he bought you, was a glazed ginger miso cookie. you spent hours perfecting the recipe, throwing out lots of expensive, unsavory doughs, and pining over flavor combinations before you landed on your jackpot.

then you waited for him at home, wrapped in a pretty lace apron that he bought you. for some reason, you were an especially good mood this morning - you had chatted on the phone with a friend for hours, received a surprise text from your perfect husband, and got to open another of his gifts that was painted on your lips.

a new, glimmering shade of lipgloss he so politely asked you to wear for him.

he comes home right at 6:30, spending time at the lock to allude you to his forthcoming arrival. work today had been especially annoying because there were no missions. he just went on a few training ones as a favor to satoru, but didn't break a sweat on the grade-4's he took care of.

all he thought to keep himself motivated was the feeling of seeing your soft, bright smile again. it was hard to leave your smaller, sleeping figure this morning, but he had to. he had to miss you sometimes to keep him excited.

so, he's so damn happy to see your stupidly beautiful face when he pulls the door open. you're waiting for him like a puppy, crossed hands and smiling so big, it renders him motionless upon impact.

"well, aren't you just the cutest?"

"i made you cookies!" you know to keep your voice soft for him after work, but your excitement is tangible. you don't typically bake for him, so when you do, he loves it. "don't worry, I made you actual food, too."

nanami stares at you for a moment, nose picking up on the delicious mix of scents filling his well-kept home. god, he wants to eat you alive.

he still finds time to pull his tie down when he approaches you, both hands reaching for you. you giggle when he captures your cheeks, squeezing them hard, and pulling you into a single, deliberate kiss.

"i just love you."

you two end up sharing a cookie, leaning over the countertop and feeding small, broken-off pieces between each others lips. ken focuses on the glisten of yours as you chew sweetly, making no sounds but a content hum. it makes him crazy - his stomach coils.

"i know this is so lewd, but I think I need you to sit on my face."

he's right. it's lewd - he's witness to all the chewed-up cookie in your mouth when your jaw drops.

but, you let him. no questions asked.

ken lays on his back in bed, already flushed to his neck and licking over his lips. he watches as you shimmy off your pants, under special request to keep the apron on. he just wants access to what's between your thighs, and he didn't make that vague.

you look at him for a second, suddenly conscious and slightly wary of his ability to breathe. he's given you oral countless times, but never like this. "ken, are you sur-

he fucking sighs and sits up, yanking you forward with a gentle, dominant hold on your ringed hand. "you think I can't handle my wife sitting on me?" you join him on the bed, crawling into a straddle so you two can kiss for a moment. he pets at your cheek, humming as he takes in your taste. green tea and ginger miso - what a palate.

but it maddens him even further. he needs you dripping on his tongue - there was no polite way to say it. he would not be polite when he eats you alive.

so, he sits back again, pulling you with him so you don't have a choice but to follow. with sexed eyes, he begs. "please, nanami baby."

that's what gets you this time. you take a breath and crawl up his body, holding it as you hover over his face. his big hands help you along, squeezing into your thighs and guiding you into the perfect position.

you reach down to tangle his messy golden hair between your fingers, giving him a look that kills him. he can't help that whenever you give him a look so pure and sweet, he has to squeeze you a bit harder.

"just follow my lead. pretend like you're humpin' my thigh, baby."

"mm, okay." still highly suspicious, but kinda turned on now, you nod. then, he guides your thighs down until you're fully seated over his head - all of your weight focused there. upon impact, he fucking groans and it sends a tsunami of vibrations through your eager cunt.

you bite down a moan. "ken-

as soon as you say his name, he's digging his fingers deeper and begins eating you alive, just like he wanted. one of his flexed, scratching hands slide against your back, urging you to ride him -- to actually treat him like a coined pony. so, you do... it's so unfamiliar and you're terrified of hurting him, but his thick tongue felt so good and so right smushed against your sensitive clit, that you needed to chase some friction.

he's vocal like you've never heard him before, obscene slurps and moans spilling out from between your thighs as he devours you. on every back thrust, his nose buries itself into your clit, forcing a cry from your throat. it was so overwhelmingly good - you felt him everywhere like your nerves were standing on end.

you cum for the first time embarrassingly fast, crying his name and unable to move, so he drags you through it. it's only on the break he gives you to even out that you see that crazy look in his eyes.

his entire face is soaked in... everything. you, him, more of him, and more of you. so erotic and messy, you hardly get to see him so spent with a ruby-red face and blown pupils.

so pretty...

"i should stop, but 's so addicting."

"no." you're breathless and halfway to death. "no, keep going I'm fine."

"i know you're sensitive." somewhere behind the mania, you can make out a bit of that husbandly worry. you admit that he has much better stamina, but with him doing most of the work, the only thing you have to control is not cumming everywhere all the time.

"keep going." you demand a bit too harshly, tugging his hair as you grind back down on his tongue. you can feel him chuckle against your messy cunt, but doesn't need to be told twice to swallow you again.

you two go on for hours until kento feels like he's going to pass out. these pants are nothing but trash now that he's came untouched. it's a spectacle you only notice when he flips you over to finally lay it down.

he peels off his pants with a wrecked face, tongue slipping from his lips every so often to catch another taste. his briefs are sticking to his skin, stained darker around his cock and unmistakable. you try so hard not to point it out, because you know he's embarrassed, but you can't not breathe out a chuckle.

"when did yo-

"shut up." he decides before fucking you into the bed for hours. no mercy, he's unrestrained and drunk completely off of your deep, familiar taste.

and when he leans down to kiss and love you after it's all said and done, you can taste the ghost of yourself over his lips, and push him to go wash off.

he does, but you catch him letting his tongue linger over his lips until he finally gives in and runs his face underwater.

[flowersforbucky]

down bad

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.9k

author's note: i couldn't stop thinking about bucky being able to use his metal hand as a vibrator and therefore this was born.

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (female receiving), fingering, bucky being used as a human vibrator, multiple orgasms, language, consumption of alcohol, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly possessive bucky, 18+ only

“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Natasha mutters through a mouth full of popcorn. “Tyler from the statistics department? Are we talking about the same Tyler from statistics?”

“Nat, for the fourth time, yes. Tyler from statistics. The only Tyler from statistics that I know.” You reach for the bottle of Moscato that the two of you are sharing, pouring yourself some more wine.

“Nuh-uh,” Natasha shakes her head. “I don't believe you. There's no way he could be that bad.” She takes a sip from her own glass of wine. “He's too gorgeous,” she shrugs, turning to face you on the couch. The romantic comedy you had picked out for your bi-monthly movie night plays forgotten in the background.

“Trust me,” you sigh. “I was just as shocked as you are. But I swear on my life, he stuck his tongue in my ear. In my fucking ear, but wouldn't go down on me.” You can tell by the look on her face that Nat is trying her hardest not to laugh.

“He said his dick game is ‘too good to need to eat a girl out’.” You shake your head, cringing at the memory. “Which is also what he said when I merely suggested that he use my vibrator on me instead. He looked like I had kicked his dog.”

“Well?” she asks, a pained expression across her features. “Was it? Too good?”

“I didn't stay to find out,” you admit. “I faked a work emergency and dipped.” A laugh breaks through her pursed lips.

“I'm sorry–” she says, although her face says otherwise. “I shouldn't laugh. You just have the worst luck with men. Isn't that the third failed hook-up in what? Six months?”

“Don't fucking remind me,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch and staring up at the living room ceiling. “I think I've lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to me by another person again.”

Nat opens her mouth to speak, but quickly closes it when you both notice voices approaching from the hallway.

Sam and Bucky enter the room a moment later, both dressed uncharacteristically nice. You suddenly feel the desire to conceal yourself with the fleece throw blanket laying across your lap. You and Nat usually plan your movie nights for when the tower is relatively empty, so you're just wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a tank top. Bare-faced and hair unstyled, the fact that Bucky's gaze is locked on you as the two of them approach where you and Nat are lounging doesn't help. He's not smiling - but there's a look on his face that you don't quite understand. The ghost of a smirk on his lips and a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

It's a look that makes you nervous - in addition to already feeling flutters in the pit of your stomach at how fucking good he looks.

“Hey, boys,” Nat greets them cheerily. “Where are the two of you going so dolled up?”

“There's a new nightclub in Brooklyn that a group of SHIELD trainees are going to tonight,” Sam answers. “They invited us and we've got nothing better to do. Figured we'd go check it out, get a few drinks. You ladies want to tag along? Or are you too busy watching - what is this, 10 Things I Hate About You?” He gestures towards the screen.

“Couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a while tonight, right?” Nat looks at you for confirmation, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “Who knows, you might even meet someone,” she adds, nudging you with her elbow.

Bucky lets out a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough, which he tries to play off as the latter. You narrow your eyes at him before glancing back to Natasha.

“For sure,” you agree, trying to ignore Bucky's bizarre behavior. “Couldn't hurt. You guys go on, we'll get ready and head there soon. Text us the name of the club?” You direct the last part to Sam in particular.

“You got it,” Sam says as he pulls his cell phone from his coat pocket. He turns to leave when both your and Nat’s phones chime with the club information. “Let's go man, our Uber's here,” he directs at Bucky.

“See you both soon,” he says before turning to follow Sam, though his gaze is still only on one of you.

“I'm gonna go throw on some make-up, curl my hair, and hope I can find something somewhat cute to–” Nat starts as soon as Bucky and Sam have turned back down the hallway.

“Was he acting kind of odd?” you interrupt her in a hushed tone.

“Barnes? Always. I've stopped reading into it too much.”

“Some spy you are,” you mumble. “Meet me back here when you're ready.”

— — — — —

One hour later, you're applying some last minute mascara and lip gloss in the backseat of an Uber on your way to downtown Brooklyn. Natasha sits beside you, ranting about an assignment that Fury has tasked her with and you swear you're trying your hardest to absorb everything she's saying - but your mind keeps going back to the way Bucky was looking at you just an hour ago.

What was with that little smirk? That curious glimmer in his eyes? Had he overheard your conversation with Nat? Had he developed the ability to read minds and knew you were thinking about how fucking hot he looked? Or was that thought simply written all over your face?

You knew you couldn't deny it. Bucky does look exceptionally attractive in his black suit, with his perfectly tousled hair - but you had found him to be ridiculously good looking since you'd first met him. Even in casual, everyday clothes, even in gym shorts and drenched in sweat, even covered in blood after particularly brutal miss–

“You girls have a great evening,” your Uber driver interrupts your train of thought as he comes to a stop in front of your destination.

You really need to get fucking laid. You definitely shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about Bucky. He's your coworker, your teammate, your training partner on many occasions, your friend…

Natasha thanks him and hands him a generous cash tip before climbing out of the car right after you.

“Thanks,” you tell her. “I'll buy our drinks.”

“Don't worry about me,” she tells you with a sly grin as you both flash the bouncer your IDs and enter the club. Despite the night still being relatively young, it's already bustling inside.

“You just focus on meeting people, mingling, maybe hitting it off with a super hot guy and taking him back to your place for some mind-blowing–”

“Super hot guy? Are you talking about me?” Sam’s voice interrupts Nat. You both turn around to see him and Bucky walking towards you, drinks in hand.

There's a roguish smile on Bucky's face as his eyes skim up and down your figure.

“You both look wonderful,” he compliments, but once again, his stare is focused only on you. If Natasha notices, she says nothing.

To be fair, you were impressed with how well you managed to put yourself together with such little notice. You found a black, backless mini dress crammed in the back of your closet that you had forgotten all about after snagging it on clearance forever ago. The form-fitting material hugs you in all the right ways, and paired with your favorite pair of strappy black heels, you're feeling infinitely more confident than you were when Bucky saw you just an hour prior.

“Thanks!” You chirp quickly, averting your gaze from him to take in your surroundings. To your left, the dance floor is lively, though not too overcrowded for your liking. To your right, there's a bar surrounded by tables filled with groups of people conversing - you vaguely recognize a couple of SHIELD agents huddled around one. The entire room is illuminated by the faint blue-green glow of the mood lighting, and the bass of the music vibrates through the floorboards.

Sam and Bucky excuse themselves to go say hey to the group of agents that had invited them, while Nat all but drags you over to the bar. You order a double shot of whiskey and throw it back as quickly as you can.

“I see what you mean now,” Nat whispers to you after downing her shot of tequila. “About Barnes,” she clarifies. “He's been eye-fucking you since we walked through the door.”

If you hadn't already swallowed your liquor, you would have spewed it all over her.

“He has not been eye-fucking me, Nat,” you say in an almost scolding tone.

“I'm just saying,” she throws her hands up. “There’s no way he could possibly be any worse than the last few guys you've gone for. I think you should go for it,” she shrugs.

“It's not that I don't think he'd be good,” you say defensively, forcing yourself to look away from where he and Sam are socializing with the small group of SHIELD agents a few tables away. “I just don't want things to be weird afterwards. We work together nearly every day, and we have a bunch of mutual friends–”

“Suit yourself,” she cuts you off in a tone of voice that very much says if you say so. “Now, are you going to dance with me or not?” She adds as she begins tugging you towards the ever-busying dance floor.

You spend the next half hour dancing with Nat before she's swept away by some black-haired doctor looking type. Good for her, you think as you watch them converse intimately at a small booth on the other side of the room.

Thanks to the liquid courage that runs through your veins, you're okay with the fact that Bucky stands just twenty feet away from you, watching you as you dance among the thick crowd of people.

You've made eye contact with him a few times now - on accident or on purpose, you're not sure at this point. But each time, your eyes lingers on his for a moment longer than the last.

You're mentally daring him to come here, to make a move, to do something other than stand to the sidelines of whatever conversation Sam and the others are engaged in.

The slightest bit of pressure on your waist snaps you back to the now congested dance floor.

You look up to find that the hand on your waist belongs to a tall man with shoulder length, sandy blonde hair. He's conventionally attractive enough, though not who you were hoping would come grab you on the dance floor.

“I'm Shawn,” he introduces himself, loudly enough for you to hear him over the roaring music. You tell him your name, pushing aside the pang of disappointment in your chest.

“Do you want to go somewhere a bit quieter to talk, maybe? Let me buy you a drin–”

“There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you,” a voice booms from behind you.

Shawn immediately retracts his hand from your waist, backing up a few inches as Bucky comes into view beside you.

“Must not have been looking too hard, I've been right here this whole time,” you jab back with a smug smile.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to–” Shawn says as he starts to back away.

