#i hate him so much. i hate them! i hATE THEM!!! I HATE THEM!!!!!!!!!

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Literally why so many of the dudebro fans have a problem with Demetri akdjnhflju

EXACTLY!

[cutiefulism]

that boy is a monster !

cw. smut, wolf!caleb, bunny!reader, unprotected, p i v, brief headlock, knotting, pet names (honey, princess, pipsqueak) caleb is rough, both of them r freaky and crazy for each other, breeding sorta, use of gege n meimei, soft towards the end, uhh caleb cries idk

wc. 2.3k+

a/n. uh this was supposed to be longer but the old draft was js dragging on so here it is! a genius req by lovely anon, i hope i did ur req justice if not pls don't send me to the gulliotines 😓 ALSO yes ik this is ooc for him but also i kinda dgaf. any n all interactions is loved n appreciated!!

wolf!caleb who is nothing like your sweet puppy.

that caleb is kind and gentlemanly, holding you gently and slathering you in soft, adoring kisses and licks. that caleb kisses the very ground you walk on, wags his tail at every praise or gorgeous smile thrown his way, and begs to eat you off the bone.

he puts your pleasure first and foremost, always heeding your instructions when you tell him to slow down or speed up. he lets you come to him first, he lets you put the collar around his neck and tell him to be a “good boy” with red cheeks and bright eyes.

but this caleb, the one that’s pistoning into you from behind, thick bicep and forearm squeezing your head, does absolutely none of that.

“ungh, caleb, s-slow down—”

another protest from you, one he promptly shuts up with a rough snap of his hips and a flex of his arm. your breath catches in your tightening throat, and tears pool in your hazy eyes as your fingers scrabble at the sheets for purchase.

“you’d wanted this, remember?” caleb whispers in your ear, voice ragged and dangerously low. “goin’ on and on about how you wanted to see what changed and why i’m so different.”

admittedly, it was a little agitating.

not that he was irritated with you, per se, but more with your naivety. did you really, honest to god think that caleb was strictly submissive? that he’d always obey you, never think to unlatch the collar from ‘round his throat, never take off the rose-tinted sunglasses and realize that there is so much more?

you are no fool. surely you knew that your weak charade wouldn’t last for long, no?

you’ve been hiding his keys — tucking them into some niche, undiscovered cranny of his own fucking home. when you two go into public and there’s a group of women staring far too long at him, your bright mood sours, and you spend the rest of your vacation with him inside.

(you would hate to know the sort of looks he gets when he goes to the gym.)

you’ve even gotten to the point where you use facial recognition and scan his face while he’s sleeping to go through his phone. just to make sure there isn’t anyone willing to cut his leash and let him run free.

and, y’know, caleb has to applaud you. seriously. if he were any dumber, he might’ve kept those glasses on, might’ve let himself fall so far into you that there was just no way out.

as a matter of fact, he would have.

but he can’t keep you safe that way.

he has to be the one putting a collar around your delicate neck, keeping you within his own, hand-crafted sanctuary and never letting you leave, because you are far too kind.

if caleb ever expressed the want to be free, then you would let him. you would settle for being just friends with him, just being the colonel’s meimei.

and he couldn’t do that, not again. he’s already spent over two decades of his life just being your gege — now that he has you and that you have him, why would he ever allow you to let go?

no. no, he is yours, you are his, and that is something caleb will never, ever let change again.

this is how caleb has always been, underneath that docile facade.

it takes a manipulator to know a manipulator, as they say.

with every brutal thrust of his hips, his heavy balls slap against your puffy clit, drawing a broken whine from your throat and loosening the knot in your gut.

nothing about this should turn you on.

it’s disgusting and taboo and gross, letting caleb fuck you like a cheap, inflatable sex doll. he should be treating you with love and kindness, worshipping every inch of your body and murmuring sweet, reverent praises into your floppy bunny ears.

and he has. caleb has made love to you more times than you can even count — the quiet summer nights in the backyard on a red checker blanket or the early winter mornings where your sweet pussy has kept his cock warm all throughout the night.

you love those. you cherish those.

but you also like when he gets rough, when that sweet, prince charming mask slips just a bit, and his grip on you is a little too tight in public, or he’s staring at you a little too long when the both of you are supposed to be asleep, hands wandering dangerously close to your boy shorts.

that caleb gets your blood pumping, mind racing and pussy throbbing.

“maybe — s-shit — i was never different, pips. maybe i was always like this, always wanting to fuck ya dumb, and you just didn’t know.”

his hot, sweaty chest is pressed against your back, heart pounding in time with yours, and the delicious coolness of his necklace sends a shiver right up your spine.

your abused walls clench down on the veiny girth of his dick, and caleb groans, a loud sound that filters directly into your ear and makes your open mouth water even more.

drool trickles past your swollen lips and out the corners of your mouth, running down your chin and onto the bicep that’s tantalizingly close to cutting off your airflow.

he chuckles and cranes forward a little, enough to lick the spit and tears from one side of your face. “greedy lil’ thing. always bitin’ off more than you can chew, and then runnin’ to me to complain about it.”

it’s funny how some things never change. you used to do the same thing when the two of you were younger, too.

“caleb, can you finish my burger? i don’t want it.”

“caleb, go on the rollercoaster with me? please? it’s scary.”

“caleb, do you have some gold? i lost a bet . .”

caleb, caleb, caleb.

he will never grow tired of you saying his name, whether it be in the throes of pleasure or the depths of despair. if you can say his name, then you’re alive, you’re safe, and that’s all he can want from you.

that’s all he needs.

you, of course, want to protest. even when his bulbous tip is battering against your cervix, you want to defend your dignity. “i-i don’ . . i don’t do that, hah—!”

a pause, and his hips slow, just a little, big, fluffy ears drooping. “. . no?”

he’s moving before you can even manage a quip. caleb leans back, his arm deserting your face before his claws wrap around your ears, yanking them like reins while his other hand digs into the fat of your hip.

the most pathetic of squeaks falls out of that pretty mouth, and caleb grins — which, really, is more him bearing those pearly white canines than actually smiling.

you don’t get the chance to adjust to the stinging pain of him tugging on both your sensitive ears and your scalp before he’s slamming home again and scrambling your thoughts.

“what did i tell ya about lyin’, honey? your gege always knows the truth. ‘m n-not one of your friends you gotta pretend around,” he sneers, an odd mixture of ecstasy and disdain underlying his playful tone. “just be honest wimme and save us both the— o-oh fuck . . the time.”

your eyes hopelessly slide into the back of your skull, and his hold on your ears is the only reason you’re somewhat upright. your thighs tremble, legs practically noodles attached to your torso, and the need to cum again is almost reaching its limit.

you don’t even know how many orgasms it’s been, brain far too scrabbled and focused on caleb to worry about something so trivial. caleb has turned you every which fucking way but loose, making you cum on his clothed thigh, then his fingers, then his mouth, and, most recently, his cock.

a creamy ring of white encircles his swollen base, a beautiful testament to all the work he’s put into claiming your body, and he’s not going to stop until you’re nice and swollen with a pair of twins. or triplets.

bunnies are prone to having lots of kids, and caleb has no doubts about his fertility.

you’d be such a good mama. he knows it.

your hips wriggle back in a weak attempt to meet his, and he coos.

oh, his desperate girl, constantly wanting to milk him dry.

since you want more of his dick so bad, he guesses he has no choice but to indulge you. you just never learn.

caleb tightens his grip on your fluffy ears as his hips smack into the jiggling fat of your ass. there’s barely any pauses between them, a consistent ovation like your body is applauding him for fucking you so good, for treating you so right. “w-where’s that — ngh — smart fuckin’ mouth, princess? huh? haven’t shot a load down y-yer throat yet, so there’s no, mm, excuse why ya can’t talk.”

you swear you try to talk — the sentence forms in your hazy mind and everything — but all that comes out is a long moan, some sort of jumbled praise that has caleb snarling.

he tugs your ears, and more tears pour down your cheeks. “try again.”

“ow, mmngh!”

caleb tuts, and this time you’re prepared for the punishing tug. “third time’s the charm, honey.”

your throat works to swallow down all the saliva that’s pooled into your mouth, lubricating your dry throat. “cum— i w’na cum! ah, fuuckk, ‘m gonna cum, caleb, mmph—”

of course you are.

he’s noticed the trembling in your legs, the constant fluttering of your stretched hole around his shaft, how difficult it is for you to stop moaning long enough to get coherent words out.

and despite the haze in your mind, you know caleb is just as close. no amount of stoicism can hide the tightening of his breeder balls or the slight whine underneath the rugged gruffness in his voice. his pace is sloppy — he isn’t even punishing you by pulling out all the way anymore, just sharp, full thrusts that smooch your cervix and strike your g-spot every time.

“there w-we go, that’s what — ooh, shiiit — i wanna hear from my pretty girl. k-keep talkin’, and we can . . we can cum together, alright?”

he lets go of your ears just to wrangle you onto your back, pushing your knees up to your ears and making them pop. the new position has you feeling all thick, nine inches of your boyfriend’s (and future baby daddy’s) cock like it’s molded itself to your insides, all deep and snug in your tummy.

your hands slide up his arms so that your nails can dig into his back, leaving long, thin red lines like a personal brand. “y’re soo deep, o-oh my god—”

the praise does exactly what you expect it to do, and you hear his tail thump happily against the bed, brows drawing together in pleasure.

“cum with me, caleb. f-fill . . fill me up, breed me, ngh, do w-whatever—”

you don’t have to tell him twice.

it only takes a few more sloppy, frenzied thrusts from caleb to push you both over the edges, a scream of his name and a whimper of yours following after.

you’re squirting, juices spraying all over the sheets and his abs and that almost curly patch of dark hair right above his swelling knot.

it trickles down as caleb literally trembles with the force of his own orgasm, thick, goopy spurts endlessly filling up your empty womb and precious cunt. combined with the fact he’s impossibly deep inside of you, your stomach bulges, just a little, like it’s trying to tease him.

just as cheeky as ever, even unknowingly.

your worn-out body flops back against the soft mattress, and caleb slumps against you, thick arms wrapping around your smaller frame.

he holds you close, chest to chest, heart to heart, as he lathers you in those familiar licks and kisses, the ones that are full with unwavering infatuation and affection.

he knows he’s supposed to be the big bad wolf, but he can’t help but revert back. you deserve princess treatment, because that’s what you are: his princess. his honey, his pipsqueak, his everything.

you are what gets him up in the mornings. you are what guides him home after long, grueling expeditions. you are what he fights for, what he kills for, what he lives for.

you are his northern star, his evangeline.

tears blur his vision, and he tucks his face further into your neck, nuzzling against marked skin as his chest squeezes.

even post-orgasm and in the low, warm light of his bedroom, you can see caleb’s broad shoulders shaking. is he . .

“caleb?” you call, voice raspy but soft, filled to the brim with concern he sometimes thinks he doesn’t deserve. “are you okay? was that too much?”

he immediately shakes his head, and his fur tickles your skin. “i just . . fuck, you’re perfect.”

and caleb doesn’t think those words do you any justice. you’re so much more than perfect, so much more than the human language could ever be capable of describing that it gnaws at him to not be able to express it to you through words.

that’s what his body is for.

he sniffles and pulls back to look at you, big hands holding himself up off of you and glassy sunset eyes locked onto yours. “i . . i love you so much.”

he probably says it more than enough, but he’ll never grow tired of saying it either. finally being able to properly express his love for you through words, and not small actions that you seemingly didn’t ever pick up on is beyond freeing, like someone lifted a boulder off of his back.

you smile, gentle hands coming up to cup that flushed face, and your thumb brushes away the tears that have fallen free from his waterline. “i love you, too.”

til death do we part.

[seungisms]

( skz reaction ) condom or no condom .ᐟ 

📂🖇️ who in skz likes to fuck with or without a condom

genre: smut, minors dni, warnings: unprotected sex, public sex, slight breeding kink with chan cause grrrr, humiliation kink, overstimulation, small size kink with seungmin (his dick is too big for you cause i said so) creampies 🗣️🗣️🗣️ note: got super carried away and this is kinda dog but let’s gooooo

방찬. BANG CHAN

condom. he already has seven other kids he doesn’t need one more. mainly uses them cause he can’t be trusted when he swears he’ll pull out and cum on your stomach or tits instead. the faster his orgasm is to approaching the less he’s able to think about what he’s actually doing, every single coherent voice inside of him screaming for him to pull out is ignored as his cock fucks into you deep and sloppy - the promise of finally filling you up until his cum is spilling out past your little hole just makes it far too appealing to stay buried inside of your tight pussy, determined to leave you a sticky used mess once he’s done. hates himself for it but his breeding kink is dangerous, this man has to battle himself everyday to not fuck you until you’re full and pregnant, so convincing him to ditch the condoms will take some work. beg cutely enough and he’ll give in. swears he’s only doing it to shut you up but the second he sinks his bare cock into you he’s losing every lousy ounce of self-control he might’ve had, mouth drying up and eyes trained on the way your cunt struggles to take him. and he can feel every single nook and cranny of your plush cunt in ways the condom just doesn’t allow and he just can’t find it in himself to rid himself of the pleasure of finally filling you up the way you so desperately crave.  he can normally hold his orgasm out for a few good rounds, ensuring you’re completely fucked out when he finally does cum - but the first time you go without protection he’s busting inside of you within minutes. always buys you the morning after pill though and apologises for cumming inside of you, trying to ignore how good it felt to fuck your pretty pussy with no barrier.

리노. LEE MINHO 

no condom. when he cums, he cums hard. so wearing a condom just makes no sense to him and he’ll just end up ripping it off mid fuck, filling you up over and over until it’s leaking out of you, cussing under his breath that he should’ve fucked that stupid thought out of you for even suggesting to wear one in the first place. prefers having you on some type of brith control instead cause with the amount of cum this guys feeds into your pussy a condom isn’t gonna do shit. he’ll wear them when you first start dating just cause he wants to make sure you feel safe and comfortable with him but the second he catches wind you like it RAW?? he’s taking a lighter to every single condom he’s ever owned, in the trash, never to be seen again. and anytime you try to suggest using them again he’ll act so fucking offended, knowing fine rightly how much you love receiving the loads of cum he gives your greedy little pussy to even humour the idea. far too addicted to the feeling of filling you up over and over until your pussy is left all creamy and sticky and you’re crying that you can’t take anymore to ever think about going back, especially not when he’s felt the addicting press of your cunt smothering his dick and milking him for all he’s got, he couldn’t even fathom the thought of wearing them again.

창빈. SEO CHANGBIN

both. he’ll always try to remember one but gets such a bad case of pussy tunnel vision that most of the time he’ll forget about the stash he keeps in his bedside drawer. tries to keep one on him cause the amount of times you’ve found yourself getting fucked in some random empty supply cupboard or bent over his studio desk have been too many to count cause this man can’t keep his dick in his pants for the life of him, only realising he doesn’t have one when it’s far too late and he’s already painted your pretty pussy sticky with his cum. he’s far too impatient and just can’t ignore the feeling of needing to get his dick wet no matter how hard he tries, somehow always manages to convince you to let him fuck you raw when he doesn’t have a condom, swearing he’ll pull out but he wasn’t prepared for how much he’d love filling your little cunt up again and again until you just can’t take anymore of him. hates the part of him that gets off on seeing you stained and dripping in cum, and might even start telling you he ‘forgot’ to buy more while he was at the store - just to have the sight of your cute cunt all used and spilling over marked into his brain. 

현진. HWANG HYUNJIN

no condom. nothing gets him off like fucking you with no condom. he loves the risk of it all and the fact that he can turn you into a pretty mess with just a few pumps of his dick. loves fucking you raw so much that he’ll have videos saved on his phone of his cock stretching you out - soft praises of, ‘taking me so well angel,’ hardly audible over the sloppy sounds of his cock pumping into your pussy. needs to be as close to you as humanly possible so wrapping a piece of rubber around his dick to devoid himself of the heavenly feeling of your cunt suffocating around him just makes no sense. completely loses himself in the heat of your pussy, locks his jaw and rests his forehead on your shoulder when he’s fucking into you - just so he doesn’t lose all sense of sanity just from the mere feeling of your cunt milking him for all he’s got, and he’s prepared to give you it all. in the early stages of your relationship he’ll try to at least pull out for your sake, but the more he did the more he noticed your thighs locking around his hips to keep his dick firmly planted inside of you, forcing him to empty his loads into your greedy cunt and he just has to thank whatever god there is out there for blessing him with a girl that’s as eager for his cum much as you are. 

한. HAN JISUNG

condom but he forgets half the time. jisung gets so pussy drunk so quickly that protection will be the last thing on his mind, especially when he gets the chance to finally bury himself deep into his favourite place - your pussy. he likes the idea of being safe and protected but his hunger for your pretty little cunt to be wrapped around his cock any chance he can get just stands in the way of actually doing so. it’ll get to the point where you’ll have to carry them instead cause this man is prepared to fuck you nearly everywhere you go, doesn’t matter if you’re in public or not, he’s gonna beg to have your sweet walls wrapping around him near daily. if you actually do make him wear them it won’t last for long, he’ll whine and beg and near damn cry cause it’s just not the same :( and you have him so pussy spoiled that he might actually get blue balled all thanks to the rubber separating you both, might even pull out and take it off just when he’s fucked you dumb enough that you won’t notice, slipping back in and near sobbing the second your pussy swallows him up again, every raw twitch and spasm making his dick swell up even more. likes making a mess of you far too much to commit to condoms so they’ll become an increasingly rare occurrence in your relationship. 

필릭스. LEE FELIX 

condom. as much as he wants to he’s just far too paranoid about accidentally knocking you up to actually fuck you raw. also likes knowing you feel comfortable during sex and as appealing as thought of making your pussy all creamy with his cum is, he’d be a worried mess afterwards. makes sure he always has one in his wallet, cause with the amount you beg this man for his dick he’d rather be safe than sorry. even when you’re being all needy and he’s teased you to a state of being completely fucked out, whining about how much you need him to fuck you when the heavy weight of his cock bumping against your clit just isn’t enough - he’ll still find the will to ignore the painful swell of his dick to pull away and go grab a condom, chuckling and kissing away the cute pout of disappointment that sits on your lips when your hope of having him fuck you raw was once again shattered. tells you to stop being so goddamn ungrateful and take what he gives you :( with or without a condom this man KNOWS how to work his dick so he’ll fuck you stupid no matter what. the further you get into your relationship the more willing he’d be to finally ditch the condoms, but the second he slips into you with no rubber for the first time is the second he loses every ounce of control - fucking into you like an animal and suddenly your sweet, doting felix is gone and is now fucking you deeper and harder than he ever has before, wondering how he’s went all this time without the feeling of fucking you raw. 

승민. KIM SEUNGMIN 

no condom. this man will laugh straight in your face if you ever try to make him wear one. he knows fine rightly how greedy you are for his cum so he won’t take you seriously at all, fully arguing that a pussy as cute as yours shouldn’t be left all empty and sad without a cock in it and would look much, much prettier if it was dripping in cum. and he’s more than happy to be the one covering your little cunt in it. anytime you try to suggest using a condom he’ll make sure you regret it, forcing you to sit on his dick and fuck yourself over and over until that stupid thought was completely rid out of your pretty little head - pumping load after load into your pussy until it’s left all messy and sticky and begging for a break. loves reminding you how much you’d miss the feeling of his cock filling you up if he actually used one and deep down you hate that he’s right. sometimes he gets a little carried away cause the sight of you covered in his cum just goes straight to his dick, likes fucking you in public and making you walk around after with his cum dribbling down your thighs, knowing if you bent over just a little everyone around would get an eyeful of your cute ass painted in it peaking out from under your tiny skirt. and he’ll just have to fuck another load into you later that night from the thought alone. his cock is too big for you, and he gets such a nasty kick out of this fact, watching the way his cum from earlier that day trickles out of your pussy when he’s fucking you - only for him to push it back in with his cock and force you to take even more of it. loves seeing his cum drip to of your used cunt when he’s done and no amount of condoms is gonna take that away from him. 

아이엔. YANG JEONGIN

condom, but he’s easily persuaded to ditch it. jeongin is just there for a good time and as long as he gets his dick wet he doesn’t really care. he’ll always have one in his wallet just in case but the second he gets a taste of your pretty pussy he’s only able to think with his cock and completely forgets the concept of protection. this man needs you almost every hour of the day and most of the of the time wrapping a condom on his dick is the last thing on his mind, he’d much rather it be your pussy instead. can’t think straight when he’s turned on and the only fix is you. you’ll literally have to pry him off you when he’s this eager, lips chasing after you with a small whine of protest when you pull away from him in the backseat of the company car he’s somehow managed to squeeze you into after the rest of the boys and managers were busy setting up for rehearsal, trying to get him to focus long enough to grab a condom but he’s just too busy rubbing the fat head of his cock into your cunt. he’ll be so pouty when you stop him again, ‘forgetting something jeongin?’ and he’s just like, ‘uhhh, no? i remembered to turn my computer off this time,’ and just gets right back into trying to stick his dick into you finally. only realises he forgot a condom when he’s already fucked a load into you, letting out a small sigh of relief once he pulls his softening cock from your used pussy, watching the way his cum follows and dribbles out past your folds. but he can’t find it in himself to care cause you’ve never looked prettier. always helps you clean up after though :( 

© seungisms - all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated. 

[daryltwdixon]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5

Summary: Tensions rise as the three of you try to find clarity in the aftermath of lines crossed and feelings laid bare. In the weeks that follow, you begin to wonder if something this messy could still become something that lasts.

|| smut MDNI 18+, some mentions of pregnancy, angst and feelings, some fluff, dirty talk, pinv, blowjobs, love triangle (?), no outbreak, jealousy, possessiveness, power play, joel talks you thru it of course, fair warning this isn’t exactly healthy, bad communication, don’t do this ok EDIT TO ADD: threesome, some dubious consent at first then reader fully consents. Tommy is an asshole || notes: eeeehhehe okay I love this one. its a long boy! I listened to you and didn’t delete any of it lmao I love this dynamic so much and it makes me so happy to know everyone is as filthy as I am // pic of Joel & Tommy is mine //

“So, when you saw them, what went through your head, Tommy?” Dr. Servopoulos asked. The office was neat, almost unnervingly so. The walls were bare except for a few framed photos—serene lakes, white sailboats drifting across still water. A false sense of calm in a space built for unraveling things that weren’t calm at all. The air smelled faintly of old books and lavender, a weak attempt to soften the weight of conversations like this.

