#if ya skimming through the tags

[mossyinkynebulous]

Heeeyyyyyyy Tumblr! So I make kandi bracelets that are Sans/Papyrus coded and decided to let y'all name the skeleton my most recent bracelet. So here he is.

Feel free to guess if you wanna or just stare at the colors or just ignore this. ﾟ.+:｡∩(・ω・)∩ﾟ.+:｡

[wedontburnbookshere]

☆☆☆

I ended up a little disappointed in the pace around Part 3 onwards, but I also am aware that if I'd read this when I was thirteen or fourteen, I would have given this book five stars. I'd first picked it up, because the premise made me think of an old OC I'd made when I was twelve -- a vampire-witch hybrid who'd been put into hiding, because vampires and witches hated each other. It was also a Rapunzel retelling, which ticked off yet another love of mine.

So I really wanted to love this book.

I enjoyed it. The world-building was good, and I liked how the tenuous "peace" between the Erlanis Empire and Saren in the current day of the book's setting helps give background on the main characters Ava and Kaye. The former is Sarenian, her parents moving to the Erlanis Empire and the latter mixed. Kaye has always felt like an outsider, and she works hard, needing to prove that she belongs.

She is constantly under scrutiny, not only due to her mixed heritage but due to her mom being seen as a traitor. Kaye's mom, before she died in a vampire attack, had been heard empathizing with a vampires, saying that there must be another way than just killing them outright. Kaye constantly feels her mom's shadow over her, working hard to prove her loyalty and constantly feeling a mixture of grief and shame and confusion but trying to focus only on revenge.

I loved seeing her slowly open up, her walls cracking as the hard truths she knows about the world crumbling under her feet.

In contrast, Ava starts out meek, wanting a shadow to hide under. She's trapped in her room in the attic, the handle on her door pure silver so that she can't touch it without painfully burning herself. Turned into a vampire by her own mother at the age of fifteen, her witch powers were still strong enough to carry through so that she still has them even when undead. Her mother now keeps her locked up to siphon her magic, so she can keep pretending she's human while plotting the empire's downfall.

When her mother is away, Ava is tortured by her vampire-obsessed stepfather, who uses her for experiments to test a vampire's limits for healing. Any time she tries to tell her mother, she doesn't believe her, and Ava is left with only one option: to escape.

A big part of Ava's journey is a power fantasy, which is a reason why I think I would have loved it in my early teens, and I would recommend this book for those aged 12 to 16. She starts out powerless but grows into the most powerful vampire at the end of the book.

I found most of it fun or interesting to read, and the relationship between Ava and Kaye was sweet. Friends turned to enemies due to circumstances and prejudice and then betrayal, and as they grow, they grow closer again. It was a relationship I wish I could have read when I was younger, but I'm very happy it's here now for kids and young teenagers who feel like outsiders and wanting to feel powerful and loved.

[fear-is-truth]

❥ ˖˚⊹ 𝓙’s note: wrote this bc i hateeee my golf lessons... think i’d enjoy it more if rafe is the one teaching me </3 tags: very suggestive﹒sexual innuendos﹒pogue!reader

your boyfriend has been talking about teaching you golf for weeks, going on about how “every cameron has to know their way around a course.” when you’d pointed out you weren’t a cameron, rafe simply gave you a “not yet,”

and that alone was enough to get you here, on the green, clad in a miniskirt and a cute polo shirt. club in hand, feeling completely out of your element.

“first rule,” rafe begins, stepping up behind you so close that you can feel the warmth of his chest. “you’re way too tense, princess.” his hands find your shoulders, squeezing gently. “loosen up a little for me.” “i am!” you protest, but he just hums, clearly unconvinced. his hands glide down your arms to rest over your wrists, fingers curling around yours. “try again. wrap your fingers around it—no, not like that.” he shifts your hands gently, positioning your grip just right. “gentle, but firm.” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “though i’d say you’re already a natural… from personal experience.”

heat rushes to your cheeks at the implication, and he takes the opportunity to skim his fingers along the sliver of skin between your shirt and skirt. “feet a little further apart,” he instructs, nudging you until your hips are positioned the way he wants. “weight back. like this.” the curve of your ass is nestled snugly against his pelvis, and through the fabric of your skirt, you can feel the outline, the heat, of his hardened cock slotted between your asscheeks. “now, keep your spine straight, and relax.” he helps you bring the club up and then down in a smooth arc. “see? easy.”

“it’s… easier than i thought,” though honestly, you’re so focused on him that you barely even realise you’ve swung.“that’s ‘cause you’ve got a good teacher,” rafe gives your butt a playful smack he pulls back just slightly, giving you a bit of space but still staying close. “try it again, on your own this time.” you nod, taking a deep breath, feeling his gaze heavy on you. you set up just like he showed you, but as you swing, the club hits the ground a bit too early.

“not quite, princess,” he chuckles, coming up behind you again. “here, let’s work on that stance a bit more.” his hands return to your waist almost too eagerly. “sturdy but relaxed. you don’t wanna hold yourself too tight… unless you want me to stretch out those muscles for ya later.”

[rqnarok]

summary: make up sex with old man!logan.

cws/tags: smut, mdni! oldman!logan. insecure!logan. petnames. logan calls reader ‘kid’. jealous!logan. daddy kink. oral (f receiving). not proofread. 

Logan can’t be ‘mad’ at you for more than a day. He just fucking can’t, alright?

He tried to keep his hands to his own as a protest of yesterday's quarrel. Logan still doesn’t know if it’s meant to be a punishment for you or himself. 

The older man does know that when he’s jealous, he’s doing it in a self-destructive way.

How he isolates himself and avoids you instead - because he knows that he doesn’t deserve you. A fucking hundred-year-old something who’s angry all the time, who’s aloof to the world, and who’s pining over someone as pretty and young as you. 

It fucking wound him too when he pretends nothing ever hurt him, that the way you laugh too loud at the guy’s jokes at the pub did not have any effect on him. That he had to pretend as if he’s not an insecure old man who just wants you all to himself by making things worse. 

“C’mon.” It’s all that Logan could force out as he skims through whatever he’s pretending to read, ignoring the way his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth in ferocity, “What’re you on, huh? Y’ve got no reason to throw a tantrum like this, kid.” 

He sees the moments when your gaze changes, hurt bleeding into the orb, “You’re mean, Logan.” It wounds him - but this kind of confrontation is all he’s ever known. 

Hell, he doesn’t even know why you decided to stay with him. He thought you’d leave in the middle of the night of the first month after figuring out how much of a failure of a man he is. 

So when he goes back from his tiring work and still sees your figure cooking dinner for him in the kitchen, he fucking loses it. His breath gets stuck in his lungs as he watches you stroll around with one of his henley shirts, humming softly the tunes of your favourite song. 

Maybe he’d use a different type of confrontation now—maybe he’d talk about his feelings more often. He’d do everything not to lose this sole sight: His pretty girl being so domestic that he can’t help but get so shamelessly hard.

The way he tried to gain composure and not to lose his coolness but fails miserably at the sight of his your shirt riding up to give him a good view of your perky ass as you reach something from the top cabinet. 

Logan takes you by surprise when he wraps his arms around you, nipping and kissing the soft skin below your ear—his way to say sorry - it’s all my fault.

“Will ya’ forgive your old man, sweet girl?”

He hates how he sounded so unconfident - so different from his younger self.

But when you lean your back onto his chest and shyly nod, his worries are buried. Logan hauls you up with a smile, the bone-cracking sound reminds him of his old age. He rumbles in laughter when you squeal in surprise before spreading your thighs apart on the kitchen counter, pulling your legs around his head so he can eat his dinner. 

His big nose drapes around your clothed pussy before groaning at the smell of you. Cursing himself from avoiding you yesterday when he could have had this. “Y’ve got such a pretty pussy, baby. ‘S mine, huh? My pussy.” He says as he takes off your panties.

The statement itself and the scratchy feel of his ragged beard made you arch your back from the rough surface, “A-ah, ‘s yours, Daddy.”

“Tha’s right.” Logan licks a stripe of your dampening pussy, deeply humming in delight when you let out a high-pitched whine and subconsciously locking your legs tighter to pull him closer. You trail your hands down and tug at his greying hair while he laps you up and fucks you with his tongue. Making you come undone in just a span of a short time.

Logan wipes his mouth and beard as he stands before you in quick breaths, looking at you all apologetically: I’msorry I’msorry I’msorry-

You’re teary-eyed, blinking up at him - whining for him to fuck you hard now - to make up his stupid faults. 

Stupid old man who thinks he’s not worthy of you.

 Logan groans as he tosses away his belt, holding the base of his cock as he teasingly drags the head on your wet folds, “Ssh. Let Daddy make it up t’ya, alright? Daddy’s gon’ give it to you now, baby.” 

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 6

Series Summary: After recently graduating you take what is supposed to be a job to save money before you go back to university to get your law degree. Your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. Easy. Simple. Mundane. Until one of your clients is home and everything you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. 

CW: 18+ MDNI. In order to avoid spoilers, all tags are under the cut in small red lettering. Reader does have some body descriptions so more of an oc than female reader.

AN: I don't think I understood the term "labour of love" until right now. I'm emotionally exhausted yet so fucking proud at the same time. Thank you @lotusbxtch for fixing all my grammar and formatting. I also couldn't of done this without @mermaidgirl30 , @littlevenicebitch69, @alltheirdamn, and @for-a-longlongtime (even if you did just try to distract me with Santi the entire time LOL)

Word Count: 14.6k (sorry, grab a snack or two)

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist | AO3

CW: use of petnames, mention of losing a spouse, mentions of child abuse (mostly verbal), use of nick names (baby, sweet girl, etc.), dirty talk, spanking, sexual activity in public, kissing, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), consumption of alcohol, mutual pining, mentions of falling in love, Dom/sub dynamics.

You: 911, I need to go buy a dress, but ya’ll can’t ask me what it’s for Laren: no strings attached shopping? Fuck yeah!  You: I’m serious though Laren: Dude, I won’t ask you as long as you don’t ask about the hickey on my neck Jamie: Damn, my dad’s in California so I can’t leave the office. You: hmm…maybe we just tell each other one secret each Laren: oh sorry, forgot I have to vacuum my cat today, can’t shop You: fine, no asking about the hickey. Pick you up at noon? Jamie: Have fun. I need a sugar daddy. Odette: booo! I’m studying. Someone alert me when we learn about the hickey. 

You

Laren’s jaw drops as you step out of the dressing room, the soft silk of the floor length black gown skims against your body. Your eyes trail down the thin straps along your shoulders and down the deep v that sits low on your sternum. You’ve never appreciated your small breasts until now. The risque cut has a soft and romantic feel. Somehow, so does the long slit up your one leg, stopping much higher than most black tie venues would find acceptable. You spin to take in the way the silk dips low on your back. Yeah, Joel Miller is going to love this. 

“You look stunning. I’m not gonna ask, but whoever you’re wearing that for is going to fall in love with you. I might fall in love with you.”

You laugh at her, watching as she tugs the collar of her sweater up to cover the very prominent purple hickey on her pulse point. If only she knew how ridiculous that statement really was. Joel Miller, your dom, falling in love with you. It’s impossible. 

The big box that you stuffed the small, pink and bedazzled box in snickers in your mind then taunts you in her uppity British accent. He loves you, remember how he held your hand so tenderly through that last orgasm? “It’s a date”, “It’s only you”. 

You shake your head and run your hands down your torso and hips, the silk feeling like water under your hands. 

“Wow, that dress was made for you.” The peppy store clerk says as she rounds the corner to the dressing room. “Oh! I have just the accessory, if you don’t mind me showing you?”

You nod and then look over at Laren through the mirror. The two of you haven’t been friends for that long, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s not wearing her massive engagement ring, plus that giant love bite; something is off. “I’m not gonna ask about the hickey, but are you ok?”

“Ya - I’m fine, why?” Her phone goes off in her purse for what feels like the hundredth time since you picked her up. She hasn’t looked at it once and this newest alert doesn’t change that.  

“No reason. I’m here for you though. I hope you know that.” The corners of her mouth lift, but that vivacious sparkle in her eye doesn’t make an appearance. 

You spend longer than you ever had getting ready on Friday. You’ve shaved, exfoliated and moisturized every inch of your skin. You painted your fingers and toes with a fresh coat of pearly white polish, noticing that the skin around your cuticles on your hands isn’t picked clean. For the first time in your life, your anxiety hasn’t needed its usual outlet; picking and pushing at your nails until they’re clean. Even with the last few days kicking your ass, Mister Miller made it better, made you better.

After about three hours, you’ve completed the look: big loose curls, one side pinned behind one ear with a gold clip, exposing the soft slope of your neck that Joel loves to press his lips to. You’ve opted for a neutral glam look; a light smokey grey eye, flirty lashes, a touch of blush and highlighter and a nude lip. 

You keep the jewelry simple, just thin gold hoop earrings and two dainty golden chains, the accessories that the sales girl picked out. The first chain is the longest; one end loops tight to your throat then lays down your sternum, a small clip on the other end holds it in place to the lacy black thong you bought for the occasion. The second chain wraps around your exposed thigh. A few small crystals dangle off the garter. It feels perfect for a sex club, almost like you’re being tied up in gold. 

After wrapping the gift you bought for Joel today you debate taping the dress in place. It’s a sex club, surely a nip slip isn’t the worst thing that can happen. However, Joel would probably forcefully remove anyone who got a peek. As tempting as it is to witness that, you decide to save his sanity for one more day and after placing the last piece of tape you hear the rev of his engine coming down your street. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, it’s been weeks since you’ve heard that sound. That deep rumble will probably always fill you with an excited anticipation of seeing Mister Miller. 