“No worries, bud,” Bucky says in an overly friendly voice as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking you from Shawn's view entirely.

“Took you long enough,” you tell Bucky once the man is out of ear shot, once again beginning to sway to the music. “Get bored of listening to Sam hype himself up to the newbies?”

He takes a step closer, angling himself behind you. The crowd of people surrounding you edges you closer to him - your bare back brushing against the cool satin fabric of his suit.

“Maybe,” his chest vibrates against your skin when he speaks. He places his hands on either side of your hips - eliciting goosebumps across your skin in a way that no one else has in a long, long time.

“Or maybe I just wanted to save you from wasting your time on another guy who can't make you come.”

Your movements come to an abrupt pause as his words hit you.

He had fucking overheard your conversation with Natasha.

At a loss for words, you turn to face him. There's a shit-eating grin spread across his face. He thinks this is hilarious and it's obvious.

“Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to eavesdrop?”

“Is it really eavesdropping if I have superhuman hearing?” He takes a step closer to you, closing what little distance was separating you. The peaks of your breasts brush against his chest.

“So what happens now that you've saved me from another unsatisfactory hook-up?” You challenge, staring up at him in the neon blue lighting.

You can smell hints of cedarwood and sage from his cologne in your close proximity. It's so delicious that it's dizzying.

“Let me take you somewhere more private than this dance floor and I'll show you.”

“You seem to have a lot of confidence in your ability to give me a better experience,” you say, leaning forward so that your face is just inches from his.

He responds by placing his flesh hand on the small of your back and pulling you flush against him. The tips of his fingers continue to dance down the skin of your exposed spine. His vibranium hand comes to cradle your jaw, his metal thumb tracing your bottom lip.

His mouth forms a dark smirk - and then you feel it. It starts soft and subtle and then gradually increases in intensity.

His fucking thumb is vibrating against your lip.

If you hadn't been standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor at a nightclub in downtown Brooklyn, you would have taken that thumb into your mouth and sucked on it right then and there.

“What do you say?” he asks, now tugging on your bottom lip with the pulsing digit. “Are you going to let me take you to the first empty room I can find in this place and make you come?”

“I say show me the way.”

He removes his hand from your face and turns you in the direction of the back of the club. He guides you through the throng of dancers, keeping his hands placed firmly on either side of your waist from behind. His vibranium fingers still hum softly, reminding you of what he says is to come.

Directly past the dance floor, there's a hallway blocked off by a rope with a sign that reads employees only. Taking a quick look around, you see that all of the patrons surrounding you and Bucky are paying you no mind. Bucky unhooks the flimsy rope and the two of you slip down the hallway.

He jiggles the handles of several doors that all turn out to be locked. Not wanting to waste any time or draw any attention to yourselves with picking locks, you continue down the dark corridor until the heavy music from the heart of the club fades to a muted roar.

The very last door opens without a hitch.

Thanks to the pale orange glow of a table lamp on a desk in the corner of the room, you can see that you're in a makeshift office/supply room - a couple of filing cabinets, cleaning supplies, extra glassware, and some sound equipment strewn haphazardly throughout the limited space.

Bucky clicks the lock into place as soon as he closes the door behind him.

You're going to turn around him and tell him that he doesn't have to do this - that as badly as you want this, you don't want to ruin your friendship, that as badly as you want him, he doesn't have anything to prove to you - but his lips are already on yours as soon as you start to open your mouth.

He doesn't take his lips off of yours as he guides you backwards to the rickety wooden desk. The backs of your thighs hit the table and Bucky effortlessly lifts you to sit on the edge, giving him the perfect angle to deepen the kiss - with his tongue exploring your mouth, you're unable to stop yourself from groaning into the kiss.

You fist your fingers into his hair, tugging just hard enough so that he hisses into your mouth. His own hands trail from the sides of your stomach and down your thighs, until he reaches the tail of your dress. You instinctively part your legs for him, as much as the restrictive fabric will allow, and his vibranium hand shoots between your thighs.

He teases you, dragging his index finger along the cloth of your panties that you know you're close to soaking through already. Just as the tip of his finger pauses above your clit, his finger begins emitting the softest vibration.

You break the kiss, breathless as you throw your head back at the sensation. Bucky takes it as an opportunity to attach his lips to the pulse point of your throat, nipping your flesh with his teeth followed by a wet kiss.

He continues with the ministrations through your panties until you're rutting against his hand, needing more. He tugs your underwear to the side and increases the intensity of the vibration before nudging his middle finger past your entrance.

You have to hold onto his shoulders to steady yourself - despite the fact that you're sitting, your body feels like jelly beneath his touch. He adds in his index finger with ease before cupping your pussy in his palm - the heel of his hand pulsating against your clit.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you cry against his mouth.

“You're so fucking wet for me, you know that?” He coos, thrusting both of his fingers against the spongy-flesh of your walls.

You can feel the vibrations of his hand all the way from your belly to your toes.

You begin grinding your hips to meet the movement of his fingers, fucking yourself against his hand. There's a familiar knot forming in your lower belly as he curls his fingers inside you -

“I want you to think about me and how good I'm making you feel every time you think about letting some fuckin’ nobody touch you,” he says in a low voice next to your ear. “I want you to think about riding my fingers until you come all over my hand.”

His words send you over the edge and you do exactly that - your pussy clenching around his fingers as you ride them through your orgasm. While you're still coming down from the high of your climax, Bucky pulls his metal fingers out of you and brings them to your lips, inserting his index finger in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the slick metal as he brings the vibrations to a halt and then slowly pulls the finger from your mouth.

He picks you up off the edge of the desk and plants you back on the ground - your legs still shaking from how hard you had come.

“Turn around and lean over the desk,” he instructs you, soft but authoritative.

You don't know if it's because of the way he's looking at you or because of how good he's already made you feel, but in that moment, you would've done anything he asked of you.

You bend over the desk, supporting yourself by leaning on your forearms. You peak back over your shoulder to look at Bucky - he hikes your dress up, baring your ass to him.

He lets out an audible groan before he has even pulled your panties down to your ankles.

He kneels on the ground behind you, his face inches away from your cunt. He uses both his flesh and metal hands to spread you open for him, and then his tongue is licking up your center from behind.

God, you hope no one tries to come into this room. The door may be locked but the sounds that someone would hear if they even walked up to the door…

Bucky knows just how to make you writhe above him. He's soft when he's kissing up your folds and unsparing when he's sucking your clit between his lips. His hands hold your ass in a firm grasp that teeters between pleasure and pain.

You grind back against his face and he moans so deeply that you feel the vibration of it up your core. Your eyes roll back into your head as you clutch the sides of the desk to better support yourself.

His enthusiasm alone has you spiraling towards a second climax embarrassingly fast.

“You know,” he murmurs against your sensitive pussy. “When I overheard you say that someone had refused to go down on you, I couldn't believe it. What a fuckin idiot to pass this up.” He gives your ass cheek a firm slap with his flesh hand before diving his face between your legs once more.

It's just seconds before you feel the telltale pressure growing in your lower belly once more. You go limp against the table, Bucky placing his hands on the backs of your thighs to help keep you upright as you ride out your orgasm on his face.

You continue to lay against the desk as you regain control of your breathing. Bucky stands up, tugging your panties up your legs and back around your waist as he does. He then shimmies your dress back down into place so that you're once again looking club-appropriate.

When you turn around to face him, he's wiping your slick from his lower face on the sleeve of his suit, once again displaying a shit-eating grin.

“What was it you said?” He asks in mocking contemplation. “You had lost all hope of ever having an orgasm given to you by another person again?”

“I think you've made your point. You're fantastic at eating pussy and you're a walking human-sex toy.” You roll your eyes at him and start to walk towards the door, but he grabs your wrist in his metal hand, stopping you.

He pulls you back to him and brings his flesh hand to cradle your jawline. He stares at you in a heavy, uncertain silence for a split second before bringing his lips to yours.

It's a kiss that's a bit more hesitant, and a lot less rushed than the one before. You taste yourself all over him, warm and salty. He takes his time getting lost in your mouth - you savor every second and it still comes to and end all too once.

“Couldn't help myself,” he smiles softly when he pulls away. “Just had to kiss you one last time.”

You can't help the way your heart skips a beat when he says the word last.

You clear your throat. “We should probably go find Sam and Natasha,” you say, giving him a small smile in return. “I'm sure they're both wondering where the hell we are.”

You spend the rest of the evening attempting to mingle with friends, but there's one thought that torments you for the remaining duration of the night - just a few hours ago, you doubted that you'd ever have a satisfactory hook-up ever again.

Now, you had to wonder if anyone else could ever make you feel as good as Bucky did.

♡♡♡♡♡

i left this kind of open-ended soooo leave it to your own interpretation what happens next for them 🤭

as always comments/reblogs are infinitely appreciated. thanks for reading!

my masterlist

[roturo]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK!

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! ₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, getting caught, he fucks you while he's on the phone, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son, age-gap.

A/N: well, this was surely and adventure and maybe self-indulgent title because guess what?, i'm back baby.

It was a nice morning, he felt clean. Like his life was finally steadying. Even after some stressful weeks trying to get rid of his now ex-wife, he won the trial and kept Yuuji. Poor little boy, just turning 5 years old and he’s already facing all this type of stress. But thankfully he will not be experiencing enduring his crazy mother behavior. Which basically was a gold digger, and a bitch– Not that he would ever say that outloud, maybe with other words? Bastard? Witch? Not that it really matters right now.

He could finally take a break now, just focusing on raising his little boy, and being an old boring 31 year old dad. Life doesn’t sound that bad.

“Daddy! Daddy!,” His son went running to his arms, almost stumbling by himself- clear happiness shown on his face. Quickly, Gojo opened his arms ready to lift the young kid. “Miss Y/N congratulated me on my homework! She was pretty amazed!”

Your name wasn’t unknown to him, Yuuji was very open when talking about his favorite teacher, even though he hasn’t seen you yet- from what he’s been told you’re the kid’s favorite, including Yuuji’s. “I had to talk about who’s my hero, and I chose you!” If this day wasn’t going great, it was now. Because his son's comment just made his whole week, life even.

“Oh look dad!” The little boy pointed towards your moving frame, each time getting clñoser towards them. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/N!” Yuuji kept presenting the both of you. He was really excited to present his two favorite persons to each other- but all Gojo could think of what’s how young and beautiful you looked. He expected someone older, maybe even an old lady with wrinkles and that loving grandma vibes, but what he saw made his heart beat in a way he never thought he would feel ever more.

“Daddy? Are you paying attention?” The little boy gained Gojo’s attention back, face now looking at him again. “I’m sorry kiddo, kinda just zoned out there. What did you just say?”

“Uhh, what was it? Oh! Did I tell you Miss Y/N told me you were a very handsome man?”

“Yuuji!” His gaze moved towards your blushed face, a hand covering part of your face. “I’m so sorry Mr.Gojo, I didn’t intend to say-”

Gojo cut you off before you could continue apologizing “It’s okay, I also think Ms.Y/N is a very beautiful woman.” 

Uh, well. So this is how kinda you found yourself in this situation right now.

You swear it wasn’t your intention! You really tried, you really did, but how could someone say no to Mr.Gojo? And mostly because he really showed his attraction towards you. Sending Yuuji with a rose for you every day, and the little boy was rooting for his dad, because dear god- he did not shut up about him, and how happy he would be with a new girlfriend and maybe one he could call ‘mommy’ and give him a sister. 

That made you blush. 

Not only because the little boy commented on it, and was agreeing- but because it was his dad’s idea.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.” Loud thrusts filled the room, he was fucking you raw on his sofa– waiting for Yuuji’s mom to bring him back, the little boy was eager to come back and ‘see Ms.Y/N and his daddy finally starting to fall in love’

Kids being kids. But, he was right- the both of you were falling in love with eachother.

Gojo throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you. 

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrive from it, come to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

“Ffffucckkk- oh baby, would you like that? Be full of me and my baby? Make me a daddy again?”

“yesyesyesyes, make me yours Mr.Gojo-” 

He pays your climax no mind,a smirk clearly showing on his face while he fucks you on his sofa- You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?” Your poor fucked up mind couldn’t think clearly now. The way your abused and overstimulated pussy was still taking his rock hard cock gratefully inside you was making every feel giddy. A sudden noise bringing back a little part of your senses, Gojo clearly grunting grabbed his what you suppose phone, and answered. Not bothering to stop his thrusts.

“Yeah?,” His voice sounded almost like a whisper because of how breathy it was. “Gojo? I’m almost at your house- Yuuji wanted some ice-cream and bought some for you and… your new girlfriend?” His chuckle interrupted his ex-wife’s conversation, accompanied with a whimper at the feeling of you clenching on him- overstimulation clearly bringing you back to climax soon again.

A slap was heard from his part of the line, an unbelievable laugh coming from his ex-wife line, clearly noticing what was going on and then she finally heard you moan. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and you were too fucked out to feel embarrased about it right now.

“Finish before I leave Yuuji- Enjoy yourself.” Gojo was so lost in pleasure that he didn’t even realize she hung up before he even processed what happened.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the sofa. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could’ve been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into your used hole. The moment he pulled out, a knock was heard. 

“Shit. Can you walk?”

PART 2

[celiababy]

Ain't Right part 3

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel thinks you deserve better.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral f!receiving, cockwarming, size kink, skinny dipping, angsty, kinda asshole/grumpy Joel, mention of alcohol

Celia's note: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG. but i threw in that much request angst i hope yall enjoy!!!!! Also happy valentines day!!! peace n luv fr

Aint Right part 1 Ain't Right part 2

Recently, life has been great for you.

Winter was gone as fast as it came, and spring started to take root in Jackson. Your favorite season.

The months that passed since Christmas had been like a dream. You and Joel's relationship had been all unicorns and rainbows—well, to you, anyway.

Finally, you were starting to pry open the gates to Joel's thoughts. Becoming close with him meant so much to you, even when he would off-handedly share information about himself by accident, you'd immediately commit it to long-term memory.

He didn't like to talk about himself much, but when he did, you were all ears.

Joel, on the other hand, didn't have to try as hard with you.

There was a constant flow of words out of your mouth, especially around him. You couldn't help it, really. You talked when you were nervous, and you were always nervous around Joel—that never went away.

But all in all, you were overflowing with happiness.

Joel, however, was feeling a little differently.

Ever since this relationship with you started, he's had this subtle ache about it.