It had taken a lot to convince either of the men beside you to come today.

Bringing anyone into this mess was hard enough, but laying it bare for someone outside the three of you, having someone watch, analyze, pick apart what happened behind closed doors felt like something private was being dissected under a microscope.

Joel hated this. You knew he hated this. He was a man who carried his feelings in silence, whose apologies lived in things left unsaid. He didn't do this—didn’t sit in stiff chairs like this, in stuffy offices like this, didn't put words to things that made his throat tight. Yet, he still agreed to be here.

And Tommy—you knew this was hard for him too. Not just because of what had happened, but because sitting here, having someone else pick at the wounds, meant acknowledging that things weren’t okay. That they couldn’t just fix it themselves. That you had invited someone in to see the cracks that had formed over the past few months.

It made the walls feel closer, the chairs feel stiffer, the quiet feel too loud.

You watched Tommy as he sighed beside you, his fingers rubbing at his brow. His eyes flickered to the doctor before dropping to the floor. “I don’t even remember,” he muttered. “S’like I’ve blocked it all out.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I do remember the right hook I gave ‘im when Joel was tryna say somethin’ to me.” His voice darkened. “Ya know. When they were finally dressed.”

The last word dripped with bitterness.

You flinched. Your fingers curled together in your lap, knuckles pressing tight.

Joel shifted beside you, the slight movement drawing your attention. He sat stiff in his chair, his thumb rubbing absently at the bruised, purple swell on his cheek—the evidence of Tommy’s fury. He hadn’t said a single word since the session started.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to meet the doctor’s gaze. “Dr. Servopoulos—”

“Tess,” she offered smoothly.

“Tess,” you amended. “We never meant… this was never supposed to get this far. I just want him to know I never—” You turned to look Tommy in the eyes. “I never intended for this to happen.”

Tommy let out a rough scoff, shaking his head. His arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, well, neither did I.”

A quiet beat.

Tess glanced at Joel then, waiting.

Joel felt the weight of her stare and finally looked up. His dark eyes met hers, unreadable.

Tess raised a brow. “Anything to add?”

His jaw ticked. “What d’you want me to say?”

“You tell me, Mr. Miller.” Tess mused, tapping her pen against her notepad. “What about how you ended up sleeping with your brother’s wife?”

Joel exhaled slowly through his nose. His knuckles flexed. “Didn’t start out that way.”

Tess hummed. “Right.” She flipped to a page of her notes. “So let’s lay this out. You—” she nodded at you, “wanted a baby. You—” she pointed at Tommy, “were willing to ask your own brother to be a sperm donor, which then turned into you—” she turned to Joel, “what, just doing your brother a favor? By sleeping with his wife?”

Joel’s fingers drummed against his knee. “I did say no at first. But yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Tommy mumbled under his breath, “Yeah. A real big favor.”

You swallowed.

Tess scribbled something down. “Okay,” she said, flipping her pen between her fingers. “So when you three agreed to try for a baby in this… hands-on way, you never foresaw the possibility of… complications?”

You shook your head, stomach twisting.

“Not once?”

“I didn’t think about it,” you admitted, voice small. “I thought we were just—we were focused on the baby.”

Tommy snorted, rubbing a hand down his face. “Yeah? Well, neither of you seemed focused on it when you were sneakin’ around.”

You flinched again.

Joel finally looked up at him, his expression dark. “We weren’t sneakin’.”

“Sure as hell felt like it,” Tommy shot back.

Tess sighed, leaning forward, her gaze flicking between the three of you. “Alright, let’s just call it what it is: things got complicated. Lines that were there for a reason got crossed. And the problem wasn’t you trying for a baby—it was everything that happened outside of that agreement.”

She gestured between you and Joel. “You broke the boundaries you set. Maybe you ignored it, maybe you thought you could handle it, but now you’re here. And not because the plan failed, but because you broke your own rules. You had sex outside of what you all agreed to.”

A brief pause. Her eyes scanned each of you, as if silently asking any of you to deny it, before she tilted her head.

“So let’s cut to it. Why are you here? What do each of you actually want?”

Tommy exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I don’t know, okay?” His voice cracked slightly. “I just—I ain’t ready to throw away my marriage, but I also ain’t stupid enough to pretend like nothin’ happened.”

Tess nodded, absorbing his words before turning to you. “And you?”

Your throat felt tight. “I—” Your hands fisted in your lap. “I don’t want to lose either of them.”

Tommy’s head snapped toward you.

Joel’s fingers twitched.

You swallowed, your voice steadier now. “My marriage with Tommy is important to me. He is important to me.” You turned toward your husband, eyes pleading. “But things are complicated. Because Joel is important too.” You hesitated, shifting your gaze to Joel’s hands, his knuckles tight and white where they pressed together. “I don’t want to just cut him out of this just because of one mistake.”

Tommy’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t interrupt. His fingers drummed against his knee, his gaze flickering between you and Joel like he was waiting for something.

Tess sat forward slightly, pen poised. “And Joel?”

Joel dragged a hand down his face, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t wanna make things worse than they already are,” he muttered, voice low, unreadable.

Tess hummed, unimpressed. “That’s not really an answer.”

His fingers tapped against his knee. “Ain’t got another one.”

You turned toward him, heart pounding. “Joel.”

His jaw flexed, his eyes staying downcast away from you.

You didn’t push right away, letting the silence stretch between you before trying again, voice softer this time. “What do you want?”

His throat worked, but he didn’t speak.

Tess glanced between you both. “It doesn’t have to be a speech, Joel. Just say what’s in your head.”

Joel breathed in a slow, heavy breath, rubbing the heel of his hand over his mouth. His fingers dragged across the stubble on his jaw. When he finally looked up, his eyes locked onto his brother. “I know what we agreed to,” he said, voice steady but low. “I know this was supposed to be your kid, that I was just…” He trailed off for a second, shaking his head, like the word didn’t sit right with him. “That I was just helpin’.”

The room felt very still. 

Joel shifted, his knuckles flexing against his knee. “But shit changed, Tommy.” His voice roughened. “I can’t just—" He exhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. “I won’t just step back like this don’t mean nothin’ to me.”

The weight of it settled between all of you. Tommy’s knee bounced, his hands gripping his own upper arms where they were crossed. His mouth pressed into a hard line, but he didn’t speak, didn’t argue.

Joel swallowed, gaze flicking downward for a second before lifting again. “I ain’t askin’ for—” He hesitated, his jaw flexing like the words were hard to force out. “I don’t even know what I’m askin’ for.” His eyes flickered to Tommy’s. “But I do know I ain’t gonna be left out to dry.”

“No one said you would be,” you tried to soothe, your hand reaching to rest on his forearm, shaking your head. His skin was rough, warm, solid beneath your touch.

Your eyes traced the worn lines of his face, the quiet tension in his jaw as he looked at his brother. He was handsome in a way that felt etched into him, shaped by time and hardship, by everything he’d carried.

And you knew—better than anyone—how much Tommy meant to him. That neither of them trusted anyone as much as they trusted each other. That this needed to be amended before anything else could carry on between the two of you. You took your hand away from his arm.

Tess let out a slow breath. “Okay,” she murmured, nodding slightly. “Thank you, Joel. I think everyone needed to hear that.”

Joel’s fingers flexed again, and this time, his gaze flicked toward you, studying you for the first time since you arrived. There was something there—a charge, a quiet pull that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it had, and you were only noticing it now, now that everything had changed.

You let the silence stretch as you kept your eyes on his, trying to read between everything he wasn’t saying. That he wanted to be part of this, that he wasn’t going to give this up easily.

Then Tommy sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Then we gotta figure out what the hell we’re actually doin’ here.”

Tess tapped her pen against her notepad. “Right. So let’s talk about our options.”

“Options?” Tommy echoed, his voice edged with skepticism.

Tess nodded, uncrossing her legs only to recross them the other way. She leaned forward slightly. “The way I see it, there are ways to make this work—even if none of them are simple.” She flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “But make no mistake: it’s going to take work.”

Her pen tapped lightly against the paper as she continued. “Let’s start with the obvious: you can walk away from this entirely, go your separate ways—but none of you seem too eager to do that. Or, you and Tommy could stay together, work on the marriage, and Joel can remain in the background. Be some kind of father figure to this child and nothing more.”

She lifted a brow and looked directly at him. “But I’m not sure, with how far this has gotten, that that’s actually what you want.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. His jaw worked, tension shifting through his shoulders as his eyes dropped to the floor.

Then, quiet but certain, Joel said, “It’s not.”

Your chest tightened. The urge to reach for him surged again, stronger this time, but you didn’t move. You let him sit in the silence he’d chosen, even as it said more than anything else could.

Tess gave a small nod, like she’d expected that answer.

Joel didn’t elaborate. Didn’t look up. But the shift in the room was immediate. Whatever this had started as—it wasn’t just about the baby anymore.

Tess paused, giving the moment space before she spoke again.

“So the third option…How do we feel about the possibility of an open relationship?”

The silence that followed was thick, charged.

Tommy looked at you. You looked at him. Then at Joel. Joel stared at the floor, his jaw tight, expression unreadable.

Tess leaned her elbows on her knees, voice calm but direct. “I’ll be honest—I rarely see that work in situations like this. But it’s an option. If you’re willing to set clear, honest boundaries—and actually respect them.”

Tommy let out a breathy, humorless laugh, running a hand down his face again. “Boundaries. We’d need real ones this time. Ones that actually get followed.” His voice was edged, not cruel, but firm. “Not just shit we say and then ignore the second someone gets all… worked up.”

You tried not to let the flush creep onto your face as you kept your eyes on Tess as she went on.

“Now, let’s talk about Sarah.”

Joel immediately stiffened, his eyes shooting up to look at the doctor. Tommy did too.

“She doesn’t need to know about any of this,” Joel said, voice sharp.

“Not right now,” Tommy agreed. He turned to his brother, “But eventually, she’s gonna ask questions. And if we’re talkin’ about raising a baby together too, we can’t just not think about how this looks to her.”

Tess nodded, writing something down. “And if you don’t figure out what you actually are to each other, she’s gonna pick up on that long before you’re ready to have the conversation.” She flicked her gaze between all of you. “Kids are perceptive. The more unsure you are, the more confusing it’s gonna be for her.”

“When the time comes,” Joel said, measured, “I’ll tell her.” He glanced at Tommy, then at you. “Not before. Not unless she starts askin’.”

Tess watched him closely. “And if she does?”

Joel exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Then I’ll explain it to her. In a way that makes sense.” His eyes flickered between you and Tommy again. “She don’t need to know more than what’s right for her age.”

You let out a slow breath, nodding. “Alright.”

Tess closed her notebook. “Alright. It’s a start. But you’ve got work to do. This isn’t just about a baby anymore.” She looked directly at Tommy. “It’s about your marriage. About your relationships with each other.” Then her gaze flicked between you and Joel. “And whether or not you two can actually handle boundaries, or if this is just a slow crawl toward something blowing up in your faces.”

You swallowed. Joel’s hands clenched.

Tommy just sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The walk into the parking lot was a quiet one, with the buzzing of unsettled energy between the three of you. Once outside the door, you all seemed to turn to each other, waiting for someone to speak.

“Thank you,” you said finally, your voice soft. “Both of you. For coming to this. I know it was…” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Weird,” Joel offered, with a dry edge.

“Necessary,” Tommy muttered, crossing his arms.

You nodded, arms folding across your chest. “So…” you trailed off, unsure what came next. None of you were.

Tommy gave a short sigh and looked off toward the lot. “I’ll go grab the truck.” He didn’t wait for a response—just turned and walked, shoulders tight, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.

You and Joel stood in the stillness he left behind.

He glanced at you, then away, rocking slightly on his heels. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say right now.”

You huffed a quiet breath. “Yeah. Me neither.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, like something was caught just behind his teeth—but he didn’t speak.

And you didn’t reach for him, even though you wanted to. Even though your hand twitched like it might. To squeeze his, to graze his wrist, to pull him close and maybe even kiss him goodbye. But it was still too weird. Too soon.

So instead, when Tommy pulled up and the tires crunched on the pavement, you stepped forward and let your fingers brush lightly over Joel’s shoulder. Just for a second. Just enough to say something without having to speak.

The window on Tommy’s side rolled down, elbow braced on the edge. He was watching his brother with a resigned look in his eyes.

Joel met his eyes. They exchanged a short, silent nod. Nothing more.

You climbed into the passenger seat, heart thrumming. Joel stayed standing where you left him, hands in his pockets, watching as the truck pulled away.

And even though nothing had been said… it felt like something had shifted. Just enough to make it through the rest of the day.

For mid-October, the sun sure was baking you in the bleachers. But it was the good kind of heat—cozy, not oppressive. The air smelled like dust and hay and horses. Behind you, the fair buzzed with life—kids screaming on the roller coasters, bells ringing as prizes were won, music from the concert stage floating over the field like static.

The Austin Fall Festival was in full swing.

Tommy sat beside you on the sun-warmed metal bench, one hand deep in a bag of kettle corn, the other resting easy on your knee. Down in the arena below your seats, another bull rider went airborne, thrown like a ragdoll into the dirt. The crowd let out a collective wince.

“Damn,” Tommy said, watching the guy scramble to his feet. “That’s gonna bruise.”

You snorted, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “Bruise? That man’s spine just folded in half.”

Tommy grinned, leaning in. “Bet I could do better.”

You raised a brow. “You can’t even get outta bed without your back crackin’ like fireworks.”

He laughed, mouth full of popcorn, then pressed a quick kiss to your lips—warm and familiar. “True. But I’d still look good tryin’.”

You smiled as you sipped your soda. The air smelled like caramel and something fried—probably the funnel cake stand you passed earlier. You sat close enough to the arena that you could hear the thud of hooves, the pop of the announcer’s mic, the wave of cheers and groans rolling through the stands behind you. It felt electric.

Sarah was up soon. Her first barrel race. She’d been buzzing about it for weeks.

You leaned into Tommy’s side, and he brought his arm up to wrap around your shoulders, giving you an affectionate squeeze.

This was good. A sense of normalcy again.

Then, a familiar face caught your eye making his way up the bleachers. Joel had a bag of cotton candy in one hand and was weaving through the crowd with ease up the stairs. He reached your row and slid in beside you, a small smile already on his face.

“Just left Sarah with her trainer,” he said, a little out of breath. “She’s up in the next few.”

Then he leaned in to greet you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek meant to be just a casual familial ‘hello’. But still, his stubble scraped your skin just enough to leave a spark, and he smelled like horses and leather and that subtle cologne he always wore. It hit somewhere low in your stomach, but you didn’t let it show. 

He greeted Tommy with a nod, and popped a puff of cotton candy into his mouth.

You made a face. “Ugh. How can you eat that stuff?”

Joel grinned around the sugar, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s what makes me so sweet.”

You laughed, shaking your head and taking another sip of your soda. Tommy reached down for more popcorn, his arm brushing against your back as he dropped his hand from your shoulder, and Joel leaned forward to watch the next event being announced.

You sat between them, shoulders brushing, the sun warming your back, the crowd rising around you.

For a moment, it almost felt like things could settle. Like the three of you could fit into this new normal—comfortable, easy, like it was supposed to be this way all along. At least you hoped. 

The announcer’s voice crackled through the speakers, calling out Sarah’s name, and your heart gave a little skip.

“There she is,” Joel said, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees.

You leaned, too, eyes scanning the gate. Sure enough, Sarah was there behind the posts on her horse, nerves painted all over her posture even though she tried to play it cool. Even from here, you could just make out the furrow in her brow—the same quiet, determined look she got from her dad.

“She’s gonna kill it,” Tommy said beside you, resting his hand high on your thigh. He gave it a gentle squeeze, leaning into you as he said, “Ain’t no way she don’t win.”

You smiled, but it felt slightly delayed. Joel’s knee pressed against yours as he leaned close on your other side, eyes still locked on the arena.

“Hope she don’t cut that second barrel too close,” he muttered, mostly to himself, his voice low and rough. “She keeps doin’ that in practice. Gets excited and leans too early.”

“She’ll be fine,” you said, but you could hear the tension in your own voice. Joel’s hand had come to rest behind you on the bench, close to your lower back. Tommy’s fingers were still on your leg.

Sarah burst out of the gate, and the crowd roared. The three of you shot to your feet as her horse charged forward, hooves kicking up dust. She moved fast—tight, clean—rounding the first barrel like she’d done it a hundred times.

Joel was grinning ear to ear. “That’s my girl!”

His arm slid around your back, his other hand curled into a loose fist, pressed just beneath his mouth as if to contain the rush of emotion building in him. The hand at your back caught in the fabric of your blouse, fingers curling there, like he was tethering himself. Like he was bracing.

You tried to focus on Sarah, but all you could feel was the heat of his fingers, the way he clung to you, like your body was hyper aware of him.

You smiled, cheering, barely breathing, eyes fixed on her horse thundering toward the second turn. She hugged the barrel tight—too tight. A little wobble, a gasp from the crowd, but she corrected at the last second.

“She’s got it,” Tommy said beside you. His hand came to rest against the small of your back—right below where Joel’s hand was already bunched in your shirt. The two touches nearly met.

Neither of them moved.

Sarah charged toward the third barrel. Clean. Her final sprint down the home stretch brought the stands to their feet.

The three of you clapped, cheered, whooped, your heart racing, the electricity between the two men fizzing silently beside you. Tommy’s hand splayed wide across your backside. Joel barely moved, watching the timer screen flash across the display.

“That’s a good run,” he said, low and proud. His fingers loosened from your shirt, but he didn’t move his hand away.

“She’s gonna place,” Tommy agreed.

“She might win it,” you added, turning your head to look at them.

Both of them were already looking at you.

You smiled, flushed from the excitement—but something in the way they each looked at you made your skin feel hot for an entirely different reason.

Neither of them said anything, and for a second, the moment just… hung there. Their hands on you. The roar of the crowd fading into something muted.

Then the announcer called the next name, and the energy around you snapped back into motion.

Joel pulled his arm back to grab the cotton candy. Tommy slid his hand away like nothing had happened.

But your body remembered. And so did theirs.

After catching up with Sarah after her event, she was still buzzing with adrenaline. Practically bouncing.

“Did you see how fast he took that last curve?!” she gasped, practically skipping between you and Joel. “I was freaking out when the second barrel started to tip—did you see that?! Were you guys watching?!”

Joel was all pride and smiles as he walked beside her, teasing and nodding along, soaking in every word. She rambled on about her trainer’s horses, how they’d competed at Rodeo Austin for real, how she couldn’t wait to do it again. Eventually, she managed to talk the three of you into a round at the BB gun booth.

All four of you took a stance—Sarah coached dramatically, and you, predictably, failed miserably your first try. Joel and Tommy moved to the next round, and you watched from the side with Sarah, both of you hollering in support.

“Hit it! Hit it!” Sarah screeched at her dad. You let out a whoop as Tommy nailed the bullseye again and again.

When the game runner handed him a giant teddy bear, Tommy swung it into your arms with a triumphant grin before kissing you full on the mouth, unbothered by the crowd.

You laughed against his lips, hugging the bear tight, bouncing a little despite yourself.

“Uncle Tommy!” Sarah groaned, tugging at his arm until he pulled back from the kiss, grinning at her wide-eyed look. “Win me one too! Please?”

Tommy’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Joel, clearly amused that he was the one winning today. Joel rolled his eyes, but you caught the tightness in his jaw, the way his gaze lingered just a second too long as he glanced at your oversized teddy hitched on your hip.

“Go on, then,” Joel said, nodding toward the booth. “I’m gonna grab another beer.”

“I’ll join you,” you added quickly, glancing toward Tommy. But Sarah was already dragging him away, his hands back on the BB gun, ready for round two.

You and Joel peeled off quietly, heading toward the food and drink stands.

“Sarah was beggin’ for a funnel cake earlier,” Joel said, hands in his pockets. “Okay if we stop by one of the stands?”

“Yeah, ’course,” you murmured, falling into step beside him.

The walk was quiet—not awkward, exactly, but the air between you had thickened. Every step felt like it carried the weight of something unsaid.

You hadn’t talked much since the therapy session. Not really. Not about anything that mattered. The three of you had agreed to give it space—to breathe, to not immediately push into definitions or rules or boundaries.

But space didn’t feel like clarity. It felt like walking on eggshells. Like waiting for someone else to speak first, only no one ever did.

You weren’t sure what this was supposed to look like now. The idea of exploring an open relationship had been thrown out into the room like a life raft, but no one had said if they were actually ready to grab onto it. Not Joel. Not Tommy. Not even you.

You made it all the way to the counter before either of you spoke again.

“Make that two funnel cakes, please,” you said, just as Joel ordered Sarah’s.

He raised an eyebrow.

“What?” you laughed, lifting a shoulder. “Can’t help the cravings.” You reached for your wallet. “I’ll get Sarah’s too.”

Joel stopped you, his hand catching your wrist as you moved to your back pocket.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, already pulling out cash.

Then, quieter—low enough that the vendor wouldn’t hear, but just loud enough for you—he added, “Guess that sweet tooth runs in the genes.”

Your heart stumbled a beat. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t smirk, didn’t wink, but you could swear there was a twinkle in his eye when he turned back to you as you both stepped aside to wait for your order.

And just like that, the silence settled back in—only now it wasn’t neutral. It was charged.

When the funnel cakes came, you didn’t hesitate—tearing off a bite, still warm and soft, powdered sugar sticking to your lips.

You sighed in delight. “Oh my God.”

Joel was watching you when you looked up. That slight smirk on his face.

“What?” you asked, mouth full.

“You got a little somethin’,” he said, gesturing vaguely near his own mouth.

You licked your lips automatically, tongue sweeping the corner.

“Nope,” he murmured, chuckling. “Still there.”