You agreed to let him pick you up tonight since Odette is out. You slip your perfectly pedicured toes into black heeled sandals, working the small golden buckle around the ankle quickly as Joel’s shiny black Jag parks in front of your building. You watch from the window as he gets out of the driver's side door, flowers wrapped in brown paper clutched in his hand. A man that size doesn’t look like he’d fit in that sleek sports car. 

Even from your birdseye view from the fourth floor he looks absolutely gorgeous. You’re sure once he’s right in front of you he’ll be devastatingly handsome, especially once he’s added the gift you got him. Similar to you, he’s in all black tonight. 

The beep of his car locking and the buzz of your door go at the same time and you excitedly hit the button to let him up. It feels like hours before there’s a light knock on your front door. After a shaky breath, you open the door.

Fuuuuuck me, you think as you take him in and actively stop yourself from drooling.

He looks as hot as sin dressed in all black, the lapels of the jacket and the tie slightly silky against the flat black of the rest of his clothing. He’s the living, breathing epitome of JMKink right now. Dressed like that matte black letterhead he still leaves you notes on when you clean for him. You lick your lips as your eyes trail back up his tie. Fuck, you want him to wrap it around your wrists. 

He steps into your front entrance and the apartment feels so much smaller; almost like he takes up every bit of space and simultaneously sucks all the air out of you. His hair is parted to the side, trimmed neatly around his ears, curls perfectly placed. You’re sure it was effortless on his part, just running his fingers through it after getting out of the shower, towel wrapped low on his hips. Your mouth waters as you continue to just stare at one another. 

Joel

“Wow,” he finally manages to rasp. His throat feels like it's full of sand all of a sudden. He clears it gently before continuing. “You look…you’re always beautiful, but you are…”

His eyes travel up and down your body again, he’s feeling lost for words which is not something that happens to him often. He watches your bottom lip slip between your teeth, waiting for him to form a thought.

“Sorry, sweet girl, I need a second here.” He places the bouquet of wildflowers on the small table at the entry then reaches out towards you. He actually feels like he might die if he doesn’t kiss you soon. The whorls and calluses of his fingers drag down the warm, soft skin of your arm gently before he closes his hand around yours. Usually, he loves how small your hand looks in his, but he’s finding it impossibly hard to break eye contact with you right now. As he steps in closely you smile sweetly at him and he’s surrounded by the smell of mint, lavender and something distinctly you. “You look life-alteringly gorgeous. I’m not sure if that’s a word, but wow, Freckles.”

You place your free hand on his chest and he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is pounding behind his chest. Fuck, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear his heart at this point. He cups your face with his other hand and presses his lips to yours, reveling in the way you melt into him, parting your lips and letting him deepen the kiss. He swallows the quiet moan that you make just for him. You pull away too quickly for him, an excited smile across your face.

“I got you something!” You spin and he’s left breathless again by the low back of the dress and the way the silk skirt sways with your hips. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, following you into the living area of your small apartment. “I don’t want you spending your money on me, sweetheart.”

You spin again and his cock twitches as he catches just how high the slit of the skirt is, and the golden jewelry wrapped around your thigh. In your hands is a large, light brown box tied with a black ribbon. “Technically, I spent your money on you,” you say with a wink. “Open it.”

He steps in close, watching your face go from excited to downright giddy as he pulls at the ribbon. He slips the lid off the box and stares down at the exact same black Stetson that he sent with Tiffany. His heart stops beating as the memories, both good and bad, flood through him. This is the same hat he wore the night he met her, the night of their first date, the night he told her he loved her for the first time, the night he married her. Joel Miller doesn’t believe in signs from the universe, but this? This is something. 

No, he thinks as emotions start to clog his throat. This was Tiffany. 

He blinks away the tears that threaten to form behind his eyes and whispers your name. “Thank you, sweetheart. I - I used to have a hat just like this.”

When he looks back at you your brows are furrowed together, a genuine curiosity across your face. “Used to?”

He clears his throat again, “Yea, it’s complicated, but this - this means more to me than you could ever know.”

He slips his hands into the box, the felt of the brim spreads a warm comfort up his hands and forearms. He swallows hard as he realizes it’s the same comfort he feels when he has you in his arms. 

Oh my god…I think, no, I know. I love you.

It hits him so hard that he has to clutch the hat tighter in his hands to ground himself as he pulls it from the box. He knew he was falling, he knew the second he saw you. He can’t push it down anymore. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Joel.”

He turns the hat over in his hands, the black satin liner exactly like his old one. He looks up at you, no longer able to stop the smile or the tears that flood his lash line. Your lips part as your eyes dance around his. 

“No, baby, you didn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been really missing this hat lately.”

“You gonna try it on, cowboy?” The sultry flirtiness of your voice feels sweet on his skin and after a shallow breath he brings the hat up to his head. As the satin slips over his hair a calm confidence washes over him. His eyes meet yours and your flirty smile turns shy as you blush under his gaze. He’s whole again. 

“So?”

“I’m gonna have to fight the women off, I think.” You say softly.

He laughs, moving the box from your hands back to the table and then cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll only be looking at one woman, my sweet girl.” His lips meet yours gently, your tongue swiping softly against his lip as your slant into the kiss. 

I love you.

You

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you’d get from Joel giving him the hat, but his eyes welling up and his breathing getting all shaky was not what you expected. Something about that hat called to you when you saw it. When you picked it up, the soft felt against your palms reminded you of how it feels to be in Joel’s hands. 

He breaks the kiss with a sigh and glances around your apartment. Months ago you would have felt shy or self conscious about Joel in your space, so wholly different from his, but he has never judged you for anything, and you feel yourself becoming more and more comfortable with him which is not a feeling you’re used to. His eyes fall to the scratched wooden coffee table that you got for free from Craigslist.

“You have college letters,” he says proudly, looking back at you.

Your arms cross across your body subconsciously, like they’re trying to shield you from the possibility of being rejected again. “Ya, the last two came today. I’ll open them later.”

“Baby, let's open them! It could be good news.”

He looks so goddamn handsome, in a suit that probably costs more than the entire contents of your apartment and his new black Stetson hat. His expression is encouraging, that same look from his kitchen when you ate some toast; prideful and empathetic. 

“I’m scared,” you almost blurt, wishing you could be smoother with this man. “I don’t want to ruin tonight. If these are both no’s, I don’t know how great of company I’ll be tonight.”

“Freckles, I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want. But I think you’ll be thinking of the letters either way.”

“Ah, my consent stands even for mail,” you joke.

“Well, it's a federal offense to open someone else's mail so…” Joel winks and flashes a devastating smile your way. 

“Ok,” you close your eyes and take a deep breath. He’s right, you’ll be wondering all night what those letters say, and Joel has a way of making you forget, making you feel understood, important and cared for. “Do it.”

As if he’s a child on Christmas morning and you just gave him the ok, he snatches up the University of Austin and Berkeley letters, almost vibrating as he says, “Which one first?”

You start to pace the few steps of your living room, wringing your hands together as your heels click on the cheap laminate hardwood. “Austin, I’ll be less upset by a no from them.”

The tear of the envelope sounds like a dagger to the ribs as you go to grab the flowers Joel brought for you, desperate for something to do besides stand there. 

“It’s a thick envelope..” Joel says as he slides the letter out.

“Ya, I’ve learned that that doesn’t mean shit,” You say sardonically.

Joel laughs in surprise, “Always shocks me to hear that pretty little mouth swear.”

“Yea?” You ask, “Open the fucking letter, you’re killing me.”

Joel snorts as his strong fingers gingerly fold open the letter. His eyes shoot to yours, “You got in!”

“W-What?” You drop the flowers on the counter top and cover your mouth.

“Sweet girl, you got in. I’m - I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You stand frozen on the spot. It’s not the school you wanted, you want Berkeley, but it doesn’t matter what that letter says now, because either way, you’re going to be a lawyer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as Joel's arms pull you in for a tight hug.

“Congratulations, baby girl.” His lips press to hair and you start to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

You both part from the hug as you fight to stop tears of pure joy from ruining your makeup. “It’s just…you know, for a second there I actually thought that I wasn’t smart enough. Me? I have a 4.0, I graduated early, I’ve been top of my class for years and I actually thought that I wouldn’t get in.”

Joel's eyes dance, a big smile across his face as he watches you fill a vase. “Open the other one.”

He keeps his eyes on you as he opens the next letter. As he folds open the thick eggshell coloured paper you plunge the flowers into the cold water, his face drops and you prepare yourself for the worst, “You got in. Baby, you - you got in.”

You - Four Years Prior

“So what? You think that getting into your fancy university in Texas means you can just leave Arizona whenever you please? Your mom needs you, you can’t just leave.” Your dad is in his patchwork recliner, a beer in his hand despite it being nine in the morning. The hot June morning heating the small house to an uncomfortable stifle. 

“I’ve contributed as much as I can, dad. Two months from now I’m not going to have any time to myself. I deserve some time doing what I want.”

Your dad snorts, legs slamming the leg rest down on the recliner. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?”

That should sting, it would to anyone else, but you’ve been called every name possible by your father. You see him now for what he truly is, a loser. He can’t hold a job, hasn’t been able to for years. When you were younger, you thought you were the apple of his eye. He’d show up to every school function, every award ceremony, all the little things. You were eight when you realized he didn’t even speak to you at those functions, just walked around bragging about how he was the reason you’ve achieved whatever you were being celebrated over. It was his time to shine, his award, not yours.

“I’m going,” you say, hoisting your duffle bag of clothing over your shoulder. You’ve always wanted to go back to California. You went once with your mother when you were nine or ten, and the minute you got to the beach and felt the warm sand between your toes everything went quiet. It’s called out to you ever since.

As you spin towards the front door you hear the groan of your dad standing up. Fear spikes in your veins, your heart slamming in your ribs. He’s never hit you, but with the redness of his face as he called you names this morning you wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Like fuck you are!” He bellows as a hard object strikes the back of your head, followed by warm liquid soaking through the back of your t-shirt.

One of your hands cups the back of your head as you bolt towards your recently purchased, and slightly rusted, SUV. “Get back in here right now you little cunt! You stole money from me for that vehicle, didn’t you?”

You can’t help but laugh as you get in the front seat. You don’t bother locking the doors, you know he’s barely out the front door without looking. He’s not strong enough, and definitely too drunk, to overpower you. You throw the vehicle into reverse and yell out the window, “You don’t have any money for me to steal, Doug!”

You hit his first name hard, knowing damn well how much it will enrage him. You drive away without looking back, and you only stop once for gas for the next ten hours. 

The sun is setting as you reach the motel in Newport Beach. You head straight for the beach, kicking off your sandals and letting your feet sink into the cool sand. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, “Mom” across the screen in bold letters.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly, still feeling like a child even though you aren’t.

“Get our ass home, right fucking now. You’re supposed to be contributing to this family and somehow you had enough money to buy a car? And a trip to California? Mark my words, young lady. If you don’t walk back through that door by this time tomorrow, I will come there and get you myself!”

A lump forms in your throat. You’ve spent your whole childhood trying to get them to see you. Contributing? None of your friends had to contribute, they all got to be kids. You’re going to be making a lot of money as a lawyer one day, and they can go fuck themselves if they think they’re getting a single penny of that money.

“I’m afraid I won’t be doing that, mother.”

“You’re in for a rude fucking awakening, little girl. Just because you were the smartest person here, does not mean you’ll be the smartest person anywhere else. The world is going to chew you up and spit you out, and your father and I will not be here to fix you.”

“I don’t see how that’s any different than now. Good bye.”

You hang up before she can respond and look out over the water. The sun is setting in a kaleidoscope of peaches, marigolds and lavenders. You block your parents' numbers before snapping a picture of the sunset and setting it as your background. A sense of calm washes over you as the waves crash along the shore. You walk towards the water and dip your feet in, the water washing away the last eighteen years of your life. You’re free.

You - Present Day

A whispered ‘holy shit’ is all you can muster as realization washes over you. Your dream school - and you got in. You can go to the beach and listen to the ocean, feel the sand under your feet. You can feel as free as you did almost four years ago. You lock eyes with Joel. Can you really leave him? 

“I can’t believe I got in. To two schools. I’m going to be a lawyer.” Excitement floods your body. You can worry about deciding later, even though deep down you already know what you're going to choose. Right now, you can just be happy and proud. He reaches a hand out to you and you step into the living room to take it. He pulls you in, wrapping you in his strong arms. 

“I know I said this already, but I am so god damn proud of you, sweet girl. No one deserves this more than you. I want to celebrate this with you soon, please?”

“Well,” you say with a hint of mischief, pulling back to look at him, “We are going to be at the club.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve never seen before. “Ya - the club.”

“Oh my god. We’re late, Joel!” You push out of his hold. This is his big night, his five year anniversary of owning his club.

“Baby, stop,” he pulls you into his arms again and cups your face. “I don’t care. Just let me kiss you until you need to reapply that lipstick, and then we can go.” His lips crash passionately into yours. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet girl,” he gasps between kisses.

Joel wasn’t lying. He really did kiss you until your lips were swollen and you had to touch up not only your lipstick but the bit of highlighter on your nose; he also needed to participate, taking one of your makeup wipes to his nose, chin and lips before opening the door to his Jag for you and speeding off to the club.

Upon entering the club, the two of you were separated almost immediately. Joel was whisked away to the stage where he, Tommy and who you assume is Tess are now. The stage is lit up as he gives a speech and thanks everyone. A glass of champagne is handed to you as you stand along the edge of the bar. Everyone claps and as he tries to make his way back to you is pulled into a handshake from a very wealthy looking older man. You smile into your glass of expensive pink champagne as the woman from the stage approaches you.

“Hi! I’m sorry for having to steal him the moment you two walked in.” She extends a perfectly manicured hand out to you. “I’m Tess.”