His insecurities of being an old man were eating at him, day by day. His conscious just couldn't stop pestering him with the idea that you deserved better.

He felt that by being intimate with you, as much as he liked it, was holding you back from living your life.

By allowing you to indulge in this relationship with him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was setting your life up for failure.

He was picturing some White Fang situation where you were some wild animal that was getting too close to him, and in order to prevent you from getting hurt by domestication, he'd have to throw rocks at you and tell you to 'go on an' git'. Even though he deeply cared about you.

These insecurites really came to the surface whenever you two were in bed together.

He was 56 years old, for crying out loud. He had two rounds in him max, anything more might give him a heart attack.

He'd clock the little disappointed pout you'd make when he couldn't go again, even when you tried to act otherwise. He was just in his head about the entire thing—which was so unlike him.

You were doin' things to him, thats for damn sure.

Joel couldn't deny the affect you had on him anymore. You were starting to become a top priority; he was unable to stop himself from putting you first.

How was it so easy for you to become to important in his life?

He pondered this thought while coming back from a supply run, riding in on horseback. The sound of hooves crunching twigs and rocks was an oddly theraputic sound, one that helped stop him from thinking so much.

Upon his return, Joel drops off his supplies and guides his horse back into its stable. He gives it a few loving pats before leaving, walking down the main road with the breeze in his hair.

His eyes scan the people crowding the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of his favorite face.

And he does.

Eventually, Joel spots you, helping an older lady up her porch steps. You’re smiling, eyes sparkling like everything in the world was all fine and dandy.

It never got easier seeing you wear cooler clothes in public.

Sure, he's seen your naked body plenty of times, but there was something about you in a tank top, jean shorts and cowboy boots that just did things to him.

His heart tugs in his chest as he watches you complete the kind act, skipping back down the steps once the lady waves you goodbye.

That’s when you see him, across the street, just staring at you.

Your face lights up like fireworks when you notice. It always did. But Joel never got tired of seeing it.

He watches you jog his way, nearly running straight into him but managing to stop yourself last second.

“Hey! How’d that run go?” You ask, beaming up at him and trying your hardest not to smack his lips with yours.

“Good.” He nods, clenching his jaw.

Jesus, you looked so good right now—Joel was having a very hard time focusing on what to say when you were distracting him with your bangin’ bod.

“Good.” You copy, finding a moment to assess him. He seemed tense, more tense than usual. Joel knows you’re about to ask him what’s wrong—and he can’t face that question right now.

So he speaks before he knows what he’s saying. “You should come out with me again, next time, I mean. Actually try n' help instead of.. flirt.”

He's disgusing his intense feelings for you with an insult, because of course he is.

You scoff at his diss, rolling your eyes. “You loved my flirtin’.” You copied his texan drawl to mock him, earning you a glare.

“Well, I’d love to. Is it a date?” You purr, stepping into his personal space, prompting Joel to make quick use of his self control.

If he could act on his impulse, he would have bent you over and fucked you right there on the sidewalk.

He clears his throat before nodding. “Sure. Tomorrow. It’s a date.” He bites out like it pains him, because in truth, he'd rather take you out to dinner or something than another stupid supply run.

You’re smiling again, swaying on your feet. You make a few glances around to make sure no one’s watching before popping up and kissing him on his cheek.

“Kay, see you then." You chirp ever so sweetly, walking away in your small jean shorts.

You were really tugging on his heart strings.

When tomorrow comes, you're sitting on your porch swing, waiting for Joel to come and get you.

You were excited—mainly because you two would be out of sight from prying eyes. You could act on all your impulses.

You didn't mind people figuring you two out, you're kind of sure they already had, but you felt that Joel did care, and you wanted to respect his boundaires. Even though he never made those clear.

But, you felt you were pushing it with that kiss on the cheek yesterday, and you didn't want him upset with you.

The sudden thought made you worry.

Maybe he was upset with you. He did glare at you yesterday.

You probably did something, your anxious mind tells you.

You're snapped out of your thoughts due to the sound of hooves clopping against the road. Looking up, you're met with the pleasure-inducing sight of Joel.

He's walking with a horse beside him, holding its lead with a trained hand.

He's wearing that faded gray shirt and those jeans that seem like they're hanging on by a thread. So casual.

But, then you take a closer look at his appearance. He...trimmed his beard and attempted to slick back his hair...?

...Was he trying to look nice for you?

"Did you get all pretty for me?" You ask with a giddy smile, skipping down your steps.

He grumbles something incoherent under his breath before rolling his eyes. Yet, you swear you can see the faintest bit of blush on his cheeks. "You ready to go?" He asks, gesturing to the horse.

He's trying to change the subject, but you need to let him know you appreciate his efforts.

"You look really good, Joel. I mean—you always look good, but today especially." You bring your hand up to feel his hair, smiling happily. He can tell you're being geniune, but he's never been good with compliments.

"Thanks, sweetheart—now get on the damn horse." He sounds exasperated, but theres a small smile on his lips.

He helps you up onto the back before climbing on himself. "Wrap yer arms 'round me. Don't fall off." He murmurs, steering the horse towards the gates.

You slide up so that your chest is pressed against his back, and outstretch your arms to wrap around him. Once you two successfully leave the town and no one is watching, that's when you rest your cheek on his shoulder blade.

It's cozy. It's intimate. It's Joel.

You could fall asleep against him like this.

He remains silent because he knows how peaceful you feel right now. He wants to let you enjoy the moment.

You're admiring the forest scenary, occasionally resting your eyes. You don't know where Joel is taking you—maybe he's heading straight towards the middle of nowhere to drop you off and leave. Getting rid of you probably would've been in his best interest.

You're smiling at the thought because you know yourself. Even if he did do that, you'd find a way back to him. Like a loyal dog.

"Wait," Your voice cracks through the silence. Joel stops the horse, turning his head back to look at you. "Is that a lake?" He turns his head to where you're looking, his eyes catching the blue water that you're so enamoured by.

"Don't know what else it would be."

You roll your eyes at his smartassary. "...Can we go?"

"To the lake?" He reiterates, a confused look on his face. "'N do what?"

You shrug your shoulders, feeling stupid for asking all the sudden.

Immediately, Joel notices how you shrink into yourself. He wants to punch himself in the dick because he's being an asshole.

To fix his mistake, he makes a clicking sound with his tongue and steers the horse down to the body of water.

You're giddy again in no time, a soft but excited squeal escaping your throat.

He manages to find a small clearing within the brush; open tall grass, a fallen tree trunk perfect for sitting, and direct access to the lake.

"So pretty." You muse, simply in awe of the nature around you.

You didn't really leave town much—only when you had to. So, seeing stuff like this, really meant a lot to you.

Joel gets off the horse and immediately turns to help you down. His hands find themselves on your hips while yours latch onto his shoulders.

He lowers you effortlessly, his grasp lingering for longer than it needed to.

Your skin lights on fire at his touch, dirty thoughts instantly flooding your brain.

The lake, the seculsion, the tension...there was really only one thing you were thinking about right now.

"Hey, what if we just...didn't go on that supply run?" You muse, avoiding eye contact for a moment because no matter how close you've gotten with Joel, he still made you nervous.

He shoots you a questioning look, which gives you the idea to show rather than tell.

You step closer to the waters edge, beginning to take off your boots. Joel's watching with that stern look, but it quickly fades, replaced with lust when you start shedding off your clothes.

First your shorts, then your tank top.

"Let's go swimming!" You say with that happy smile, the one that makes his heart beat soar.

He can't stop his eyes from devouring every inch of your stark naked body.

Not only did Joel enjoy your pert breasts and supple ass, he was also equally obsessed with the not overtly sexual things about you. Your hair, shoulders, collar bone, forearms, the curve of your spine—everything, he was consumed by it all.

He realizes that he needs to answer you, but all that comes out is a scoff.

"Hey—no. We don't know what the hells in that water." He huffs as his boner peaks through his jeans.

"Fine, guess I'll swim alone then." You say nonchalantly, knowing if you went in, odds were, Joel wouldn't be far behind.

And you were right.

As soon as you enter the cool water, you see Joel starting to undress in the corner of your eye.

You pretened you're not watching, and eventually he joins you in the lake.

You've waded out rather far into the water, waiting to speak until you know Joel is close.

"Doesn't it feel nice?" You ask, letting your body float above the surface, limbs outstretched while you stared up at the fluffy clouds.

If you could do this forever, you would. Naked as the day you were born, floating in warm spring water with Joel's company—maybe this was heaven.

Sure felt like it.

You almost don't even notice Joel's palm run up your shin and thigh, only when his hand lightly drifts over your lower stomach, is when you become all too aware.

Yet, he doesn't venture south.

Instead, he makes a path further up your stomach, then your ribs, then the valley of your breasts, until he rests his hand over your heart.

You stare at his face as he completes this insane act, completely baffled at the fact that he seemed so entranced and calm, while you were trying not to freak out.

He notices your stare, and finally meets your eye contact. No words leave his mouth—he can't seem to find any that feel right.

But he's thinking about how beautiful you are. How sweet and doting, how smart and witty. Everything about you encompassed into a few short words just didn't feel worthy enough.

But you can't just leave things the way they are.

Slowly, you situate yourself around him, attaching to his body like a koala bear. Your arms slide around his shoulders while your legs wrap around his waist.

Skin to skin, face to face, so fucking intense.

Joel's strong arms find themselves around your torso, keeping you close to him.

"Yeah, it does feel nice." Joel replies, his voice soft, his eyes even softer.

You smile, big and geniune, a feeling of bliss taking over you. "Isn't this so much better than some silly supply run?"

Joel rolls his eyes, which spurs you on even more.

"Come on, admit it; you'd rather be out here with me, than some stinky convience store looting pills." You tighten your legs a little around his torso, feeling your cunt become flush with his bare stomach.

You feel a surge of pride when his breath hitches and his erect cock prods at your ass.

But it doesn't take long for his expression to fall back into its natural scowl.

"M'not admitin' shit." He murmurs, bringing a hand up to move your wet hair over your shoulder and onto your back. It's an absentminded motion, one that Joel isn't really thinking about doing.

He just felt the urge to touch you.

You giggle at him, dropping your forehead to his shoulder to laugh.

Joel huffs, trying to stop smirking because your giggle is contagious. "Quit." Is all he says, shaking his head. "Can't believe you got me out 'ere doin' this shit." He grumbles, adjusting his hold on you slightly.

"What 'shit'?" You mimick him and his texan drawl, earning you a stern glare.

"Naked in a lake like m'some fuckin' teenager." He speaks with an unamused expression, before his eyes land back onto you and his gaze softens. "What're you doin' to me, huh?"

It's a rhetorical question, but he says it like he's truly desperate for an answer.

You're not sure how to respond. His eye contact is making your brain all foggy.

It's silent.

You can only hear the rustling water, your breathing, and the general nature sounds in the distance.

Joel knows he confused you with his words, so he takes a moment to look away.

"Alright," He huffs out eventually. "Time to go."

He doesn't give you a chance to protest because he's already walking back to the shore, his arm remaining secured tightly around your back, basically carrying you.

You're not ready to leave, but you know Joel is, so you just opt for a dejected sigh.

He lets you back down on your feet when you're both on the grass, lingering his hand on the small of your back when he picks up your clothes. He uncrinckles your shirt before opening it up so you could easily put it on.

"This is becoming a habit of yours." You murmur softly, putting on the tank top and cringing at the way it sticks to your wet skin.

"Mm?" Joel doesn't know what you're referring to. He's never realized his pattern of clothing you. It was a simple act, but one you found endearing.

"Nothin'." You chirp, sliding on your shorts and boots.

Joel looks at you assessingly while buttoning his jeans back up, sucking in his stomach to zip them.

You're looking right back at him, admiring the way his wet hair looks, how the grays peak out in the most perfect way.

In a nervous manner, you shift on your feet, sliding your hands down into your jean pockets. "You sure you don't wanna...fool around?" You muse, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

Joel smirks down at the ground as he continues to button up his shirt, shaking his head.

"You're too late kid, should've asked when we were naked." He's teasing, walking back over to the horse and gesturing for you to come.

You groan out, dragging your feet as you walk over to him and the horse. You were being dramatic, and Joel see's right through it.

"Quit whinin'. C'mon," He mutters, grabbing you by the hips to hoist you back onto the saddle.

"You're no fun, old man." You mumble, which freezes Joel in his tracks.

He doesn't know why, but that one off-handed comment ignites a blazing string of destructive thoughts.

As if he wasn't already insecure enough about being old and no fun.

His brain is jump-starting the self-depricating train of thought he had grown accustomed to, only this time, it had more fuel because you unknowingly confirmed it.

Of course, that isn't what you meant at all. It was just a teasing little comment, one you didn't think twice about. You weren't actually upset—at all.

Nevertheless, Joel's already in deep.

Slowly, he swings himself behind you onto the horse, grabbing the reins and starting forward.

You're quick to notice his demeanor, but choosing to keep your mouth shut.

The entire ride back is silent.

It was just like the ride there, only with a more suffocating air.

You have an inkling, but you have no idea the extent of his turmoil behind you.

Eventually, you two make it back to the stables. Joel helps you down from the horse, moving like a robot with no facial expression.

He's got that look in his eye that worries you. Every atom in your body wants to ask him what's wrong, but you also don't want to pry.

However, Joel would never open up to you unprompted. So, you at least try.

Your hand drifts upwards to his face, smoothing some of his hair down by his ear. "Is everything okay?" You finally ask, your voice purposefully soft and light so you don't startle him like he was some wild animal.

He inhales through his nose and clenches his jaw.

Oh.

Something was really wrong.

Your gaze goes from slightly weary to concerned in a flash, nervously biting down on your lower lip. "Is there anything I can do to help?" You ask, very evidently willing to do whatever he needed.

Joel had never been good with emotional timing. At the end of the day, he was still a man.

“We’ve gotta stop this.” He blurts.

You’re still for a moment, confused with his abrupt and vague words. You wait patiently for an elaboration.

Eventually, one comes, to Joel’s own dismay.

“We can’t see each other anymore—not like this.”

A beat passes.

Then another.

And then another.

You’re frozen with dread.

It’s like your body has forgotten all functions as you sit there and stare at him.

Surprisingly, the only thing you’re able to think of in this life changing moment, is the Christmas party at Maria and Tommy’s.

You’re thinking about how Joel fucked you in the guest bedroom, and how he said he didn’t want you having sex with anyone else.