Before you could try again, his hand reached out. Fingers warm and rough as they curled under your chin. His thumb dragged gently across your upper lip, brushing away the sugar with a slow swipe.

You froze—your breath caught somewhere in your throat as your eyes searched his face. The lights from the festival sparkled in his eyes, and behind him the sky had deepened into a wash of orange and violet.

Then his gaze dropped to your mouth, and he moved.

His lips brushed yours—soft, hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if this counted as crossing a line, or if the line had disappeared altogether. But he didn’t pull back right away. Instead, he paused there, the warmth of his breath ghosting against your mouth, and for a second neither of you moved. 

You stood still in that sliver of space where touch becomes choice, where you could pretend it hadn’t happened yet. But then his mouth pressed into yours fully, slowly, like he was tasting something he already knew. It wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate, drawn out and gentle. 

His hand stayed at your chin, his thumb pinching just barely as if to steady you, and your lips parted instinctively beneath his. You felt the sigh in his chest more than you heard it, like something deep inside him had let go the second your mouths met. 

Your hands stayed at your sides, fist clenched around the paper tray still holding your funnel cake, the other hugging the teddy bear to your side, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. It wasn’t a kiss born from adrenaline or jealousy—it wasn’t the kind of kiss that begged for permission. It simply was. 

When he pulled back, it wasn’t abrupt. It was slow, like he didn’t really want to stop, but knew he had to. His lips hovered a moment longer—just close enough that you could still feel the heat of him—and then he stepped back half a breath. You didn’t dare move. Couldn’t. You stood there staring at him, your lungs burning like you’d been holding your breath the entire time. Joel’s eyes dropped to your mouth again, and then, with a subtle flick of his tongue, he licked the last trace of powdered sugar from his bottom lip. The gesture was unthinking, automatic, but the sheer sight of it landed somewhere low and electric in your stomach, like a match being struck.

And then the world came rushing back in.

The noise of the fairgrounds—the buzz of voices, the bark of game operators, the soft whir of rides—returned all at once, like someone had turned the volume back up. You swallowed hard and looked away, trying to force air into your lungs, trying to stop the trembling in your fingers. Joel didn’t say anything. He just nodded once, almost to himself, and turned to start walking back toward the game booth. You followed beside him, the heat still high in your cheeks, your steps too careful, like if you moved too fast you might lose your balance.

You glanced up at him once, just to see if he was as composed as he acted, but the faint pink flush at the tips of his ears gave him away.

“Dad!”

Sarah’s voice snapped your head up. She was running toward you, a giant stuffed horse clutched in her arms, nearly half her size. She was beaming. “Can I go find Claire and Maddie again? They’re headed to the ferris wheel!”

Joel handed her the funnel cake without hesitation, “Yeah, go on, just stay where we can see you.”

“Thanks!” she chirped, already spinning away with her prize in tow, the funnel cake tipping dangerously as she ran off.

But your eyes weren’t on her.

They were on Tommy, just catching up to you—beer in one hand, the other stuffed in his front pocket, a smile on his face as he watched her go. When his eyes found yours, they flicked to Joel beside you, and something in his expression changed. Not angry, not suspicious… but aware. Like he was conscious of some shift between the two of you.

You tried to will the pink from your cheeks, steady the pulse in your throat as you stepped toward him and offered your funnel cake like nothing had happened.

“That kid had me goin’ three more rounds to get her that prize,” Tommy chuckled, clearly trying to break whatever tension had settled back between the three of you as he tore off a piece and popped it in his mouth.

Joel let out a quiet laugh, eyes following in the direction Sarah had run off. “Better go catch up with her before I lose ’er.”

Tommy nodded, then glanced at you. “Think we’ll call it a night after this. She’ll be wired for another hour and then crash hard.”

You smiled, grateful for the exit.

As Joel nodded and began to step away, Tommy called after him casually, “Hey—when you drop her off, mind swingin’ by the house? Think I left that box of tools in your truck bed last week.”

Joel glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure.” his eyes landed on you for the briefest moment, “See ya in a bit then,”

Tommy gave him a two-finger wave, then turned his attention back to you, the last bite of funnel cake pinched between his fingers, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walked out of the fair.

The drive home wasn’t long, but it felt like it stretched forever.

Tommy’s hand had been on your thigh from the moment he slid into the driver’s seat—steady at first, but now, it was creeping higher with every turn he made. His fingers flexed just at the top of your leg, the pad of his thumb brushing over your jeans in slow, distracting strokes.

“Tommy,” you said, a quiet breath more than a word.

“Yeah?” His voice was low, too casual for the way his fingers were moving now.

“You’re bein’ handsy.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, smirking. “Yeah, well. You’re lettin’ me.”

This wasn’t like him.

Yes, Tommy was affectionate—always had been. Touching your lower back as you passed through a crowd, brushing his lips over your shoulder while you stood at the sink, nudging your knee under the table just to remind you he was there.

But his gestures had never been… naughty.

Never anything that lit a fuse under your skin like the way his hand was gripping your thigh now. Never anything that made your breath stutter in your chest just from the press of his fingers curling possessively around your skin.

He was usually more careful with you. Gentle.

Tommy was the kind of man who waited until you were both tucked under the covers, warm and safe, soft and sleepy, before climbing over you with a smile and a kiss to your neck. The kind of man who made you smile first, made sure the world had quieted before he pulled you under.

You turned your head, looking at him from the passenger seat. He was focused on the road, jaw tight, eyes hard on the curve of the pavement as he turned into the neighborhood. But there was a spark there, flashing hot and alive beneath his usual easy exterior.

Your gaze slid down as he shifted in his seat, and your eyes caught on the undeniable shape in his jeans.

Heat bloomed in your face. Your chest. Lower.

The tight bulge in his lap pulsed like a secret between you, and it made your thighs press together involuntarily. But it wasn’t just the fact that he was aroused—it was that he wasn’t hiding it. That he was feeling you up in the front seat of the truck, on your quiet neighborhood street, away from the safety of the four walls of your bedroom.

Tommy, who usually waited until the house was dark and the doors were locked. Who kissed you slowly, slid his hands under your shirt and whispered “you okay?” even after years of being together.

He just slid his hand between your legs and gripped your inner thigh like he’d been thinking about it all night.

It sent heat rolling through you, sharp and dizzying. Not just from the touch, but from the awareness of how out of place it was. How unlike him it was to let go like this, to need like this, especially outside the safety of home.

And God help you—you liked it.

You pressed your legs together, your breath catching in your throat, trying to remember how to sit still while every nerve in your body screamed at you to climb into his lap and ride him right there in the middle of the road.

He felt your squirming as he pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching softly over gravel. The second the truck shifted into park and the headlights clicked off, the cab was swallowed in quiet shadow, only the streetlamp catching the edge of his jaw.

He turned toward you, that smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth—the kind that made your stomach flip. His hand slid from your thigh to the top of your seat, arm stretched across the backrest, his gaze drinking you in from the other side of the bench.

“C’mere,” he said, low and smooth, nodding for you to slide over.

You bit your lip, heart thudding, and obeyed without a word—scooting across the cracked leather until your thigh brushed his.

His hand dropped from the headrest to cradle the back of your neck, warm and firm. The other left the steering wheel, finding your cheek, fingers spreading across your jaw like he needed to anchor you in place.

And then he kissed you.

Not the sweet, half-thought kisses he’d given you throughout the day. Not careful, not playful. This was deep. Needy. Starving. Like he’d been holding it back for too long and didn’t care anymore if it showed.

His mouth slanted over yours again and again, open and hot, tongue sweeping past your lips like it belonged there. The soft sounds he made—those low, growling hums that rumbled in his throat—sent heat surging through your core.

Your breath stuttered as his grip on your neck tightened, his other hand trailing slowly down from your face to trace along your body until it was back at your denim clad thighs. He gripped hard, his palm sliding up along the seam of your jeans, squeezing just enough to make you shift in your seat.

When he tugged gently at the base of your hair, just at the nape, a moan slipped from your throat before you could catch it.

You broke the kiss just long enough to gasp, “Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

He huffed a breath against your skin, already moving to your neck, kissing a line down the column of your throat. His mouth was open, his tongue slow, dragging heat behind every press of his lips, and then—teeth. A soft bite that made your body jolt.

“Wanted to get my hands on you all day,” he muttered between kisses, voice muffled against your skin. “Lookin’ so pretty,”

You whimpered, nails curling into the fabric of his shirt as he worked lower, pushing your neckline aside with one hand just to mouth at the new skin he found there.

You were panting now, flushed all over, your thighs pressing together as he kissed, bit, sucked like he was trying to brand you.

“Tommy,” you breathed, completely undone, and when he looked back up at you—lips swollen, eyes dark—you barely recognized the hunger in his face.

“Get your ass inside,” he rasped. “Now.”

You climbed out the passenger door, giddy like a teenager all over again, your skin still tingling from his hands and mouth and voice. As you made your way up the walk, Tommy’s hand came down in a playful smack against your rear, making you squeal and laugh over your shoulder at him.

He didn’t smile—not fully. His eyes were too dark, too focused. But the edge of his mouth twitched like he was barely holding himself together.

By the time you reached the door, his chest was already at your back, his arms snaking around you, mouth grazing your ear. “You drive me crazy, baby… you know that?” he murmured, voice low and breath hot.

You fumbled the keys, giggling as he pressed closer. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands to himself.”

“And you didn’t stop me,” he whispered, nuzzling your jaw. “Didn’t want to, did you?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

The door clicked open and the second you were inside, his hands were on you again—spinning you around, backing you up against the wall just inside the entry. His mouth crashed into yours, deeper this time, slower but no less desperate. His hands slid up your sides, over your waist, thumbs hooking into your belt loops to keep you flush against him.

He kissed you like he hadn’t touched you in weeks. Like he’d been starving for you.

By the time you pulled apart for air, you were both breathless and a little dizzy.

“Upstairs,” he murmured, voice ragged, his hands slipping down to grab yours, guiding you behind him.

At the top, he didn’t even pause—just pulled you straight into the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind you with one solid thud. And then his hands were back on your hips, his mouth on your throat, and whatever this was—it wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

Your back hit the bedroom wall with a soft thump, and Tommy barely gave you time to catch your breath before his mouth was on you again, pressing into the curve of your neck, open and hot, his hands splayed across your hips like he couldn’t keep his hands still.

You gasped as he nipped at the base of your throat, your hands tangling in his shirt, gripping the fabric tight. He groaned softly against your skin, one hand sliding up under your top, rough fingers skimming over your ribs like he needed to feel all of you.

“Tommy—” you breathed, but it came out more like a sigh.

He pulled back just far enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling hard, eyes dark and locked onto yours. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head before the words even formed. “Don’t.”

That was all he needed.

He tugged your shirt up, slow but sure, breaking contact just long enough to pull it over your head and toss it to the floor. His eyes dropped, sweeping over your bare skin like it physically pained him to look away. One of his hands slid behind you and unclasped your bra in a smooth motion, and let it slide from your shoulders. His hands were reverent, warm and wide as they came up to cup you, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and the groan that left him was raw, almost pained.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said, like a thought spoken out loud.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, dragging it up over his stomach and chest. He helped you the rest of the way, yanking it over his head and tossing it behind him. His mouth was back on you before you could get a good look, lips trailing heat down your collarbone, your sternum, the swell of your breast. He kissed your flesh until you were arching into him, fingers tangling in his hair.

His hands moved to the button of your jeans next, and you gasped when he popped it open and dragged the zipper down, his knuckles grazing the skin just below your belly. You toed off your shoes, the soft thud of them hitting the carpet barely registering over the pounding in your ears. His hands slid to your waist, and he dropped to his knees, pulling your jeans down inch by inch, kissing the skin he uncovered like it was a map he already knew by heart.

By the time he got your jeans off, his mouth never left your skin, kissing along your hip bone, his breath hot and shaky. His hands slid up your thighs, slow and worshipful—until they weren’t. Until they were gripping.

His fingers dug into your flesh, pulling you closer as he moved up to kiss your stomach, chest, throat—claiming every inch like it was his and his alone. You were breathless by the time he kissed you again, and when he pushed you back onto the bed, you went willingly, your back sinking into the sheets, arms stretching above your head.

He hovered over you, eyes tracing every inch of your face. And then something flickered there. Something sharp.

“You let him touch you like this?” he asked, voice low but tight, as his hand moved between your legs, cupping you over your panties. The lace was already damp beneath his fingers, your arousal bleeding through the fabric. He dragged a finger along the center, slow and deliberate, and you felt the heat bloom deeper as the pressure built.

Your breath caught. “Tommy—”

“Just tell me,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, then your throat. “Did he touch you like this?” He pressed the heel of his palm in, slow but firm, dragging a moan from your lips even as your brows pulled together.

“Stop,” you breathed, trying to push up on your elbows. “It doesn’t matter.”

But he shook his head, his hand sliding your underwear down your thighs, slow and rough all at once. “It does to me.”

He kissed you again—deeper this time, almost bruising until his hands guided you to roll over, his touch less gentle now, more insistent. He pulled your hips up until you were on your knees, chest pressed into the bed, your face turned toward the pillows. You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt him—hot and hard, the blunt weight of his cock pressing against you.

You arched back into it instinctively, needing him to forget everything else, to just feel this—feel you.

“You’re mine,” he breathed, pushing into you with one steady thrust that made you gasp, your fingers curling into the comforter. “Always been mine.”

You moaned, eyes shutting tightly as he moved inside you—rougher now, his rhythm firm, controlled, but not cruel. Just desperate. Like he had something to prove.

Every sound that left him was strained, thick with emotion—his hands spreading across your hips, his thumb trailing up your spine like he needed to feel every piece of you to believe this was real.

The sound of your moans and Tommy’s grunts filled the air, the sheets rubbing against your skin beneath you, it was almost loud enough to drown out the front door opening.

But then you heard his voice.

“Tommy?”

Your eyes flew open, breath catching in your throat. That was Joel’s voice coming from downstairs. Your mind scrambled to remember why the hell he was here. And then you remembered Tommy’s request. Some stupid tool box he needed.

Tommy stilled for half a second—just long enough for your heart to lurch—before he started moving again, slower this time, deeper. Like he was doubling down.

You grunted, biting your lip to swallow the moan that threatened to give you away. Your hand scrambled for the edge of the sheets, something to grip, something to hold you to earth.

Your blood ran hot and cold all at once.

Joel’s voice came again—closer. “You home?”

“We’re up here,” Tommy called back, voice completely steady.

No.

Your entire body tensed under him, your head whipping to the side, eyes locked on the closed bedroom door.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hissed, panicked, but he only dropped more of his weight onto you, one hand pressing flat between your shoulder blades, the other tightening around your hip. You were locked in place beneath him, your breath coming fast.

“Shh, shh, shh,” Tommy cooed, his voice sweet but mocking as his hips kept moving, slow and steady and deep. “Ain’t gonna stop now.”

There was a creak on the stairs.

Your heart slammed into your throat.

“Tommy,” you hissed again, but it came out half-broken, your voice catching in your chest.

And then—

The door swung open.

“Jesus—” Joel flinched hard, turning away with a grunt and lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “What the hell, man!?”

Tommy didn’t stop.

His grip on you tightened, his thrusts slowing just a hair—but only to lean down, breath hot against your ear as he rasped, “That what you wanted, huh? Him seein’ you like this?”

You whimpered, caught between mortification and a heat that made your knees weak.

“Tommy—please—” you gasped, struggling half-heartedly beneath him.

But he was gone.

“Think you can just fuck my wife whenever you want?” Tommy growled, looking over at Joel now, chest heaving, voice thick with rage and something else—something darker. “Think you do it better?”

Joel turned slightly, eyes caught somewhere between fury and disbelief. “You’ve lost your goddamn mind—”

“Have I?” Tommy snapped, his voice low and dangerous as he fucked into you harder now, like he was trying to prove something with every movement. “’Cause she’s drippin’ all over my cock right now. You seein’ this?”

You let out a broken sound, face buried in the mattress. You wanted to crawl out of your skin—and yet the way Tommy was holding you, the filthy things coming out of his mouth, the heat between the three of you…

It was too much.

Joel’s mouth opened like he was about to say something else—but he didn’t.

He stared.

He stayed.

And your heart nearly exploded as Tommy chuckled low in his throat, thrusting deep and slow again like he wanted Joel to see it.

“That’s right,” Tommy said, never looking away. “Go on. Watch. See what it looks like when a man takes care of what’s his.”

“Call this takin’ care?” Joel said, voice low, sharp with something mean and taunting beneath the surface.

Your eyes flicked up, wide, and found his—and the heat there made your breath catch.

“Tell me, little brother,” Joel drawled, “you ever felt her come all over that dick of yours?”

Tommy’s movements faltered. Just for a second.

You felt it—his grip loosening slightly on your hips, his breath catching.

Your heart was in your throat, beating so hard it hurt.

Joel stepped forward, slow, measured. His eyes dragged over your body—not like it was new to him, but like he knew every inch of it already. Like he could trace it blind, by memory alone.

“Didn’t think so,” he murmured.

Then his gaze locked with yours.

“Should we show him, sweetheart?” he asked, and your stomach dropped clean through the mattress. “Show him what he’s been missin’?”

Your mouth parted, no sound coming out.

Joel tilted his head, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Think my pissy little brother needs some pointers?”

Tommy let out a rough breath behind you, a mix between a growl and a scoff, his hand sliding up your spine possessively.

“She’s my goddamn wife,” he snapped, but his voice wasn’t steady anymore.

Joel’s gaze flickered up, darkening, “Then fuckin’ act like it.”

The silence was deafening—so thick you could hear your own pulse in your ears.

Tommy’s hands flexed on your hips again. And then he thrust—hard. Deep. A sound ripped out of you that wasn’t quiet at all.

And Joel’s expression changed. Softer. Almost smug. Almost… proud.

“She sure makes the prettiest sounds, don’t she?” he said, and he approached the bed. Your skin felt like it was on fire as Tommy stilled completely, but he was still hard inside you to your surprise.

“Turn her over,” Joel said steadily.

Tommy’s head snapped toward him. “Get the hell out.”

“You invited me in here, little brother.” Joel’s tone was exasperatingly calm. 

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Both men. In the room with you while you were naked and taking your husband’s cock.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, wild and uneven, like it was trying to warn you. Or maybe it was just overwhelmed.

You didn’t know where to look. Joel, standing there with that infuriating calm like this was just another Tuesday. Tommy, still inside you, bristling with fury, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as he tried to process what was happening.

And you—trapped in the middle, hips pinned beneath the man you married, body still burning for the one you hadn’t stopped thinking about since that first night.

You should’ve felt humiliated. You did. But your skin still tingled everywhere Joel’s eyes touched.

Tommy was quick to snap at his brother, “And now I want you out.”

Joel didn’t flinch. “And what do you want, sweetheart?” he asked, gaze cutting to you, his head tilted slightly as his eyes took in the flushed features of your face.

You exhaled slowly, your lungs feeling like they’d deflated. Your mouth was dry, but you licked your lips anyway, then turned your face to look back at Tommy, biting down gently on the inside of your cheek.

Tommy’s face twisted in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“Just…” you breathed, heart pounding in your throat, “let’s just see. It could be fun.” You swallowed. “We haven’t made any rules yet.”

Tommy looked between the two of you—his jaw tight, his eyes wide, stunned. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face before he finally pulled out of you, breath ragged. “Alright. Turn over.”

You moved quickly, your skin flushed and glowing, body still trembling as you flipped onto your back. The sheets were warm under you, your thighs still slick, still open.

Behind you, you heard the unmistakable rustle of clothes—the metal clink of a belt, the soft drag of a zipper—and then Joel was there.

The heat of him hit you first. He was so warm, and as he stepped to the side of the bed, the mattress dipped slightly with his weight.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” Tommy muttered, shaking his head as he moved to kneel between your legs again.

You sat up a little, cupping his face, dragging your hand down the center of his chest, his stomach. “I love you,” you whispered, searching his eyes. “If you don’t want this, we stop. Say the word.”

Tommy stared down at you for a long second. His lips pressed together, pulled inward like he was thinking too hard. His eyes flicked to Joel, then back to you.

He sighed, jaw clenching. “Just this once. And if it doesn’t work—”

“Never again,” you finished softly, nodding.

Only then did you glance up at Joel.

He nodded once, slow and assured, his hand already moving to the bulge in his briefs. Your eyes followed—broad chest, tan skin, strong forearms—and you couldn’t help yourself. You leaned back, just slightly, hand drifting up to cup him through the fabric. Joel exhaled, low and rough, eyes fluttering shut as your palm rubbed against him.

“Show him,” you said softly.

His eyes opened again, sharper now, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Not sure he deserves it after all that attitude,” Joel muttered, voice teasing but laced with heat.

“Joel—” you warned.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes—but his voice was dark now, thicker. “But then it’s my turn.”

You watched him hook his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down with one slow motion that revealed all of him—hard, heavy, already flushed. Your breath caught at the sight, heat flooding through you like a second pulse.

He fisted himself gently, watching you, waiting.

Above you, Tommy shifted. You turned to look at him and his mouth was drawn tight, eyes hard with conflict. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he moved closer, settling between your legs again, hands sliding up your thighs.

You stared up at him, unsure if he’d really go through with it. But then he lined himself up, his cock dragging through your folds, and you gasped at the contact.

He sighed low, almost like relief, as he sank into you with one long, slow push. The weight of him settling into your hips, the feeling of him filling you again—it made your head fall back, your mouth falling open.

The tension in the room turned molten.

Tommy’s hands slid to your thighs, gripping tight like he needed something to hold on to. His eyes flicked up to Joel, who was still settled at your side, close enough now that you could feel his presence, warm and electric.

You barely registered Joel moving until you felt his hand close around your wrist. Firm. Certain. He guided your hand to his cock—thick and hot and heavy—and curled your fingers around him like he was placing something sacred into your palm.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t hesitate.

You wrapped your lips around the head, soft and swollen and already leaking, and sucked—slow, reverent, like you’d been dreaming of this since the last time. And you had been.