You go to introduce yourself and she cuts you off as she continues. “Oh, I know who you are. Joel will probably kill me, but we have all been very interested to meet you.”

“All?” you say, swallowing nervously.

She shrugs. “No one has ever seen him this, hmm, this relaxed before. He’s usually here or across the street barking orders. You don’t become as successful as him without a little stress, but since you came along he seems different. Happy.”

You blush, watching him engrossed in a new conversation, his eyes often meeting yours across the room. “Look,” Tess says, stepping closer and lowering her voice. “I hang around the Millers way too often and I could really use some girl talk. Is that ok?”

“Tess, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s girl talk.” You smile at her and then turn to the bartender. “Two tequila shots, please!”

She takes a breath, looking at Joel and then back at you. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase. I didn’t think I’d live to see the day where Joel wore a black cowboy hat again.”

You raise an eyebrow at Tess, this could be your chance to get an explanation around his response. You know you weren’t imagining his eyes getting glassy, and he did say it means more to him than he could ever tell you. “I got him that hat.” 

Tess’s jaw drops and panic rises in your chest. “What? Why? What’s wrong with the hat?” 

“Tequila first,” she says as the shots slide across the shiny black marble bar top. A shiver racks through Tess after she swallows, you don’t flinch. “I don’t know if it’s my place…”

“It’s girl talk, he’ll never know.” You state, sucking at the lime. Tess clears her throat and motions to the bartender for another round. The next time she speaks it’s a hushed, sad voice, just barely above a whisper.  

“He, umm - well, he had a hat just like that growing up. Wore it all the time actually. He had it on the night he met Tiffany, and pretty much every important day in his life since then. Their first date, their wedding. Shit, I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Sarah as a newborn in that hat. He also wore it the last time he held her.” Her voice trails off and heartbreak for her friend lines her features. “He…she loved it so much that he sent it with her.” 

You swallow hard and glance past Tess’s shoulder to Joel across the club. The moments of time between each of your heartbeats are filled by memories of his reaction. Tess continues, “Look, maybe you're like Joel. Maybe you don’t believe in astronomy or signs from the universe, but I don’t think you finding that hat was a coincidence.”

You aren’t like Joel; you do believe in signs. You thought you were going crazy when you found that hat today. It literally called to you from inside the store. It wasn’t on display in the window. No, you heard someone call your name behind you and when you looked over your shoulder the hat was all you could see. Could that voice have been from the wife he lost too early? You catch Joel’s gaze across the room; something about him, even before you knew him, comforted you. As your mind starts running through the depth of what that hat means to him he winks, you think you might be falling for him. 

All of this means something. It has to mean something. Right? 

“Girl talk stays between us?” You ask shyly.

“Absolutely!” Tess exclaims, you like her more and more and can see yourself being very good friends with her, even if she is almost twice your age.

“Tequila first,” you say in the same way she did earlier. 

She clicks her glass against yours and then on the bar top before slamming the shot back. “I hate tequila,” she rasps while sucking the lime.

“I can’t talk to my girlfriends about this. I don’t know if you know how me and Joel met, but one of my best friends is sort of my boss and I would get fired from my job for knowing him.” Tess nods, and orders you both a glass of what you’re sure is very expensive rosé. “Sometimes Joel says things that make me feel like maybe we are more than a sub and a dom, but that’s ridiculous, right? It’s the heat of the moment.”

“Babe, do you know how long Joel has been doing this?” She asks gently.

You shake your head and take a sip of your wine.

“Years…at one point, being a dom was how he made money. He’s a professional.”

Her words feel like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach, bile starts to burn at your throat. The whiplash of thinking he’s falling, and knowing that you are, and now dealing with this is almost too much. Joel has moved onto a conversation with yet another guest. “Right, he’s good. He’s supposed to make me feel wanted. I think I’m just not used to someone being there.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Tess’s hand comes to grab yours, squeezing reassuringly. “Professional doms don’t say things in the heat of the moment. They don’t give false hopes. If he’s calling you his or struggling to follow limits, that’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.”

The silence after her words is thick between you. He doesn’t say things in the heat of the moment? You swallow the lead weight that’s made its way from your stomach to your throat, your mind racing through all the things Joel has said to you. My sweet girl. It’s a date. It’s only you. 

“Hey,” Tess says, shaking your hand to bring you back. “This DJ sucks, should we go take over the booth?”

You smile, grateful not only for her words of wisdom but now the way she’s able to stop you from spiraling. “Yes, this is a club AND a friday afterall!”

She smiles at you mischievously as she reaches over the bar for the bottle of rosé and then links arms with you as you both practically skip to the booth. “Owning a club is so fun, I recommend everyone try it,” she proclaims through a laugh.

When you reach the booth she waltzes right up to the DJ, “We need dancing music, it’s Friday, it’s a club, and it’s a fucking party!”

“Sorry, Tess. I can’t do that. Joel wanted background music only.” The DJ, who barely looks old enough to be in a club says, his eyes wandering to the low cut of your dress. A few months ago you probably would have been endeared by that look, but you have a real man now. A real man who loves you, says the sparkling box of feelings. 

Tess snorts and then tuts at the poor guy. “Joel won’t appreciate you ogling what belongs to him like that. So play Best Friend by Saweetie or I’ll be sure to let him know.”

His eyes snap back to his booth set up, one hand held up in defeat, the other pushing a few buttons and then turning the volume dial up. You and Tess laugh, taking sips straight from the bottle as you move to the dance floor. This is what you need, a friend to help you dissect what’s been happening. A friend who understands the dom and sub relationship, but more importantly, understands Joel. Does him having feelings change how you feel about university? You’ve always seen yourself going to Berkeley, that’s been the dream, but now? 

Maybe you should just end this now before your feelings grow too far out of control. The box of feelings laughs. You have no idea how deep you are in this, do you?

Joel

I’m gonna kill that little shit. Frustration rolls through his body as the music grows louder and as he turns to shoot daggers at the DJ he sees you and Tess. Your beautiful face is lit up in a large smile as you sip directly from a $400 bottle of rosé. His anger dissipates as you move your body with a sexy sway, lost in the music. 

Joel moves towards the bar, never taking his eyes off of you. Your arms stretch over your head as you shake your ass, the slit of your dress exposing your soft thigh. His palm tingles at the thought of how good you feel against him. The smooth warmth of your leg against the rough calluses of his fingers. 

I love you. 

Joel orders a whiskey and then walks towards the edge of the dance floor, his free hand tucked into the pocket of his pants as he watches you. As the song changes your eyes find him and you crook a finger at him, when he shakes his head you stick your bottom lip out and give him big doe eyes. He shakes his head again as Tess hands you the half drank bottle of wine. The pink tone of the wine casts a romantic glow across your exposed chest as you take a small sip. His cock stirs to life in his pants, remembering how those lips felt wrapped around him. He shakes his head at you again and takes a long pull from his drink. You stick your tongue out at him and spin away from him, wiggling your hips while glancing over your shoulder. 

I fucking love you.

You spin back towards him and crook your finger at him again, mouthing ‘please?’. He stays rooted to the spot. Joel doesn’t dance, especially not to this kind of music. His heart flutters as you start to walk over to him, everything moves in slow motion, the sexy way your dress clings to your hips with each movement, the flash of your thigh, the slight bounce of your breasts with each step. It feels like hours have passed by the time you stop in front of him. 

“Please come dance with me.” You say, fluttering your lashes slightly.

He grabs the expensive bottle of wine from you and places it on the tall table beside him. “This is very expensive wine.”

“That was Tess’s doing,” you smile.

“I’m sure it was, because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” His hand strokes your cheek and he clocks the goosebumps that rise on your skin.

“Please come dance, Mister Miller?”

“I don’t dance, sweet girl.”

You pout again and he wants to suck that perfect bottom lip between his teeth so badly. “What if you just stand there and I dance around you?”

One day he’s going to have to learn how to say no to you, but today won’t be that day. He takes the last sip from his glass and puts it beside the wine. You bounce excitedly on the balls of your feet as he holds a hand out to you. You lead the way, the dance floor now full of people, heading back towards Tess. Joel’s hands come to your hips as you grind against him for the last few bars of the song. 

A slow twang of guitar starts off the next song. Joel spins you to face him. “This I can dance to.” He whispers, pulling you in close, one hand low on your back, the other holding yours to his heart. 

You smile up at him, “Full of surprises, aren’t you, sweet cheeks?”

At this angle the brim of his hat blocks out everything except for you; not that he needs something to block out the rest of the world when he’s around you. I love you.

“For the right woman I can be, freckles.” He says warmly as you melt into his body.

The two of you continue to dance in a comfortable silence. He watches your lips as your tongue glides across them and just as he’s about to lean in and taste you you speak. “I don’t think I said this yet tonight, but congratulations. This is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of you and grateful that you brought me into this space. I hope it’s not too bold, but this has done exactly as I hoped. I feel - freer almost, if that makes sense.”

“Good,” his lips press to your forehead. “And thank you.”

Your neck cranes forward, towards the tangled mess of your hands against his chest. Your lips pressing to the knuckle of his thumb. The gesture shoots straight to his heart.  

“I’ve been feeling a bit bad though. You’ve had to go to two events for me this week.” You go to protest but he cuts you off. “What would you be doing tonight if it wasn’t for this?”

You hum in thought. “Any bar where there’s an open mic night or a local band.”

“That so? Do you participate in the open mic?” 

“No, absolutely not, but I enjoy music and watching people do things they’re passionate about.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Let’s go then.”

“What?”

“Let’s go. I’ve said thank you to all the VIP’s. Let's go do your thing.”

You

“Can we do that?” You ask, trying not to let the smile that’s pulling at your cheeks win.

Joel laughs quietly. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. They can all stay, but the longer I stay here the more I’m going to be pulled away. And you’re the only person at this party that I want to talk to.”

That’s Joel speaking, not his dom alter ego.

The boulder is growing in your throat again as you croak, “We’re dressed awfully fancy for a local bar.” 

Joel smiles down at you, his eyes soft. You start memorizing every detail of his face. Everything surrounding the two of you went fuzzy the second he pulled you into his arms. This man, dressed in all black, blurs the edges of everything around you, sucking you in and making you feel like the only person he sees. The slow country song that you didn’t even hear starts to come to end. “I don’t care. Any more concerns?”

He doesn’t care, he’ll never care, he just wants to be with you. The box of feelings that's grown exponentially over this evening inches its way out of the shadows, and you can’t deny it anymore. 

You’re falling in love with Joel Miller. 

“Let’s go,” you say, excitement replacing the lump in your throat.

Joel wastes no time, peeling your bodies apart and pulling you towards the exit. He doesn’t look back as Tommy calls his name, only stopping at the front desk to grab your purse. You feel giddy, almost as if the two of you are doing something wrong. He opens the car door for you and then hops into the driver's seat. You pull out your phone, ignoring him as he comments on your cracked screen being a hazard, and check for open mic nights, finding one in a small bar just a few streets over. 

The bar is small, about ten tables crammed together and then a few stools along the bartop. The stage is only big enough for one person, a few guitars on stands, a stool, and the mic stand. The lighting is low, different neon signs above the bar doing the majority of the work. You’re way overdressed and the looks you get from the packed bar further prove it. 

Joel pulls you through the crowd towards the bar. You were feeling slightly tipsy dancing with Tess, but there is something so sobering about being pulled into Joel's arms. And now that you’ve realized you’re falling in love with him, his next question is very welcome.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes, please.” You smile sweetly, plastering your front to Joel’s side as he squeezes into the bar. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”

“Two old fashioneds,” he says deeply to the bartender. You stifle a giggle, “What?”

“You just give me so much ammunition sometimes.”

He swats at your ass and then squeezes, not caring who may or may not see. It’s exhilarating getting to just be yourselves away from the club and you have a feeling you’ll quickly become addicted to this. “Mighty thin ice, baby.” 

The raspy voiced woman with crazy curly hair finishes her set as Joel pays for the drinks. It appears that most of the crowd was here to see her, a few tables free up and the place doesn’t feel so crowded. The MC for the night gets back onto the stage. 

“Alright, if anyone else wants to show us what they’ve got tonight I’ll be by the bar.” There’s a few cheers and some clapping as the bar empties out drastically, only about twenty people are left. Joel pulls out a chair for you and then sits beside you.  

“Thank you for the drink,” you say, bringing the liquid to your lips and taking a small sip. The warmth of it heats all the way down to your belly, a familiar feeling when you’re around Joel.

“Of course,” he nods, sipping his. “So? Do you come here often?”

You laugh, leaning forward on your arms, noticing the way Joel’s eyes bounce from your face to your breasts; now pushed together for him. “What a line! But no, I have never been here. I kinda like it though.”

The MC’s voice fills the room, welcoming a brave soul to the stage. A tall man in cowboy boots and a shiny buckle joins the stage, carefully picking a guitar from the rack before he begins singing. You can tell by the warmth along the side of your face that Joel is watching you and not the man on the stage. 

“He’s pretty good,” you say, looking back towards Joel. It’s almost unfair how he can still look so sexy in the neon glow of the lights above the bar. 

“Mediocre,” he says with a scoff and sips his drink.

You glance around, “Ok, well you listen to this mediocre man, I’m going to find the washroom.”

You feel Joel’s eyes on your back as you walk away. The gender neutral bathroom is surprisingly clean and you giggle to yourself at the interaction you had once Joel was no longer looking at you. You try to act natural as you head back to the table, sitting down and smiling at Joel.

His eyebrow arches, “What did you do?” 

God you hate how well he knows you. There’s no hiding anything from this man. Regardless, you stifle the fit of giggles that are right on the tip of your tongue, “Nothing! I had to pee. Is that not allowed?”