You remember how happy you felt—like you two were exclusive or something.

How stupid were you?

With a quick intake of air, you swallow and look away.

“Did I do something wrong?” You croak, your voice akin to a wilting flower.

Joel is wracked with guilt the moment he hears you. But his mind is forcing him to do this.

“No—no. You haven’t done anythin’ wrong. This is all me, I fucked up and let this go on for too long.”

His answer provides no relief.

“But, I thought we—I thought you liked me?” You’re stumbling over your words because you’re so distraught, trying to blink away your persistent tears.

Shit.

Joel can hardly look at you. He would crumble and die if he did—the sadness in your expression is like several stabs to the gut.

Truth is, he did like you.

Thats why he wants to end things.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he can manage, head hanging down to look at the dirt.

You’re not looking at him either, instead opting to blankly stare at one of the horses in the stable.

“So,” You start, your voice cracking because you’ve started crying at this point. “You don’t wanna hook up, does that mean we can still hang out?”

Joel takes a big deep breath before answering.

"It would be best if we didn't see each other at all." Finally, he makes eye contact with you, and immediately regrets it.

You look like you've just been shot, for christsake—might as well have.

It was like he just tore your heart out, threw it to the ground, curb-stomped it, and kicked it down a gutter.

"Okay," you murmur, nodding slowly, trying to seem some-what chill about things. Inside, however, it was like World War III. "Uhm, I'm just gonna go home." Your voice is a croak, and Joel watches with the utmost remorse as you walk away.

It feels like shock.

Was this a break up? Were you even together in the first place? Why didn't he want to see you at all? Questions, questions, and more questions rattle in your brain as you shuffle away, hands shaking and eyes pouring.

You look down at the ring Joel gifted you on your finger, debting whether you should take it off or not.

Joel feels awful.

And it's not like the awful he felt the very first time he regected you—this time it's far more painful. It's a deeper wound, an uglier, gross, puss-infested cut that keeps getting worse the farther you walk away.

He thought he'd feel some relief.

He thought that after ending things, he would be rid of that nagging voice in his head.

But no, it remained.

Only now, it barked thoughts of wrong-doing.

'Why would you do that? Things were going great, you've fucked everything. You just broke her heart—’ and it goes on and on and on.

For a moment, the panic he feels registers in his mind as a heart attack. Thats what it felt like, anyway.

He has to brace himself against one of the wood beams in the barn, aggressively rubbing his chest to try and get his heart rate normal. Joel loses his breath in the process, not realizing that he's having a panic attack.

Whatever happens next, you don't see.

You never looked back after you walked away. *** "I don't know why you're all caught up about this, Joel." Tommy admits, a disappointed expression on his face.

Joel glares at his younger brother from the bar top, clearly disgruntled by Tommy's inability to understand his side of the situation.

It had been exactly 17 hours since Joel cut things off with you. He'd been drinking for at least 10 of those hours.

Somewhat drunkenly, he had told Tommy a very short and curt version of what happened.

But he got the picture. Tommy sighs, hanging his head for a minute before bringing it back up to speak again. "All m'sayin' is, it's the end of the damn world, Joel. Her 'future' ain’t graunteed; she'll be lucky if she makes it past 30 with the way things are. She's been 'round long enough to know that herself, n'for some fuckin' reason, she wants you—"

"She don't know what the hell she wants."

"See—that's where you're wrong, Joel." Tommy slams the whiskey glass that he was cleaning down on the bar, fed up and frustrated. "I've known 'er longer than you. She's a smart girl n'you're sellin' her short. Wake the hell up." He bites out before walking away, clearly finished with the conversation.

He had been watching and listening to Joel mop and groan about it all day and night—he had enough.

Other than the anger from being talked to in that manner welling inside of Joel, there was also a moment of clarity.

As much as it killed him to admit, Tommy was right.

He was selling you short.

The world is too ugly and fucked up for him not to act like everyday might be his last. He would be stupid to not just settle down and be happy with you for however long he had left.

Shit.

All alone in Tipsy Bison, Joel was slowly beginning to realize how majorly he screwed up.

He ruined things because he was too damn scared.

He didn't think there was a worse feeling than this—dealing with this huge fucking mistkae.

He wasn't sure if he would be able to come back from how things ended.

That look that you had in your eyes...Fuck. Joel didn't think he even deserved a second chance.

But goddammit if he didn't try.

After throwing the rest of his whiskey back, Joel got up from the barstool and hurriedly walked out, slamming the doors behind him.

He marches all the way to your place, ignoring whoever tried to talk to him on the way.

He had to do this. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't.

Finally, he makes it to your quaint little home, haulting in front of it. There is some imaginary force stopping him, something pulling him back.

It's that nagging voice in his head again, the one that caused this whole mess in the first place.

But this time, he ignores it, and trudges up your porch steps.

Joel knocks rather forcefully, his jaw clenching when you don't answer within seconds.

He bangs on the door again with his fist, hard, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

When you still don't answer, he enters anyway with your spare key (he always kept it on him), calling out your name as soon as he steps inside.

You hear him from your bed upstairs, though you honestly think you're hallucinating. You've been crying for hours, the only sound in your ears were your sniffles and sobs.

His heavy footsteps seem to get louder and louder, and when he calls out your name outside you're door, that's when you realize you weren't hallucinating at all.

You sit up just as Joel opens your door, your eyes wide with shock and tears.

He takes a couple steps inside before he sees how utterly devastated you looked. The sight of you renders him immoveable.

He feels…like the biggest asshole-asshat-douchebag-fuckwad-dickhead thats ever walked the planet.

“Why…are you here?” Your broken voice asks, trying your best to hold back tears.

Even after all he did, you still spoke so softly, all your respect for him still there.

He had talked himself up the entire walk over, but all his words were dying on his tongue.

He was beginning to think that there was nothing he could say that would make what he did right.

“Babygirl I—”

He sees you psychically flinch at his voice, and it makes his heart break all over again.

His feet carry him to the edge of your bed, hands coming out to hold your face.

You’re not sure how to process his touch, not sure how to process any of what’s happening, but you’re trying your best.

“I was wrong,” his thumb is wiping off the tear stains on your cheeks, a forced gentleness to his touch. “So fuckin’ wrong, babygirl. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Upon hearing his words, you can’t stop the floodgate of your tears. You start bawling, your shoulders shaking with each sob.

“I was so scared.” You cry, bringing your hands up to latch onto him. You wanted to explain more, explain why you were scared—because having Joel and then suddenly not having him, was like ripping your heart out.

He can’t scoop you up in his arms fast enough.

He gets in the bed with you, lifting you onto his lap while he cradles your head to his chest, kissing the top of your scalp.

"M'not lettin' you go. I promise." He husks, his grip on you strong.

And Joel kept this promise.

He held you the entire night, ensuring that you were secure and warm.

In the morning, you immediately asked what changed his mind.

"I was frustrated." He starts, exhaustion etched into his face. "I couldn't understand why you wanted me. Felt I was keeping you from some great life—a young husband n' some white picket fence. But..life here is probably as good as it's gonna get. And this," He looks to the both of you, alluding to the relationship you shared. "Is really fuckin' good."

Your heart is crumbling at his confession.

Discovering that he spent so much time insecure about things, both infuriated and saddened you.

When you were about to respond and explain away his worries, he speaks again.

"M'not lettin' you go. What I did was a mistake. M'sorry."

You're crying again, sniffling softly against him.

"You should've just fuckin' talked to me," You whimper, burying your face into his neck. "I could've—”

"Ain't nothin' you could'a done. You never did anythin' wrong." Joel reassures, pulling you from his shoulder so he can look at your face. "You gon' forgive me?"

"Obviously," you mumble, looking at him with a fake frustrated expression. "I meant it when I said I've always been yours."

And just like that, things were resolved.

You brought your hand down to grip his flannel, sighing into his chest. Joel also sighed in relief, realizing that you weren't going anywhere.

To raise the spirits in the room, you crane your neck up to look up at him, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"M'still mad at you. How are you gonna make it up to me?" Initally, you weren't really insinuading anything sexual—you were thinking he could take you for dinner or ice cream or something.

But Joel has something different in mind.

He gently grabs your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you how he wanted. His tongue is warm in your mouth, his mustache prickly against your face.

When he breaks away, you're out of breath, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I got an idea." Joel mumbles, carressing your jawline with his thumb.

Slowly, he sits up only to position himself between your thighs. With his calloused hands, he slides his palm up the planes of your legs until he reaches your pants.

You shiver when he dips his fingers under your waist band, pulling them down agonizingly slowly.

"This okay?" He asks in a gentle tone, one that makes your stomach do flips.

"Yes," You say immediately and breathlessly. "Very okay."

The corners of his mouth turn up to resemble a smirk, before his gaze returns back to the area between your legs. He runs his fingers down your clothed slit, feeling the way your wetness coated the stringy fabric.

You let out a soft gasp, slightly bucking your hips, hungry for more of his touch.

He plays there for a while before finally taking your underwear off, setting it somewhere on the bed.

Joel inhales through his nose when he sees your glistening cunt, trying to not cum in his pants at just the sight. He doesn't stop his impulse to pull your folds apart, running his thumb along your lips.

He's being so slow and gentle—it’s making your heart rate each dangerous levels.

His thumb then ventures up to lovingly rub your clit, his eyes scanning your face to watching your reaction.

Your legs are shaking as you kept them apart for Joel, your hands fisting the sheets as you cope with the sensations he's allowing you.

Your chest is heaving up and down and your eyes are glazed over with a hazy fog—one that Joel loves to see.

Then, out of nowhere, Joel lowers his head and connects his lips to your clit.

The act makes you jolt, mostly because you weren't expecting it.

His tongue laps at you, slowly at first, but then something shifts in Joel.

It's like the hunger for your cunt overwhelms him, and his grip on your thighs tighten. Within seconds, he's devouring you like a man starved, licking long strips up your cunt before focusing on sucking your clit.

You can't stop the moans and mewls slipping past your lips, and you don't really want to. You want Joel to know how good he's making you feel.

"OhhhfuckJoel," You whine, shooting your hands down to grab his salt and pepper hair. He focuses solely on your bundle of nerves with his tongue, using his fingers to give your desperately empty hole some attention.

When he slides two fingers inside, you effectively fall apart.

Tear prick in the lining of your eyes, your thighs clamp around his head as you cry out his name.

The fact that he's never eaten you out before and he's been this good at it the entire time, felt criminal. You honestly might've been more offended that he waited so long to reveal this talent than when he tried to end things.

"Dontstopdontstopdontstop," You sob, feeling yourself reach that climax you craved.

You come with a loud moan, and Joel lets you ride it out on his tongue and fingers.

When your body goes limp, thats when Joel lets up. He brings his head out from your legs and slips his digits out of your spasming hole.

You mewl at the feeling, looking at him with teary eyes.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" You asks, voice quiet and cracked.

"M'fifty-six years old—been around the block, babygirl." He's face is glistening with your juices, and his mouth is wearing that lopsided smile of his. It makes you wanna smile back.

"...Damn. So I'm not the first, huh?" You huff, not upset in the slightest, just wanting to tease him a little.

He chuckles and unzips his pants, letting his cock slap against his stomach. "No sweetheart, you ain't the first." He rasps, effortlessly manhandling you to straddle his lap. "But you are gon be my last."

His hands caress the plush surface of your hips, kneading them like dough while his eyes scan your face.

You're blushing so hard, your face probably looks like a spanked ass.

He really did have a knack for leaving you breathless with those one-liners of his.

You steady yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders, looking back down into his big brown eyes. All you can do is stare, because your brain is too focused on how hard your heart is beating to come up with a response.

"What? Now you ain't got nothin' to say?" He husks, his massive palm venturing down to your grab and squeeze your ass. Your back straightens and your lips part like you want to say something—but you're not quite sure what. "C'mon, use those pretty lips."

An idea pops into your brain.

"I'd rather use these lips," You whisper close to his mouth as you raise your hips up to hover over his member, slowly dipping his tip inside your warm hole.

"Fuck," Joel grunts, exhaling through his nose.

You grin at his reaction, lowering yourself down further with bated breath. You watch as his head lolls back and his grip tightens on your waist.

"What? Now you have nothing to say?" You mock, even though you're equally as breathless as he is.

He flashes you a glare before sliding a hand up to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a searing kiss. His hand doesn't let you break away from his lips, and you don't plan to.

His tongue establishes dominance in your mouth, which you eagerly let happen. It's passionate, deep, bordering on punishing—sometime during, he manages to rip your top off, leaving you completely nude. But sooner or later, you both decide breathing might be a good idea.

You break away, chests heaving, mouths panting.

Eventually, you sink all the way down on him, giggling deliriously when you make eye contact again. You decide to forget your fake little fued, nuzzling your head into his neck.

"Have I ever told you how big your dick is?" You mewl, squirming your hips around a bit but not lifting them up and down. It has Joel reeling.

His hands are holding you so tight, you're sure that it'll leave a bruise. "No," Joel huffs out rather distractedly, his eyes laser-focused on the way your cunt is gushing all over his lap. But you swear you can see the faintest blush on his tan skin.

"Well—your dick is real big." You whisper nearly inaudibly, making Joel snap his gaze back to your face. A lazy smile curls at your lips before you begin dragging you tight cunt up and down on his violently erect cock.

Joel shakes his head in disbelief, as he often does, but is unable to answer becase the feeling of being inside you is rendering him speechless. His hand absent-mindedly dips down to rub your clit—the act has you doubling over onto his shoulder, starting to bounce on him like your life depended on it.

"OhJoel, Iloveitsomuch," You blabble into his ear, noticing how he had taken the reigns at this point. He was manually lifting your hips, bringing them down with intense vigor.

He was stretching you out so good and his tip was so fucking deep—you were having a hard time staying conscious and not going brain dead.

It appears Joel's in the same boat too. "Fuck—you're killin' me." He grunts, bucking his hips up to meet you.

You giggle airily before immediately getting your karma—his dick paired with the position and the way his face looked—your cunt clenches down on him and you cum hard.

Your body jolts as you grab onto him, not expecting him to keep fucking you. But his grip on your hips doesn't falter, and Joel continues to bounce you up and down.

The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt. Just letting him manhandle your body and do what he wanted was a surprising relief—even if you did just come.

You're reduced to whimpers and moans as you slump into his chest, letting him ground you and fuck your abused cunt.