Joel hissed through his teeth, his hand threading through your hair as you hollowed your cheeks and pulled him deeper. “Good girl,” he muttered. Your entire body clenched at the praise.

Tommy groaned above you, building up his thrusts, erratic and messy as you pulsed around him.

“Slow down,” Joel said, calm, instructive. “Long, even strokes. Deep.”

Tommy cursed under his breath but obeyed, grinding into you with a slower, heavier rhythm that made your whole body arch forward, your mouth taking Joel deeper.

“Good,” Joel murmured. “Now thumb her clit.”

You whimpered around his cock, the sound thick and broken. Tommy’s thumb slid over your swollen clit in soft, careful circles, and your whole body clenched around him.

“She’s grippin’ the hell outta me,” Tommy breathed. “Fuck.”

Joel’s voice was right above you now, rough but steady. “Spit on it.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Spit on her clit. She likes it messier.”

You moaned, mouth full of Joel, your thighs twitching.

Tommy grunted again, but when you felt the warm wet hit of spit on your skin, you moaned loudly, hips bucking. His thumb slid through the slickness building there, the glide smoother, filthier, perfect.

“That’s it,” Joel growled. “Keep her right there. Thumb her just like that. Don’t stop. Her throat is squeezin’ me so good when you do that.”

You couldn’t breathe. Your body was clenching up, something coiling in your spine and hips as he kept up the pace. Joel’s cock dragged across your tongue, thick and pulsing, while Tommy thrust into you—slower now, more precise, but still not quite enough.

You loved Tommy’s rhythm—the care in it, the way he was doing everything to get you there, the way he wanted to get you there. But your orgasm wasn’t building the same way. It was harder to catch, harder to ride. Joel’s cock had a weight, a stretch that reached something deeper in you—something that made your body respond instantly. With Tommy, it took more. He was only slightly smaller, narrower, not lacking, just… different.

Still good. Still yours. But different.

“She’s close,” Joel said, voice ragged now, eyes locked on your face. “I can feel it.”

Tommy groaned, cock twitching inside you as you clenched down hard. “Jesus, she’s—fuck, she’s so tight.”

“You wanna come for Tommy, sweet girl?” Joel asked, still beside you on bed, one hand fisted in your hair where it spilled across the bedspread, thumb brushing softly over your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered open to meet his—and in the same breath, Joel guided his cock back between your lips, sliding into your mouth with a slow, deliberate push that made your throat stretch and burn in the best way.

You gagged softly, the movement rippling through your body. Tommy moaned at the sudden convulsion of your walls around him, his one hand gripping your hip so hard it would leave bruises. The other kept circling your clit with his thumb, your eyes warring between rolling back and trying to focus on Joel. 

“Fuck—she just—goddamn,” Tommy breathed, his hips faltering for half a second before finding that rhythm again. Deep, slow strokes that had your whole body arching beneath him.

Joel pulled back with a wet pop, a string of spit and precum connecting your lips to the flushed tip of his cock. You were gasping for breath, whimpering and moaning as he leaned down close, hovering just over your face, thumb wiping at your mouth like it was his.

You were hovering now, your spine tingling with the build up. So close. But not there yet. Your body wanted more.

And Joel knew.

Of course he knew.

“Tommy’s got you so full, huh?” Joel murmured, voice like gravel soaked in honey in your ear, low enough that only you could hear. “Still not enough to make you come, greedy girl?”

His breath brushed the shell of your ear, and your whole body twitched.

You couldn’t answer—not with words. But your eyes found his, wide and pleading, glassy with need. You looked up at him from where your head rested on the sheets, Joel crouched beside you now, shadowing over your face like he could read everything you couldn’t say aloud.

And he could. He always could.

Your chest rose with a broken breath as your mouth parted—no sound, just air. One of his hands stayed tangled in your hair, grounding you. The other drifted down, palm dragging with reverence over your chest, and when it reached your breast, his touch went still.

He watched you as if testing the waters. The second your back arched into his palm, just a little, the faintest tremble of pleading… he smirked.

“There she is,” he murmured, his thumb brushing your nipple slowly and deliberately before twisting and palming, kneading your flesh. Your thighs jerked and your eyes fluttered closed, breath stalling in your throat.

Joel leaned in, voice like silk soaked in heat.

“Gonna have to beg him for it,” he murmured, this time loud enough for his brother to hear, dragging his thumb over you again as your back arched once more. “Go on. Show him how sweet you sound when you’re right at the edge.”

He kissed your temple, lips warm and just barely there before sitting up again.

“Show him what you gave me.”

Your breath was a broken thing, chest heaving, your legs locked around Tommy’s waist as his cock filled you over and over again, his thumb grinding against your clit with every thrust. You could barely speak—but you tried.

“Please,” you whispered, blinking up at Tommy. “Please don’t stop.”

His eyes were wide, blown out, sweat dripping from his brow, “Fuck,” he muttered. “Say it again.”

“Please, Tommy,” you gasped, fingers gripping his arms. “Please let me come—need it—need it so bad.”

Joel’s hand moved from your hair to stroke slowly over his cock at the edge of the bed, gaze flicking between your face and Tommy’s. “There it is,” he murmured. “You hear that? That’s yours, little brother. Make her fuckin’ come on your cock.”

Tommy’s rhythm picked up, driving into you with slow, hard strokes that hit deep, his thumb never stopping the delicious circles over your clit just like Joel had told him.

Your head fell back. Your thighs shook. Your whole body started to come apart.

As your jaw fell open, Joel took your mouth again—his cock thick and slick as it pressed past your lips, filling your mouth with one steady thrust. You welcomed it greedily, your moan muffled and broken, your tongue flattening beneath the weight of him.

Your back arched off the bed, body seizing with pleasure as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave—white-hot, all-consuming. Joel’s hand was back in your hair, holding you down, guiding your mouth as your throat fluttered around him, his cock pressing deeper with every pulse. The other squeezed and twisted your breast as you rode your high.

Tommy groaned loudly above you, his voice rough, desperate, like he’d just been torn open.

“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, and his hips jerked once, twice—then stilled.

You felt it. The heat of him spilling into you, thick and heavy, your cunt already so wet and wrecked it only made you twitch harder around him. His breath stuttered out in harsh bursts, body shuddering as he emptied himself deep inside you.

“That’s it,” Joel growled. “That’s a good girl, baby.”

He fucked your mouth with slow, controlled strokes—gentle now, reverent—before finally pulling out, letting you fall back against the bed with a gasp, your chest heaving as your climax still rippled through your body.

Your vision blurred at the edges, nerves lit up like static. You barely felt Tommy at first—his hands adjusting on your hips, his breathing shaky.

Then, after a long, weighted pause, Tommy slowly eased back, slipping out of you with a wet drag that made your entire body jolt. You gasped softly at the loss, walls still fluttering from your orgasm, sensitive and aching.

The room went quiet again, thick and buzzing under the surface. You could hear Tommy’s breathing above you, could feel the shift in his body as he sat back on his heels, one hand sliding down your thigh as if to steady himself. He moved slowly to sit against the headboard, breathing heavily.

Your pulse thrummed at your neck, loud in your ears. You turned your head toward him, your skin flushed, lips swollen, heart racing. Tommy’s eyes found yours—dark, uncertain, something different behind them. Not anger or sadness, but something new and raw.

“Tommy,” you whispered, voice low, hoarse. You swallowed. “Can he…?”

You hesitated, heat prickling across your cheeks. You weren’t even sure what words you were looking for. You just knew what you needed.

“Can Joel… please?”

Tommy’s eyes scanned your face, then dropped to where your thighs were still parted, to the slick between them, to the tremble in your breath. He took a slow inhale, like he was weighing the cost of the question. Then he nodded. “Go on then. Show me what’s worth all this trouble.” You could swear there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth, a faint crinkle at the edge of his eyes. Not quite a smile. Maybe a dare.

Joel was already moving.

His hands found your body—confident, warm, rough as ever—as he pulled you up onto your knees and flushed your back against his chest. His arms wrapped around you easily, like they belonged there. Like he knew this body like the back of his hand.

You inhaled sharply at the feel of him behind you—solid muscle, the heavy press of his cock nudging against your lower back. He leaned in, mouth brushing your ear. His voice was low, rich, and dripping with something that made your skin tighten.

“Hope you’re payin’ attention, little brother,” Joel murmured, his grip tightening on your waist. “Gonna show you just how sweet she sounds when she gets what she needs.”

You watched Tommy’s jaw clench, and you muttered a short warning to Joel, “Stop,” 

Joel ignored you and his hand slipped down between your legs, fingers gliding through the mess Tommy left behind, gathering it in his fingers and spreading it through your puffy center, making your thighs shake.

“Jesus,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Still so wet.”

He let his fingers trail back up to your hip, palm splaying across your stomach as he held you there—against him, for him, like he was staking his claim right in front of Tommy.

Then he shifted. You felt the blunt head of his cock press against your entrance, thick and already slick from your mouth. Your breath caught.

“Hold on to me,” Joel murmured. His other hand slid up, cupping one of your breasts, his mouth brushing just behind your ear as your arms held tightly to his splayed over your torso.

And then he pushed in—slow, deep, deliberate.

Your body seized the moment he started to push in. The stretch was immediate—thicker, deeper, unforgiving. Your legs trembled, a broken moan slipping from your throat before you could stop it. It felt like your body forgot how to breathe, how to think—every nerve lit up as he filled you, inch by inch, until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

Pressure bloomed deep in your core, sharp and aching, and still he kept going, his cock dragging against every hypersensitive spot until your thighs were shaking, your nails biting into his arm.

You gasped—"Joel!" sharp and high—and your head fell back against his shoulder like you couldn’t hold it up anymore. Your mouth parted, but no words came out. Just sound. Just a helpless, wrecked whimper that made Joel groan behind you.

Joel gritted his teeth, voice strained through a groan. “Fuck. Always so tight for me, baby. Takin’ me so good. Feels like he barely even touched you."

“Fuck off,” Tommy snapped from somewhere below you, voice rough, and you didn’t need to look to know he was watching—his breath hitched, uneven.

Joel noticed, too.

“My little brother’s gettin’ all worked up again,” he rasped, his cock sliding deeper, arms tightening around you. “Look at him, baby. Watchin’ you take my cock like this.”

You lifted your head just enough to find Tommy’s face—jaw locked, hand slowly fisting his already hardening cock as he sat back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.

Joel’s hand slid back between your legs, fingers circling your clit with unrelenting precision as he fucked you slow and deep.

“Talk to her, Tommy,” Joel said roughly.

Tommy shook his head, jaw clenched. “I—I don’t—”

“C’mon,” Joel grunted, thrusting into you harder, making you cry out. “You don’t want me talkin’ all this shit? Huh? Even if it makes her this wet—” his fingers slid lower, gathering slick, “—thinkin’ of us fightin’ over this sweet, perfect pussy?”

He fucked up into you hard as he growled, and it made you gasp in pleasure.

“Then talk, dammit.”

Tommy’s breath stuttered. You looked at him—desperate and open, mouth parted. You watched his throat bob as he tried to swallow whatever pride or hesitation was left.

Then, finally, his voice came low, rough, uncertain.

“You like this, baby?” he rasped, the words strange in his mouth but soaked in truth as he leaned forward, looking up at you. “Like me watchin’ while he fucks you?”

You moaned, the sound unholy and obscene as your body twitched. You tried to nod while Joel’s cock dragged deep again, slow and relentless, the stretch still too much, still perfect. 

“Oh, she fuckin’ loves it,” Joel growled in your ear. His palm slid up your chest, fingers curling over the other breast as he kept your back flush to him. “That look on her face? All fucked-out and needy.”

Tommy let out a shuddering breath. His eyes never left yours.

“Look at you,” he said, a little bolder now. “You’re so pretty like this. Letting us ruin you.”

Your breath hitched. Your thighs were shaking again, a whimper escaping as Joel’s fingers found your clit once more, slick and swollen. He rubbed you just right—tight, insistent circles that made your eyes roll back.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Joel grunted. “You close again, baby? I can feel it. You’re squeezin’ me so tight.”

Tommy leaned forward, looking up at you as he reached for your trembling legs, rubbing your skin and kneading it in his hands as his cock twitched in his hand, “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for us. Show us how much you love bein’ ours.”

That did it.

Your body clenched hard, a cry ripping from your throat as the orgasm slammed into you—fierce, fast, and overwhelming. You trembled violently, hips jerking, mouth open but wordless as you came again, harder this time, unraveling between them.

You were still shaking when your body started to shift—Joel's cock still buried deep, grinding against your overstimulated walls with every slow, hungry thrust. You reached forward, chest dropping toward the bed, bracing yourself on your hands as you whimpered through the aftershocks.

But you weren’t done. Not even close.

“Tommy,” you gasped, voice hoarse and half-broken. “Let me—please, let me touch you. Wanna make you come again.”

You reached for him blindly, your hand finding his thigh as he knelt close, cock hard again in his grip.

He looked stunned, blinking at you like he couldn’t believe it. “Jesus, baby,” he muttered, and he looked up at Joel, “How the hell are you still goin’ after that? The way she gripped me when--”

Joel gave a low, breathless laugh behind you, his thrusts never faltering. “Not my first time, remember?”

He leaned forward over your back, his voice rough and possessive in your ear.

“She gets like this,” Joel said, fucking into you harder now, making your arms tremble. “Once you open her up, she just needs. Can’t help herself, can you, baby?”

You moaned, loud and desperate, your hand finally wrapping around Tommy’s cock again, bringing it into your mouth.

Your husband groaned, hips twitching toward your touch. “Fuckin’ insatiable,” he breathed. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

Joel grinned, lips brushing your shoulder before pulling back to straighten, gripping your hips. “She’s gonna milk us dry.”

You moaned at the filthy words, too far gone to be embarrassed, too full to care. You rocked between them, wrecked and desperate—Joel’s cock dragging deep inside you with each powerful thrust, your mouth stretched wide around Tommy’s length, tongue flattened along the underside.

Every time Joel thrusted forward, it shoved you farther onto Tommy’s cock. Your throat clenched, gagging slightly, and both men groaned—low and guttural at the dual sensation of your body constricting around them.

Your eyes watered, spit pooling at the corners of your lips as you tried to breathe around it, the slick sounds obscene in the best way.

Tommy’s hand came to your cheek, his thumb stroking gently along your jaw as he looked down at you. His face was tight with restraint, flushed and glassy-eyed, jaw twitching, “Look so pretty with a cock in her mouth, doesn’t she?”

Joel grunted behind you, slamming deep, making your body jolt forward. “Sure does,” he growled. “Takin’ us both so good, baby. Just like that.”

You whimpered, the only sound you could manage, body fluttering with overstimulation, throat spasming around Tommy’s cock as he hissed through his teeth.

Joel’s grip tightened, his thrusts getting faster, more desperate, and you could feel the wave starting to build again—relentless, all-consuming. You didn’t know how much more your body could take.

“Come on, baby,” Tommy groaned. “Fuck—your mouth feels so good, sweetheart. Just like that. Don’t stop.”

Joel leaned in, his voice thick with heat. “You gonna come again with your mouth full, baby? Think you can come for both of us this time?”

Your whole body responded—tightening instinctively, like those words alone triggered something deep inside. Joel’s hand slid beneath you, and you flinched with a soft gasp as his fingers found your clit again—soaked, swollen, aching from how close you already were.

It was too much. Too good. You couldn’t take it, and yet your body begged for more.

The touch was too light at first—then perfect. Circling. Pressing. Your spine arched, your thighs trembled, and your moan vibrated around Tommy’s cock, still heavy and hot on your tongue.

You could barely register where one of them ended and the other began—just pressure and stretch and friction and heat. Joel’s thrusts stayed deep and punishing, perfectly timed with the slow drag of his fingers.

Suddenly your whole body locked, muscles spasming as another orgasm tore through you—sharp and blinding, your vision whiting out as you clenched hard around Joel’s cock, milking him through every brutal thrust.

You moaned around Tommy’s length, the sound desperate and guttural, and that was all it took for either of them.

Joel cursed behind you—low, rough, wrecked. He thrust once, twice more, then buried himself as deep as he could go, spilling inside you with a broken growl. His hands were shaking where they gripped your hips, holding you there like he couldn’t let go.

The hot pulse of him filled you completely, thick and heavy, and the sensation only dragged your orgasm out longer, your legs trembling violently beneath you.

Tommy let out a choked moan above you, his hips stuttering as your throat fluttered around him. His hand cupped your cheek, and with one more shaky breath, he came—spilling into your mouth with a soft, desperate, “Fuck, baby.”

You took it all, swallowing around him as gently as you could, the muscles of your throat still spasming from Joel’s final, deep thrusts.

Then—finally—everything slowed.

Tommy pulled back with a groan, slumping onto the bed beside you with a heavy exhale, one arm flung over his face as he tried to catch his breath. Joel eased out of you from behind, and you whimpered at the emptiness, already missing the stretch of him, the weight. Your body felt boneless, dazed and trembling, as you rolled to your side and melted into the mattress beside Tommy.

Joel didn’t stay far. Within seconds, he collapsed on your other side with a low, satisfied grunt, still half-wrapped in heat and sweat. His arm slid beneath your head, pulling you gently against his chest until you were tucked in close, skin to skin, your cheek resting just below his collarbone.

You were fully tangled between them now—Joel’s leg brushing yours, Tommy’s chest warm against your back, his hand finding your thigh and resting there like a grounding weight.

The heat of three bodies lingered in the air—sticky and quiet and strangely comforting.

Tommy’s hand found your stomach and gave it a slow rub, and when you looked over at him—he was watching you, not angry, not brooding. Just… tired. And stunned.

You let out a laugh. A small, breathless one, but real.

Then another.

Your face tucked against Joel’s arm, shoulders shaking with laughter, and Joel chuckled too—low and lazy, like he couldn’t even muster the energy to be smug, “Troublemaker.”

Tommy let out a breathless huff, still holding you tight, and nuzzled into the curve of your neck. “I’m not sure I survived that,” he murmured, and then he started laughing too—open, surprised, stunned, “Feel like I blacked out halfway through,”

You turned your head toward him, smiling wide, and kissed the side of his mouth. “You were perfect.”

The three of you fell into an easy silence, wrapped up in sweat and warmth and the quiet hum of something unspoken—something new.

“Shit,” Joel muttered, his chest shaking from a chuckle, “Think we’re gonna need a bigger bed.”

And for the first time in a long time, the three of you were laughing together.

tag list: @alidiggory92 @pinkylouise @izzy698 @doblasftcisco @devotedlypaleluminary @elsplayground @puduvallee @victoriaholland @legoemma @leenieweenie12 @possiblyafangirl @alitaar @mads198-9 @emmaoc10 @auteurdelabre @the-last-twin-of-krypton @lilasskicker2 @levislegislation @flowercrowns-goodvibes

[sobbingscripter]

⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼wc. 2085🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆

“What’re you doing here?”

Mark mumbles, brows knitting in confusion, tugging his goggles and tossing them onto the kitchen counter, watching as you tip your head back, emptying out your glass of water.

He shouldn’t be getting hard in this suit.

It’s skin tight. He’s surprised that there isn’t even much of a print. And he’s smart enough to know he’s not the problem.

So instead of watching the way your throat bobs as you swallow, he turns his attention towards the counter, admiring the natural detail as he taps his fingers on the surface, waiting for you to answer.

“I did your mom’s hair.” You answer, before taking a good long look at Mark’s suit, reaching for his wrist and you tug him out from behind the counter and you carefully examine his suit.

“Damn, no print?” You snort with laughter. “Guess you’re more human than I thought.”

Mark’s hands move to hide his crotch from your view, cheeks flushing a deep red and he scoffs.

“Fuck you, the suit just doesn’t show it.” Mark defends but he knows it’s pointless. You’d argue over anything and win. Even if the better half of your argument would be pure bullshit.

“Then how come your dad has a print?”

And Mark grimaces.

“Don’t look at my dad’s dick.”

“I’m not looking at your dad’s dick.”

“How do you know he has a print?”

“How DON’T you know?”

“Because I don’t look at my father’s penis!” Mark hisses and Nolan snorts as he walks into the kitchen, blue eyes lowered to his wrist as he clasps the Rolex into place.

“I hope not.” Before he places a muscular hand on Mark’s shoulder, giving his son an affectionate squeeze. “There’s no shame in being a grower, Mark. I was a grower when I was your age too.”

Mark’s lips curl into a disgusted frown, staring up at Nolan from beneath his brows.

“I hate this conversation. Please make it stop.”

Debbie’s heels click on the wooden floorboards, and Mark’s heart melts at the sight of his mother all dolled up. Long, black hair taken down from a and instead, framing her face with pretty curtain bangs and curled edges.

“How do I look?” Debbie shifts, tugging her dress into place.

“You look beautiful, Mom.” Mark coos, dimples deepening in his cheeks and you watch with soft eyes as Nolan presses a kiss against Debbie’s cheek. Lips brush against her ear as he whispers something intelligible and Mark groans.

“Dad, ew.” Mark gags. “Never say that again.”

“Your mother deserves to know I’m aroused, Mark. It’s how we show our love.”

Your nearly choke on your saliva, brows raised and you clear your throat. “So, this is where I leave.”

“I’m spending the night at your place.” Mark grunts. “I don’t need to hear any more than I’ve already heard.”

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

“Why would you give my mother curtain bangs? You know what they do to men.” Mark whines, as he steps out of your bathroom, a steamy mist following him out and you glance up from the screen of your phone.

Before staring at him.

“Damn it, Mark. You’re stretching out my shirt!”

Mark stands in the centre of your room, arms crossed over his broad chest, stretching out your cropped shirt. On you, it’s a sliver of belly. Not even your belly button is exposed.

But on Mark, it’s just below his belly button. Exposing that thin, dark strip of hair from his belly button, to where it disappears behind the waistband of your Powerpuff Girls nightpants.

“Don’t be selfish. You’ve got a shit ton of other shirts.” Mark huffs, glancing at himself in the full length mirror right beside your vanity, visibly checking himself out.

“And you could’ve picked any of them.” You frown before gasping. Mark raises his arms, flexing and you can hear the seams threaten to rip with each bulge of his muscles.