You raise your glass to your lips, trying to hide the smile as the MC heads back up to the stage. “You did something bad, I can tell.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have another performer tonight. Please welcome to the stage Joel Sweet Cheeks Miller.”

Joel shoots a teasing glare at you as you start hollering, “Woo! Sweet cheeks!!” You clap your hands loudly. He lets out a sigh, pushing himself up and then grabbing his drink before heading to the stage. 

He steps up, running his fingers over the guitars before choosing a black acoustic. He puts his Old Fashioned on the stool and loops the guitar over his head. Your body reacts in a way you didn’t think it would. Fire erupts on your belly, you take a sip of your drink to try to put it out but the heat of the liquor only makes it worse. He adjusts the knobs on the guitar after hitting the strings a few times and then looks up at you and crooks two fingers, calling you to him. You obey, practically floating to the man you’re falling in love with. 

Joel bends at the hip, taking his cowboy hat off and placing it on your head. His voice is a gravel filled whisper as he says, “I’m going to spank that pretty little ass of yours in that washroom you were looking for after this.”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You rasp.

He stands back up, and clears his throat before starting. “This is, well, this is the largest audience I’ve ever played in front of so, go easy on me.”

His hand pushes back the few curls that have fallen onto this forehead before he strums at the guitar. 

If I ever were to lose you I’d surely lose myself

His voice is like stepping into a hot bath, full of warmth and comfort.

Everything I’ve found here I’ve not found by myself

He doesn’t break eye contact with you, only glancing away occasionally when he moves his fingers along the cords. 

Try and sometimes you’ll succeed To make this man of me All my stole missing parts I’ve no need for anymore

You stare up at him, lips slightly parted, as everything falls into place. 

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You could go to Berkeley and do great, probably middle of the pack, but you’d reach your goals. You’d become a lawyer and leave school with a handful of job offers. Or…you could stay. You could stay and be the top of your class here. You could stay and continue being with Joel. 

Back when I was feeling broken I focused on a prayer You came deep as any ocean Did something out there hear?

The box of feelings starts to vibrate, making it almost impossible to breathe.

All the complexities and games  No one wins, but somehow they still played All the missing crooked hearts They may die, but in us they live on

You’re staying. You’re going to the University of Texas at Austin School of Law.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see  Our future days  Days of you and me

And just like that, the box of feelings explodes like one of those worms in a can of fake peanuts.

When hurricanes and cyclones raged When winds turned dirt to dust When floods they came, the tides they raise Even closer, became us

This wasn’t part of your plan, but you can’t let this go.

And all the promises at sundown I meant them like the rest

You hear his voice, ‘It’s only you, sweet girl’ and ‘your consent is the most important thing to me.’

All the demons used to come ‘round I’m grateful, now they’ve left.

‘Does it look like I own things that aren’t perfect’, ‘tell me, tell me you’re perfect’.

So persistent in my ways Hey, angel, I’m am here to stay

‘I’m here for you’.

No resistance, no alarms Please, this is just too good to be gone

You’re not falling in love. No, you’re already so madly, deeply, insanely in love with this man that it hurts and feels amazing all at the same time.

And I believe And I believe ‘cause I can see Our future days Days of you and me

You suck in a breath for what feels like the first time since he started singing, your chest practically heaving at the release of emotion you’re experiencing. 

You and me It’s just, you and me

You’re not sure if people are clapping, you can’t hear anything over your own voice in your head screaming out ‘I love you’ over and over again. Joel hops off the stage, his eye flashing onyx as he growls, “punishment time, my sweet girl.”

Joel

The way your eyes sparkled as he sang and the way you’re following him now, your warm fingers laced in his as he pulled you gently to the bathroom, almost have him convinced that you feel the same way he does.

He locks the door, then jiggles the handle to make sure it’s secure. He’s shared subs with other men and women, he’s used the rooms for people to watch at the club; fuck, one time he even made one sub kneel completely naked at his feet while he sat at the bar of the club. But someone seeing you, something that is all his, ignites a protectiveness that he’s only ever felt for two other women. 

You giggle mischievously as he steps close, plucking his hat off your head and placing it back on his. “What did I say I was going to do to you, baby?” 

He watches your bottom lip disappear between your teeth before you say, “You were going to spank me.” 

He spins you roughly by your hips, pulling your back flush to his chest before walking you over the pedestal style sink. He watches in the mirror at the tell tale signs of your building arousal. Your cheeks flush, the pink creeping down your neck and exposed chest. He sees the way your eyes glass over, cock drunk before even getting it. Joel loves how easy you are to turn on, loves even more that it’s just for him.

No, I just love her.

He stops, the soft light above the mirror lighting the two of you up in yellow glow. The small bathroom is clean, but dark. White and black checkered floor with white walls; hopefully thick walls, but he has ways to keep you quiet while he punishes you. 

His lips come to the exposed side of your neck, hovering just above where he can see your pulse quickening. He hears the hitch of your breath as he inhales your lavender scent. He slips into full dominant mode, keeping his voice a deep growling whisper, “Hands on the edges of the sink, sweet girl.”

You obey him without hesitation, leaning forward and wrapping your hands around the shiny white sink. His eyes lock on yours through the mirror as he fists the soft silk of your skirt. His palms tingle at the thought of getting to feel you soon and his cock jumps at the thought of your heart-shaped ass being pink with his handprints. 

As the skirt crawls to be just above your knees he says, “How many should you get for that little stunt?”

He watches the goosebumps that spread across your skin. “Five?” Your voice is sweet and innocent with the ask.

The skirt starts to hike up higher, the long slit could give him easy access, but he’s playing a role right now, and he knows that the anticipation makes it better so much better for his sub. “Not much of a lesson in five. How about ten.”

It’s not a question and he knows you know it. He’d be lying though if he said he didn’t want to see if you’d fight him just a little bit. Brat taming is not his thing; granted neither is spanking a sub he’s fallen in love with in a bathroom of a dingy bar while wearing a six thousand dollar suit. 

A shiver runs through your body as he exposes your ass. The lacy black thong sends his thoughts into overdrive. God damn, what I wouldn’t give to fuck this woman, just once. 

“Do I have your consent to spank you ten times?”

You nod, “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He takes one of your wrists in his hand and brings it back to hold your skirt up and then repositions himself to be beside you instead of behind you. He takes you in, bent over with your ass exposed, pupils blown out. Your chest rises and falls with shallow, shaky breaths. He’s going to have to keep you quiet.

A hand clamps around your lips and your eyes widen. “If you want me to stop, drop the skirt. Got it?”

You nod into his palm as the first slap fills the room. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch as he makes contact again. By the third strike, his hand around your mouth muffles a squeal. The fourth spank lands on your other cheek and a quiet husky moan rumbles against your lips and his palm.

“You’re supposed to be my sweet girl,” he taunts as another loud slap fills the room. He’s been watching you in the mirror the entire time, enjoying the way you try to keep eye contact; but now, at the halfway mark of your spanking, your eyes are hooded with need. He looks down your ass, grinding his hips into your side at the sight of his bright red handprints tattooed on your cheeks. “Fuck, you look so good all marked up.”

He spanks you again watching the jiggle of your ass and how it ripples down your leg. Your back arches as you whimper quietly. “Atta girl,” he says proudly, smiling to himself. “Three more.”

Joel administers the last three spankings quickly, two on one cheek and one on the other. The sound of his palm on your flesh goes straight to his cock each time, he’s practically rutting into your hip bone to relieve some of the ache. He’s given a lot of spankings in his time as a dom and his body has never reacted this way. I’m so goddamn in love with her, I should keep spanking her for making me feel like that, but if I don’t taste her right now I’m going to go insane. 

His hand grabs your skirt while his other drops from your face. Your breaths come in fast, like you just ran a marathon. He guides you to stand and then spins you around, a hiss leaves your lips, “It’s cold,” you whisper, making eye contact with him. 

He takes his hat off and places it on your head before kneeling down in front of you.

You

The cool porcelain soothes the delicious burn along your ass, but the burn quickly spreads through your body as the man you’ve realized you’re in love with kneels in front of you. His voice has an edge of desperation as he says, “I need to taste you, please baby.”

What is he doing to me? He has to know what he’s doing to you, right? Did he mean the lyrics of that song or is it just the only song he knows? However, at this moment, you’re just as desperate for him. 

“Yes,” you nod frantically as you speak, “Mister Miller. Please.’

His mouth connects with your lace covered cunt. Licking over the thin fabric, teasing you with light but mind numbing pressure. Joel Miller always looks good, tall and broad, tanned skin that crinkles slightly around his eyes when he smiles, but when he’s on his knees in front of you it ignites something low in your belly. His curly dark hair is soft to the touch and you bring your hand to his scalp now. He groans at the feeling of your hands on him and continues to lick at your clit through your panties. 

The black cowboy hat falls over your eyes, your other hand raises to hold it out of the way. Even with the decision to stay here for law school, you don’t want to miss a second of the salacious acts playing out right in front of you. 

“Oh god, Mister Miller,” you whisper, trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

He moves to kiss at your thigh, hooking a finger around the gusset of your soaked lace. “This fucking garter, sweet girl. Been drivin’ me crazy all night,” he growls between kisses.

He pulls your panties to the side and your nipples harden under your dress as the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. “Fuck,” he practically whimpers. “You smell so good. Taste so good, too.”

His mouth latches around your clit, sucking it between his lips and everything goes fuzzy as the burn in your lower belly starts to spread. “Ohgodohgood, f-fuck.”

The tip of his tongue flicks against your swollen aching clit with each suck and you start to panic over how you’re going to keep quiet while you come. One of his fingers that pulls your thong out of the way teases at your entrance, gathering your arousal, before he pushes it inside of you to the first knuckle. He looks up at you, eyes flushed onyx as he swallows down everything you give him. 

“Mister Miller,” you hum as he pushes his forefinger the rest of the way in. When he curls it forward you release the grip on his salt and pepper curls and clamp your hand around your mouth.

He pulls away, a dimple carving out his cheek as he smirks. “Feels that good?” He flicks gently at your clit and you moan in agreement into your hand. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel sucks your clit back into his mouth, pumping his thick finger against the spongy spot that makes you melt and the heat bursts into tingling pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you fight to keep quiet, grinding your hips unabashedly against Joel’s face. He’s relentless with his ministrations and you bite at your palm as another wave rolls through you. 

The spasms of your pussy around his finger slow and you’re finally composed enough to drop your hand, grabbing his shoulder as your knees threaten to give out. Joel slips his finger out from you, placing light, lingering kisses on your mound before standing. His hands find your hips, holding you steady. 

“Kiss me,” you slur, feeling drunk off the pleasure.

Your arms loop around his neck as he kisses you. His lips taste like you and you lick at the heady sweetness. You slant your head, kissing him deeper. His body goes soft, relaxing into the kiss. You could do this with him forever, and for once it’s not the box of feelings saying that. The contents of that box have coated your entire brain with the love it housed for the man you’re not even supposed to know exists. The two of you break apart, both panting for air. You break the silence first.

“Take me to the club.”

“We can’t go back there. I’ll just get sucked back into the crowd.” His nose runs up and down yours, dark chocolate brown eyes never leaving yours. 

“I need more, Mister Miller. Please, take me.”

“Shit,” he huffs. “Come with me.”

Joel

This is so incredibly stupid, he thinks as he pulls into his neighborhood. The moment the two of you got back into his car you leaned over onto his shoulder and closed your eyes. He should take you to your apartment. You must be exhausted from all the studying and working you’ve been doing. Plus, he kept you out late for two nights. He pulls up onto his driveway, and the slight bump from the curb causes you to stir. He parks in the driveway and watches as you blink and register where you are. 

“I can take you home if you want.”

“No, I want to be with you.” Your eyes widen and you start to do that thing where you ramble, only to dig yourself deeper.

Joel chuckles and then leans forward, pressing your lips to your forehead to stop you. “I knew what you meant, baby girl.”

He gets out of the car and then comes around to open your door. When you left the bar tonight you tried to open your door, again, and he scolded you gently. He smiles to himself that you’ve listened finally, that or you’re just too tired and he should really be taking you home. But when he helps you out of the car and meets your gaze again you look anything but tired. Need and arousal flood his system as he takes you in, lips slightly parted and eyes dancing around his face. Your words from the bathroom ring in his ears. I need more, Mister Miller.

He snaps, lips slamming against yours, your hands immediately finding the curls at the nape of his neck; the only hair you can reach because of the cowboy hat still proudly perched on top of his head. He lifts you, moaning at the feeling of your toned thighs wrapping around his waist. He moves on instinct, closing the car door and walking into the house while the two of you fervently kiss in a mix of tongue and teeth. You nip at his bottom lip as he walks into the marble foyer. He closes the garage entry door and presses you against it, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, His cock is painfully hard behind his pants.

“I need you,” you whine after your lip is free from his mouth.

“What do you need?”

You kiss at his neck, hands moving to loosen his tie. “I need you to fuck me, please, Mister Miller.”

I love you. 

He keeps you pinned to the door, his one hand grabbing yours and pinning them above your head. How many times is he going to have you in the position, fighting against what you’re begging for? Hopefully, it never stops.

“My sweet girl, you know I can’t do that.” It physically hurts him to turn you down.

You pout at him before speaking, “Then just be naked with me, I need to feel your skin on mine. Please?”

He kisses you again and starts to move the two of you towards the stairs. Between kisses, he says, “What happened to that shy girl who couldn’t even tell me she wanted me to dominate her?” 

You laugh against his lips, “She’s been corrupted.”

“I’m a bad man,” he hums with a laugh and walks up the stairs with you plastered to his chest; one hand around the globes of your ass, the other tucking your head into his neck so he can see where he’s stepping. The moment you reach the top of the stairs he pulls your face back to his to kiss you again.