Finally, slams you down one final time, unloading deep into your warmth. His groans sound like music to yours hears, especially because you know it's you that's making him feel so good.

He's panting in your ear, slowly starting to move his hands up to wrap around your torso.

He's hugging you before you can register it; his big arms securing you tightly to his chest while you both tried to catch your breaths.

Seconds pass...which turn into minutes, and you're wondering if Joel ever plans on letting you go.

He's made no efforts to remove his dick from inside you—it's soft now, but still buried deep nonetheless.

Your pussy will occasionally flutter around him, which'll earn a soft sigh from his lips.

You place a soft kiss on his temple before straightening your back to look at his face. "You tryin' to make sure your seed takes or something'?" You murmur, that teasing lilt in your voice that Joel is all too familiar with.

"Somethin' like that." He mutters into your chest, pulling you down with him to lay on the bed. "Want me to pull out?" He asks after a moment, scanning your face for any traces of displeasure.

You nestle into his chest, hooking your leg over his waist to lodge him deeper inside. "Never."

You and Joel fuck all day, all night and even into the morning. With, of course, breaks in between so Joel can recharge his stamina.

It happens multiple times in your bed, in the shower, on the couch, in the hallway, and even in the kitchen come morning.

Joel was making coffee while you were traipsing around with just his flannel on—humming along to some made-up song. It was like you two were an old married couple; him hovering over the moka pot and you scowering the fridge for some breakfast.

"Blueberry pancakes orrrr...." Joel watches as your head is stuck in the fridge, trying to find ingredients for meals. "Blueberry pancakes."

He snorts. "Surprise me." He huffs sarcastically, knowing he'd be eating a plate of blueberry pancakes.

You grinned and started making the batch, feeling Joel's eyes all over you because of the way his flannel was slipping off your shoulder because it was far too big on you.

His stare was turning you on—so you just bent yourself over the cool surface of the countertop and Joel did the rest.

Eventually, your safari of fun had to stop sometime during lunch. You both had succesfully cleaned yourselves and had started dressing for the day.

"I just told Maria I'd help set up." You murmur distractedly, tying your hair up in the bathroom mirror. Maria was holding a little town party in one of the recreational centers, and asked you, as well as some others to help her with the decorations.

There's a pause before Joel steps into the tiny bathroom, situating himself behind you and sliding his large hand over your stomach. He places a soft kiss to your head before dropping his hands to softly squeeze your hips.

"I'll walk you there."

A beat.

"You will?" He nods in confirmation, which has you turning around to look at him. You smile and tilt your head playfully. "You gonna walk me to first period too?"

Joel immediately rolls his eyes and scoffs, though you swear you can see him smirk.

"Smartass." He huffs out, grabbing your forearms to move you out of the way.

"Kidding." You chime, leaning on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. You weren't sure why you were so surprised by his offer, but you could tell it was a sign of something.

Maybe he wasn't stressed about people finding out about you two anymore. He never said that he was—but you could tell.

And it wasn't like he was embarrassed of you or anything—he's just always been a private person. It wasn't anyone's business who he was falling asleep next to every night.

But you—he'd be willing to change that for you.

When you both are ready, you exit your house, locking the door behind you. You look up to see your neighbor watching as you and Joel descend your porch steps.

You never liked her—gossipy woman who was always sticking her nose in places it didn't belong.

Quickly, your gaze snaps to his face, wanting to see if he was okay or anxious or whatever it may be.

But Joel's just looking right back down at you. "Lead the way, pretty lady." He murmurs lowly, his jaw clenched but his eyes soft.

You smile, and fall into step with him as you both walk down the sidewalk. The birds are chirping, the breeze feels amazing, and Joel is cracking smiles at your jokes.

Life felt good again.

Suddenly, Tommy appears out of nowhere, as he often does, blocking you and Joel's path.

You freeze, trying to keep a neutral face. You still weren't sure how to act around people with Joel, so you were just planning to play if off like you guys were just two buddies walking or whatever.

"Hey," Tommy greets, looking at you and then Joel, his eyebrows pinched together like he was confused at seeing the two of you in the same vicinity.

Oh. He probably knew what happened, or bits and pieces of it.

For some reason, you feel anxious that Joel might be feeling anxious, so you look down at your feet and nervously fidget with your hands.

"What're you two doin'?" Tommy asks, a detective look in his eyes as he shifted on his feet.

Joel clears his throat before looking down and grabbing your hand, intertwining your fingers with his calloused grip. He can't help but glare at Tommy with a stern face, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

Your breath catches.

Tommy's eyes venture down to your joined hands, then you, then Joel.

After a beat, a sharp and knowing grin spreads across his face.

"Well I'll be damned." THE END.

[iamzer0]

May you please do yandere platonic season 2 squid game reader with 13 year old reader who wants to stay

Hi can do!

Yᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ Pʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ Sǫᴜɪᴅ Gᴀᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ Tᴇᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

(MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS)

You had managed to get yourself into the games, congratulations..! I guess..

You tried to blend in but you stuck out like a sore thumb.

So many people had questions especially this guy named Gi-hun.

For some odd reason he was very insistent on you leaving.

You just couldn’t understand why, all you were gonna do was play some silly games for some cash.

How dangerous can that be?

During the first game red light green light, you knew you had this in the bag.

That was until the first shot was fired, your entire body froze. Even with Gi-hun screaming instructions you were still frozen.

Even when people began to start moving again you stood there frozen.

Tears are down your face, you were terrified.

Then someone grabbed your shoulder, it was this lady with a lip ring(player380).

She guided you along the field.

You had 30 seconds left, the people that were at the finish line screamed words of encouragement towards you.

It was strange to have so many people cheering you on all at once.

You crossed the line finally, and collapsed into player 380’s arms.

After the game you sat on the floor, ignoring the sympathetic looks from others.

You sat there thinking on what to do.

Thats when player 388 came and sat with you, he introduced himself and his friends to you.

“Are you ok..?” Gi-hun asked in a tone that could only be described as pity.

“Yea.. I think” you said quietly.

That’s when armed guards came in, they told y’all about the voting system and how you could vote to stay in the game or not.

Everyone placed their votes when it was your turn the room became eerily silent.

You could feel everyone’s eyes staring at you. Your hand hovered over the X button but then you thought about it.

About your parents and their struggle, you thought about all the loans they had to take out just to keep you in school.

You hesitated before pushing the O button.

You heard a collection of gasps and cheers.

You slowly walked towards the O side avoiding Gi-Huns look of disbelief.

You were met with pats on the back and words of support.

Then in a flash you were pulled to the side by some purpled haired guy(thanos) he did his whole introduction.

You thought he was insane, he looked cracked out.

But every time you tried leaving he would pull you back.

He looked at you as if you were an artifact that needed safe keeping.

Fortunately you pulled away by dae-ho(388).

That was when you met player 001(frontman) he stared at you intensely studying you.

They questioned you on why you chose O but you didn’t feel like explaining yourself.

From then on you had multiple people trying to convince you to join their side. They wanted you to quit the game.

You protested you wanted to stay in, but no matter what you said they never let up.

You started to not like the people you were stuck with.

Part of the reason was they treated you like a baby, some of them even coddled you.

It was nice a first, people gave you some of their food, they lended their protection to you.

But in the end it became much more annoying rather than loving.

Around the second game is when things got really bad.

People all around you offering for you to join their team, you walked around until you got pulled onto Thanos team.

You were in charge or spinning top and all though you were good you could barely focus with all the people yelling.

You managed but not before yelling some very unkind words.

After the games you had people practically swarming you, you wanted to cry and throw up all at the same time.

Then a miracle happened, player 001 pulled you out of the crowd.

Yelling at them all while holding you close to himself.

He held you close for a while, it got kinda awkward after the first 20 minutes.

It was a very overwhelming experience being in the game, along with the killing games, people were starting to seriously scare you.

I mean they were having full on arguments over you. It was kinda insane.

Even the guards treated you differently, they gave you the occasional head pat after a game, they slipped you extra food, and no matter what time it was they always let you use the restroom.

It was nice to have so many people care about you but care becomes smothering after a while.

You started becoming the apple of everyone’s eye, everyone was just so 𝙨𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜.

A/n: I hoped you liked this one, I love u all so much bye bye✌︎('ω')✌︎

[comatosebunny09]

— cw: making out, steaminess, jealousy, tooth-decaying romance, terms of endearment

He takes you with him to a gala to celebrate the opening of a new museum. 

It’s a little overwhelming, showing up on his arm like this. Everyone’s attention has been on you since you stepped inside the venue. There’s no clear-cut title to your relationship. But he doesn’t correct the other guests when they address you as his lady.

You’re not used to the attention. The whispers of how refreshing it is to see him with someone after years of bachelorhood. They talk about who you could be. A model, an actress, a singer. Talk about how you could’ve come to be his girl. The handsome, seemingly cold, and stoic business mogul smiling boyishly with you on his arm. No one’s ever seen him glow like this. You should be so lucky.

It’s flattering, their gossip, but it’s getting to you along with the champagne bubbling in your stomach. You slip out of the banquet hall for some fresh air. Truthfully, you plan to escape to your room upstairs to take off your dress and recharge. You don’t belong amongst these people, and it shows. You stick out like a sore thumb. 

You saw him chatting up a beautiful, statuesque woman on your way out. She kept touching his arm, smiling all pretty, giggling bewitchingly. He wasn’t doing much to stave off her physical display of affection. Must’ve been an old fling. How could you possibly compete with that?

You step into the elevator, heaving a sigh. Suddenly, a large hand slips between the doors, halting them from closing. He eases in beside you, a furrow between his brows as he watches you in your periphery.

“Were you not enjoying yourself?” he asks, breaking up the tense silence that befalls you as the elevator lazily drags itself between the floors. 

You fiddle with your necklace, a nervous chuckle in your throat. “No, no, I was. I just…”

He suddenly spills over you. Blots out the bright lights overhead, filling your vision with only him. He perches his palms on either side of your waist on the rail behind you. Exudes a dizzying warmth and heady scent that makes you feel more inebriated than the bubbly you consumed.

For a moment, you forget how to breathe. You swallow against the dryness in your throat, squished up against the elevator wall. He quirks a brow, wordlessly encouraging you to continue. Studies your face with scarlet eyes smoldering like burning coals, fully aware of his effect on you.

“I—”

“You?”

You stiffen when his fingertips graze your cheek. He sweeps some hair behind your ear, watching your mouth quiver as you struggle to form words. Your gaze falls to his lips. You’ve kissed before. Though there’s no definitive title to your relationship, it stretches beyond that of interviewer and interviewee. Ambitious journalist and prodigious business mogul. Beyond mere acquaintances or friends. 

He’s made it glaringly obvious that he likes you. He’s showered you with gifts and his time. Whispered the sweetest words to you, held you close. It would be nothing to kiss him now. To lay claim to him, spiting the pretty woman who’d been throwing herself at him earlier.

You’re not usually one to initiate. But you call up some courage, fingers wrapping around the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. He blinks at you, a little perturbed, lips slightly parted. You pull him to your height to kiss him, trapping a sound of protest in his throat. 

He melts against you, the kiss evolving into something more heated as he anchors you to the wall with his body. His hands find yours, trapping them overhead, fingers tightly wound together. 

He ravages your mouth. Leaves no part of it untouched by his tongue, drawling pretty mewls from you. He groans in response, addicted to the way you taste. To how you feel, so small and pliant against him. How you sound, sighing all content and gasping for air each time your mouths part.

The elevator dings, signaling it’s reached its destination. You’d forgotten you were onboard, lost in the feel of Sylus’ mouth moving against yours. He breaks away reluctantly, desire burning beneath his irises. He studies you for a beat before pulling you out of the elevator. You toddle behind him like a fawn, your heels too tall, legs feeling like jelly.

You vibrate with anticipation as he drags you to your room door. Pushes you up against it, swooping in for another taste of your lips, hand at the crook of your knee, bringing your thigh up to his hip. He swipes your keycard whilst your hands frame his face, and you’re kissing a little more desperately now. Stumbling back, shoved up against the door’s other side once inside your room. 

His hands roam up and down your sides. He notches himself up against you, knee nestled between your thighs. You moan as he pulls away from your mouth, blistering your neck with kisses leading to your collarbones. Instinctively, your fingers find his hair, mussing up his pretty, white coiffure.

His phone rings in his pocket, the sound jarring amid your labored breaths and the rustling of fabric. He tries to ignore it, busy nipping at the junction of your shoulder, palms roving over the plush of your thighs, your hips. Whoever’s calling must have a vendetta against you because they don’t let up. 

With an irritated sigh, he draws away from you. Still strokes over your skin, his cell held between his ear and shoulder as he grates a harsh “What” into the mic.

You stifle a chuckle. He looks so cute like this, lips kiss-swollen and smudged from your lipstick. Cheeks flushed, mottled red. His hair is slightly askew, the collar of his dress shirt wrinkled, and his bowtie loosened. He watches you with a crease to his eyes, cupping your cheek while his thumb teases your bottom lip.

You chase the feel of it, locking eyes as you nip at his fingerpad. His gaze darkens. He wants to kiss you again, but whatever’s taking place on his phone seems to be holding him back.

“On my way,” he sighs, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He inches in for a kiss, this one chaste and guiltless. Fingers smoothing back your hair, he breathes into the space between your mouths, “Forgot I had a speech to give.”

You pout, knowing where this is going, tugging on his jacket like a clingy toddler. “You leaving me?”

He chuckles, the faintest smile canting his lips beneath the low light of the hotel room’s entryway. “Only for a little while. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart.” He presses himself fully between your thighs, the seam of his trousers delightfully grazing your inner thigh. “Promise.”

You brush your noses together, lids lowered. “Okay,” you drunkenly nod, ghosting your lips over his.

“Wait for me?” It’s more of a request than a question, but you agree. You’ll always wait for him.

After kissing you one final time, he peels himself away, straightening his tie and smoothing out the wrinkles in his tux. You watch him from the slit of your door with a smile before closing it, propping yourself up against it, and sliding down.

With a dreamy sigh in your lungs, you’re a giddy mess as you fling yourself onto your bouncy mattress, kicking and squealing into the pillows like an enamored teen. 

[aakeysmash]

sukuna lets yuuji wear his jersey

a/n: this drabble contains angst that i didn’t want to spoil in the title (i’m so bad with titles y’all PLS bare with me okay)

college!sukuna masterlist

You know how football players usually give their jerseys to their girlfriends? College!Sukuna gives his to his little brother Yuuji.