“Markus!” His neck snaps to face you so fast.

“Don’t fucking rip my shirt. I swear, I’ll tell your mom you nutted on your sheets in 7th grade and you came to wash them at my house because you were embarrassed. And then you made me wash them by hand because you wanted to be eco friendly.”

Mark’s eye narrow. “You wouldn’t.”

But his arms are lowering and it isn’t long until he’s crawling beneath your sheets, tossing an arm over your belly and resting his cheek against your shoulder. Sharp eyes focused on the screen of your phone, as you continue to scroll through your TikTok For You page.

“I wanna watch fidget board videos.” Mark mumbles, breath ghosting over the soft, creamy skin exposed by the wide neckline of your shirt and he pulls you closer, one of his thighs moving to slot between yours, his leg hooking around one of yours.

“Watch them on your own phone.” You grumble, but you’re already swiping, heading towards the search bar. “My phone’s charging.”

You don’t know how long you and Mark are staring at your screen, shrouded in darkness but you’re hyperaware of when his hand slides under your shirt, fingers tracing lazy patterns on the soft, sensitive skin of your belly. And you swallow. Before glancing at him.

He's not even paying attention.

Even breaths slip from his lips, enraptured by the way acrylic nails drag along beaded surfaces, open and close the caps of serums and Mark looks up at you through his lashes.

You watch as his pupils dilate, his puffy cheeks rosy with sleep and he’s fingers stop tracing those little infinities on your belly and he swallows. And you swallow. And he swallows. His eyes dart towards your lips and he takes a deep breath.

God.

Bad idea.

You’re in his lungs, you’re all he can feel, all he can smell and he’s so enamoured by you. And his hand shifts, fingertips dipping just past your waistband. And his fingers brush against the elastic trimming of your panties.

Mark thinks you’re so beautiful when you’re looking at him the way you are.

The pictures of your phone reflect off your pupil, and your pouty lips let out hot puffs of breath that fan over him just enough. And your pretty hair’s obscured by a bonnet. He can’t remember when you haven’t slept with them on and it’s like a part of you.

God, the way the light plays off the silk makes his brain fuzzy.

“You’re really pret—”

“Am I the asshole for having sex with my stepbrother at my dead grandmother’s wake?”

Your collective focus shifts back to the device, attention focused on the way Mahjong pieces are formed while you listen intently to whatever Reddit story you’ve found yourself on. Completely enthralled.

“That piece looks really pre— Wait, shit, did they get nut on the corpse?” Your eyes widen, and you shift just a bit.

“I don’t know, the subtitles cut off. Go back.” Mark instructs, his eyes focused and brows knitted.

“It doesn’t have that option.”

“Wha— what TikTok do you have?”

“Lite.”

And Mark groans.

“I’m embarrassed for you, you cheap ass.”

“I needed to save space, Mark.”

“But you’ve got all the megabytes of regular Pinterest, huh?”

“Pinterest is important. You know it helps me organise my wants and needs in life.”

“Gay.”

And you stare at Mark, eyes narrowing. But before your lips can even part to let out an insult, Mark’s phone beeps on the dresser and he glances towards the device.

“Bank robbery on 8th.” Mark’s already lifting himself, letting out an exhausted huff as he pulls the shirt overhead, and you watch, entranced by the way his muscles move beneath his skin. Rippling with each movement of his lips and your eyes follow the curve of his spine.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay?” Mark tugs on his suit, the elastic waistband of his boxers disappearing behind a flurry of blue and yellow, and he leans down, pressing a messy kiss against the side of your ace. “Don’t scroll too far. And check the doors!”

Mark’s disappearing out the window before you can say anything, wind whipping around him and you swallow.

He kissed you on the corner of your mouth.

And Mark only realises when he can taste the hint of coconut-flavoured lipbalm and his flight nearly falters.

And he grins. Dorky and so fucking adorably.

“Nothing can ruin my night.”

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌻🥀🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

Something did, in fact, ruin Mark’s night.

Mark sirs in your tub, hands obscuring his crotch from view as you pour yet another cup of baking soda in the hot water of his bath and he clears his throat. He’s hoping that this is the time the earth swallows him whole, his knees poking out the frothy surface of the water and his ears burn a bright, blushing red before he coughs.

“I didn’t know it was a skunk guy…” Mark murmurs quietly, and you don’t say anything, simply throwing in another cup for good measure.

“Mark, my house smells like the inside of a skunk’s asshole.” You huff and he flinches before glancing up at you.

Your brows knitting into a frown, your hand submerged beneath the water as you make the solution froth just a bit more. And you glare at Mark as you rise to your feet, your attention moving towards the porcelain basin instead. Where his suit is soaking in a mixture of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda and dish soap.

And you sit on the closed toilet lid, arms crossed over your chest as you lean back against the cistern, watching as Mark soaks even further into the water. And you let out a heavy sigh.

“Are you okay?”

And Mark’s lips curl at the corners, a cute, sheepish smile donning his face and he nods his head. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

You don’t wanna seem… Unhappy that he’s well and you know, ungrateful that he’s alive but you kinda wish he was slapped around a little bit.

And you let out a heavy sigh. No you don’t.

“Your goggles don’t smell.” You hum, drying the plastic with a fluffy towel before you slip them on, eyes narrowing and you examine the slight tint that they give the world around you. And your lips purse.

“So, these keep the wind out of your eyes?” You question, brows knitting because the tightness of the goggles feel a bit weird. But that’s probably because they’re made to fit his face.

“Uh…Uhm… Yeah, they k-keep the wind out my eyes.”

And Mark is CLUTCHING his shit.

Cheeks burning a rosy red that he hopes he can chalk up to the heat of the because goddamn, he’s so fucking painfully hard.

Just at the sight of you wearing his goggles and his mind is piecing together how you’d look in his suit.

“Uh— can you- Uhm… Can you leave? I need to pee.” Mark tries hard not to sputter over his words, but the way you look in his goggles is making his brain fuzzy. And he swallows, murmuring the softest ‘thank you’, when you get up, your footsteps quiet against the tiled floor before you shut the door behind you.

“Save me a cup!” You chirp and he groans. “Ew, you’re so gross!”

Mark swallows. Before looking around your bathroom, resting back against the edge of the tub and he lets out a heavy breath, glancing towards your ceiling.

“M’so fucked…” He groans quietly before glancing towards his lap, and he looks towards your laundry hamper. A pretty faux basket, plastic strips weaved and decorated with little plastic flowers.

And Mark’s brows knit into a little frown, a low moan leaving his lips.

“No… Mark, don’t do it…” He mumbles under his breath but he’s already leaning over the edge of the tub, reaching into your hamper and pulling out the first pair of panties he feels.

A pretty purple pair, lace trimmings and surprisingly wide gusset. But then again, he knows you’d never play with that pussy lip slip bullshit.

Mark swallows, staring down at the cotton and lace before he brings it to his nose, fisting his cock beneath the water.

“God, I’m disgusting.”

T🌼A🌼G🌼L🌼I🌼S🌼T

@lucky-beheaded ; @queen-of-gotham ; @coldvirginbitch ; @wittyjasontodd ; @a-n-a-n-a1 ; @dearlyya ; @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha ; @jasontoddswhitestreak ; @daydreams-and-peace ; @misstyy12 ; @fruticake ; @httpstes ; @waterflowersblog ; @glowinthedarkjellyfish ; @vm4879bb-blog ; @monaekelis ; @radlovesfics ; @allycat4458 ; @bigbodycity ; @feral010 ; @anesthesia-4rizzle ; @princesstrunkz ; @blackfox774 ; @sh1d0uryus31 ; @your-lovely-rose26 ; @slugstarzz ; @ripcolel0l ; @strawbiemilk420 ; @verysynical ; @kikiiguess ; @missam ; @luvvfromme ; @luvvcharxo ; @alma-ru3 ; @mxvoid26 ; @urfriendlyfrog ; @the-good-kooshe ; @troublesome-nara ; @secretaccountlol ; @syubseokie; @atanukileaf ; @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere

[maskedbyghost]

you were being a brat, but Simon knew just how to handle you. smut, mdni, +18

You’re sprawled out on your bed, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at Simon. He stands by the door, arms folded, completely unmoved by your ranting.

You don’t even remember what set you off—something about him ignoring you earlier, or maybe it was the way he refused to admit you were right about something dumb. Either way, you’re heated, and he’s standing there like a statue, letting you run your mouth.

"Are you even listening to me?" you snap, propping yourself up on your elbows.

Simon tilts his head, unimpressed. "Mmhmm."

That pisses you off even more. "You’re such an ass—"

He moves before you can finish, climbing onto the bed like he’s got all the time in the world. His weight sinks into the mattress, and before you can scoot away, his hands are on your thighs, pushing them apart. You stiffen.

"Simon, I’m talking to you."

He doesn’t answer. He just hooks his fingers into your panties, drags them down your legs, and tosses them somewhere behind him. His gloved hands press against your thighs again, keeping them wide open. Then he looks at you—really looks at you—for the first time since you started mouthing off.

"I’m done talking to you," he murmurs, lowering himself between your legs. "Wanna talk to this sweet little cunt instead."

Your brain stutters. "Simon—"

He doesn’t wait for permission; he doesn’t give you the chance to keep arguing. His tongue is on you, slow, licking through your folds like he’s savoring every second. A gasp escapes you before you can bite it back, but that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is when he starts talking.

"Look at you," he mutters against your skin, his voice muffled, lips brushing over your clit. "Acting all tough, mouthing off, but you’re drippin’ for me."

Your face burns. "Shut up—"

"Not talkin’ to you, love." His grip tightens on your thighs as he moves lower, pressing a kiss right against your entrance. "M’ talkin’ to her."

You swear you’ll kill him. If you could think straight, if your legs weren’t shaking already, if he wasn’t so fucking good at this—

"She’s so much sweeter than you," he continues, dragging his tongue up your slit. "Doesn’t fight me like you do. She likes me, don’t you, sweetheart?" Another kiss, another slow, teasing lick that has your toes curling. "Bet she’ll be real good for me, won’t she? So soft, so warm—can tell she likes the attention. Not like you, all mouth and attitude. She’s good for me. She listens."

You make a frustrated noise, but it dissolves into a whimper when he flicks his tongue against your clit again.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought." His breath is hot against you as he presses another kiss to your entrance, hands firm on your thighs to keep you still. "Y’spent all that time complainin’, but she was down here waitin’ for me. She knew better, didn’t she? Bet she’s been achin’ for me this whole time."

You hate how much it gets to you, how much his words make the heat in your belly coil tighter. But he’s not done.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, his tongue teasing your entrance. "Must be lonely, yeah? Bein’ attached to such a brat? No wonder she’s so needy." His voice is full of mock sympathy, lips brushing against you between every word. "Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you. Y’don’t have to be a pain in the ass like she is. You just have to be good for me."

You’re shaking now, fingers twisted in the sheets, your breath uneven as he keeps talking, keeps licking at you like he has all the time in the world.

"Bet you’ll let me do whatever I want to you, won’t you? Unlike her—she’s always runnin’ her mouth, always fightin’ me. But you’re soft, aren’t you? You just wanna be taken care of."

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out his words, but the way he talks, the way he mouths at you between sentences, has your stomach twisting with need. You’re embarrassingly close, your body arching into him despite your frustration.

And then, just as you’re teetering on the edge, just as your body starts to tense, Simon pulls away.

"But bad girls don’t get to cum."

He sits back like he’s got all the time in the world, like he isn’t leaving you a mess between his hands. You can see the smirk in his eyes. Smug bastard.

Oh, fuck that.

You don’t even think—you move. You push him back, grab him by the collar and flip him onto the mattress before he can react. His back hits the bed, and for once, he doesn’t resist. He just watches, chest rising and falling beneath his shirt, as you swing a leg over him and settle right where he belongs.

You grip his wrists, pinning them down, and glare at him through your haze of frustration and arousal. "Finish what you started."

Simon huffs a laugh, his fingers flexing beneath yours. "Bossy little thing."

You grind down against his mouth. "Now."

And for once, Simon doesn’t argue.

But he doesn’t let you have it easy, either.

The second you settle over him, his hands move, big and rough as they grab onto your hips. He drags you forward, forcing you to grind against his mouth, and fuck—

The first swipe of his tongue makes your back arch, makes your hands clench around his wrists as you try to keep some kind of control. But he’s got none of your patience, none of your hesitation—he devours you like he’s been waiting for this, tongue flicking against your clit, sucking, then dragging down to fuck into you.

It’s overwhelming. Too much, too fast, and you try to lift your hips, to slow down, but Simon just growls, tightening his grip, forcing you to take every bit of his attention. He’s relentless, murmuring filth against your skin, still talking to you, but not to you.

"Knew you’d be sweet like this," he mutters, tongue flicking against your clit again, making you jolt. "Just needed to get you to shut up first."

Your nails dig into his wrists, but you’re trembling now, moans spilling out no matter how much you try to bite them back. You feel him smirk beneath you, feel the pleased rumble in his chest when you roll your hips against his mouth.

"That’s it," he praises, voice rough. "Finally got you listenin’. ‘Bout time you learned your place."

You can’t even find it in you to be mad. You’re too close, too wound up from the teasing, from the way he’s got you writhing on his tongue. You try to grind down harder, to get yourself there, but Simon pulls back, just enough to leave you gasping.

"Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?" he murmurs, lips brushing against your thigh. "Y’gonna beg for it?"

You don’t want to. You really don’t. But you need it. "Please," you breathe, barely above a whisper.

Simon hums, pretending to consider, then licks into you again, groaning when your hips jolt. "That’s my girl."

And when he finally lets you have it, when he sucks your clit into his mouth and fucks you with his tongue until you break apart, he doesn’t stop until he’s sure you feel every last second of it.

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

@daydreamerwoah

[luveline]

i just saw someone on tiktok say “behind every girl that always wants to be around their partner is a little who’s dad didn’t choose her.” with aaron pls :(( and reader reveals her daddy issues? xxx

—hotch comforts you when you worry you depend on him for the wrong reasons. fem, 2k

You were aware of the irony. Girl who hates her father latches onto the first older man to give her any positive attention: the framing isn’t complimentary to either of you, and it’s not true, really. You love Aaron because he’s kind, and he’s handsome, and because he loves you first. You won’t pretend he’s perfect even if he might say that about you. He doesn’t have to be. 

Aaron is kind where all the other men in your life have been cruel. He is the person you go to when things go wrong, even if you don’t expect him to fix things for you. You know you have ‘daddy issues’, and you don’t want them to affect how you and Aaron are when you’re together, but it’s obvious to the both of you that you crave being looked after. The way Aaron takes care of you absolutely factors into why you love him. 

He wraps the tail end of your scarf into your coat and flattens the lump of it until it’s under your chin. “Alright?” he asks, not expecting an answer as he turns away to grab his own scarf. “Will that coat be warm enough? It might be a few hours.” 

“Fine. We’ll be inside most of the time.” 

“Mm,” he hums, reaching back to pinch your side. You laugh and he smiles but doesn’t say anything further, pulling open the front door, and holding it for you until you’re on the porch. 

“You know you don’t have to… spoil him, so much,” you say lightly. 

“It’s not spoiling, he only wants a few things.” 

You’d personally felt that Jack’s birthday wish list was a bit long, but you don’t care. You don’t have a vendetta against Jack's happiness. If Aaron wants to spend half a paycheck (alright, a quarter, if that) on some toys, he should do it. But he probably knows already that Jack won’t care if he doesn’t get all of that stuff. “I didn’t get half as much for my birthdays,” you say. 

“Believe me, honey, neither did I.” 

“One year someone’s mom got me a full box set of movies though. That was a good one.” 

“One year, I got two different pagers.” He snorts. “And now they’re useless.” 

“I never used a pager.” 

Aaron goes a bit red, self-shame or something silly like that. “Don’t tell me that.” 

“Cradle snatcher.” 

“Stop, that’s not funny.” 

It’s funny. You aren’t shockingly younger than Aaron but it’s definitely enough time to see the difference (not that you care, you quite like him with his permanent wrinkle between his brows and his big, big hands). “I really haven’t. I know what they are, of course, but I went straight to a cell phone.” 

He grumbles something unheard. Together, you get into his car and drive to the shopping centre nearest the house, a maze of storefronts with outdoor entrances, like a mall that’s been shaken and thrown out over two streets. It’s not entertaining but in a way, it’s good. Aaron holds your hand and you can walk around with your head held high, proud to be a well-dressed, in love-looking partnership. See, your face says to anyone who’ll look, I’m well-loved. 

After an hour or two he kisses your cheek and decides aloud that you need dinner. He doesn’t ask if you’re hungry, he just chooses, and you love it. 

“Thank you for letting me come today,” you say, sitting across from him behind a dinner plate and a towering glass of lemon water. 

“Did I let you?” he asks, distracted by his steak and fries, though he sounds as loving as usual. 

“You could’ve said no.” 

“I have no reason to. I like when you’re with me. Thank you for letting me bring you, then, and boring you half to death.” 

“Freezing me the other half.” 

“Ah, so smart, so clever,” he murmurs. 

“Witty.” 

“Always, aren’t you?” 

You wonder about the dessert menu, find your mouth working of its own accord. “It doesn’t feel believable, sometimes. That you want me around so much.” 

He pauses, resting his knife across his fork. With a free hand, he gestures to your hand. “Would you like more proof?” 

You aren’t sure what he means, the tennis bracelet he got you for your first anniversary, or the engagement ring that sits heavily on your marriage finger waiting to be traded for a golden band. Maybe he means the teeny silver bracelet that falls down your arm whenever you move, that one just for fun. 

“Not,” he says slowly, his eyes squinted to tell you that you’re caught, “that jewellery should be your sole proof.” 

“Would you like to prove it to me now?” 

He reaches over to squeeze your hand. “I want you around all of the time. If I could I’d have us sewn together at the hip.” He’s grinning, thumbing against your knuckles. “It might not be comfortable at night when you’re trying to climb all over me.” 

“You climb all over me, Hotchner, don’t lie.” 

Aaron nods appreciatively. “That’s right. You’re the second most important thing in my life, and that’s not your fault, only Jack is so endearing.” 

“He’s a lucky kid.” 

“No, he’s not,” Aaron says gently, “but I really do love him.” 

“Of course he’s lucky. He has a dad who loves him to pieces, his Aunt Jess is like, superwoman, and– you know, I know I’m not the same as that, but I love him.”

“You look after him,” Aaron says. 

“It’s honestly just nice that you seem to like him. You don’t act like he’s an annoyance for you, you aren’t angry to have to come out today to get him his presents.” 

“Well, no. It’s not something to be angry about. When you have kids, you’re signing up for every part of having them.” 

“I know.” 

He takes a sip of his drink and puts it down beside your own in what you know to be him buying a little time. “Honey, is there something… I don’t know, something you want to talk about? Is it Jack's birthday…?”

You feel your heart fall into your mouth, as though it began life somewhere else, heartbeat mortified on your tongue. He sees you fluster and immediately softens, turning your hand in his to stroke along the inside of your wrist. 

“Nevermind,” he says. 

“No.” You clear your throat. “It’s not about Jack’s birthday. It’s just… you know you weren’t always the best father you could’ve been.” 

He nods. “I do.” 

“But you are now. You’ve made sacrifices, you– you chose Jack.” 

“I couldn’t not.” You’re quiet. He understands. “Sweetheart, we don’t have to talk about it now. Would that be better? You can think about what you have to say, and I promise I’ll listen without judging you when you’re ready to tell me about it. Okay?” He gives your wrist a squeeze. “You aren’t upset, are you?” 

“I’m just thinking.” 

“Are you too distracted for dessert?” 

You let Aaron pick one for you. Let him pay the bill, he’d be insulted if you even asked about splitting it, and he might genuinely get annoyed if you offered yourself. You usually love it. Someone loves you enough that money is practically immaterial. Just last month he had to have the roof of the house redone, and you know his money isn’t infinite, as does he, and yet it didn’t stop you from being spoiled, because any money he has was money shared. You know if he suddenly turned pauper he’d still spoil you, same way you’re spoiled with soft touches and less chores than you should take. 

“You know I don’t think of you as my father, right?” you ask. 

Aaron chokes on a startled laugh. “Of course I do,” he says, coughing, clutching your elbow. 

“So if I tell you that sometimes the way you treat me reminds me of my father, you won’t take it the wrong way?” 

“No.” He smiles where he should frown, wraps an arm behind your back when he should be judging you. “Men are still men. And I am a father, so it makes sense that you’d have those connotations in mind sometimes.” 

“I don’t want you to be my dad, but I do wonder… I wonder if I want to be around you so much because my father didn’t want to be around me. Does that make sense?” 

“I think it makes sense to wonder about it,” he says diplomatically. 

You’re nearly back to the car and this is a strange place to bare your heart, but it’s not so dramatic, you suppose. “I just think that sometimes I cling to you so much, and it must be– I’m insecure about you.”

“Mm, but you have no reason to be,” he says, pulling you closer still, his fingers aligned against your ribs and warming through your layers. 

“My father didn’t like me, not like you like Jack. There were things that were far more important to him. But with you, I’m important, and– and I know it’s not the same relationship, but–” You groan, not sure what you’re trying to say to him, or what you want him to understand. 

“My father didn’t like me, either,” Aaron says, encouraging you to keep walking to the car. “He was not a nice person. And it absolutely affected how I feel now, even if I don’t always think about him. The way he treated me when I was young influenced the person I am now. And looking for the things I wish he was, looking for kindness, for a gentle partner, it doesn’t mean that I need a placeholder for him, does it? I know what you’re saying to me. Don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to be looked after.” 

You can’t help breathing out a sigh of relief. “Right.” 

“I’ve never been a young woman, and I don’t have a daughter, but it’s not hard to imagine how you felt. It’s okay to wish you’d been loved properly.” 

“I was never a daddy’s girl,” you confess. 

“It’s not fair. Everyone wants to be treasured when they're a kid. And it makes sense that you’re still looking for that feeling. We both know it’s not the same, but I really will look after you.” He smiles. “Okay?” 

“Okay. Sorry if it’s too weird.” 

“It’s not weird to want someone who takes care of you.” 