“This is where it happened,” you say, as he passes the office. 

“Where what happened?” He says, pulling back to look at you, his eyebrows draw in in confusion and the black Stetson he forgot he was wearing falls forward slightly. You take the hat off his head, looking at him all wide-eyed and amused. 

“The corruption,” you say with a wink. Joel snorts in response and then his lips are back on yours. He has missed having this mix of passion and humour with someone.

When he passes over the threshold of his bedroom he places you on your feet. He told himself he wouldn’t ever have you here. No, not told, promised, because he knew what having here would mean. But you made him fall in love with you anyway. The air in the bedroom feels thicker, and his breathing quickens as he looks at you. The only light that trickles in is from the hallway. He takes in your sparkling eyes, your lips, puffy from his kisses and light nips; the perfect curls of your hair are slightly dishevelled and truthfully - he has never found you more beautiful. 

I love you. 

You

Butterflies assault your stomach as you stare at Joel. He takes the hat from you and tosses it gently on the foot of the bed behind you. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sounds of both of your quickened breathing and thundering heartbeats fill the void. You stand frozen, the heels of your strappy black sandals sinking into the plush carpet of his bedroom. You remember when you carried his sheets to the washing machine just a few weeks ago, being surrounded by the delicious scents of ash and leather. You had no idea who Joel was then, the man in this house was just a fantasy in your mind. You wait for him to make the first move. Finally, his thick fingers find the zipper along your side. 

“Are you sure about this?” He says, his voice is hoarse, and you can tell he’s nervous. You wish knowing that would calm you, but truthfully it just makes your heart burst even more. This morning, the thought of anyone, but especially Joel, having feelings for you was ridiculous, but now you aren’t so sure it’s that absurd after all.

“Yes, Mister Miller. I just - I need…” he watches you patiently. Playing with the small metal zipper pull. 

“Don’t be shy, sweet girl. Just tell me what you need.” 

“I need to feel your skin against mine. Please.” 

He pulls at the zipper as his lips meet your neck. “I love when you ask so politely. My good girl, aren’t you?” 

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, fighting the sway of your legs to stay upright. 

If he’s calling you yours, that’s Joel speaking. Not his dom alter ego. 

Joel’s fingers come to the thin straps along your shoulders. The warmth of his hands against your skin causes you to shiver. He drags the straps down your arms and then frowns at the tape holding the dress to your chest. He tugs gently and you gasp at the pull of the tape. Before you can protest, the sting is soothed by his lips, kissing the sore, pink skin. He does the same thing after tugging the other side and the silky black dress pools at your feet. 

You watch the muscles of Joel’s throat flex as he swallows, eyes trailing down your body. “Turn around.”

You spin on the balls of your feet, careful to not catch your heels on the carpet. “So you need to feel me, is that right, sweet girl?” 

You nod your head. “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

One of his hands comes to gently rest on your shoulder and instinctively lean into his touch. His fingers whirl around as he traces down your shoulder blade and then back up to your neck. “I can’t believe how beautiful you looked tonight. I kept getting pulled away from you every time I tried to get back to you. It was killing me to be away from you.” 

You let your eyes close as his fingers run down your spinal column. You feel his heat leave your back and then his lips sponge kisses along the globes of your ass, his hands holding your hips possessively.

“You were such a good girl tonight. Outside of the little singing stunt,” he says between kisses. Every spot that took the punishment of his palm is given attention. “But you paid for that, didn’t you sweet girl?” 

You giggle quietly before saying. “Yes, Mister Miller. Thank you, but I can’t promise I won’t do it again.” 

“Good,” he laughs, standing up behind you. You hear the unmistakable sound of his silk tie being pulled off. “Because I don’t want you to ever stop teasing me.” 

He tosses the tie towards his dresser. Before you know it, he’s spun you around and lifted you into his arms again. Your body knows just what to do, your legs clamping around his waist on their own. He captures the squeak that leaves your lips with his mouth. Nothing makes you melt faster than the feel of Joel’s lips on yours. They’re soft but firm, his tongue warm against yours as he takes what he wants from you and there’s no way you’re not going to let him. 

He sits you on the dresser and plants his hands on each side of you as your hands move to work the buttons on his shirt. His lips never leave yours. 

“I need you,” you whine as you get the first few buttons undone. The heat of his chest skimming against your fingertips has a fresh wave of arousal coat your already soaked pussy. 

Joel moans needily at your confession as he pulls back slightly. He rips at his shirt, buttons burst before he tears it off and stands shirtless in front of you. Your eyes trail down his strong broad chest, stopping on the prominent bulge behind his pants. Your hands fly to his belt. He watches you with rapt fascination as you work the buckle and then the button of his pants. 

As you move to the zipper, his fingers go to the lace of your panties. He growls as he splits the fabric. 

“Joel!” You gasp. “Those were thirty dollars!” 

He grabs your leg, placing the ball of your foot on his chest,unbuckling your shoe. “I just ruined an $800 dress shirt. I’ll buy you more.” 

The shoe hits the floor and he grabs your other foot, his eyes locking to yours as he commands, “And it’s Mister Miller. I’ve been lenient with you. Another mistake and you will be punished - severely.” 

For such harsh words, he’s being so careful with the small golden buckle on your shoe. “Yes, Mister Miller,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes innocently. 

“Feet up on the dresser. Spread your legs for me, sweet girl.” 

You lean back slightly, hands being used as an anchor behind you, placing your heels on the edge of the dresser. Cool air hits your drenched cunt and you fight yet another shiver. You’re spread wide for Joel, every single thing on display for him. He looks at you like you hung the moon and your heart flips behind your ribs. You suddenly feel like you did the first time the two of you spoke in his kitchen, his gaze is too much, too intense, and it becomes nearly impossible for you to not yell out that you love him, so you look away, your eyes falling to his strong chest.

“Eyes up here,” he murmurs as he takes the smallest step back. 

Your mouth goes dry as you look back up at him. In your peripheral you can see his hands going to his belt, the sound of the buckle jingling tempts you to look down. “Atta girl, stay right here with me.”

You stay in his warm coffee brown pools, flecks of gold and honey appearing as the soft light of his bedroom hits him. I love you.

He bends slightly, his pants and boxers falling to the ground. You try to swallow once, twice, never leaving his gaze as the rest of his clothing comes off. You swear that time stops, the two of you are suspended in a moment that’s all yours. He steps forward and you can feel the heat of his skin against your entire body, you melt into his warmth.

“You want to look, don’t you?” he taunts.

“Yes, Mister Miller,” you hum.

 The soft tip of his cock gently nudges at your clit and you gasp. “Look down, baby.”

You peel your eyes away from his, looking down to see where his body caresses against yours. The tip of his impossibly hard cock, precum glistening as it leaks for you, pressing lightly to your soft and swollen clit. His piercing lays flat against his pelvis and you remember what he said about there being benefits to it. You try to memorize the sight in front of you. As filthy and debauched as this is, it’s also passionate and beautiful; it's the epitome of Mister Miller and your time with him. 

“Fuck, sweet girl. Your pussy is so pretty…and soft.” You watch as he wraps his hand around the thick base of his cock and rocks his hips. His cock slides easily along the warm folds of your drenched cunt, you swear you can feel the ridge of the underside of the tip as he says,  “Who has you this turned on? Huh, sweet girl?”

“You,” you whimper as your legs start to tremble.

“God damn,” his voice now matching yours, “How’d I get so lucky.”

This time you know he’s not asking you a question, yet you hum in agreement as his cock slides back over your clit, the swollen nub relishing in the friction and the feel of him against you. You hope he’s going to keep going, you want to feel him inside of you more than you need oxygen. Instead, his other hand slips between the two of you, his strong digits teasing at your entrance. He slides along your clit again as one of his fingers pushes inside of you. 

“Is this ok?” He whispers.

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, Mister Miller.” A bead of pre cum lands on your mound at the sound of pleasure passing your lips. 

“Such a good girl for me. Already learning how to take me so well.” His finger slips out as a second joins it. “She’s begging for it, tryin’ to suck me in. So tight, my gorgeous sweet girl.”

Your foreheads meet and it all becomes too much again. You close your eyes as his fingers finally fill you. “Don’t stop,” you whine desperately.

His hips pick up their pace, pressing harder along your most sensitive spots. You get that floating feeling again. He’s so close to exactly how you need him, how you want him. The voice from your now-exploded box of feelings adds, “For the rest of your life”. 

You keep your eyes closed, sparks of pleasure occasionally flickering behind them. You’re getting closer to your high with every press of his body against yours. You know if you opened your eyes you’d be able to fall over the edge, but you aren’t ready to be done imagining how it would look if his cock was doing what his fingers were right now. 

“I can feel you’re getting close, baby. Clenchin’ my fingers so hard.” His voice is full of admiration, not a tone you’re used to hearing in moments like this. You used to think that you had a first love, and while none of your exes ever mistreated you, they also didn’t look at you or speak to you the way Joel Miller does. 

His pace increases again as he curls his fingers forward, your body jolts up with the newly applied pressure behind your clit. You grip his shoulders to ground yourself, the inside of your thighs start to ache, but you’re not going to let your feet fall from the dresser. Truthfully, the burning ache only seems to intensify the pleasure at the apex of your thighs.

“Open your eyes, watch how good your pussy looks against me.”

“I ca-can’t. ‘M so close. I don’t - oh fuck - don’t wanna be done.” 

“Just because you come, it doesn’t mean we are done, sweet girl. I’m not ready to be done. I want you to come as many times as you need to.” He presses his cock down against your clit harder as he speaks.

Before you can even take your next breath your orgasm washes over you. It hits hard and for a second you think your throat is constricted, but just as the wall of your pussy relaxes and begins to flutter, a euphoric scream frees itself from your airway. You start to pant, your body falling back to rest on the wall behind you. Joel falls forward with you, and just when you think you’re about to come down from your high, the pressure at this angle sends the strongest wave of your orgasm through you and you begin to gush around his fingers. 

“That’s my good fuckin’ girl. Soak me.” Pride swells in his eyes as you chant his dominant name like a prayer. Your breathing starts to even and he slows his fingers and hips, ensuring not to send you into any overstimulation. I’m not ready to be done yet. He slowly removes his fingers, then wraps his arm around you to pull you up. Your feet fall from the dresser and the relief your muscles feel causes you to let out a pleasurable sigh.

Joel

He needs more, so much more, but waits for you - taking a few slow breaths in time with yours. When he sees you coming back down to earth he slides the tip of his cock up and down. At this angle, there’s no risk of accidentally slipping so he runs himself along every part he can reach. 

“Kiss me,” you mumble, bringing your face towards his. He captures your lips in a sweet kiss, a kiss he’s sure you can tell isn’t the way a dom kisses his sub. He realizes at that moment that he’s never kissed you that way. No, he’s always kissed you with everything he had, giving himself to you piece by piece. 

More. His inner voice growls. I’ll never come back up for air now.

Joel whispers your name between kisses and you both pull back just enough to see each other's faces. “When we got here, you said you wanted me to fuck you. Do you still want that?”

He watches your eyes dance around him. Confusion, fear, excitement and arousal line yours before you pull back from him. He scolds himself for saying it. Of course you’re going to panic, this is supposed to be a safe space. He set a complete ban on sex before he even met with you the first time. It’s right there, in his dom profile; because that’s what he is, he’s your dom. You can come here and beg for it, because you know it’s a safe place where it won’t happen. 

He prepares himself for you to slap him or yell at him. Instead, you say, “Mister Miller, I don’t want you to do anything that you don’t want to. This was a hard limit for you, and where I very much want to, I don’t want you to break any promise to yourself.”

He let his eyelids fall shut, for the first time, he doesn’t want to be Mister Miller. He wants to be Joel. 

I love you.

Goosebumps break out along his skin as you drag your hands up to his neck, fingers scraping along the back of his scalp. “Talk to me.”

“Just call me Joel,” he says through the boulder that’s lodged in his throat. 

He feels your warm lips meet his cheek, kissing him softly before you clear your throat quietly and then whisper into his ear. “Please fuck me, Joel. Fuck me or I might die or go insane.”

“Again,” he growls.

“Fuck me, Joel.” You say, louder and with more conviction than the last time.

He scoops you off the dresser, your soft naked thighs tightening around his waist and he steals your squeal with his lips, kissing you hard with hurried passion. He’ll worry tomorrow about what getting you to call him Joel means, all he knows at this moment is that he needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs you. 

  He lays you on the bed, pressing down into your warmth. He can feel how wet you are as you grind up into him. His lips grow hungrier, kissing every bit of your face and neck he can reach, relishing in the feel of your hands running up and down his biceps, your short nails scraping his skin occasionally. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asks before fusing his lips to your neck.

Your feet fall to the bed and you arch into him. “Yes, Joel.” 

He raises to his knees, unclipping the chains around your body and then working with you to slip your ruined panties off. He reaches over to the bedside table to get a condom, using his teeth to peel the foil open and sliding it on. You’re always completely at his mercy, but this time he’s wholly at yours. One of his hands grips your hip, the other wraps around his cock as he takes in all your soft smooth skin, and memorizes the constellations that your freckles make along your body. Your breasts heave with each shallow inhale and shake beautifully with each exhale. Finally, his gaze meets yours, your eyes filled with every emotion he’s feeling. 

“There’s no safeword anymore, my sweet girl. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

You nod as he lines himself up, the warmth of your tight entrance calling to him. Joel pushes gently, your hips rising to encourage him. His balls tighten at the feeling of you wrapped tightly around the tip. 

“So tight, sweet girl.” He falls forward, both forearms beside your head to keep his weight off of you. 

The two of you rock in tandem, working more of him into you. “Oh god, Joel. More,” you moan.