You’re not big on sports, but Sukuna asked you to watch Yuuji a couple of times because he had “practice at the ass crack of dawn”. Seeing how ripped he is (you may or may not have walked in on him shaving his beard one time while he only had a towel wrapped around his waist) you already thought he did some kind of sport, but you never cared enough to ask him about it. It’s not until 6 months into your forced proximity that you come to know he’s actually really popular on campus.

It happens randomly. You just finished playing monopoly with Yuuji and you’re listening to your sweet little companion tell you he wants to help you cook this evening. You’re discussing what meal to cook when Sukuna comes home, late, as he did every day this week. He throws his gym bag near the living room door, gets his shoes off and grunts as a form of acknowledgment.

“You know, dogs usually bark more than you to say hi. Imagine being worse than an animal,” you say, not even looking at him, picking up the little plastic houses distributed on your table.

“Imagine never shutting the fuck up,” he answers, ruffling his still wet hair from a shower he must have taken not too long ago, not sparing you a glance either. You scowl, watching the water droplets fall on the freshly cleaned (by you) floor. Well, you have to admit he does look hot in his black hoodie. Black compliments his face tattoos really well, you think.

“Bro! Language!” His mini counterpart exclaims from in front of you, putting his hands on his hips, frowning. He looks like an old lady. A really cute and young old lady.

“Yeah, Sukuna, language,” you snort, flipping Sukuna off behind your back when Yuuji isn’t watching. The tattoed man, still standing by the door, narrows his eyes at you when you turn your back on him. Yuuji goes into his room to put the game away and leaves you two alone.

“You’re lucky I need the fucking money to live here or I would’ve fed your body to the really nice dogs who say hi by now,” your roommate says lowly, coming behind you and pushing you out of the way to lay on the couch. He pushes you harder than usual, so you stumble and bump your thigh on the table, muttering ouch and pouting. You’re pretty sure he didn’t control his strength like he usually does in your playful banters. You sit down to rub your sore spot, waiting for Yuuji to come back and start cooking with you, while he just puts his hood on his head and closes his eyes.

“Is this how you treat a lady?” You mumble, at which he scoffs, not even bothering to answer. As a natural conversation starter, you try to think of something to say. You think he looks like he could use a conversation, anyway. He’s been more distant this last week, but he always had his emo moments, so you didn’t think too much about it. Today his mood is darker than usual though, and for some reason, after six months of living together, that doesn’t sit well with you.

"How was tod-"

"Fine," He interrupts you. You're stunned by his roughness.

“Listen, tomorrow I was thinking of going-“

“Can you shut the fuck up?" He curtly barks, one of his eyebrows ticking.

You frown. "Hey, I was just-"

"I’m not joking. Shut up. Stop talking for one fucking day. God, you’re so fucking annoying,” he grits out, scrunching his eyes even more. At this, you close your mouth fast. Well, maybe he didn’t look like he wanted to have a conversation, at the end of the day.

After his outburst, the silence inside the living room is deafening.

You don’t want it to, but the tone he uses stings, even if you try not to let it get under your skin. You thought you two had become close enough to joke around this way, but you apparently guessed wrong. You just wanted to help, and he just shut you completely out. You just wanted to be a good… friend? Are you even friends?

Yuuji gets back and you stand up from the floor, going toward the kitchen. You wince when you put your weight on your leg.

You inhale deeply, reigning yourself in. “What do you think about… quesadillas?” You ask the little one calmly, and you see him beam.

“Yes, please! I want to learn how to make them good like you-“

“Kid, there’s a game tomorrow. Wanna come?” Sukuna interrupts you two. He’s still sitting on the couch with his eyes closed, but now he has his arms crossed too.

“Hell yeah!” Yuuji answers, jumping with his little fist in the air. Sukuna hums.

“Gotta tell coach. You still have the jersey from last time, yeah?” He asks, getting up from the couch and rolling his left shoulder. When it pops, he grimaces in pain a little.

“Of course I do,” the kid proudly says, looking up at his big brother with stars in his eyes. Standing next to each other they look like the ghost of the past and the ghost of the future from A Christmas Carol. Yuuji is dressed in bright yellow while if Sukuna had any more black on him he’d be a shadow. A chill runs up your spine. Spooky.

“Good,” Sukuna rasps out, solemnly getting the palm of his hand on his little brother’s head.

You start preparing the ingredients for dinner. “Are you eating with-“

“I’m going to sleep,” he interrupts you once again. He still hasn’t looked you in the eyes since he entered the apartment. You turn away, not wanting Yuuji to feel the shift in your mood by looking at your face.

“Goodnight, bro,” Yuuji says cheerfully. Your other roommate rushes inside his room, locking it from inside, and you and Yuuji are left standing in front of the stove in silence.

“Oh. Well,” you start talking again awkwardly, a fake chuckle coming through. “I guess that means he’s not eating with us,” you tell Yuuji, getting back to preparing the ingredients for your dinner, now for two.

“It’s a big game, you know,” Yuuji whisper shouts from next to you, overstuffing his quesadilla. “I already knew about it, but it feels nice when he asks me to go,” the kid continues, a small smile ever present on his lips. Your gaze softens.

“What sport and position are we talking about?” You ask him, handing him a piece of cheese to chew on while you finish preparing everything.

“He’s a quaftef bafck. He’f capftainf too,” Yuuji answers between bites. So he’s a football player. His strength makes sense now.

“You seem really proud of him, Yuuji,” you tell him sweetly, adoring the way he’s trying to get his point across by waving his hands in the air a lot.

He gulps down the cheese. “Yeah, big bro always lets me wear his jersey. He told me that if someone annoying has to be wearing it, then he might as well give it to me,” he smiles, big, while you inwardly cringe. Couldn’t be Sukuna if he didn’t say something that felt more like an insult than a compliment.

“Why is it an important game?” You ask, preparing one more quesadilla.

“Because he just became captain! It’s his first game as a captain!” The kid tells you, jumping a little on his chair and watching you, excited. Oh, is that why he looked like a bird just shat on him the whole week?

“Well, then you have to be his top supporter, don’t you think?”

The next morning, you wake up early to go grocery shopping. You wanted to ask Sukuna to come with you yesterday, but after the way he probably didn’t even notice he treated you, you really don’t feel like it. You get out of your bedroom door and are met with the sight of Yuuji already wearing his brother’s way too big jersey. You snap a pic when he’s still turned around. He looks so cute.

You go toward him, who is conveniently also toward the apartment exit. He hears your footsteps and looks at you expectantly.

“Can you help me tie the scarf?” He asks you, said scarf still in his hands. It's full of little drawings of tigers, which he told you are the mascots of the football team.

“Of course Yuuji. You look so good today, I bet your brother is really happy, mh?” You smile, getting at his eye level and wrapping the piece of cloth around his neck.

“I think he’s almost ready too!” He says, raising his eyebrows. Then, he assumes a confused expression. “Wait, aren’t you coming? I thought we were going together.”

You hesitate.

“I have to go grocery shopping today,” you answer, averting your gaze.

“Can’t it wait? It’s a really big game,” Yuuji pouts.

You hesitate again.

“I don’t think your brother wants me there, Yuuyuu,” you softly smile, trying to be nonchalant, finally securing the scarf and standing back up. You try not to look into the little boy’s eyes, because you’re sure you aren’t that good at masking your feelings.

“But he was-“

“Brat, are you ready?” Comes Sukuna’s voice from down the hall. You push Yuuji toward the approaching footsteps, mouthing Go! He’s talking to you! The child looks back at you like he wants to tell you something, but you ignore it. You hastily open the door to get out, managing to catch Sukuna’s gaze only a spare second before closing it behind your back. You stiffen. Then, you walk away.

Inside the apartment, Sukuna puts on a confused expression, matching his sibling’s one.

“Where did she go? Nevermind. We’re late, Yuuji. Run, or I’ll leave you here,” he hurries out, grabbing his house keys, hands sweating and feet carrying him to the stadium, while Yuuji tries to follow him.

When the Itadori brothers come back home, Yuuji screaming and Sukuna grinning like a madman for his team’s victory, you’re not there.

“Awh, I wanted to let her know you won,” says Yuuji pouting. In your place, there’s a sticky note on the fridge, which looks like it’s been there since this morning. In the haste of leaving, they both didn't notice it.

Go Tigers!!! P.S. for Sukuna: I left some quesadillas in the fridge. Good luck, captain.

Yuuji claps his hands, saying you must have made more yesterday after dinner when he was asleep, happy to be eating something good two days in a row. Meanwhile, Sukuna can’t take his eyes off the little piece of paper.

“Yo, do you know where she went to this morning?” He asks Yuuji, who is getting out a plate to microwave the food.

“She said she went grocery shopping. She said you didn’t want her at the game,” his little brother responds, lightly and not worried at all, like this is a reoccurring conversation.

“What?” Scoffs Sukuna, baffled, whipping his head toward his brother’s. When did he ever say something like that?

“Well, she said she thought you didn’t want her there,” specifies Yuuji, shrugging, getting two forks and two knives to put on the kitchen table. “I tried telling her you bought her a ticket too! But I don’t know, she seemed…” he stops, thinking about the correct words to say, now looking directly at his big brother’s eyes. “She seemed sad,” he finishes, muttering.

Right then, a tube of cream for bruises put near the coffee machine catches Sukuna’s eyes. He grits his teeth. He thinks back to yesterday, and to the way you rushed out this morning. To the way you obviously tried to ignore him when you locked his gaze. To the way your ticket never left his pocket, because he never properly asked you to come.

Suddenly, the words on the sticky note burn on his skin like a fresh tattoo.

Shit.

[lologoinsolo]

Hello :)

Just read your ‘unedited blurb’ about the fourth born princess married off to the illegitimate son Lord Riley… now I’m hungry for words. Please don’t let the starving children in Australia die.

It’s so cruel to taunt us with these tasty little snacks and no sustenance. Needs our meats and taters to fight off the drop bears.

x

Part 2 of this, slightly more edited drabble.

You’re a good wife. At least you believe so. You do your duties, you run the house well enough, you speak kindly to the servants and maids and butlers. You keep a smile on, a genuine smile towards everyone. You do tend to splurge on fresh flowers that you place in nearly every corner of the estate but that’s just to brighten up the old walls. You do your absolute best to be as prim and as proper as a wife of the Riley name should be.

But it’s… it’s just not enough.

“Good morning, husband,” you greet upon the top of your stairs, your hand on the rail as you make your way down. You have a hard time catching him long enough to speak to him. He really does live up to his nickname as The Ghost. “I’ve asked the maids to prepare… your…” the words you would’ve said dies when he turns from you. Didn’t even nod this time nor give you the dignity of a short conversation. You sigh, eyes closed before you roll your shoulders and head to the dining area.

Your breakfast sits for you waiting to be eaten and the servants stand at the ready to indulge any desire you might have. The chef here is exceptionally better than the one at the palace but at least that dining room had your sisters. The seats were always filled and the lighter was constant. Your eyes flicker to the doors, hoping against hope that today will be the day your husband eats with you. But alas, across the table sits an empty chair that’s hardly been sat on and food that is getting colder by the minute. Like always.

You eat in silence, striking conversations with the servants is a hard thing to do since they just nod away to what you’re saying. “My husband works too hard.” Speaking aloud but the servant that’s pours your drink merely winces, “please, send his food to his study.” Putting on a smile, this one genuine yet sadder. “Oh, and make sure to warm it for him before you send it.” Giving one last instruction as they go to take his food away.

After breakfast, you make your way to the garden’s greenhouse. It’s your little spot of sunshine that you’ve payed a keen eye to. You love your flowers, this place didn’t have much save for weeds. You’re hoping that once these bloom then you can put them in the house. The large greenhouse isn’t just for soon to be flowers but also where you’ll read. You’ve made a small library for yourself, just the books you took from your home at the palace. Even now, reading seems to be the only way for you to escape a loveless home.

“Mornin’, my lady!” The booming voice of your bodyguard jolts you from your seat and you almost throw your book. You still don’t know why you need one, you never leave the estate anyways. “I ken ye’d be ‘ere,” he smiles and it’s as warm as the sun, a hand settles on his hip as he leans closer to you. “Readin’ yer books again, my lady?”

“Johnny,” your hand over your chest, your heart might have jumped out. The book that was almost thrown sits on your lap now. “Yes,” catching your breath, “I am reading… again.” You’ve never seen a man dress like him when you were growing up. Sir— or just Johnny, as he had asked, is dressed in clothing that speaks of his proud heritage. The green and blue kilt, the leather, and the two sharp looking axes attached to his hips. The term, “Scottish warrior”, comes to mind. It’s something that you’ve heard your father speak about. Granted your father had nothing good to say about them. He never had anything good to say about anything in general actually.

“Yer makin’ me lazy, my lady.” He sighs like you’ve turned away a crying puppy.

“How am I doing that?” It’s refreshing in how he speaks to you. It should upset you that he’s so open with you but you’ll take what you can get. At least he tries to keep his manners, you’ve heard him curse only once but he promptly apologized for it. “If you are bored of your charge then perhaps you should ask Lord Riley to relieve you of me.” Turning your face a little, you go to pull your book out in front of you.

“Cannae do that,” puffing his chest out. Far too prideful to admit any sort of defeat, “ye ken there’s a library that yer husband puts donations to?” You quirk a brow at him, when did Lord Riley start doing that? He continues on, “it’s very big compared to yer lil greenhouse. It’s in town and there just happens to be a nice little bakery nearby.” Trying to sound as convincing as he can. He’s kept up with your routines and needless to say. He wants to get you out of the cage you’re squeezed in. Plus, a little birdie told him that you have a sweet tooth that’s almost as bad as Simon’s is.

Rubbing at your chin in thought, “okay…” placing your book down. No harm in getting out, you just hoped it would’ve been your husband that would’ve been the one to do so. A flitter of a fantasy that maybe he would’ve taken notice to you keeping to yourself here but… maybe he just has too many things to work on?

“Thank you, Princess,” smiling down at you once more. His hand outstretched for you to grab and you take it gladly. He pulls you out of your seat easily and takes a small step back so you can walk in front. His eyes have always been on you since you came in. Watching your graceful figure moves about the halls like a feather. He’d think you’re a swan with how you move, a pretty little thing that’s nestled in these cold walls. It cuts him deeper in the chest that any knife when he knows why your husband isn’t paying attention to you the way you deserve.