You bring your hands to his face. They’re smaller than his, you’ve shorter fingers with softer palms, but they fit perfectly on his cheeks. You tease the scratchy hill of his chin with your thumb before closing your eyes, reaching up for a kiss. The bags hanging from your elbows crack, crushed as Aaron gets his hands behind your back to hold you. 

“You’re too good to me,” you say softly, returning flat to your heels. 

Aaron pulls your face back to kiss your cheek. “You deserve everything you get, honey. I promise.” 

[intromortal]

✷ OUT OF OFFICE ⸻ P.JS

your coworkers can't begin to imagine what goes on between you and Jongseong when no one's watching.

this work contains ⋆ smut ⋆ minors do not interact ⋆ workplace relations ⋆ jealousy ⋆ brat tamer jay ⋆ toxicity if you squint (it's okay this is freak central we enjoy it) ⋆ alcohol consumption ⋆ don't like don't read! ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list

length ⋆ drabble ⸻ 4.1k words

✷ NIA — heyyy... how y'all doin... quick snack before i finish the actual fic i'm working on

smut warnings under the cut ⋆

mean jay ⋆ choking ⋆ degradation ⋆ punishment ⋆ male masturbation ⋆ orgasm denial ⋆ oral (m!rec) ⋆ brief shoe humping if at all. more like mention of it ⋆ body shots but make it nastier ⋆ hair pulling ⋆ reader fucked around and found out ⋆ like two singular instances of praise

There is something about men like Park Jongseong—men in power, men who seem to always have it together and every situation under control—that makes you want to slowly strip them of their restraint piece by piece, as if playing jenga, until it all comes crashing down.

You take pride in knowing how to get Jongseong to crumble in a just a few moves.

"I told you to only wear that when we're around friends," Jongseong says as he follows you through the entrance, hot on your heels. He rids himself of the jacket that is making sweat drip from his hair and down his forehead, then pulls at the collar of his shirt.

You ignore the bark in his tone, and twirl around in front of the huge mirror in your living room. You wanted a floor to ceiling one, but the ceiling in your and Jongseong's apartment is so high, you had to request it to be custom made. Expensive, but worth the money, and you can't wait for it to be delivered. You have plenty creative ideas on how to better utilize it, ones you're sure Jongseong is also eager to put in practice. "Don't I look good, boss?"

You don't need to look back to know he's probably staring daggers right through your back. He hates when you call him boss with that little mocking tone you reserve only to get under his skin. You two have equal power in the company, he is not your boss and you are not his, but within the walls of your bedroom, you enjoy messing up the dynamics a bit.

The light from the overhead lamp catches the diamond decorating your ring finger as you smoothen down the silky fabric of your dress. The ring is proof of Jongseong's devotion to you, the sight of it a reminder of your time spent all the way in Italy, just the two of you in a beach resort with the dreamiest view.

Ever since the engagement— which was kept a secret from pretty much everyone— Jongseong had softened down. You don't know if it's the prospect of a life together, of a family, that's making him go easier on you during your most intimate times, but one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place is the never ending game of cat and mouse you two got accustomed to playing. One you aren't ready to give up yet, or at all for what matters.

So, you take matters into your own hands. If he hesitates to play, that just means you have to bring out the big guns.

"That was a business dinner, not some random brunch with your girl friends. You were not dressed appropriately." Jongseong walks up to you and grabs your waist with a roughness so uncharacteristic of him. Everyone knows him as calm and collected man, never prone to anger, heart of gold. Only you get a peek into this side of him, the more jealous and possessive one he keeps hidden in the shadows. Knowing it's something reserved for you only makes you want to poke the bear all the more.

"A very uneventful dinner, my girls' brunches are way more fun." You know the reason for his anger is not because your dress doesn't conform to whatever dress code was put in place long before you or Jongseong got into the business world. It's a front he's putting up, to not admit that what he really feels is jealousy. Jealousy because he had to sit across you, pretending you don't live at the same place, pretending he's not balls deep inside you every other night, pretending he isn't the man who proposed to you months ago. Jealousy because he had to see his very rivals openly flirt with you all night long, uncaring of the ring on your finger that should have been enough to keep them the fuck away from you.

He's mad because he knows you and how you love playing games, he knows you push him on purpose, and as aware of it as he is, he can't help but fall for it every single time, even when it means giving you exactly what you want.

He bunches up the cream colored silk in his fist, his wrist glimmering with the heavy watch you got him for his birthday, and the slight movement is enough to uncover what you are wearing underneath.

"Is this your idea of fun?" He laughs, and the sound is devoid of any humor. It makes a shiver runs down your spine, but it also tells you you are on the right track.

It's the same lingerie you wore for him on the night he proposed, the one he spent hours picking out during one of his business trips instead of resting at the spa of the five star hotel he stayed at. It's white and embedded with a shower of diamonds. The best money can buy for his own jewel waiting for him back home.

He specifically bought that one for the special occasion, claimed you as his in it that same night. And you wore it around the very men trying to surpass him, crossing your legs here and there to give them a peek.

Jongseong is an enjoyer of the finer things in life. The tiniest detail of his life is hand picked by him personally to display his refined taste. From the bedding he imported from across the globe, to his very personal wine cellar stocked by Mr. Sim's private collection, to the fragrances he wears daily, formulated with the help of the most talented perfumers. All of it has to fit perfectly to his taste and parameters. He is a man of sensations, the touch, the smell, the feel. They all awaken memories in his mind, that's part of the reason why the lingerie you wore the first time he made love to you as your fiance had to be perfect. But now you have tainted it.

And for that, he has to make you pay.

"Come on, it's just the panties. I didn't even wear the bra, so it doesn't count," you say, putting on your best pout. You know it's useless when you meet his gaze and find his pupils blown out, the warmth you're accustomed to being met with seemingly gone.

Jongseong's other hand slides up, feeling the dress under his palm, taking his time in cupping one of your tits. He's careful, almost sweet in his exploration. If his eyes didn't tell you another story, you would think the anger had evaporated out of his body. It's what tells you he's not letting you off the hook easily this time, but deep down, it's what you wanted all along.

You meet his hand with yours, smaller fingers caressing the skin of his wrist then sliding up to intertwine with his longer, thicker ones. You guide him to squeeze your chest, enamored with the way he looks at you, like you're the most beautiful piece of art he has ever laid eyes on. Like you're his and in dire need of a reminder. "It's nice right? Custom made in France."

He lets out a hum. Then, moves his hand to rest on your neck.

Your breath hitches. He barely applies any pressure, but the weight alone is enough to make you want more. You crave the fuzzy feeling that courses through your veins when you let Jongseong decide how much and when you get to breathe, the delicious lightheadedness that comes with it.

It's what gets you going, the knowledge that you could say your safe word out loud and he would drop his hand immediately. Knowing he would rush to reassure you and take care of you like he usually does. There's power in granting someone else your submission, and at the end of the day you both know it's you who is calling the shots.

You follow his hand again, pushing to get him to apply more pressure on the sides of your neck. Even when you know you're gonna let him do whatever he wants, you enjoy making him work for it.

He frowns, and you smile. You can practically guess what he's thinking: if he punishes you, he's giving you exactly what you want. But if he doesn't, he's letting you off the hook with not so much as a slap on the wrist. No matter what he does, you have already won.

Jongseong makes his choice for the night. His grip on your neck strengthens, and you wheeze when he brings his face impossibly close to yours, whiskey and mint breath fanning on your lips. There's a something in his eyes you don't think you have ever seen, the look of pure unadulterated fury. It looks much like obsession does, in the way it's icy cold and not burning hot like one would expect. It stings like dry ice, like frostbite.

He has never looked better, and your thighs move on their own, squeezing in search of relief. You bite your bottom lip to silence any sound threatening to spill out, but Jongseong sees right through you. He sees the raw lust overtaking your body even when you try to deprive him of the show.

"You enjoy pissing me off, don't you?" he asks, venom dripping past his lips. You want to kiss it off of him.

"You're—" He squeezes, and you gasp. You have to gather strength to finish your sentence. "Easy to piss off."

"I think I've heard enough from you tonight." He relents his grip on you, smoothing the wrinkled mess on your dress like he wasn't just choking you mere moments ago. "Go sit on the bed. Dress on, don't make me repeat myself."

You follow his instructions, much to your surprise, like your legs are moving on their own. Half the reason is the sternness in his voice, you can't recall a time when he has ever sounded quite like that. The other half you guess is curiosity, when it comes to punishing you, he rarely makes detours.

When you walk into your room, you find it tidy just like you left it before heading to dinner. Your side of the bed is overflowing with pillows while Jongseong's only has two. One is the pillow he uses when sleeping and the other one is heart shaped with a case printed with his favorite picture of you. You got it for him as a joke, half expecting him to laugh and then never think about it again. Instead, he treasures it like it's the most precious gift you could have ever given him, despite how poorly made it is. Even when most of the pillows on your shared bed end up on the floor during the night, he makes sure that one never does. You think if it came down to it, he would rather lay on the floor himself.

If Jongseong is pleased, he doesn't show it, because soon enough he walks into the room with two brown labeled bottles of red wine and stemmed glasses, not sparing you a single glance.

He takes his sweet time reading the back of each one, unscrewing only one bottle open. It's his way of getting back at you, making you wait. Each second that passes makes you more curious about what his next move will be, about how he is gonna punish you. Your eyes never leave his figure, his buttoned shirt doing nothing to hide how the muscles of his arms work as he untwists the cork. Your hungry gaze travels down, devouring him inch by inch, finding him already hard in his dress pants. No matter what he says, you know he enjoys this little game as much as you do.

"Can you be quicker?"

"I told you I've heard enough." The cap gives up with a pop. Finally. "No more talking unless I ask questions."

He pours a glass, then dangerously walks up to the bed where you are sat and hands it to you. "Open up."

It takes you a few seconds to comply, but ultimately, you do. You keep your gaze fixated on his as he tilts the crystal glass, pouring the bitter liquid down your throat. It stings on its way down, it paints your lips in hues of red.

When Jongseong removes the glass from your lips, you poke out your tongue to clean the mess left behind, gaining a hum of satisfaction from him. Still, it's not enough for him to voice out any praise.

He pokes his thumb into your mouth, lowering your jaw open to make sure you swallowed every last bit. The action is innocent to the untrained eye, but the execution is so charged with lust, it has you squirming on the edge of the bed. "Is the wine to your liking?"

You nod, but he quirks his head, waiting to hear you say it out loud.

"It's nice," you say, voice still rough from earlier.

"Good. That's good. I'm glad." He puts the glass down on the shelf facing the bed, right next to the bottles and the corkscrew. "Because you'll have more of it later."

He leaves you no time to process his words, grabbing a fist of your hair and pushing your face right on his crotch. The surprised gasp that leaves you is muffled against the cotton of his dress pants, and it takes you a second to understand what he wants you to do. "Stick your tongue out for me—yeah just like that."

He guides your head with his iron grip on your hair, letting you mouth at his clothed cock until his pants are soaked with your spit. It's messy and obscene, it leaves you wanting to feel his skin on your tongue, to get an actual taste. You want him to take his frustration out on your mouth, to use it like his own personal toy, and you make sure to show that to him.

"You're so dirty… look at you, so eager to please. What happened to all that attitude from earlier, mhh?"

You lick a long stripe, from the belt to the underside, putting more spit in it the lower you go, looking for any reaction.

When he bites down on his lip to keep a sigh of pleasure in, you feel emboldened enough to grab the button holding his pants together with your teeth, pulling it between them to signal him to take them off. Instead, he pulls your head off of him completely, ignoring your whines.

"Awww baby," he mocks, titling your head up. "You thought you'd get what you want so soon? You know better than that."

He undoes his belt and his pants, then leans back against the desk right behind him. "You've been such a bad, bad girl all night. I think you don't deserve to have fun yet. Am I wrong?"

"Please, I'll be good from now on." You look at him, glossy eyed. But he's way past the point of being impressed by your words. All you do with that filthy mouth of yours is lie anyway.

"We'll see about that." His shoulder relax with a sigh as he palms his cock briefly, alternating between squeezing the outline and stroking it, before dipping his hand down the waistband of his boxers. He takes it out, revealing the length to you too. It looks delicious in his hand as he gives it a few experimental pumps, the red tip glistening with accumulated precum, more abundant with each stroke. "Stay put where you are. No touching yourself until I give you permission. Understood?"

You're too lost in your own thoughts, too in awe of the sight before you to really register what Jongseong says. Your mouth waters as he works his hand around his thick girth, and you wish it could be your lips wrapping around it instead. Your hand runs down your body, still covered by the dress, looking to give yourself any sort of relief from the pressure that has built inside your belly, a feeling no amount of squeezing or grinding down on the linen bed sheets is enough to satiate any longer.

Jongseong catches you instantly, and stops moving his fist. In return, this snaps you out of your daze. "I said, no touching. Try that again and you're not cumming for a week. Yeah?"

"Yes. I'm sorry," you meekly say, snapping your hand away from your core like it burnt you. You believe him when he tells you that, because it has already happened. The first time he threatened it, you ignored it, convinced he wouldn't actually leave you dry and hanging. You learned the hard way Jongseong doesn't really take promises lightly.

"Good." He resumes his movements after ridding himself of his shirt, torso glistening under the light. He starts off slow and steady, deliberately showing off just how thick he is because he knows it's your favorite thing about his cock. It sits heavy in his hand, and every few strokes he squeezes, recreating the way your cunt clenches around him when he's buried in you to the hilt.

More than anything, it's the sounds he makes that really get to you. Jongseong's little moans and gasps might just be your favorite things in the entire world and being the one to rip them out of him is something you take pride in, it's your motivation to keep going when you're tired and spent. He sounds beautiful as he keeps jerking himself off, his hair slowly getting wetter and wetter with each movement of his arm.

The veins running down his length look fuller, and so do those on his arm. A sick part of you wants to bite down on the flesh of his biceps, leave your mark on him for everyone to see. There's no worse punishment than not being able to touch him, and after so many times he's tried to put you in your place, he might have actually cracked the code on how to get you to behave for at least a little while. Jongseong continues working on himself, his brows furrowed in pleasure and eyes closed, imagining who knows what.

It's only when he looks at you to check if you're keeping your hands to yourself, and finds you with your arms glued to your sides, eyes teary from desperation, that his movements falter. He throws his head back, stuttering through a chain of fuck fuck fucks, fist squeezing on his cock to stop himself from coming on the spot. He takes a few seconds to regain control, breathing so heavily you would think he just ran a marathon.

When he's sure he won't cum from your sight alone, he opens up his eyes again to take your disheveled form in. One of the straps of your dress fell down, and the silk got all bunched up at your waist, culprit panties on full display. Your makeup is smudged on your cheeks, but he thinks you look better like this anyway. He almost caves in.

"Come here," he says, but most of the anger and bark in his tone from earlier is just a faint accent. He's a weak man for you, unfortunately for him.

You get on all fours on the floor, literally crawling to be at his feet. He grabs your face to caress it, sweet and gentle, runs his fingers along your jawline. There is the faintest twitch of a smile on his features. He wants to cave in. "Do you know your place now, baby?"

The light hits your features in a way that almost makes you look angelic, but you're a much more devilish creature. And when you nod, the hunger in your eyes betrays you. Jongseong wants to cave in, but he doesn't.

He gives you a light slap, its sole purpose is to admonish you, not hurt. He grabs your face again, this time with more strength, and squishes your cheeks together. "But I don't think you do yet."

A hiccup leaves your lips when he lets go of his hold on you and turns to the shelf behind him, the little glimmer of hope you held out on now trampled under his foot. "Please— I'll be good, I'll listen to you from now on, I'll do any—"

Jongseong interrupts you, full glass of wine in his hand and an amused curl on his lip. "Yeah? Then prove it to me. Get to work." He lets some of the wine fall down his torso in little streams of red. It drips down his abs, the hard ridges shaping the flow of the liquid. It goes lower, and lower, and lower down his v-line and thighs.

You stare at the imagine, enamored with it, mouth watering as your eyes follow the droplets' descent down your fiance's body. You're so captivated Jongseong has to remind you to take action with another light tap on your cheek.

You lick a stripe of wine off of him, from his thigh to his pelvis, reveling in the way his leg bounces under the stimulation, under the sheer power of your sultry gaze locked on his. His Adam's apple bobbles when your tongue traces its way to his cock, red and angry from the edging he subjected himself to. You go to wrap your hand around the base of his length so you can suckle on his tip, coax more of that delicious salty precum you adore out of him, but his hand swats yours away.

"No hands, keep them behind your back. Show me how you use that mouth."

The order has you gushing in your panties, now too ruined to ever be worn again. Your thighs are slick with want, from all the wetness seeping out of your poor untouched cunt, from all the times you have clenched around nothing ever since the night started. You know the only way to cum is to follow Jongseong's orders until he's happy and satisfied with your compliance.

So you do. You bring your hands together behind your back, pretending an invisible restraint is keeping them out of the way, then bend forward to take his tip inside your mouth, giving it a few experimental sucks that have his hips stuttering to push more past your lips.

You take more in, trying your best to relax your mouth as you do so because he's so thick, but the sight of your struggle makes his throb.

"That's it. Good fucking girl. Such a good girl for me."

The praise hits you right where you need him most, and you can't possibly hold in the moan you release around his girth, the vibration making him throw his head back in pleasure.

He lets more wine dribble down his body as you work your magic on him, the liquid cold against his scorching skin. Some of it gets on your dress, staining it, and you think this might have been his plan all along.

"Aw. Look at your dress, now you won't be able to wear it anymore. What a pity," he groans. "So good, your mouth is too fucking good."

You double your efforts, and Jongseong coos at you. "Poor little thing, you wanna feel good too, don't you?" He sets the wine aside again, opting instead to push the hair out of your face so you have better access to his cock without anything getting in the way. "Wanna get a pillow to hump?"

You make a muffled sound of displeasure, and he laughs. Of course, he knows that's not what you want.

"What is it then?"

You think he's about to pull you off of him so you can speak, but he doesn't. He keeps you in place, mouth on his length right where it belongs, and instead expects you to voice your needs without a chance to breathe.

You want to tell him it's his touch that you crave, and you try your best to, but it comes out incomprehensible, a muffled jumble of sounds that don't quite hold any meaning.

"I'm sorry, couldn't hear you. Try again?"

Tears prickle your eyes, squirming in your spot, at his mercy and on your knees for him. You try again, with even worse results.

Eventually, he relents. His shoe moves, pushing under you, until it comes in contact with your dripping clothed pussy. Your reaction is immediate, a long drawn out moan at the smallest, faintest contact. He teased you for so long, you think even a brush could be enough to make you come undone. Yet, he makes you work for that too.

"Hump my shoe then, make yourself come if you want to so badly." He bends down, fist still in your hair to pull your head backwards. "But hold it until you make me cum first. After you swallow all I give you, then you get to let go. Understood?"

[elliesanqel]

catharsis

sypnosis; after ellie had a nearly heated argument with seth over something he said about you, your best idea was to take her home, but you get caught up in the car—relieving her anger. cw; angst, smut, sub!ellie, soft dom!fem reader, oral sex, strap use (referred to as a cock), multiple orgasms, fluff, e!receiving all, not proofread, men and minors dni. a/n; can i just say a HUGE thank you for 1k on my obsessed fic, i was really not expecting it to reach that 😭💞 i love you all! basically i have ALWAYSSS wanted to write car sex—its just so hot to me so i had this specific idea💋 and im in the midst of writing lots of requests rn so they will be released soon! anyways hope you enjoy!

➝ masterlist

seth had already spat out a nasty comment your way as you walked off hand in hand with ellie. she initially tried her best to ignore the fact seth had basically told you both to leave for kissing anyway, but his next comment sent ellie off the rails and you weren’t expecting it.

a loud-mouthed dyke.

ellie let go of your hand and whipped around like someone had just thrown something at her, and her eye twitched. you watch as she walked away from you and towards seth, her finger raising to point at him, her brows knitted together. “the fuck did you just say?!” she spits out as she storms towards him, the only thing you could do was step in front of her and press your hands to her chest, holding her back.

your eyes look up at hers that were burning into seth as she never lost eye contact with him. “ellie, ellie—no!” you warn, her still moving towards seth as you spoke and had your hands on her chest, but she eventually stopped once you pressed her away firmly. her eyes finally broke from seth, falling down and inking into yours, her gaze instantly softening as soon as they met. she knew by the stern on your face that she’d better stop, especially since everyone was already staring.

before you knew it, you were hand in hand with your girlfriend, walking out of the bar, your eyes looking at hers from the side and you could practically see the steam coming from her ears. you sigh as you both walk to the car, letting go of her hand as she gets the keys from out her back pocket, unlocking the car and getting in the driver seat and you got in the passenger side.

she started the car, the engine roaring as she pulled out of the car park, driving off. the ride home was awkwardly silent—you were just in utter shock, and ellie was still very much angry. so angry that she hadnt even put her hand on your thigh while driving, which she normally did every single time—the fact that she didnt want to touch you made her anger prominent enough.

you notice ellies face, too. eyebrows knitted together, nose slightly scrunched, lips pursed and her cheeks flushed slightly, eyes narrow as they stayed on the road infront as she drove. nothing but the sound of the engine between you both, but, you decide to break the silence, feeling as though the awkwardness was swallowing you whole.

“why did you do that, ellie? we could have just walked away and ignored him.” you say, your voice low and tone soft, making sure it didnt sound like you were scolding her as you didnt want to make her more angry than she already was. she rubbed her brow, letting a sigh flow past her lips as she pouted them a little.

“well, who else was g’nna shut him up? dickhead had no right to call you that. you know i hate it when—” she says, her tone very firm, her anger obvious in her words, but you cut her off.

“i know, i know. i get it.” you sigh out, rubbing your eyes. you knew ellie was very protective of you, no matter how much of a loser she was she’d never let anyone fuck with you, she drew the line there. her hands were gripping the wheel tightly, her teeth finding her bottom lip. you found that after you’d said this, she had started to rant about it to let her anger out, but it didnt seem to work.

she rubbed her eyes with one hand as she rambled on, curses, groans and insults leaving her mouth. all this, and an idea still managed to swarm your head. how about you release her anger for her?