There was a time when he told you to only call him Joel, it was the only name you could use that would keep this side of him from taking over. But now, hearing your voice say his name in the needy little vibrato, it’s having the same effect as when you call him Mister Miller. He’s sure you know exactly how he feels, and he’s now certain that you feel the same way. 

Your hips grind into his and pleasure spikes through his entire body. He’s fully seated inside of you now, your tight pussy squeezing him sweetly. He buries his face into your neck, lavender hypnotizing him. Everything he can see, hear, smell and feel is you. His sweet girl. 

“More, please, more.” You whine, circling your hips. 

His jaw flexes as he fights his body’s instinct to come. He pushes down with his hips to still you. “I need a minute, sweet girl. Shit - you feel too good.”

Your soft giggle at his confession causes your pussy to flex tighter around him. A shiver runs up his spine, “Baby, please don’t. Just stay still, please.”

He pulls himself away from your neck, his hips flexing forward. He watches your eyes widen as his piercing presses right where it’s meant to. You gasp and clench his hips with your thighs. He smirks, now flooded with desire and determination to fuck you until neither of you can walk. 

“Ready?” He says, his voice deep.

“I think - Joel, fuck - I might…” 

His animalistic side kicks in, he pulls out to the tip and then slams back in, swivelling his hips so his piercing stimulates your clit, which he’s sure still must be sensitive from earlier, before pulling back and repeating. 

“Think you might what?” He demands, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he fucks you.

“I’m gonna - gonna come.” You moan between thrusts.

“So fuckin’ needy. Aren’t you?” You met each of his thrusts with a flick of your hips. Even with the condom, you feel better than he could have ever imagined. All the things he wants to do to you run through his mind; he wants to take you from behind, or watch your tits bounce as you ride him, he pictures you strapped to the spanking bench in his room at the club. But right now he just wants to worship every inch of you. He wants to show you how you should be treated and loved. 

The words are on the tip of his tongue. I love you. 

He shifts his weight, one arm hooking under your leg so he can take you deeper. “Sweet girl, I want to feel you come on my cock.” 

“Fuckfuck don’t stop.” He peppers your jawline with kisses. 

“Kiss me,” he whispers. He tilts his head, parting his lips for your warm tongue. Joel starts fucking you faster. He breaks the kiss, “Come for me, baby girl.” 

“Are we going to be done if I do?” You ask. 

“No, baby.” He huffed a laugh, his hand pushing the hair away that’s started to stick to your forehead. “Never. I’m never going to be done with you.” 

“Joel - oh my god.” He feels you getting tighter and tries to distract his thoughts. He’s not ready to be done, but he’s not young anymore so he can’t risk finishing quite yet. “Your - your piercing.”

“Let go,” he says into your lips. He feels it then, that infinitesimal tightening of your pussy around his length before it begins to flutter. Your whine fills his head. He watches the pleasure fill your face, he swears he can see the clouds that form around your vision as you look deep into his eyes and succumb to your high. Your soft body quivers beautifully underneath him, “That’s my girl.”

The primal need to fuck you hard into his mattress simmers his skin. Not yet, not this time. She’s too perfect right now. 

“Tell me how it feels, sweet girl.”

Between pants you moan out, “So good, Joel.”

Your body begins to slow beneath him as your orgasm crests and he gives himself a mental pep talk to hold on just a bit longer. His cock is achy with the need to come, and it’s going to be slightly tortuous to stop, but he wants to take you at least one more time before you both fall into what is sure to be an exhausted sleep. 

His lips come to your shoulder. “I love fucking you. Your pussy was made for me.”

Your nails scrape at his back. “It’s t-too much. Fuck. Sorry…sorry.”

Joel stills his hips, releasing your leg and pushing his weight off of you, but doesn’t pull away. Your eyes are clenched tight, “Look at me, sweet girl.”

Your eyes pop open, pupils blown in pleasure and love. There’s no denying it now, he knows you feel the same. “Don’t be sorry.”

Your cheeks flush slightly, “But you’re not, you didn’t yet.”

“If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be doing it.”

“You didn’t get to come yet,” you whisper.

“I don’t want to yet. I’m going to let you catch your breath and then you’re going to climb onto my lap and really learn what that piercing can do.” He winks and then gives you a small smile before slipping out of you. He rolls onto the mattress beside you, removing the condom and dropping it into the waste bin beside the bed. 

He hears you hiss, panic clogs his throat as he whips back towards you. “What’s wrong?”

You nod towards his almost impossibly hard cock. “That looks painful.”

“I’m ok, sweet girl.” He pulls you in, melting at the way your body molds so perfectly to his. He kisses your forehead, “You’re incredible.”

“You too.” You nuzzle deeper into him, your warm breath hitting his chest and your leg wrapping around his. 

There’s a few minutes of comfortable silence before you speak, “Hey Joel?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I think we should ditch the condom.” He pulls back as you look up at him, “You have a vasectomy. I have an IUD. We had recent test results as per the club's rules.”

Joel swallows. Not wearing a condom, even though he had his vasectomy over a decade ago, has never been an option. Another rule of JMKink is that you have to be wearing a condom during all penetrative activities; even if the person you’re fucking is your husband or wife. It hits Joel then that the only person he’s felt that intimately before is Tiffany. 

“Are you sure? I know the chances of getting pregnant are very slim, but you got into law school today, I don’t want to risk anything.”

“I’m sure,” you hum. “I’m also sure that you should put that cowboy hat back on for the next round.”

Next Chapter

[notjustjavierpena]

Gush

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Just pure filth.

Summary: Joel, your dad’s best friend, teaches you how to come with your clit untouched.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), dad’s best friend, daddy kink (yeah it was bound to happen), pet names, innocence kink, age gap, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, only very brief piv sex, unprotected sex

Word count: 1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48494866

Gush

You let out a frustrated groan as you look up at the ceiling, arms crossed over your chest and with the prettiest pout that Joel has ever seen displayed on anyone’s face. He sits on his knees in front of your naked body, cock heavy between his legs but with no intention of using it on you and thus making you even more bitter about the situation.

“It’s not going to happen, daddy,” you say as you avoid Joel’s soft eyes. He rubs a hand over your naked belly, skimming it across the sensitive skin below your belly button. He isn’t going to give up. 

“Well, no, not if ya don’t relax,” he says with a smug chuckle. You try to cross your legs to get him to go away, but he catches you by your ankles and places each of your feet flat on the bed again, “Stay, sweetheart. We’ll keep going until we get it right.”

You’ve been at it for what feels like hours now, but Joel hasn’t made you come yet with your clit untouched but oh, you have been on the brink so many times that your cunt is throbbing and a steadily growing pool of arousal is forming on his bedsheets. It’s beginning to feel ridiculous, especially when he bats your hand away when you try to take matters into your own hands. 

“Daddy knows exactly how you touch yourself, I don’t needa see it again,” he had told you after your third attempt to sneak a hand down to your clit. 

Now, you’ve given up coming anytime soon, but Joel is still determined as ever. He runs his thick fingers through your folds once more to slick up his fingers, then twists his wrist and inserts two fingers into your already stretched pussy. 

“You know,” you say after a soft moan, deciding to look down once again to see his digits stretch you open, “I have to be home for dinner in an hour. Dad’s lighting up the barbecue.” 

“He told me he was getting it out for the first time this summer,” he small talks back at you, curling his fingers inside of you and finding your eyes with his own, “There, yeah?”

He rubs once and you nod, moaning as he starts up a rhythm of his fingers slowly fucking against your g-spot. You shift a little, relax a bit further into the mattress and let your knees fall out to the sides. 

“Don’t think of anything from now on, just of this,” he says quietly, pumping his digits in and out of you. 

It starts out completely the same, and it’s enough to make you want to cuss at him. You know better than that though, and let out a whine, “It’s not going to work. Just rub my clit, daddy, please. It hurts now.” 

“Shut up, I got something I want to try,” he coaxes your orgasm a little further. It’s the same build-up; something pooling in the pits of your stomach and tugging from inside your womb, but God, you need that little extra thing to tip you over the edge. 

Or do you? Something changes then, and you realize that Joel’s other hand is resting just above your pubic bone. He pushes down gently and gradually speeding up his fingers, creating more pressure and friction inside of you. 

“What’re…?” You let out a gasp that even surprises yourself, your toes starting to curl and your clit starting to pulse as if begging to be paid attention to, “Touch my clit. Please, oh— f— Joel, daddy. Touch it. Keep going, no, touch it.”

“No,” he says, beckoning your orgasm closer with his fingers. He makes a come-hither motion over and over again, keeping his other hand still on your belly until he can feel his fingers moving inside your cunt, “Wanna see that cute fucking clit pulse just for me, ain’t gonna be able to see it if my fingers are on it, baby girl.”

You panic a little when a new sensation starts coming from inside of you. It’s a form of pressure that you’re familiar with but not during sex, and you start thrashing a little to get him off, “Joel! Joel, I swear, I— I’m gonna pee. If you don’t stop, I’ll… oh my God, Joel, I’m fucking serious. You’re gonna make me— make me…”

You come with a high-pitched moan as all the tension in your body snaps. Every nerve-ending in your clit is on fire with sweet contractions of pleasure, and suddenly your whole heartbeat goes straight to between your thighs as your cunt spasms from clit to slit. It wants something more though, because your legs won’t stop violently shaking, and Joel seems to know exactly what that is. 

Without saying a thing, he removes his fingers from you and you fear that you might actually have pissed his bed because, without warning, a wet gush has stained the sheets between him and you. 

His fingers enter you once more, and you’re ready to cry as he causes another gush of clear liquid to squirt onto the mattress. It feels so fucking good despite how embarrassing it feels, climax slowly fading as he repeats the move a few more times. 

You collapse completely when he finally lets go of you with both his hands. You’re panting softly into the bedroom, and he gets the shirt he had worn earlier off the floor to cover the stained sheets. 

“Holy shit, the princess squirts,” Joel laughs as he crawls on top of you, but it’s a laugh filled with wonder and excitement. He looks younger like this, you think.

He hovers above you, reaches down to guide his hard cock inside of your still sensitive cunt. Both of you gasp in unison, but you’ve never heard his voice so cocky, “You, young lady, are the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen when you come like that.” 

It’s enough to make any sense of embarrassment go away, and you can’t wait to ask him to do it again. 

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[luvsupa]

tags: cowboy!geto x fem!reader, private relationship (bc father doesn’t approve), fluff(ish), angst, sad ending, reader is daughter of a land owner!! + heavily inspired by this art 🙂‍↕️

a/n:UMM THANK U GUYS SM FOR 1.3K FOLLOWERS WHAATTTTT, MWAAAA

the sun blazes down, crickets singing their lazy tune, but your world feels like it’s crashing. your fingers nervously graze the folded newspaper on the wooden bench as you hear his voice, low and smooth as always.

“hiya, pretty.”

your heart leaps at the sight of suguru geto, standing there like the dream he is. his long, silky black hair spills out from beneath a dusty black cowboy hat, cascading over his broad shoulders. dirt covers his forearms, muscles straining under the red plaid shirt barely hanging on by the threads. his black leather jeans hug him in all the right ways, tucked into his tall, scuffed cowboy heel boots, the kind that make your breath hitch every time he walks. 

you smile, trying to keep things light despite the pounding in your chest. you fold the newspaper and place it beside you on the bench. "mmm, shouldn’t you be workin’, handsome?" you tease, squinting against the bright sun as it beats down relentlessly. 

he cocks his head, the wooden toothpick between his lips shifting slightly as he grins. “not today, doll.” but there’s something heavy in his voice that makes your heart skip. he pulls a letter from his back pocket, holding it out. “give this to y’er father, will ya?”

you hesitate, fingers brushing the envelope. it’s addressed in your father’s neat handwriting. “what for? another horse bet?” you laugh softly, but there’s an anxious edge to it. his chuckle, usually warm, feels distant.

“nahhh… ‘m leavin��.”

the words stop you cold. the sun, the crickets, everything fades as you rise from the bench, the hem of your sundress skimming the dusty ground. you can barely breathe.

“n-no, sugu, you can’t leave,” you whisper, voice trembling as tears prick at the edges of your vision. you reach for him, desperate, but he steps back, looking around as if the other farmers might be watching.

“we can’t keep this up, baby. y’know this.” he says softly, eyes full of regret, though he won’t meet your gaze. your grip tightens around the letter, crumpling it in frustration.

“why? do you not love me anymore? is there another woman?” the questions spill out, frantic, as tears spill down your cheeks. his cowboy hat casts a shadow over his face, but you can still see the sadness in his eyes.

he steps closer, his large hands wiping the tears from your face. “he caught us again. found our letters ‘n nearly killed me this time.” 

your heart sinks as the memory floods back—the first time he’d caught you and suguru, the stolen kiss that caused a war between families. it took weeks of tense meetings, your father and geto’s sitting across from each other, finally agreeing that suguru could stay on as a worker, so long as he kept his distance, stayed in line. but your father never trusted him again.

you glance at the other farmers working in the distance, their eyes darting towards your loud sobbing, but you don’t care.

“we can talk to him,” you say, your voice shaky as you grab his hand, trying to pull him toward the barn. “we’ll make him understand.”

but he doesn’t move. he’s planted there, a sorrowful look in his deep violet eyes. his long hair, so soft you used to run your fingers through it, sways slightly in the breeze as he finally speaks.

“he gave me a choice, sweetheart. stay and marry your cousin—or leave.”

you freeze, the weight of his words hitting like a blow to the chest. your heart feels like it’s breaking all over again. you let go of his hand, stepping back in disbelief. his hands cup your face, pulling you back into the moment, his touch gentle despite the sadness between you. 