He’ll have to speak to Simon again, maybe get him to build you your own library in the estate. God knows it took some long and hard convincing to get the man to make donations to the towns library. It’s worth it to see how your eyes light up though. You flutter around and talk his ear off about all the books, talking more than he’s heard you speak since you’ve came about being Lady Riley. He swallows thickly when your back is turned once more to pile on another book to your growing collection.

He can’t keep doing this, not anymore. Not to you.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, step cest, none of reader's holes are safe

fem reader

Thinking about step-daddy who only married your mom to get closer to you... who thinks an unruly brat like yourself needs his firm hands and teachings to set you on the right course.

You can't believe what’s happening – can’t believe his words.

Your mind is caught in a frenzied state of denial and panic as he forces you down on your bed after you'd told him to get the fuck out of your room when he walked in on you getting dressed to go out, standing there in only a dainty set of panties.

You brace your hands against his broad chest as he bears down on you – trying to create space for you to breathe but achieving little else than if you’d been trying to lift a mountain.

He’s too big and too heavy – too strong.

He doesn’t even bother restraining your fists – not even when you start banging them against him. It’s as if he doesn’t even recognize the assault – busy burying his face in your cute cleavage, nuzzling the soft mounds with sloppy kisses and his bearded chin.

“Stop it!” You hic through tears – sobbing now that the pursuing events dawn on you, coming crashing down, wreaking through your brittle head at the feeling of your panties being tugged down your thighs – flimsy lace splintering before getting ripped off.

He disrupts your cry with a firm hand, taking hold of your chin – and you fall still in wait. 

“You' gonna let Daddy eat your pretty pussy out if you know what's good for you…” His lips brush yours with the vile threat while his other hand cups your bare cunt – whispering ruggedly, “Or I might just have to put you over my knee.”

You’re frozen beneath him – eyes shimmering with gloss, staring up into his impossibly dark stare – feeling leveled under the burden of his threat.

“What’s it gonna be, sweetpea? Y’gonna behave for Daddy? Or am I gonna have to use my belt on you?”

You stay still, and he takes it as your answer – smiling at you before placing a quick kiss on your cheek. 

“That’s Daddy’s good girl~”

Leaning back, he wrings his shirt off over his shoulders, revealing his bulky chest of curls and worn skin before throwing the article aside and looking back down at you with drunken eyes that give you shivers. His old muscles are flecked with age but no less brutal to behold – all intimidating enough to make you swallow thickly.

“You can cry out all you like, pretty girl~” He grins as he takes your thighs in his hands – lifting them, spreading them, then pushing them flat down against your chest – tipping your cunt up to his mouth. "A good girl knows how to scream." His breath is ticklish on your exposed sex. “But the only words I wanna hear come out of your mouth is – yes please, daddy – more please, daddy – and pretty please, daddy, can I cum?”

You whine when he licks a stripe through your folds – dark eyes glinting at the sound, chuckling hotly under his breath.

“Walkin’ ‘round my house dressed up like a little slut – teasin’ me all day long.” He gruffs. “Tch – this pretty cunt’s gonna get what you’ve been beggin’ for, and you’re gonna take it with a smile – understand that, little lady?”

Your toes are immediately curled, gripping the air for purchase as he buries his face in your muff. And he’s messy with it – spitting, then slurping it up again – splitting the lips to suck your clit, then pressing a deep kiss into it – tongue flatly running over the pearl, lapping at it like a dog. All with a heated glare – hungry like a starved animal – eagerly set on your face.

You squeeze your eyes shut to avoid it, lip caught between teeth – trying to stifle all moans.

But the folded position he has you in presses you free of air – soon leaving you to pant out like a silly bitch in heat – thighs wanting to squeeze shut but kept pinned and trembling in the harsh grip he has on them.

“Oh~ look at yah~ my little slut~” He hums between licks, a grin still slickly plastered on his face – mustache glistening with drool and arousal. “Must feel good to make you tremble like that – does my little girl wanna cum?”

You whine, trying to shake your head in denial – but the pressure builds whether you want it to or not – squeezing tight like a fist in your gut, desperate to unknot.

“Better ask for Daddy’s permission, or I won't be happy.” He adds, giving your thighs a pinch – hard enough to make you yelp – sure to leave bruises.

“Ah – no.”

You don’t want it – you curl your head to the side with a grimace.

You feel gross – reeling as his tongue circles your hotspot, unable to deny the tickle in your gut – recognizing the blossoming, knowing you’d soon bloom.

“Mgh," You whine. "Yes, please! I need – can I please cum?!”

“Call me Daddy.” He demands, talking into your cunt while nuzzling his nose against your clit.

“Please, Daddy – please, can I cum!”

Another chuckle makes you shake – almost impatiently – before he purrs, “Sure, baby – go ahead – make a mess~” 

He gives your clit one last harsh suck before sticking his tongue inside you, deep with a grin, while feeling you tremor on it, tasting your sweet release like it was a victory.

You throw your head back and your chest up – whole body quaking – trembling at the thrill pulsing from your core, zipping along each limb – leaving you feeling cottony and numb from the pleasure.

You pant with softer moans when it dissipates – still feeling twitchy.

Hooded eyes with teary lashes fall from the ceiling to his face – then regret it.

The shame washes away all pleasure – making your sweat go cold.

But if he sees it, he doesn’t care. “That was beautiful, baby girl~” He moans instead, eyes still keenly set on you.

You cringe, chagrined as he kisses your slit once more – tonguing the slick opening and humming at the sweet taste.

He finishes you with a sharp kitten lick flicking off at your clit – then releases your thighs. Pulling you with him as he got up on his feet by the edge of your bed.

“C’mere – on your knees.” His fist wraps your hair – tugging your head back. “Open wide and tongue out fo’me. It's my turn.”

Your brows cinch, feeling your scalp sting from the grip, making you timidly obey.

He groans at the pretty sight – looking so cute with that dewy glow on your cheeks – plush lips wet and welcoming – pink tongue trembling in eager wait of him.

Sighing with a leer, “Such a pretty little thing~” His other hand zips down his fly, pinched free the button, and let the baggy slacks drop to the floor.

Thicker tears pool in your eyes – a horrid burn of humiliation making your tongue feel heavy, kneeling beneath him with your mouth gaping – knowing what was coming.

“This is what you wanted, right – why you've been acting like such a brat?” He pulls your face against the pudgy bulge in his boxer – warm and thick beneath the black fabric with a ripe smell of musk. “You wanna be Daddy’s big fat cock to satisfy all your greedy little holes, hm?”

You don’t close your mouth – the fist ripping your strands from their roots was warning enough to keep you pliant.

“Come on then, little slut~” He started cooing, nudging the sack against your tongue, dipping inside the warm opening. “Show me how much you want it – and don’t look away.” The smile on his face made your guts fold. “I wanna see those pretty eyes beg for it.”

He gives your hair a sharper tug, forcing out a whine from your throat. It spurs him on, making him chuckle – watching your eyes tremble up at him – struggling against his bulbous crotch, cuddling it so cutely, making him twitch.

Rasping out, “Such a needy little whore~” while his other hand dragged the band down.

Your mouth sealed closed on instinct – eyes too – shutting tightly once his cock sprung free. Whimpering when feeling it slug on your face – you tried to turn your head away – but was kept close by the hand fisting your hair.

“Bad girl, I told you to keep your mouth open and your eyes on me.” He sneered, pinching your cheeks open with the other hand – hard enough to make you wince.

You peeled your eyes open again – with tears slipping down your face as you dropped your jaw for him again.

“Playing games like a snotty brat.” He hissed, rubbing his leaky cockhead over your parted lips – smearing his pre on them like lipstick while you shuddered. “Look at you now, mmh~ such a good girl for Daddy~ taking it on your knees.”

He dabbed himself on your tongue, and you had to keep yourself from retching – tasting the bitter salt.

“Mmh~ begging for it like an eager little cum-junkie~” He groaned, lolling forward, cock sliding over the bed of your tongue and hitting the back of your throat in a soft kiss – only with half his veiny shaft in your mouth.

He licked his lips and threw his head back.

“I knew you just needed a firm grip – knew you’d make the most perfect little slut fo’me~”

You gagged when he started thrusting, hands positioning themselves on his sturdy thighs, fingers digging into the muscles as he stuffed your mouth full of his length – weighty balls clapping against your chin where spit started frothing.

He held your jaw in guidance – keeping you steady to receive him.

Throaty moans grated your ears as he abused the wet warmth – looking down at you and how you struggled, unable to take all of him. It didn’t bother him, though – the tight ring of your lips sucking along his veins was enough to make him go crazy.

It felt so right to be throat-fucking your pretty little face; he couldn't believe he hadn't done it sooner – creating such a cute mess all over you – looking so hot on your knees for him like this, with spit and pre cum slicking your face like a young prostitute in the making.

You obeyed as best you could – not used to the size or tempo. You'd given few blowjobs before and never been facefucked. But you figured the sooner you could make him cum, the sooner all this would be over.

He thought about it, too. He could cum down your throat like this, make you swallow – drink his seed like a good whore should.

But the idea is soon replaced by the thought of stuffing your sweet cunt instead – feed your womb his hot load – wear your tight pussy like it was tailored just for him.

He popped out of your mouth, and you coughed before heaving for air – panting – nearly barreling over if it hadn’t been for the grip he still had around your hair. 

Pulling you up by it – his other hand found your throat, and your mouth was taken by his – kissed hungrily with teeth pulling at your lip while tickled by his facial hair.

“Mh- c’mere,” He groaned into your mouth – plopping himself down on the mattress while pulling you along by the neck. “Up on my Daddy’s lap, baby.”

He continues kissing you, with both hands slipping down to squeeze each asscheek, rolling your hips back and forth on him, making your wet cunt grind against the stiff underside of his cock.

You can’t help but make a noise as it licks your sensitive clit, rubbing over it in wet warm strokes. You balance yourself against his chest – hands placed on his muscles – pushing yourself up from slacking against him.

You’re still breathless, left gasping – too weak to fight it when he leans after you, mouth on your tits, sucking your nipples into hardened little peaks.

Your hands go to the hair atop his head, gripping the locks to steady yourself.

He chuckles at the pull, looking up at you while rasping out a filthy “Is my little girl excited to get her little pussy stuffed by Daddy’s cock?” with a lazy grin carved on his face.

And before you can deny it, he’s already confirming the statement.

“You must be – your little cunt is so fucking wet for it.” He cheered. Hand slipping between you to slap his thickness against your slit – rubbing himself between the lips with a mocking pout on his lips. “This poor little pussy, cock-starved and empty~ I know, I know, you want to cum on Daddy’s cock, don’t you?”

He lifts your ass up so that you’re hovering over the tip – using the other hand to angle it against your entrance.

Purring, “Don’t worry, baby~ finally gonna stretch you out nice and tight~ fuck you into size like a proper cock-toy~ fill you up with my hot cum~”

You shake your head and squirm when he begins to nudge the head inside – but both hands place themselves back on your hips, gripping them firmly enough for it to find purchase.

“There we go, ease on down it, baby~ get comfortable~” He coos, even though you’re sinking your nails into the tough muscles of his chest – gasping at the ill sting of the stretch as he pushes you down despite the tight resistance. “Oh, fuuuck – so wet and snug on me~” He sucks his teeth, snapping his hips up to bottom out deeply. “Take all of me, now~ let Daddy bottom out~”

His head hangs back – Adam’s apple bobbing up with his mouth hung wide in a silent moan while you wince – desperately wanting to lift off. 

But he keeps you seated – tensely made to cock-warm him while slowly adjusting to the size – taunt walls rippling along his veins, sucking on it as it settles inside you, molding you to accept its shape.

He squares his jaw, then gives a breathy hum that makes his beard dance – lifting his head to look at where he’s got himself sheathed to the hilt – his eyes lost in it as he sets a slow pace – using both hands to steer your hips, rocking you back and forth with barely any lift to relieve you – keeping himself lodged just as deep – cozily kneading your cervix.

“That’s a good pussy right there – wet and tight and all mine.” He groans, lolling you on him sweetly. “Isn't that right, baby? This pretty pussy belongs to Daddy, doesn’t it?”

He watches your perky tits jiggle for him. Leaning forward, he gives it a suckling wet pop.

“Every inch of this slut’s body belongs to Daddy, isn’t that right, little one?” He demands a little harsher, threatening the nipple between his teeth.

“Ye-yes…” You whimper. 

It’s been a while since you’ve been stretched like that – it’s been a while since your insides have been given any attention at all. When you do it for yourself, you mostly just settle for playing with your clit – happy with one orgasm to take the edge off.

This is touching on more nerves – lighting other fires – different wells – tapping all sources – you’re leaking juices all over him, practically sopping, sucking him in – all but your head overly ecstatic for the attention.

“You wanna cum again – don’t you, my little slut?” He murmurs knowingly, giving your ass a harsh slap while pressing his forehead against yours.

He groans as he picks up the pace – dragging a moan out from your chest.

You want to deny it again like before – but the pleasure allows little else than to be appreciated with heavy shuddering breaths.

“Remember the rules, sweetie. Better beg permission, or you’ll be punished.” He warns.

You spot a grin forming on his lips – sharp like a knife – before uttering the next words.

“Better say, please let me cum on your big fat cock, Daddy~”

You scowl, trying to sneer, “Fuh-fuck you…” but your voice weakens to a whine.

Still, it’s unacceptable.

“That’s not how you speak to your Daddy. Bad slut.” A harder slap cracks across your ass – this time, making you yelp.

Your hair is pulled before you recover – and you’re thrown off his lap. Placed with your knees on the floor and your face in the warm and sweaty seat he’d just been sitting.

He stands above you – using a hand to pin your wrists to the small of your back while another hard smack is given to your already throbbing rear.

“If your pussy won’t follow the rules…” He licks his lips, looking down at the sight of you bent over beneath him, sobbing fat tears from the abuse. “Then this ass is next in line.”

You flinch with the words, eyes going wide. “What?” Already shuffling uneasily, gasping once his heavy hand came back to pet the welted cheek, branded with his handprint, giving it a firm squeeze that had you wince.

“It seems you don’t understand who’s in charge here…” He chided, with a coarse finger settling on the untouched rosebud slicked in pussy-juice, rubbing it slow and steady. “But I bet fucking your tight virgin ass is gonna make that crystal clear.”