“he’s such a fucking—“ she rants, but you stop her by your confident words. “stop the car.” you say bluntly, with a hint of something else behind those words. her brows furrow further as she suddenly goes quiet from her rambling, her eyes meeting with yours for a split second. “huh? why?” she asks, confusion in her voice.

“pull over, ellie.” you whisper, your tone firmer now, almost seeming to stun her but she does comply, the fact that you were so strict with what you said making her pull the car over quickly and urgently. she was very much confused, parking the car on the side of the empty road. you grin to yourself, opening the glove box. “get in the backseat, baby.” you tell her.

she raises on eyebrow as she eyes your every movement, but somehow she doesnt seem to want to argue, and instead unclips her seatbelt slowly, manoeuvring into the backseat as she sits in the middle with her legs spread, seeming to get a small hint of what you were doing. especially when you were in the glovebox.

of course—ellies strap was in there.

you grab it in your hand and unclip your seatbelt, getting into the backseat. ellie reaches her arms out to you, grabbing your arms and then your hips, placing you on top of her lap as your legs rest either side of her waist. she was probably thinking you wanted her to fuck you. little did she know it wasnt like that. her hands caressed over your hips, her thumbs rubbing soft circles. “mm, y’want me to fuck you baby? right now?” she hums softly, her lips against your ear. however, you just laugh softly.

“no—you’re the one getting fucked, princess.” you grin, pressing your lips to her ear now, mimicking her own movements. you giggle to yourself as you could practically feel her smile faltering, her eyes widening and her legs spreading further. you move your head back, making eye contact with her puzzled face, your nose brushing against hers. “let me rail that anger out of you, hm?” you bite your bottom lip, watching the way her eyes pretty much fill with desperation.

she remained silent but she blinked, feeling herself getting wetter and wetter by the second, before you know it, you’d moved her to lay down and you hover over her, her jeans and boxers on the floor of the car—your skirt and panties in the same place. there was something so ironic about using ellies strap to fuck ellie with it. seems like the perfect way to go.

you strapped it on, not being able to help the moments that flush in your mind of every time ellie had fucked you senseless with this. you let the clear, veiny silicone brush against her already dripping folds, her head leans back on the car door at the first bit of contact, her eyes rolling back and her mouth opening in a silent moan.

you grin as you watch her face contort—starting to lift her shirt and move her flannel up, your lips finding her stomach. you kiss down her pretty waist, the way her stomach flattens with the sharp breaths she takes due to your soft movements, your lips pressing softer kiss on her hip bones as they arch up.

you meet with her folds, your tongue darting out to lick up her wet slit and swirl around her puffy clit. her arms lean back to grip onto the door, her hips arching up. “fuck! oh fuuuck—don’t stop. ohh, goddd…” she whines, swallowing hard as her eyes roll to the back of her head, her hips fucking themselves on your tongue.

you refused to praise her aching hole with your tongue, you wanted to save that for your cock and make her take it like a good girl. you gave her soft kitten licks, swirling your tongue over her bundle of nerves and up and down her slick heat, paying the area in particular that made her whine the most.

you could slowly feel her body shake, already teetering on the edge from your tongue on her clit, now she was sensetive wasnt she?

her hand instantly reached down to grab a fistful of your hair, fucking her pussy on your lips as she pushed your head in further. “fuuuuck baby—g’nna cu—oh god…!” she cries out, her hips grinding on your face as she fiercly cums all over your tongue. your quick to react, taking all her juices into your mouth and swallowing it up like it was flowing gold.

you pull your face out of her heat, seeing her eyes shut in ecstasy. the windows of the car had steamed up and it felt awfully hot. before ellie could even open her eyes, you had her flipped over and pulled her hips up so she was on her hands and knees on the seats, your hands curling around her hips. “you’re gonna take this like a good girl, ain’cha, princess?” you speak, voice low and seductive. you knew she was no longer angry and that you’d likely relieved her stress, but you wanted to fuck her nastily.

she bows her head, nodding quickly. “y-yes baby. shit—i—“ you instantly cut her off by rolling your hips forward, your cock completely bottoming out inside of her tight hole, which made you groan—having to stretch her needy cunt.

“uuuhhh! s—shit—“ she whines, her hand slamming against the steamy car window along with her other one, trying to steady herself as you begin moving in and out of her throbbing pussy, her ass smacking against your hips causing it to ripple as the noises echo throughout the car. any normal person driving or walking by would’ve seen the car rocking.

“s-shit…take it baby. fuuuck, your pussy is so pretty—taking my cock so well.” you whine, the friction from the strap rubbing against your untouched clit. you knew ellie loved it when you treated her like this, praising her and all—you loved it too, treating her like the queen she was. you grip her hips, although you didnt really have to—she was already pushing them backwards onto your cock as you spoke nasty words to her. her hands left two imprints on the steamy window, placing them somewhere else on the window to steady herself further, leaving two more imprints.

every time you thrusted forward, her pussy made squelching noises from her precum dripping on your cock. your hands gripped her pretty waist harder, slamming the thick silicone in and out of her needy cunt. her head arches back and strident moans fell from her throat. you were panting now, but that didnt stop you. ohhh no.

you take her hips and pull her up so her back meets with your chest and she was basically sat on your lap. a cry escapes her throat at the new angle, her body feeling overstimulated. your hands move up under her shirt, gripping both of her small breasts, giving them small squeezes which caused her to whine at your touch. “f—fucking hell—shitttt!” she whimpers out, bouncing herself on your cock. what a needy princess.

you grin, resting your chin on her shoulder as you fuck up into her, some of her hair that had fallen out of her bun stuck to her cheeks that were covered in sweat. one of her hands remained on the window, her other one came to cup your cheek. “m’close. gonna cum baby…ahhh!” her head fell back against your shoulder as she whined this—her mouth staying agape.

“thats it, thaaaats it, cum all over my cock sweetheart. doing so well f’me—mmm…” you groan, fucking up into her further as your words only egg her on, her body beginning to shake again as you repeatedly slam the tip of your cock against her spongey spot.

she shudders on your lap, and you swore you could feel her walls pulsing around you. her eyes squeeze shut, brows knitting together and with a final jolt and a slurred, whore-ish whine emitting from her throat, her cum leaks out of her pussy and all over your cock, a loud gasp following.

“ohhh my fucking god…” she sighs out, her hand slipping off the window which caused a streaky handprint, her head falling onto your shoulder. you give her breasts one last squeeze before you let go and lift her shaky body off of the silicone and she sits against the door while you crawl inbetween her legs to lay there, her hands finding your hair to play with it.

you smile contently, “feel better?” you whisper, voice croaky as you close your eyes, feeling proud. she laughs, her hands gently playing with your hair as she speaks, her tone soft and her voice quiet.

“fuck yeah. i should be pissed more often.” she kissed your hair, letting her words linger. “think we should go home, cuddle in bed. how’s that sound, princess?” you ask, looking into her eyes now.

her eyes soften at your words, looking into yours. “i’d love to, baby.”

taglist: @valeisaslut @elliesfavtoy @ttspenny @ellieswrath @willurms @slutt4ellie @stvrluvrrpres @elliescoochieeater @les4elliewilliams @eveyuyy @starwilliams @eriiwaii @vahnilla @ellieputellas @vampirq @067supremacy2 @se4ttlellie @edenspoem

[shibuyablonde]

seven minutes katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: As he lies dying, his mind drifts through seven memories.

This is my own take of this piece I saw. Go show them some support.

By the time the blood starts pooling beneath him, Bakugo already knows.

He’s not making it out of this.

The sky above is black smoke and large storm clouds, but his eyes are wide open. His chest feels too tight, too heavy, like his body is holding him down while the last few pieces of his soul try to fight their way out.

The rivet drill is still there, buried deep, pinning him to the earth like an insect on display.

He doesn’t feel it anymore.

Not really. Only the weight.

Seven minutes.

That’s what they say happens when you’re dying. Your brain floods you with the best parts of your life as it crumbles, like a parting gift before the lights go out.

Bakugo doesn’t want to see anything.

He wants to get back up. But he can’t.

So he lies there, stuck in his skin, and lets the minutes drag him under.

Minute 1

It’s not the day All Might saved him from the sludge villain, surprisingly.

It’s before that. Way before.

He’s four years old, sitting on the floor in front of their old TV.

His feet are bare, legs crossed, and his hands are sticky with orange popsicle.

All Might is on the screen, smiling that massive, dumb smile.

“Everything is fine now! Why? Because I am here!”

He can’t read the news crawl at the bottom yet, but he knows the words.

He’s memorized them. He can hear his tiny self chanting along.

His mom is standing behind him, folding laundry.

“You’ll be a great hero someday,” she says, like she doesn’t even think about it. Like it’s already true.

But he hears it.

And he believes her.

Minute 2

His old man is in this one.

Bakugo almost laughs, but it gets caught in the blood bubbling up in his throat.

He’s six, maybe.

There’s a thunderstorm outside. His mom’s at work late.

The lights in the apartment flicker out.

And he panics.

He hides under the table, his tiny hands clenched in his hair, breathing hard. His dad tries to get him out, kneeling on the kitchen floor with a flashlight, but he won’t move.

Finally, his dad crawls under with him.

“You hear that?” he says quietly.

Bakugo just stares at him.

“The thunder. That’s what you sound like when you use your quirk.”

Bakugo sniffs.

His dad presses the flashlight into his hands. “That loud? That strong? That’s you, Katsuki.”

It’s dumb, but it works.

They sit under the table together until the lights come back on.

Minute 3

It’s Deku. Of course, it’s dumb Deku.

But not the way Bakugo expects.

He’s not crying or whining, not the useless little nerd he remembers from when they were kids.

This memory’s recent.

It’s the day Bakugo apologized.

His hands shake when he says it. “I’m sorry.”

For everything.

For being a piece of shit.

For bullying him when they were kids.

For not understanding how hard Deku must’ve had it.

Deku stares at him for a long time. Then he smiles. And Bakugo hates him for it because it makes his chest hurt in a different way.

“It’s okay,” Deku says. “You’ve always been my hero.”

Minute 4

And then there’s you.

It’s stupid how fast you fill up his head.

He didn’t even realize how much space you took until now.

He’s sitting on the dorm balcony at U.A., his back against the wall, picking at the scar on his hand.

You come out and sit beside him without asking. You’re wearing his hoodie because you lost a bet with Kirishima, and he made you put it on. It swamps you. The sleeves are too long. And the hem pools and your thighs.

“Do you always scowl this much when you’re alone?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer.

But you stay.

And when you finally leave, his hoodie is still on you.

He tells himself he doesn’t care.

But he doesn’t ask for it back.

Minute 5

This one is louder, muffled, but there.

There’s music playing.

You’re at the training gym with everyone, but you’re the only one dancing like an idiot during cool-down stretches.

You’re singing along, off-key, way too loud, and your hair is stuck to your forehead because you’ve been sweating your ass off.

“Come on, Bakugo,” you say, grinning at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t dance.”

“Hell no.”

“Coward.”

You challenge him to a spar after that. And you almost win.

He cheats, grabbing your ankle when you flip him.

You laugh when you land on him, breathless and bright, and your fingers poke his ribs.

“Admit it,” you tell him, “you’re having fun.”

He doesn’t say anything.

But he is.

Minute 6

It’s winter.

You hate the cold, much like Bakugo, so you’re bundled up like a snowman, your nose tickled red, your hands shoved deep within your pockets.

He notices you don’t have gloves. He doesn’t say anything at first.

But when you’re not looking, he blasts his palms warm and presses them over your fingers.

You jump in your seat.

Then you laugh.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning into him without asking.

He doesn’t move away.

You fall asleep on his shoulder on the train ride home.

When you wake up, he’s still holding your hand.

Minute 7

The last minute is the worst.

Because he’s still here.

And you’re still here.

You’re screaming his name.

You’re running toward him through the rubble and the smoke and the bodies.

You hit the ground on your knees next to him, hands covered in his blood.

He can’t hear what you’re saying.

But he can feel your fingers on his face.

They’re shaking.

You’re crying. You don't cry, but you are now.

And it’s for him.

He wants to tell you not to. To wipe those shitty tears of your beautiful face.

He wants to tell you he was going to ask you out after the war.

He wants to tell you he was going to walk you home. That he was going to hold your hand without an excuse.

That he was going to kiss you, maybe, if you let him.

But his heart’s not working anymore.

And his mouth won’t move.

So he stares at you instead, memorizing your face for the last time.

You’re the last thing he sees.

And that’s good enough for him.

Because he loved you. And he never got to say it.

But maybe you’ll know anyway.

Seven minutes, and then it’s over.

© 2025 shibuyablonde — All rights reserved. Don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

[cherrygirlfriend]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ cuffing season

pairing: reader x bsf!rafe synopsis: reader isn't getting enough attention from rafe, so she has the bright idea to cuff herself to him. warnings: smut, piv, unprotected sex, MDNI! - wc: 1.7k a/n; i’ve lowkey been depressed and uninspired lately so i might just post my old content for a bit. anyway; originally posted 12/14/2024

bsf!masterlist ♡ rafe masterlist ♡

every man smarter than a fifth grader knows one thing for a fact; women thrive on attention. when you ignore a flower, leaving it in the shade, unwatered for days, it wilts up and dies. and you may have well been a gardenia in your past life with how much attention you required. and you? you were definitely wilting up.

it had been two weeks since you last saw rafe; you'd texted him, trying to make plans, but he kept saying how 'busy' he was, or telling you to buy something nice, and it'd be "his treat". what use were cute clothes and sexy lingerie when there was no one to show them off to?

to be fair, he really was busy. you preferred to keep yourself in the dark when it came to rafe's business, simply humming a song inside your head when he talked business with someone while you were sitting in his lap, but you knew he spent most of his time cooped up in his father's old office, but now, he was barely answering your texts, and you decided enough was enough.

so, one night you decided to surprise him. to help him... destress.

you put on one of the new lingerie sets you'd gotten on rafe's dime, wearing nothing over it but the classic/cliché beige trenchcoat, a surprise in your pocket.

you got out of the uber in front of the cameron household, your heels clicking against the cobblestone as you walked up to the door. normally, you'd ring the doorbell, but not wanting to ruin the surprise, you took the key rafe had given to you for 'emergencies', in this case it really was an emergency. you felt like you might die if he didn't touch you.

kicking the heels off your feet when you got inside, you looked around; the house you'd spent time in ever since you were both kids was always so strange in the dark. and now that rafe was the only one living there, the house felt... lifeless.

as you tiptoed up the stairs, you were starting to hear rafe's heated voice, sending shivers down your spine, a small heat in the pit of your stomach starting to spread as you got closer to the door, slightly ajar.

"i don't fucking care what you need to do, just get it done!" he shouted, and you could hear the springs of the office chair, before a breathy sigh left his lips.

"rafe?" you said softly, the man you were looking for startling straight in his chair, looking at you with wide eyes as you stood in the crack of the door.

"oh..." he let out a breath, relaxing again, "it's just you."

"wow!" you scoffed playfully, "what a nice way to greet me." you said as you made your way into the room, walking closer to him, a small grin starting to spread on his lips.

"what are you doing here?" he asked, looking up at you, bringing one of your hands to his lips, pressing small kisses to the back of it, "did i miss a text telling you were coming? if i did, i'm sorry, i've been on the phone for the-"

"shh." you moved your hand to cover his mouth, rafe's brows raising in amusement. "i didn't text you."

he took your hand away from his mouth, "ah, so a surprise visit. well, i hate to disappoint you, but-"

the moment your coat hit the floor, his jaw seemed to be doing the same, the smile on your lips only widening further as you spun around for him, pretending to show off the lingerie instead of tempting him.

"what do you think?" you smiled innocently, "you told me to get something nice, your treat, so i did. i thought you'd wanna see it. oh, by the way, the coat was also on you."

"shit..." his hands found your hips, and you could hear him swallow as he watched the way your ass curved around the thong. you turned your head to look at him, noticing the growing bulge in his pants, "if i didn't have to finish this right now... the things i'd do..."

you turned your body around fully to face him, a small frown on your face as you brought your arms in front of your chest, his hands still resting on your hips. "rafe cameron, you have a half-naked woman standing in front of you, and all you're worried about is work! i need attention too!"

rafe let out a breath he felt like he had been holding in for the past two weeks, "baby, just give me thirty minutes to finish-"

but you didn't even give him three seconds. before he'd even noticed anything, you'd grabbed the pair of pink fuzzy handcuffs out of your coat's pocket, cuffing one around rafe's wrist, and one around yours, the man looking at you with wide eyes.

"what the hell?!" he exclaimed as he stood up, now cuffed to you.

"no 'thirty minutes', no 'fifteen minutes', no more minutes!" you exclaimed, now looking up at him, "i've been missing you for two weeks, and if you make me wait one more second to have your lips on mine, i'm never letting you touch me aga-!"

before you could finish your sentence, rafe had pulled you to his chest, his lips crashing against yours, his lips conveying the yearning he'd been feeling for the past two weeks, mixing in with the yearning you'd felt, pure electricity transferring between the two of you, his body melding into yours, his erection pressing against your.

when you finally pulled apart, the harsh breaths you were letting out mixing in with his, your bodies, and a string of saliva still connecting you.

"you have no idea how much i've wanted you..." he breathed out, causing you to let out a small chuckle.

"me? you have no idea how much i've been craving you."

you pushed him until he was sitting in the chair, the springs of the office chair squeaking, rafe's brows lifted in surprise. you bent slightly to pull down the sweatpants he'd been wearing with your free hand, before you settled yourself onto his lap, feeling his erection through his calvin kleins.

"oh? are you taking control?" he asked in a playful tone as you ground yourself against his bulge, causing him to let out a groan, his a small wet patch already forming on his boxers as you continued grinding yourself against him.

you'd spent the past two weeks needily humping yourself against a plushie rafe had given you, watching videos you two had taken together, and even though you were only grinding your clothed cunt against his clothed cock, you knew that your moments spent alone had nothing on the moments you got to spend with him.

"i need you..." you whispered into his ear, tugging down his boxers, rafe letting out a small hiss as his erection was freed, your lips sucking on the sensitive spot on his ear, a beautiful whimper leaving his lips.

"i need you even more." he said, in turn tugging down the panties you were wearing before his free hand went to your tits, cupping and squeezing them through your bra.

"wanna bet?"

you brought your cuffed hand to his, rafe's free hand on his cock, gathering some of the wetness at your entrance with his tip, and you could picture it mixing in with his precum as he brought the tip of his cock to your entrance, and he was so close, but somehow it felt like you were both in whole different universes.

"i'm sorry..." rafe mumbled, intertwining your fingers, "i promise i'll pay more attention to you... i've just been so busy..."

"i don't ca-"

your sentence was interrupted when you felt his tip enter you, both of you letting out similar groans.

"fuck... has your pussy somehow gotten even tighter, huh? it feels so nice n snug around me, baby..."

"maybe she's just missed daddy..." you sink even further down his cock, rafe letting out groans that were so similar to the first time you two ever had sex, his eyes fixed on you as you sunk lower and lower on his cock until you felt him right there, causing you to let out a gasp.

"looks like she has..." rafe chuckled, bringing his free hand to your hips, as well as the hand intertwined with yours, "you wanna help daddy, hm?" he chuckled, but you were too drunk on the feeling of him in you, under you, around you, to even react to his teasings, so rafe started to move you on his cock, helping you with his hips and his hands.

soon, you were bouncing on his cock without even really realizing what was happening. his cuffed hand was still intertwined with yours, both of them pressed against your hips, as his free hand held onto you, rafe basically guiding you on him, at least until his free hand moved closer to your tummy, his thumb pressed against your clit, slowly circling it, but even without his guidance, your hips knew the rhythm, knew exactly what to do.

your head was thrown back, completely lost in the ecstasy, rafe's touch the only thing you could feel, every time the head of his cock hit your cervix, every circle he drew on your clit with his thumb, and before you even realized it, you were moaning and practically panting his name uncontrollably, the squeeze of your wall around his cock causing rafe to let out grunts as you felt the knot in your stomach finally coming undone.

but as rafe continued fucking up into you, you knew he was nowhere near done with you.

"how does three orgasms sound?" rafe chuckled, lifting his hips with slightly more vigor, the man hitting your cervix right in the middle of your orgasm, squeezing your cuffed hand. "that enough attention for you?"

[rockwoodchevy]

Cold

Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: after an attack by raiders, you end up lost in the dead of winter. Joel doesn't take the news very well.

Word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of death (no actual death though), some swear words

a/n: hi all! this is my first piece of Joel workings so please let me know what you think! i have some WIPs that i am excited for as well so look forward to those as well! thanks for reading!

_________________________________________________

You’re smart enough to know that the fact that you no longer feel the cold isn’t a good thing.

The shaking has stopped, so have the pins and needles in your body. Your breathing is shallow and little puffs of what seems like fog come from your mouth as you exhale. The ripped up puffer jacket on your body is no longer keeping your body heat in, the thick leggings barely helped in the first place but now helping even less with the rips. In all honesty, you’re slightly surprised that you’re still alive or at least conscious. You know that you’ve probably lost quite a bit of blood from the stab wound in your upper thigh and maybe the laceration on your head. You can’t feel if the beanie you were wearing hours ago is still there but that thing was pretty itchy anyways so you don’t necessarily mind. The only thing you can feel right now is the pressure of your body pressed against the ground, your eyes locked on the sky. What seems like thousands of stars staring back at you almost taunting you, waiting for you to join them. You can’t feel it in the slightest, but a tear rolls down your temple. It’s a beautiful way to go, numb and looking at the galaxy above your head. 

You aren’t completely positive what happened, all you know is there was a yell from one of the others on patrol behind you and suddenly you were on the ground, head ricocheting off of something, what it was you aren’t sure. It took a second to come to, but everyone was a blur. The only person you could really recognize was Jesse who was fighting off some raider. In your attempt to help him, one of them stabbed you deep in your thigh. The last thing you remember is Jesse telling you to run and you didn’t second guess his words. You took off in the first direction that you saw, running until your leg could no longer hold you up anymore. You were losing too much blood and the cold was no help. You had no idea where you were or what your surroundings were. No idea how far away Jackson was. All you knew was that you were going to die here. No warmth. No pain. 