“i could never do that to you, my sweet girl. i love you too much.” his voice softens as he presses a kiss to your tear stained cheek. you cling to him, not ready to let go, but he’s already slipping away. 

before you can speak, he pulls off one of his silver rings, pressing it into your palm, firmly closing your fingers around it,

“wait for me, darlin’. i promise you, i’ll come back and marry you.”

[kiwicopia]

MDNI | Themetober: Scarecrow

Shapeshifter!Simon x Fem!Reader

CW: brief mentions of stalking, brief mentions of voyeurism/reverse voyeurism, mentions of death/corpses/blood, brief cunnilingus, biting/marking, mentions of begging, some degradation, mating press position, squirting, creampie.

tags: @sweetchildcloud

Themetober Masterlist

You were never close with your grandfather on your mother’s side, with him becoming estranged even before her passing. Which was why it surprised you to get a letter in the mail one day, detailing that he had left you a sizeable piece of land in his will. The little farm he lived on was rundown and in desperate need of repairs, which came easily due to the assistance from local neighbors. The only issue, however, was the scarecrow in the cornfields.

A raggedy thing, you thought, with a hulking body that could easily frighten any creature that wandered onto the property. If it weren’t for its graveyard keeper appearance, and the fact that your bedroom window faced the cornfields, you would’ve thought differently about it. Still, against better judgement, and with it keeping the crows from taking what little corn you were able to grow, you decided to keep it where it was—perched up against a large, steady plank of wood that doubled its own size. 

Honestly though, you should have read the letter entirely instead of skimming it. Perhaps if you did that, then everything that followed would make more sense to you. It would have made sense knowing what it was, and had been, to your estranged grandfather. 

The half-buried animal carcasses on the property, the strange grunting noises outside your window at night—along with the milky white substance in the grass below your window—the large paw prints that littered around the edges of the property—sometimes along with dried blood—and the eyes that would watch you from the shadows, only to vanish the second you blinked. Not to mention how, during visits into town, either a crow or a large, black dog—or what you assumed to be a dog—would follow you. The entirety of it was all so strange, and it did little to prepare you for when he finally came to collect what was owed. 

Unbeknownst to you, and due to the skimming of the letter, your estranged grandfather had a deal of sorts with a certain creature—the scarecrow—which you came to find out a little too late one night. “Been waitin’ for ya,” he huffed. His tongue lapped at your cunt, feasting on it like a wild and starved animal. You tasted even better than he had originally imagined, and the soft and sweet moans and mewls that spilled from your lips caused his cock to throb painfully beneath torn jeans. 

Simon groaned, his patience having worn thin with the needless wait as he pulled back and finally freed himself from the confines of his pants. He was hard and ready, with the tip angry and red while weeping small globs of precum. His large hand wrapped around the shaft, pumping once, twice, three times with achingly slow movements. The nights of watching you through your window as you pleasured yourself while he fucked into his hand—in tune with your soft and tantalizing noises—were over. 

“The old man promised.” He lined his cockhead up to your slit, smearing the tip in your slick before impatiently pushing past the folds. “Fuck,” he groaned. You took him so well, with gummy walls hugging his dick tightly. His body pressed against yours, pushing you down further into the bed of hay as his lips kissed against your neck feverishly, resulting in a whine falling from your lips. 

Simon’s cock twitched at the sound, and his hips pulled back before slamming against yours. The sudden movement pulled a sharp cry from you as he repeated the motion. Faster and faster, his pace relentless as his teeth nibbled on the soft flesh of your neck before biting down. He was marking you as his, and in more ways than one. After all, your grandfather made a promise. 

“S’too much,” you whined. Still, his pace remained as it was as he ignored you. The shifter had waited this long for what was owed to him, and he was taking it without any further delay. Simon’s hands were tight on your hips, his fingers pressing into the plump flesh, keeping you still as his cock bullied your pussy. Your soft whining and pleas for him to slow down faded, having been replaced with neediness as you begged for more. 

“Fuckin’ slag,” he growled, his breath hot in your ear as he bit the lobe. His hips snapped against yours once more as he buried himself to the hilt again, and again. “Makin’ me wait f’ya. Makin’ me ‘ear that old man tell me over ‘nd over ‘bout ya.” He hated that. 

Honestly, Simon was glad for his death because it meant getting you. It was a deal made back when he first arrived on the farm, back when he was a walking body without a purpose. Oh, but your grandfather gave him one. Keep the farm safe and he would receive a reward for his hard work. When that reward became you, his sweet ‘ole granddaughter who lived like the man never existed, that was what kept Simon going—and now he finally had you. 

His hands moved from your hips as his body pulled back just enough to shift you into a mating press. The shapeshifter could reach deeper now, with his cockhead bumping against your cervix with each thrust, earning sharp yet delicious sounding cries from your lips. Simon couldn’t be gentle now, not when he finally had you in his grasp. He waited too damn long, with too many nights of fisting himself to the mere thought of you beneath him like this. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he growled, again. You tightened around him, causing his dick to twitch every now and then as your velvety walls coaxed him towards his release. The harsh slap of his balls smacking against your skin echoed in the barn, and you whined at the sting that accompanied it. “Little more, almost, almost.” Oh, he was close now, with only a few more thrusts until he came undone. 

When your cunt fluttered around him, that was the last straw. Simon pressed his face into your neck, teeth clamped down in a harsh bite that caused you to scream out and squirt around him the same time he spilled into you. His hot, creamy seed mixed with your juices and dribbled out and down the back of your ass when he pulled out of you. 

“Look a’ ya,” he smirked. “Fuckin’ mess now.” You stared up at him with half-lidded eyes and panted hard before leaning your head back to rest. The man mumbled something along of being his mess, but the pounding in your ears from being utterly fucked out had muffled it. 

Maybe you should have read the entire letter, or perhaps you should’ve had a better grandfather. One that didn’t offer you up like a steak to a starving mutt. Too many could haves and should haves for you to care right now. At least you had something akin to a guard dog now, even if the reward was a good fuck. 

[pretty-little-mind33]

Pop music: "I cant say no to those eyes" + Tangerine ❤❤❤

SKY'S 3K CELEBRATION

i hope you enjoy this, anon ✨💕

~ 🎶 ~

When you'd convinced Tangerine and Lemon to walk into the crazily decorated Halloween store Lemon had seemed rather pleased.

Tangerine, on the other hand, looked pissed.

"I hate these things," he mutters, touching the dull end of the bloodied prop knife as the animatronic struggles through its lines. "So corny."

You're practically skipping through the rows and rows of costumes, tongue stuck between your teeth as you concentrate. You can't even hear Tangerine's complaining or Lemon swatting his hand over his brother's head.

"Shut yer mouth, can't ya see she's enjoying herself?" Lemon hisses, motioning his head towards you.

Tangerine's gaze softens and he shoves Lemon away. He walks over and sees you rummaging through the costumes. You hand him a nurse one absentmindedly.

"Gonna patch me up real good, darlin'?" he teases, seeing how skimpy the costume looks. You don't answer him as you hand him another. A fairy costume this time and Tangerine's eyes widen at how much skin the model is showing.

"Bloody hell, luv. Ya want the whole neighborhood staring?"

"Tan," you warn him and he holds the costumes without complaint, muttering an apology. It really isn't his place to judge your choice of clothing.

Tangerine walks behind you like a lost puppy as you hand him various costumes you're debating choosing and Lemon snickers—which earns him a death glare from his brother.

"Oh!" You suddenly exclaim, grabbing a princess costume. It's just the right amount of cute and slutty. You turn, showing Tangerine. "Isn't it cute?!"

Tangerine nods, imagining you in that dress and he swallows. He drops the other costumes on the shelf and takes the princess one, looking it over. You grin, turning as you can the area.

"Aha!"

Tangerine watches you grab another costume and then you show it to him, grinning wider. It's a bodyguard costume. A plain black suit, an ear com, and some shades.

"What's that for?"

"For you! I'm the princess, and you're my bodyguard!" You sound giddy and Tangerine raises his eyebrows. He certainly doesn't mind having the task of watching over you when you're at a party. He does that anyways.

He looks at the stupid costume and scrunches his nose in disgust. "Can I wear my own suit?" he asks seriously.

Your eyes light up. "You're gonna dress up?!"

"Ya, in my suit," he teases.

"And the accessories?" You point to the ear com and the sunglasses.

"Maybe." He crosses his arms, sending you a smirk.

You bat your eyelashes at him.

Tangerine's resolve crumbles embarrassingly quickly. "Shit," he whispers, "you know I can't say no to those eyes." He reaches up and his finger tips skim your cheek gently. "I'll dress up as your bodyguard, sweetheart, hm? Keep ya safe? Is that what you want?"

He's teasing but you nod and lean into his touch. You're smiling so wide he's concerned for your poor cheeks but his chest fills with warmth. He laughs when you grab the costumes and rush over to show Lemon.

Tangerine can almost hear Lemon's future taunts when he finds out how quickly he folded for you but he doesn't care.

Fuck, he's really in deep now.

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader, @simplyreflected, @kpopgirlbtssvt

[alastor-simp]

Birthday Boy🥳 - Angel Dust x Female Reader Part 1/2

❥Warning- This contains some inappropriate subjects, so if you underage and reading this, Please skip it.

❥Summary- It's April 1st, which means its Angels birthday today!! The whole hotel planned a birthday party for him to celebrate. You have a gift for him, but you wanted to give it to him later....in private😏

❥Tags - Angel Dust, Flirting, Teasing, Fluff, Lingerie, Cosplay, Eventual Smut, Birthday Surprise, Mentions of Sexual Toys

❥Notes - Here is the sexy spider birthday smut you guys wanted. This will be split into 2 parts. Hope you all enjoy it.

The plan was set! You were going to distract Angel with a nice little shopping trip, while Charlie and the others stayed at the hotel and get everything ready. Charlie made it very clear to keep Angel Dust away until 5 pm, since it was going to take a bit to decorate. Nodding your head, you assured her that you knew what to do and not to worry. Heading over to Angel's room, you knocked on his door yelling "GET UP LOSER. WE GOING SHOPPING!!" There was a loud thump that came from the other side, probably Angel falling off the bed from you yelling. It was quiet for a moment, until his door swung open. He was wearing a pink and white fluffy coat that matched with his black heels, while also sporting pink diamond shades on his face. His face was in a small scowl, as he was a bit upset that you woke him up like that, while also giving you a middle finger with one of his hands: "Jesus toots! Ya couldn't have just woken me up normally? Nearly gave me a dang heart attack." Laughing, you uttered an apology, while grabbing his hand, tugging him out of his room. He allowed you to drag him along, sporting a smile on his face as the both of you went down the hallway, heading to the main entrance of the hotel.

As the both of you exited, you turned your head to see Charlie and Vaggie giving you a thumbs up, as you turned back and walked out the door. Heading into the city was a tad bit difficult, especially since walking next to Angel, a famous porn star, there was bound to be a few stares and wolf whistles here and there. Angel was paying them no mind, as he wanted to enjoy this little outing with you and not deal with the bullsh✪✪ and also get his mind away from work for once. The mall in hell was similar to ones on Earth, just a bit more run down and lacking the usual charm. Still it had stores and a food court, so it was better then nothing. Angel ran at high speed to the clothes stores, dragging you along by the arm. The both of you just explored around, trying on multiple outfits that suited the both of you best, along with taking selfies of each other. Angel looked good in practically anything that he tried on. He could come out of the dressing room in a plain shirt and jeans, and he have you gagging in awe.

The next store the both of you went to seemed more up Angel's alley. "Devils Secret" was what the large neon sign said. Upon entering in, you quickly realized it was a lingerie store. "Aww yeah! This is where its at!" Angel said, as he threw his four arms up into the air in excitement. You, however, were feeling a bit flustered, as stores like this always made you a bit red in the face. Angel had already disappeared from your view, most likely grabbing all the most seductive ones he could find. Not really interested at the pieces, you just walked around, observing everything.

One area of the store was hidden behind a large black curtain. Curious, you walked past and immediately flushed at what you saw. Behind the curtain was an assortment of intimate cosplays, along with various sexual toys like vibrators, hand cuffs and butt plugs. “No wonder this place was hidden by a curtain” you thought. Wouldn’t hurt to look around. There was a wide selection of cosplay outfits hanging, ranging from police officer to sexy nurse. You knew if Angel saw this, he would buy everything in here. Skimming through everything, your eyes caught the look of something interesting. It wasn’t anything extreme, but it was very detailed and seductive. Your thoughts immediately thought of Angel and his birthday, causing a smirk to appear on your face: “Perfect.”

You quickly bought it and threw it in the other shopping bags you had, to hid it from Angels eyes, as you went to look for him. Having found him standing in front of the dressing room mirror, you watched him as he struck many poses, making you blush. “Which one of makes me look sexier toots? This one or the other?” The one he was wearing was a floral embroidered bra and thong, that came with a garter belt while the other was a black satin babydoll mesh top. Smiling you shook your head, saying he looked sexy in anything he wore, earning a blush from him. Shaking his head, he gave a smirk back, "You know it baby!" and proceeded to head back into the dressing room to change out of it.

Checking the time on your phone, you saw that it was one hour from 5 pm, which was enough time for you to head back to the hotel for the surprise party. You texted Charlie to let her know you were coming back soon, so she had some time to double check everything. "Hey toots? Who ya texting?" Angel asked, as he was walking next to you, four of his arms holding shopping bags. You quickly put your phone away so he wouldn't see the text and came up with a good excuse. "Oh it was Charlie. She said something urgent happened at the hotel and she wants us to come back." Angel seemed to have bought the lie and gave a nod, as the both of you walked out of the mall.