“No – please no-” You plead, jostling weakly with your remaining strength – but the digit enters you anyway.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it’s too late to beg now – you gotta take your punishment,” He dismisses, digging knuckle-deep inside your butthole. “But to be honest with you… I was hoping you’d bite back like that.” He gruffs eerily at your ear. “I dream about putting your bratty ass in its proper place every night.” 

His finger twists and curls inside the hole, loosening it a little before skewering another two in. 

“Make you cry as I turn you into a good little butt-slut for me – get this sweet hole to gape for my cock to fill it up.”

He puts you in a headlock after pulling his three fingers out of your stretched opening – letting go of your wrists in favor of reaching under you to play with your pussy as he bullies his bulbous cockhead into the tight ring while you cry. With nails biting into your palms and your poor gushing cunt clenching around nothing.

He enters slowly, giving it shallow thrusts to fuck it open before feeding it another fat inch. Rubbing your clit between gritty fingers as he sinks inside you – burying his shaft within the snug walls of your tight ass as your hole gives in to his size, swallowing him up until he’s kissing your stomach with his heavy balls squeezed flush against your cunt.

“There you go, my little anal slut~ That’s Daddy’s brat getting taught her place!” He gives your butt another firm slap as he starts dragging out and stuffing you right back up again. “Getting her naughty ass spanked and propped with cock like a little whore~”

The fat arm squeezing your neck and the fingers swirling your clit make your head cloudy – even as your ass screams from the pounding, your cunt begs for the attention – milking nothing as it weeps with slick, running down your thighs into a little pool where you kneel.

“Aah- Daddy…” You moan through a sob. “Please…” Whimpering while you throttle his cock with your taunt ass, all but fucking yourself back on his shaft as he keeps rubbing your clit in steady patterns that have your cunt kissing the air. “Daddy, please – please let me cum…”

His chuckle is lazy and grating, feeling your cute ass swallow his cock all on its own.

“Y’know, only a real whore cums from having her ass fucked, right?”

You can’t help but buck your hips, shaking your ass like a slut as his fingers pick up the pace and rub your bundle of nerves in quicker circles. Begging, “Please…” 

“Oh, what a filthy little girl~ bent over like a mindless animal, fucked in her tight ass.” He patronizes. “Okay, my sweet little slut~ I’ll let you cum – but only after I hear you Say, please, Daddy, can I cum on your big fat cock~”

You’re too close to refuse. Desperation lacing your cute moans, “Ah – Daddy, please – mh-please can I cum on your big- ah – fat cock, please, Daddy please~”

He shoves three fingers in your cunt at that, curling them into your soft spot each time he pumps them inside, finger-fucking the sloppy hole until it spurts, making you scream while you squirt, drooling on your sheets like a mind-broken mess as your thighs and ass shake from the release.

“Good whore~ Remember to say thank you.” He mocks.

“Th-thank you – thank you, Daddy~” You mewl out cutely before he sticks all three slick-glossed fingers inside your mouth – fucking the tired opening as you pant out dewy moans around them, sucking them clean of your mess.

He keeps a steady rhythm, continuing to ream your poor butt until it's his turn to cum.

“Such a good slut~” He slinks out of your pummeled ass and slaps his wet cock against your face where you rest against the bed, all sweaty and dumb from your orgasm. “Come’ere, cum-baby, tongue out as you look up at Daddy~”

He smiles, smothering you between his fat thighs while his balls cover your face, pulling back to tap the tip on your lips.

“Here it comes!”

White ropes lash your tongue, leaving a bitter taste – bejewelling your face with pretty pearls that melt down your smooth skin like drying paint on a canvas.

He groans as he tugs the last few spurts out of his balls, wiping the messy cockhead on your tongue.

“Aw, I gotta have a picture of that. Daddy’s little cum covered whore on her first day of training~”

He holds your chin, rough-handling your jaw between strong fingers as he angles your face to meet the flash of his phone.

Grinning as he sing-songs, “Say, all my holes belong to Daddy~”

Your expression is still dumb, softly blinking up at him with one eye weighed down with his cum, simply mouthing the words back to him. “All my holes belong to Daddy~”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Deku, Kirishima, Enji, Aizawa ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Toji, Kusakabe, Shiu ♡ HQ – Daichi, Kuro, Ukai

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[msfantasy-anime]

That’s MY Husband!

Luffy x Wife!Reader

Request: Boa finds out Luffy is married

A/n: Yo i for real struggled with a concept for this… i actually don’t like it but i just want to complete the request

Part XI

“Hello, we want to register our marriage~” You say, beaming at the clerk who is looking between you and Luffy with weariness.

“You want… a marriage certificate?” The clerk asks, unsure if he heard you right.

“Yep.” Luffy pops, becoming antsy with anticipation.

“You want… to be married … to him?” The clerk asks you pointedly, making sure he understands the situation. “Or is this marriage certificate for another gentleman?” The clerk looks down at Luffy’s outfit which looks like it was looked like it was grungy old clothes yanked off the floor (it was) and dirty from a day gallivanting about the city. Whilst you? You were in a nice clean outfit which look brand new from the store and that’s not even taking into consideration of your styled hair, manicured nails and pretty makeup.

There had to be a mistake.

What kind of groom doesn’t even have the decency to put on nicer shoes?

“Huh? Who else would it be for?!” Luffy bellows making the clerk flinch.

“A-are you a pirate?” The clerk asks hesitantly placing his hand underneath the counter, feeling for the panic button.

“Sure am! I’m gonna be king of the pirates!” Luffy bellows once again making the clerk shake fearfully in his place as he continues to feel around for the button.

“Y-your trying to force this young lady to marry you. Aren’t you?” He asks, more so accusing than anything.

Your hand slams down onto the counter, haki emanating off of you. “No one’s forcing anything. Now I’d get your damn hand away from the panic button.” You say with seething frustration leaking from your taut mouth. “You’re ruining the moment for us.” You hissed threateningly, making the clerk relent in fear.

“Y-yes ma’am! R-right away ma’am!” The clerk scrambles away in search of the marriage certificates only to come zooming back around the corner with the certificate in hand, having both you and Luffy sign the documents.

As soon as Luffy drops his pen, he turns to you and plants a kiss right onto your lips, unlike all those years ago when you first got married, you actually returned it this time.

Your lips collide into each other making your nerves fizz and buzz at the sensation of Luffy’s own mouth pressing so tantalisingly against your own. But just as soon as it started, it ended with Luffy pulling away with a huge grin slapped across his face until it quickly fades in terror at the sound of the towns clock chiming to indicate the new hour.

“CRAP! Nami told me to be back by the bell! Let’s go!” Luffy yelps, dragging you along in a dazed state back to the ship.

It felt like you teleported to the ship.

One moment you were being dragged out of city hall and the next moment you were both standing aboard.

You were expecting to be hearing an ear full from Nami at your tardiness, only she’s currently distracted with the pirate empress, Boa Hancock… who just so happens to be aboard.

It only took a mere moment of your presence for Boa to snap her head up, her eyes dragging across you and quickly darting away to stare at Luffy.

You’re curious as to why she’s here, and you don’t miss the glossy, heart eyes she’s throwing at your clueless husband.

Now imagine the horror of watching a pirate, known as the most beautiful woman in the world, call out your husbands name, pulling him into an embrace and puckering her lips as she is about to press her own mouth to his. A place that’s meant to be strictly for your own, and a place you kissed just moments before.

The swift shock of dismay that ran through your system caused you to stand stock still, unmoving, unblinking and not breathing. You were so caught off guard by the action, you weren’t sure if you want to cry, scream, yell or become violent at this woman’s non-consensual advances on your husband.

It felt like you were under a spell, unable to do anything but watch on as your blood runs cold.

Sanji places his a firm hand on your shoulder, as if pulling you out of your internal hysterics with his calm demeanour and reassuring grip, but your shaken nerves and furrow brows wordlessly explain your intentions of escalating.

Taking a long drag of his cigarette Sanji begins to provide you advice. “Give the captain a minute. There’s a certain grace Boa has earnt, after all- without Boa’s help, Luffy would be dead, and so would Ace.”

You turn your attention back to Luffy, who is currently craining his neck away. His hands planted around her wrists as he holds them back.

“Hey! Back off - I have a wife!” Luffy reprimanded Boa. Her affectionate gaze seems to shatter at Luffy’s careless words. Her struggle to grab him seems to fumble, her arms turning more limp.

Boa’s bottom lip begins to wobble in honest heartache.

It’s funny. One moment you were wanting to punch her lights out, the next you felt bad for the girl who was obviously head over heels for your husband… and understandably so.

But now… now it’s just sad as you watch the most beautiful woman in the world go limp, falling to the ground on her ass as she begins to wail at Luffy’s news. Watching the pirate princess cry fat blobs of tears is far from entertaining.

“I-I-I thought-t-t the r-r-report was WRONG!” Boa stutturs and and sobs all whilst she bites her bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you side eye your clueless husband who only seems to cringe away at Boa’s loud crying.

Gently, you approach the pirate princess grabbing her hand and returning it with a reassuring squeeze. “Unrequited love is unfathomably painful.” You say, providing a small smile.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what came next.

Your simple words cause Boa to release the loudest wail yet, throwing herself at you, crying into your chest.

“I-I-I-I thought if I w-was just p-patient- that he-he would eventually l-like me b-back!” She wails once again. You just continue stroking her head, unsure what to do other than to provide comforts to the heartbroken girl.

Oh boy… this isn’t how you thought your wedding day would go…

[cameronsbabydoll]

SCC reader and Rafe at one of his fancy business dinners. For additional context, this is probably also probably when readers on her 2nd pregnancy, so she’s just irritable and uncomfortable but still showed up with Rafe to keep up appearances.

Rafe and his buddies are drunk chatting somewhere, talking about work and normal guy stuff. Then the conversation shifts to their home/personal lives ie marriages. One man is talking about his wife’s new promotion, the other one she’s started a book club, etc…they’re all drunk talking abt how they love their headstrong and independent wives. Rafe is just sitting there, nursing his drink, listening to how they talk about them, like they’re people.

He never talks about reader like that, not about her really, just what she does for him “she’s a great mom, an amazing wife, or she’s beautiful”

Then he glances his eyes over to the wives talking by the bar, except you. you’re just sitting at the table, by yourself, hand rested on your belly, checking your phone (probably texting the nanny), trying to look occupied while you’re just waiting for the dinner to be over.

He makes eye contact with her and she sends him a small, tired smile that doesn’t meet her eyes and promptly decides to take her home. (she’s been faking a lot of smiles recently, he’s noticed.)

On the way home it’s quiet. She’s always quiet now. He brings up the new book club that one of his buddies mentioned, suggesting that reader likes a lot of those types of “girly books” and could join and have some sort of friends (ones that he could monitor and approve of).

The mention of it immediately makes Reader just breaks down sobbing about how she doesn’t fit in with any of the wives, how they’re older and college educated “established ladies with actual lives”. How they think she’s just a “dumb kid who got knocked up by the first rich guy to throw her a smile.” and maybe she agrees with them, reflecting on how she didn’t get to go to college or develop as a person before she had kids. She’s just in this cycle of isolation and self loathing that got worst after she got pregnant.

Rafe tries in his own weird way to comfort her(he’s not very good at it) claiming that she doesn’t need those “old broads poisoning your mind anyways”

She just sighs into her seat looking at the window and tearfully just says “I just miss her. I don’t have anyone… not anymore”(referencing her old best friend)

The rest of the ride is silent. When they get home, maybe Rafe tries to be extra sweet to reader during bed time(giving her a bit more physical affection bc god knows that girl needs a hug) maybe he tries to reassure her that shes not just some girl who got knocked up, she’s his wife. Like it’s some badge of honor or something. She just responds with “because you wouldn’t let me be anything else”

nothing else but yours

warnings: emotional neglect, isolation, emotional/verbal manipulation, references to pregnancy, identity loss, subtle controlling behavior, depressive themes, disillusionment with marriage, hinted age gap, power imbalance, soft angst

a/n: part of my sugar-coated chains series

the dinner is loud. fake laughter and expensive wine. your feet hurt in the heels he picked out, your belly’s heavy with the second baby, and your smile is wearing thinner by the hour.

you sit alone at the table, trying not to look like you're just waiting. hand resting on your stomach, phone in your lap. you scroll through texts from the nanny. check the time. sip water. anything to stay invisible.

rafe’s across the room with his partners, scotch in hand, tie loose around his neck. they’re all red-faced and slurring, bragging about their wives.

“she just got promoted to senior partner.”

“mine’s running a book club now, gets the whole neighborhood involved.”

“god, i love how bossy she is—she tells me what to do and i listen.”

and rafe just laughs, tight-lipped, swirls the ice in his glass. doesn’t say anything about you. not really.

when they ask, he just says,

“she’s a great mom. gorgeous. keeps the house in order.”

like you’re a job well done. a good return on investment.

he glances toward the bar where the wives are, gold and glitter and loud perfume. but you’re not there. you’re still at the table, slumped in your chair, eyes on your phone, trying not to cry from how swollen your ankles feel.

you catch his stare.

you give him a tired smile.

it doesn’t reach your eyes.

he’s taking you home ten minutes later.

the car is quiet. it always is now.

you look out the window, arms wrapped around your belly like you’re holding yourself together.

he tries. in his own weird, rough-edged way.

“that book club thing john’s wife started—you like those girly books, right? maybe you could join. make some friends.”

you laugh once. bitter. sharp.

“i don’t fit in with them.”

rafe blinks.

you never say things like this.

“they’re older. they went to college. they did something with their lives,” you mutter. “they look at me like i’m just some dumb kid who got knocked up by the first rich guy who paid attention.”

you wipe a tear away before it falls.

“and maybe they’re right.”

rafe shifts in his seat, jaw clenched.

“don’t say that.”

“i didn’t even get the chance to figure out who i am,” you whisper. “i just became yours. that’s all i ever got to be.”

he doesn’t know what to say to that.

because it’s true.

you stare out the window and say, quieter,

“i just miss her. i don’t have anyone… not anymore.”

and he knows you mean your old best friend. the girl you used to laugh with. sneak wine coolers with. dream with.

the rest of the drive is silent.

when you get home, he helps you out of the car without being asked. brushes your hair back. undresses you slowly. kisses your shoulder when he pulls the nightgown over your head.

he holds you longer than usual.

hand on your belly. lips against your spine.

“you’re not just some girl i knocked up,” he murmurs. “you’re my wife.”

you close your eyes.

“because you wouldn’t let me be anything else.”