No Joel.

God, you almost want to pray to whatever deity was listening that your body would rot away out here after you die and nobody, at least nobody from Jackson, would ever find it. You would hate for Joel to have to see you like this. You know that he isn’t a very emotional man, but good God, does he love you. You’ve heard it from multiple people in Jackson; Ellie, Tommy, Maria, even people that you have never even talked to before. You can hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch. You’ve never had to worry with him, knowing that you were safe, appreciated and loved every second of every day. You couldn’t bear the thought of him having to see you like this; broken down and dying if that is what this is. Knowing that he’ll be in pain once you go, that is the worst part of all of this.

What you don’t know is that Jesse spent the better part of an hour searching for you. He began panicking once the sun went down and decided he had to make his way back to the town and gather a search party. He feared having to explain to Joel and Tommy why he was alone. As he rode up to the gates on one of the horses that was spared in the fight, he could hear one of the gatekeepers yell out ‘lone rider!’ and his heart dropped. He knew that Joel waited for you after every patrol shift that you had and that he most likely heard the keeper yell. As the gate opened, he could see multiple people, including both Joel and Tommy, run out to him. While a couple of the people including Tommy helped tend to Jesse’s wounds, Joel immediately started questioning him about your whereabouts. Jesse could only babble out what he could about the raid as he broke down into tears, explaining the attack and him telling you to run so you wouldn’t get more hurt all the way up to his search for you in the surrounding wooded area. Joel’s heart fell completely out of his body, freezing as it landed in the soft pile of frosted grass beneath his feet. He didn’t hesitate to help drag Jesse back inside the safety of Jackson’s walls, not to ensure their protection but to question the hell out of him as to where he looked. Jesse told him everything he could. After Jesse was brought to the infirmary, Joel looked to Tommy who was already looking at him wearily. 

“Joel-“ Tommy began, but Joel didn’t let him finish his sentence.

”I’m going whether ya like it or not. With or without ya.” 

In 20 minutes time, a search party of about 10 people, including Tommy, Maria and Ellie, had gathered together to search for you. Joel’s heart couldn’t stop its rapid beating in his chest. Jesse told him about your hit to the head and injury to your thigh. They didn’t know the severity of them both. The party headed off in the general direction of where both you and Jesse were attacked and spread out from there. Joel started to yell out your name in hopes that you would be able to respond to it. Tommy immediately began to shush him.

”Joel, we can’t just start screaming her name out here, there could be more raiders in the area-“

”I don’t give a fuck who else is out here,” Joel interrupted Tommy. “My girl is out here and we are gonna find her tonight.”

They agreed, much to both Joel and Ellie’s dismay, that an hour-long search would happen before they would all have to retire until the next day. They all separated in 5 groups of 2. Each with weapons to defend themselves, whistles around their necks and first aid in the hopes that they could find you.

But you had already given up mentally and almost physically. You couldn't ask for better company in death than the stars. The crickets. The wind. The trees. Death would be peaceful, painless, easy. The only thing you wished was that you could say goodbye to Joel. Kiss him one last time. Hold him one last time. The only heat you’ve had in a while bursts in your chest at the thought of him. You close your eyes, the heat dissipating. 

Maybe you’re dreaming or maybe you’re just hallucinating, but you think you can hear someone calling your name. You think it could be an angel calling you home or some religious shit like that, but no, you know that voice. You open your eyes, looking back at the stars. You hear it again and another familiar voice echoes behind it. 

Tommy and Maria are here.

You could cry, out of happiness or sadness you don’t know. Happy that you could be rescued and brought back to your home, regardless of either it was Jackson or Joel. Sadness because you know that there is a bigger chance of you not making it than there is that you will, and either they or Joel will have to watch it happen. But regardless, you’re happy it was them and not Joel. 

Your name is called again, slightly closer than it was before. You know that you won’t be able to speak, to call out that you’re here, so close yet so far away it seems. You worry that if you don’t make noise soon, they’ll turn the other way and your fate will be sealed. You think fast, remembering that small handgun Joel likes to shove into your pack. You muster up all the strength that you can and search for the pack without turning your head. Feeling the zipper, you undo it and slip your hand in, feeling around until you grasp the handle of the gun. Pulling it out, achingly slow since the burn in your muscles is agonizing. Tears fall down your temples again as you hear your name once more, now further away. Using all the strength you can, you aim the gun away, cock it and shoot. The sound of it is almost deafening, the shot making your arm fly back some. That shot is all it takes.

Tommy and Maria both turn towards the sound of the shot, both of them reaching for their weapons. They’re confused when they don’t see another raider but continue towards the area. Maria gets there first, gasping and throwing herself off of her horse and falling to her knees at your side. She touches your face a few times and says something to you, but you can’t hear it through the relief that floods your brain. More tears fall as Tommy slips off his thick jacket, laying it on top of you. Maria rubs her hands along your arms to attempt to warm you as much as she can. 

“We gotta get her back to town. She’ll die out here.” Tommy says hastily. 

They both aid each other in helping to lift you up and onto Tommy’s horse. He straddles it behind you, praying Joel will forgive him for doing what he has to in order to keep you both warm and alive. He pressed his front to your back, resting his head on your shoulder and immediately began to ride back towards Jackson as fast as he could. He was speaking to you, telling you that you had to hold on, that you had to fight because he didn’t know if Joel could take another heartbreak like this. He had one hand on the reigns of the horse, the other one rubbing against your thigh to try and help you gain your heat back. His hand felt wet and he pulled it back to see it covered in crimson. His stomach churned and he attempted to get his horse to ride faster. He couldn’t let you die, Joel wouldn’t be able to come back from this. He barely came back from Sarah, he couldn’t imagine what this would do to him. 

Maria rode back towards where the party originally separated and blew her whistle as loud as she could. She did it for a few moments before turning back towards the town while still blowing it. As she left the wooded area, she could see a few of the other riding back towards Jackson as well. Mostly, she could see both Joel and Ellie riding as hard as they could back to their little sanctuary. They all reached their within the same small time frame. Maria, Joel and Ellie all stormed towards the infirmary and saw Tommy’s horse abandoned outside. Maria could see the fear in Joel’s eyes as they stormed inside, pushing past the doors and into the main room. 

Joel pushed past a few people to get to the back room that they usually keep unoccupied for emergencies. When he pushed the door open, the doctor was hovering over Tommy who had her huddled in his lap, hands gliding up and down whatever inch of skin he could reach. Joel promised himself that this was the one time he would let that slide, especially since her life depended on it. Tommy made eye contact with Joel as he stormed over to them, subtly sliding her over to Joel as he sat next to them. Joel could feel her weight press down on him and first the first time that night, the tightening in his chest loosened just a little bit. He immediately started to run his hands up and down your body through the two blankets that were tucked around you. The doctor was speaking to him, but he wasn’t listening. He called your name a few times, hoping that you could hear him. 

“C’mon, honey,” he begged, “I need you to open those pretty eyes for me. Lemme see them.”

He was practically talking to a statue, the cold almost becoming you. Joel didn’t cry very often but he figured now would be an exception. They ran down his cheeks rapidly as he held back a small sob; he couldn’t care less that Ellie, Tommy and Maria were there to see it.

”Please, baby. I need you to look at me.” He sniffled some. “I can’t do this without you. I’m so sorry; I should have been there. I should have protected you. You… you’re everythin’ to me. Please don’t go. I promise I’ll do anything as long as you stay. I won’t… I won’t make it through this.” Joel shook his head, pulling you closer to him. “I need you to stay with me. I’m beggin’ you.”

Ellie had to turn and leave, she thought she was going to be sick. Maria left with her, not wanting to interrupt this moment, whether it ended good or bad. Tommy stayed with Joel, assisting in trying to get your body heat back to somewhat normal. 

You, on the other hand, felt like you were floating. You could hear Joel’s words, the pleading in his voice, the urgency in his and whoever else’s hands were brushing up and down your skin. You thought that the stars were the perfect company in death but now, you realize that if there was something you’d want to look at as you go, it would be Joel. You wanted so badly to let him know that you were here with him, that you could hear him but your muscles were so tight, so tired. All you could get out was a deep hum from the back of your throat that you weren't sure was even your voice, you couldn’t recognize it. But Joel did, pulling you tighter against him. 

Joel turned to Tommy quickly with an urgent look in his eyes.

“You gotta leave.” He told him.

Tommy looked at him oddly. Joel shook his head.

“Body heat. She needs body heat.”

Tommy finally understood, standing and exiting the room to go and find both Maria and Ellie. The doctor excused himself as well, standing outside the room in case there was some sort of emergency. Joel wasted no time in stripping off any layer of clothing that he could get to. It didn’t take much to rip off what was left of the leggings that you wore but he struggled a bit with your jacket. He laid you down on the small bed, taking off his clothes as fast as he could; he didn’t want you away from him, worried that even a second not near you could do more harm. He laid himself on top of your body, both of you now only covered in your undergarments. He knew that you would most likely complain about the fact that we were practically naked in a public place but at this point, he couldn’t give a shit. All he cared about was making sure you stayed alive. He covered as much of your body as he could while still whispering sweet nothings into your ear, trying to get some sort of reaction from you.

It took about half an hour but your body temperature was coming up slowly. You almost wished you were still numb because the pins and needles were returning, causing some discomfort. You found your voice a little while later, moaning out of pain. The dull throbbing in both your thigh, now stitched and covered up, and your head (which surprisingly wasn’t busted open like you thought it was) was hurting. Tears developed in your eyes and for the first time that night, you could feel them running down your face. You could feel a sob rising in your chest quickly before it came out of your mouth. And though it was a sign that you were in pain, Joel was ecstatic. Because it meant that you were warm enough to feel again. 

“I know, I know honey. I know it hurts. I’ll get you taken care of.” Tears rose in his eyes. He never thought he would be excited to hear you crying, but here he was. He continued to warm your body as he held you while you cried. You genuinely thought that you were going to die out there, alone with the stars and sounds of nature. You never realized how you had taken being held by Joel for granted and boy, did he know how to hold you. 

Once you could feel your limbs again and had full control over them, you slowly lifted an arm to warm around Joel’s middle, holding you to him as tight as you could. Joel released a sob at the touch of your skin on his. Like you, Joel started to realize how he had taken holding you for granted. The world was a scary, uncertain place. Every day, people walked a thin line between life and death and today, you almost crossed it. You were both so close to never being held by each other again and Joel couldn’t handle the thought of that. 

“It’s alright, honey. I gotcha. I always have ya.”

And you believed him. Because he saved your life. 

And unbeknownst to you, you had saved his too.

[neeeooon]

Hello girlie🩷i hope u are alright. Could u please write the blue lock guys (isagi, bachira,sae, rin,nagi,kaiser) and anyone u want reacting to their children snapping at their mom being rude.

oooooo okay i’ll try!! thank you for the request 💖

when your kid snaps at you in front of them

husband + dad bllk x fem!reader. cursing. reader is called “mom”. kids being stupid! no abuse.

isagi yoichi

-> your household is less traditional, so you nor isagi care much when your children curse or ask you questions that would be “taboo” in other households

-> however, less traditional does not excuse your youngest son when he calls you a bitch after you tell him he can’t go to his friends house at midnight

-> you blink at him. then glance over your shoulder at your husband, who is staring at your son with the same bewildered expression. “what did you just say?” he asks with a surprised scoff

-> your son is pale. “i-i said ‘i understand. we can hang out another time with your permission.’” “that’s what i thought. go to bed.” “yep!”

bachira meguru

-> bachira isn’t one to get upset easily. he’s the fun dad, and you’re the stricter parent making sure things are taken care of and running smoothly behind the scenes

-> until your seven-year-old daughter throws a tantrum when you accidentally gave her your sandwich instead of hers. your sandwich with crust on it. “i hate you! you’re the worst mommy ever! i wish i had another—“

-> bachira scoops her up and props her on his hip, eyes more stern than you’ve seen them in a long time. “apologize. right now.” sniffling, your daughter wipes her eyes with her arms and mumbles out a weak apology. your husband nods once. “promise you won’t say anything like that to her ever again.” “i promise..”

itoshi sae

-> he doesn’t show it, but he’s laughing in disbelief when your son tells you he won’t go to school. you’d been trying to get him ready, and all morning he’s been dragging his feet and throwing himself to the floor. when sae catches your eye and sees that you’re not in the mood, he steps in

-> “come on, get up.” he tells your kid as he hoists him off the floor and kneels in front of him. “you’re going to school.” “but—“ “and you’re going to apologize to mommy first.” “but—“ “and if you say ‘but’ again, i’m taking your toys to work with me and leaving them there.”

-> that’s enough to get your son to stop and reach for his backpack with a deep pout. “i’m sorry mommy. i’ll go to school today.” you let out a long sigh of relief and silently tuck his lunchbox into his bag. “dad can take you. i need some me time.” sae doesn’t argue and gives you a quick kiss goodbye before grabbing his car keys

itoshi rin

-> he doesn’t know how to react, honestly. your daughter has never spoken back to either of you before. she can get dramatic at times and throw a tantrum every now and again, but she’s never been downright hostile

-> “i wish you weren’t my mom! juri’s mom buys her whatever she wants and let’s her stay up late!” “well, i’m not juri’s mom. i’m your mom.” “well, i wish you weren’t!” rin materialized after that, arms crossed over his chest as he caught your daughter’s narrowed eyes

-> his face is perfectly blank as he says, “i must have misheard you.” your daughter mimics his crossed arms in defiance, and rin cocks a brow. “apologize. or i’m calling juri’s mom and telling her to keep her daughter far away from you.” “what?! you can’t..! fine. i’m sorry.” “now give me your phone and go to your room.”

nagi seishiro

-> he’s quiet, but he’s observant when it comes to your children. he’ll sneak sweet treats into the cart when he sees them staring, he’ll let them teach him the slang they use in school, and he’ll carry them all to bed when they fall asleep during movie night. he’ll let them get away with a lot because he loves them, but when your youngest daughter snaps at you for asking her to turn her game off…

-> he easily swipes the controller from your daughter’s hands and places it on the highest shelf before turning the screen off. she opens her mouth to scream at him, but one seemingly disinterested glance back is enough for her to close her mouth in shame

-> “what do you say?” he drawls while gesturing in your direction. your daughter’s bottom lip juts out as she blinks up at you. “i’m sorry…” “now go hug her.” she does as told and let’s you scoop her up. “i won’t yell at you again.” “well, i appreciate that, sweetheart.”

michael kaiser

-> absolutely not. there’s no tolerance for that at all, and he makes it very known

-> your son got one word out in a shouting voice before kaiser squeezes his shoulder. it’s not enough to hurt, but it definitely shuts your son up

-> “not in my house. not to her. you are not going to stand here and belittle someone who’s spent your entire life giving and giving so you are safe and comfortable.” he scoffs and gently pushes your son forward so he’s in front of you. “you don’t know how lucky you have it, kid. now, apologize.”

[the-ellia-west]

*Saying this mostly to myself, but it's also directed at you if you choose to listen*

The problem with this is that while thinking this way is helpful to get your spirits up temporarily, it doesn't last forever. Because if you start seeing it as 'helpful' you'll start seeing yourself as 'useful' and that's not a good mindset to be in.

You can't think of yourself like an object. You are a God-given creation, and he and people love you. You are amazing for WHO you are, not what you can do.

Because if we're honest, No person really makes that much of a difference in history. But that doesn't matter to God, and neither should it matter to you. Because he created you as more than a speck of dust on a timeline, a few words in a history book

He created you with a mind, with feelings, with love and worth. The truth is, perspective is what matters. Things may be awful, but if we're honest, things have always been this bad, we've just never been old enough to understand it yet.

The world is sinful, the world is awful, the world is evil, and you should not trust it to have mercy on you. Because you are not of this world. You are worth so much more than all this suffering, all this pain, because you do not belong to it. You were made for so much more than this. You were made for a God who loves you, and he wants you to see that he loves him.

Even if it's hard and you have questions, and you hate him, and the world seems awful. You are a child of the one who reigns over sin and death, the one who triumphs over the devil who drags you down. And he loves you even when you hurt him and push him away, and he's WAITING for you to just see him and let him hold you in his arms.

Politics and despair and pain and suffering are all the things that Satan uses to take you, he offers you a lie disguised as love and you take it because you've never known the real love of a father who wants you to hold you in his arms and sing you to sleep, the love of a real father who protects you from death and asks you to follow him, while giving you the free will to refuse even it he knows it will hurt when you refuse. Because what is love if not letting someone go and waiting to see if they run to you, always ready to embrace them when they reach you, and tell them you've always been waiting.

And all of you who don't believe, I pray over you, I pray that you see the truth and see the one who loves you because I want better for you than this, I pray over you because he wants better for you than this, and Satan wants you, But he should not have you, because you are SO SO loved, and there is a whole world waiting for you if you'd just take the time to open your eyes and see it. Please. I wish for you to be saved.

And for those of you who do believe, Pray, pray like you're talking to a friend, pray like you're screaming to the sky that he hates you, pray in silence and let him surround you, pray against the devil, pray for opportunity and courage and love. Pray for friends and family. Be patient, because it will come to you, Endure the pain but do NOT Let it take you down. SATAN CAN'T HAVE YOU? DO YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! BECAUSE GOD LOVES YOU! HE IS KING AND WE WILL NOT BACK DOWN. STAND UP! RISE! AND LOVE, EVEN IN THE DARK WHEN YOU CANNOT SEE. STAND, AND FACE THE SUN.

I do not know how to defend my beliefs, but I am not afraid. I've done enough standing aside. I'm ready to take my place in this world, I'm ready to let his love fill me and change me and to show it to all of you. Hate me, leave me, ridicule me, pull me down and beat me because you disagree, but I will be right here, and I will love you until the day the world ends. Because you are all my brothers and sisters, you are all children of the one and only true God, and he LOVES you so much.

Feeling rough lately.

[tsukii0002]

Imagine a Lucifer collapsing over an insignificant thing. Let me explain. Imagine that Lucifer has been under enormous stress for a couple of weeks, more intense and exhausting than usual.

In a few days he has had to deal with a group of demons trafficking in human souls in the habitable borders of Devildom; he had had to expel several students for bulling that went to the extreme of endangering the lives of the victims; a group of witches had openly threatened Diavolo for restricting the trade of certain herbs exclusive to Devildom; had stopped a rather dangerous stalker who was after Asmo (Thanks to his father that his brother hadn't found out); Mc had been attacked by a faction of the Sorcerer Society that hated Solomon; Belphie had gotten angry and taken his word away, because he hadn't made it on time to a classical music concert that the younger one had arranged well in advance. … and a lot of other things, which had been piling up on him to such an extent that he couldn't stand it any longer. And the straw that broke the camel's back, the last thread that broke the string, was the most absurd and insignificant situation.

Mc: Lucifer? Are you-

Lucifer: *draining his tears silently*

Mc: *running to his side worried* Lucifer????!!!! What's wrong?

Lucifer: I… I can't find my black embroidered handkerchief….

Mc: ?? *looking around* the one with the peacock eyes?

Lucifer: *nodding as he closes his eyes*

Mc: Well *panicking a little* don't worry *kneeling down next to him and holding his hands* I'll help you look for it.

Lucifer: *staying silent as tears stream down his face*

Mc: *seeking his gaze* …

Mc: It's been a hard few days, hasn't it?

Lucifer: *nodding without opening his eyes*….

Mc: *moving his hand to his face*….

Lucifer: *relaxing to the touch*…

Mc: It's all right now, everything will be all right *sitting down next to him* so let off some steam.

Lucifer: *hugging the human* This is stupid….

Mc noticed how their shoulder was getting progressively wetter, while Lucifer's breathing was accelerating, the few tears had turned into a silent cry. Mc tried to comfort him, he must have been overwhelmed by everything that had happened. How many times would he have been like this on his own? Because, although the brothers could sense that their brother could not cope with everything no matter how much he insisted, surely no one would have seen him like that, no one would have accompanied him in those overwhelming moments.

Mc: It's not…

Lucifer: It's a fucking handkerchief…. And yet...

Mc: It's not just a handkerchief Luci, it's important.

Lucifer: *closing his eyes tightly again* …

Mc: *caressing his back* I have an idea, let's go to sleep and when we wake up we'll look for your handkerchief together.

Lucifer: I still have a lot of things to do.

Mc: *smiling* Don't worry, leave it to me.

Mc smiled, maybe if the first born would turn more to his family and friends, he wouldn't go to that extreme.

And so, while Lucifer slept peacefully in Mc's arms with swollen eyes, the human made a few calls. And soon after, Satan and Levi had taken care of dismantling the demons' base on the border, Beel had located all the expelled thugs and had a talk with them; Mammon had taken care of establishing an agreement with the witches without any consequences; Asmo, who already knew about his stalker, made sure that he would not be a nuisance to his family again; Solomon intervened in the warlock association and made sure that if they had problems with him they would solve them with him; and finally when Lucifer woke up Belphie was waiting for him with his freshly ironed handkerchief, accompanied by a hug.

.

.

I am strongly convinced that Devildom and the RAD have serious, serious problems. And that Mc had no idea at the beginning, she was protected from them because she was human, but that she got involved as she became more and more relevant. Sometimes he wondered how his demons had been able to carry everything, especially Lucifer.

Thanks for reading 🩷 .

.

.

[bismuthfool]

Hi! I have a question about Cryptid Wukong AU!

So, Wukong hates adults, right? Did he try to scare or hurt Macaque when they first met?

Or did MK and Mei stop the two from harming each other?

they first met when they were young (well, MK and Mei hadn't even appeared on the horizon yet)

explanation for comic: young cryptid Wukong had almost no contact with people (because he had not yet taken over much territory and lived very deep in the remote wild places) and had not yet formed a special opinion about them

and Liu Er had been on campaigns for many months, and he often appeared on the borders of Wukong's territory, because of which Wukong, one might say, got used to him

and when they met, Wukong took Liu Er for a "forest animal" and decided not to touch him