**Back at the hotel**

"Ohhh finally! My legs are aching from walking all day." Angel groaned, as he walked closer to the hotel doors. "Maybe don't wear those long heels next time." You laughed out, earning another groan from Angel. "Hey! Leave my heels out of it." Angel responded back, as he opened the doors to the hotel. The hotel was pitch black inside, and no one was around the lobby, causing Angel to widen his eyes in concern. "Woah where the f✪✪✪ is everybody?!" Angel walked closer inside, with you following behind him. As you closed the door, the lights blasted on and a loud bang erupted in the room, causing confetti to fly everywhere. "SURPRISE!!!!!!!!!!" Everybody had popped out of their hiding places, wearing big smiles and sporting birthday hats. Angel screamed when that happened, grabbing onto his chest to calm him down. "AHHHH! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" Charlie had run up to Angel, and gave him a giant bear hug. "ITS YOUR SURPRISE BIRTHDAY PARTY ANGEL!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" Her face was wearing a large smile, sparkles shining in her eyes. Angel paused at that and looked at everyone and the decorations, plus the large pink and black themed cake that was on one of the tables.

"Oh shit...I." Angel's face went blank, apparently still in shock, Everyone including you noticed his expression, wondering why he seemed a bit sad. No one said a word, but Alastor was the one to break the silence: "My dear effeminate fellow! Have you forgotten the day of your own birth?" Alastor walked up closer, head tilted to the side, wearing his signature smile. Angel just shook his head, one of his hands going up to wipe his eyes. Oh he was crying, you looked at him with concern and placed a hand on his back, giving it a rub. "No I didn't forget, Smiles. I....I didn't think any of you guys would actually care about it, let alone remember it." Awwws erupted from everyone, as they all ran and gave Angel a hug, except Alastor, but he at least placed a hand on Angels shoulder. Angel laughed while he continued to wipe his tears: "Okay okay get offa me. The sappy stuff is over, now its time to get this party started! Angel bumped his fists into the air in enthusiasm, followed by everyone else yelling out a "YEAH!"

The party had finally started. Everyone gathered around the cake and sang happy birthday to Angel. After that was done, and some of the cake was given out, it was time to present the birthday gifts. Charlie had gotten Angel tickets to the aquarium in hell. Vaggie had bought a makeup set and new sunglasses. Niffty had made a little outfit for Angels pet pig, Fat Nuggets. Husk had bought him some shot glasses that were in the shape of dic✪✪. Alastor had used his powers to make a vinyl record that contain all of Angel's favorite songs. Sir Pentious actually crafted a new weapon for Angel to use for any upcoming battle/turf war. Cherri bomb had gotten two matching spray painted T-shirts that said "Partners in Crime." It was your turn next, but you told them that Angel's present was in his room and you were gonna show it to him later.

The party was soon calming down after that, and everyone was either tipsy or passed out drunk from all the celebratory cheers they did. "I think it's time to head to bed now everyone." Vaggie had lifted Charlie up and walked back to their room. Sir Pentious egg bois had lifted the drunken snake and dragged him towards the bedroom. Alastor was swaying a bit, and his cheeks were a bit red, but he was still a bit alert. He lifted up Niffty into his arms, and used his powers to place Husk on the lobby couch, and make a blanket appear on top of him. He bid both you and Angel a good night, while he headed down the hallway to bring Niffty to her room. Cherri was knocked out on the other side of the couch next to Husk, you were honestly surprised considering how many shots she could knock back and not be buzzed at all, but probably all the celebrations and fooling around made her reach her limit.

Angel grabbed another blanket and placed it on top of her, wearing a soft smile. He then turned back towards you, grabbing one of your hands and headed up towards his room. His room was illuminated in a neon pink, giving off a very intimate atmosphere. His precious Fat Nuggets was sleeping on his back on the bed, making it easy for Angel to give him a belly rub. Heaving a sigh, Angel flopped against the bed, having removed his top, letting his chest floof pop out and his heels, exposing his spider-like shaped feet. He removed his bottoms too, letting his red thong flash at you, making you blush and lick your lips "Soooo?, Are you ready for my gift~?" You sensually walked closer to him on the bed, maneuvering your body to place yourself over on top of him. His pink eyes widen at your position on him, before he smirked and moved his hands to pull you a bit closer, hands caressing your soft body. "More than ready, baby~. What ya get me?" He spoke in a soft whisper, giving you goosebumps, as his hands kept massage your body, making it harder for you to focus and not melt into the pleasure. "I'll bring it out, but first close your eyes for me." Angel raised an eyebrow at that, before he shrugged and closed his eyes.

Angel felt you get off the bed, and heard the sound of the his bathroom door opening and closing. He moved up on the bed, going from a laying position to a seating position, with his legs crossed. He honestly had not idea what you were going to give him and it left him feeling nervous and giddy at the same time. The room was silent, with the only sounds the could be heard was Angels breathing and the little oinks coming from Fat Nuggets sleeping on his own bed now, as Angel had moved him before. The sounds of the door opening, caused Angel to jump. He could hear the soft pattering of your feet, until they stopped and he felt movement on his bed. "Okay, open your eyes~." You softly said. Angel slowly opened his eyes, until they widen at the sight of you. You were sitting on his bed, wearing a red body bow, with the bow being placed to cover your tits and only a string covering your butt. Angel nearly drooled at the sight of you, while his lower half began to rise.

Your eyes gazed at him with desire, as you tilted your head at him cutely: "Well~?" You continued to stare at him, while he continued to look at you with wide eyes and mouth opened like a fish. Finally he spoke, cheeks flashing red. "Holy sh✪✪! W-when did ya? How did?" He continued to stutter, obviously still in shock at you. Giggling, you told him that you found this at the lingerie store the both of you went to, saying it was hidden from others, answering his question. Smirking, you laid back on the bed, staring seductively at Angel, while you crooked your finger at him. "Sooo~, does the birthday boy wanna open up his present?

**TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2**

Tag List:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen, @aceofcards0-0, @jyoongim, @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi , @forbidden-sunlight, @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping , @danveration , @demoarah, @cookiekyo , @iiotic, @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie , @lokis-imaginary-friend , @themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @pawstrey , @futureittomainn , @christinaatyourservice92 , @littledolly2345 , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 , @mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow , @madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel , @ainsliemac , @sweet06tart , @nobuharashinyao , @aria-tempest , @fluffismystaplefood @darischerry , @nightmarenaya , @moonie123 , @yakultt-art , @ktssstuff , @blakedbeanss , @sweet06tart , @ihyperfixatedagain , @alastorssimp , @sadnessiscoldtea , @artemisandhunters , @crystalreads , @thereeallink , @justchillaine , @felice-jaganshi , @batmanmonstarr , @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @imacollasaltitan , @ask-theradio-demon , @lousypotatoes , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog , @crazed-flower

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

*original Image from a CW still photo

Summary: Dean shows you what it means to be in a relationship with a self-proclaimed Red-winged Bloodhound, and to be loved.

Characters: Dean Winchester x You

Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY, period sex, shower sex, brief oral, super horny bc hormones and Dean Winchester, ILY exchange, intimacy

Words: 2K

Author’s notes: Sanctioned will be a series of low-stakes explorations of sexual taboos and boundary nudging with one or both of the Winchester brothers and You. It will all be written in 2nd person, further fostering a sense of closeness and leaning into the level of intimacy achieved with each act. It will not necessarily be considered part of the same universe but can absolutely be read that way.

As always, all my love goes to my long-time beta and friend @brrose-apothecary and many thanks to @bigmouthlass for the read-through and green light.

Sanctioned: The Red-Wing Rodeo

Being on your period sucks.

You radiate heat, but you're freezing. You can’t even think about wearing anything other than sweatpants. Most days, you bleed through an ultra tampon and the thickest pads you can buy in less than an hour, and you’re hungry all the time.

For nasty, greasy junk food and for Dean.

Dean’s gorgeous and effortlessly sexy. Even when you aren’t on your period, all he has to do is say your name and you’re putty in his hands. When you are on your period, bloated as a bridge troll and craving melty cheese, the things your brain conjures up for him to do to you threaten to set feminism back faster and farther than an old, white conservative on the Supreme Court.

It’s all you can think about—Dean’s hands on your skin, his lips on your throat, and his cock hammering you senseless.

But you smell bad, right? Your eyes are puffy and your feet look like sausages. No one thinks that’s attractive.

He’s tried to tell you that he likes it. Loves it, is what he’s said. He’s the one who told you there’s a name for guys like him—Bloodhounds. He’s even gone down on women having their period.

You don’t consider yourself a prude, but he can’t be serious, can he?

Right now, you’re in the shower in an attempt to feel less ick and maybe work out some frustration where you can easily clean up afterward. You’ve washed and conditioned your hair, exfoliated, shaved everything, and now you’re standing under just-the-right-temperature water as it blessedly sluices your neck and shoulders to your toes. You’re starting to feel something approaching relaxed when you hear Dean’s voice.

“Care if I join ya?” he asks, peeking around the large shower stall with a grin that no one in their right mind could resist. He’s naked, his hair’s spiking in nine different directions, and his face is smudged with grease from the Impala.

You shake your head and shrug, afraid to firmly commit to any answer since every cell in your body is stretched tight between tenterhooks; you could snap at any second.

“You sure?” He arches a brow and dips his chin to his chest as he eases his way into the shower.

“M’sure,” you mutter, curling in on yourself.

He settles in behind you, tall and strong, skimming his big hands over your hips before gently palming your belly. You rest one hand on his forearm and reach up behind you with the other to slide your fingers through his dampening hair. Dean begins to hum and sway before moving to multitask—dragging one hand up to expertly cup and caress one hot, tender breast, and lazily drawing a random but intricate pattern around your navel and lower.

“I know it’s your time of the month or whatever you call it, and I know it’s gettin’ harder lately,” he murmurs, touching you with reverence and heat, kissing your temple, around the shell of your ear. “I wanna make it better.”

You sigh. “I know… I just-”

When his thumb brushes your nipple, you gasp and bite back a desperate moan.

“Just what, honey? Tell me.”

He shifts behind you and his thick, hard cock grazes the curve of your back. It’s too much. He’s told you so many times how good he could make it for you.

“Please?” He continues to kiss and suck the thin skin of your throat and thumb your nipple.

You bite your lip and twist his hair with your fingers. Maybe you can let go a little. The shower will help with the mess, right?

Dean sucks an earlobe between his lips and brings his other hand up to work your other breast, forcing a pitiful whimper from your chest. You grip his wrists, encouraging his touch and buck back against him.

“Fuck me,” you whisper.

Dean groans and you can practically feel him vibrate with excitement. “I promise I’m gonna make this so good for you,” he whispers back.

You sigh, brace your hands against the tile in front of you, and widen your stance before glancing over your shoulder. His eyes flick to yours as he lathers up his hands. When he takes a step closer to touch you again, you drop your head to hang between your arms and exhale. He works you up, kneading your breasts, pulling and teasing your taut, sensitive nipples.

“You look so beautiful when you trust me like this. I want you to know it and believe it.”

He nuzzles and nips under your jaw as he hooks one hand under your right knee and gathers both your wrists with the other. You gasp when he lifts and shifts you like you weigh nothing, spreading you up and open, pressing you up against the cool tile.

“Makes me crazy knowin’ how bad you want somethin’ but won’t ask for it.”

And then he slowly sinks inside you.

You sob his name and quake between his solid weight and the soothing ceramic. You feel so hot and light, spread wide and fucked tight.

“So good, Dean,” you whimper, and he kisses you everywhere he can, sucking small bruises into your skin.

“You too.” He pushes your knee up higher, opening you wider. “So hot and greedy. Fuck, your pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight.”

“Ung.”

His thrusts are slow, shallow, and precise. Each pass sends ripples of brilliant pleasure from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes—liquid, rolling, boiling.

“Wanted you like this for so long,” he huffs in your ear. “Give you what you need when you feel so empty.”

He’s repeatedly, steadily driving over your g-spot, slip-sliding along the path he’s traveled time and time again—but this time, every single nerve ending inside you is engorged and hypersensitive. You can feel every ridge of his cock, stroking your insides.

“Yes, Dean. I can- can feel you everywhere. Fuck.” You gasp for air and arch your neck as he plants his forehead against the shower wall.

“C’mon,” he whispers, quickening his grinding pace and eliciting a shout from you.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck…” you’re chanting, your skin is singing, and your vision blurs.

Time warps and whirls, Dean tells you you’re so perfect, so beautiful, and then- your body seizes rigid and shocking before blowing up into the most powerful, white-hot orgasm you’ve ever had.

•

•

•

Dean gently nudges you awake with soft, warm touches and the aroma of chicken soup. Your eyelids flutter open and he’s lying on his side above the covers facing you, lightly brushing the wide tips of his fingers across your forehead.

“How ya feelin’?”

“Mmmph.” You wriggle into him, clutching his soft t-shirt in your fists, and nuzzle his chest.

Dean chuckles. “That good, huh?”

You feel brand new, wrapped in crystal-spun gossamer—delicate and feral. Your consciousness scrambles to catch up to your body’s instinct to climb on top of Dean and never let him out of bed ever again.

He runs a hand down and up your back, soothing and warm, and kisses your temple. “Should eat somethin’, babe. Made ya some chicken soup and those cheese crisps you like so much.”

“You’re so good to me,” you mutter as you roll and squirm toward your nightstand. You push yourself to sit up, holding the sheet to your chest, and reach for the steaming mug.

Dean traces your spine, back and forth, up and down, sending chill bumps all over your body. You are pretty hungry, so you take a few healthy sips from the mug and pop a cheese crisp into your mouth before turning back to face Dean.

“Thank you. I do love those crisps. But I like you even better.” You scoot closer to him and slide your hands up under his t-shirt. “You should get naked and get under the covers with me.”

“I should?” He smirks in that way that makes your heart skip and your guts twirl. “One single period sex shower session and you’re hooked. I like it.”

He helps you get his shirt off before shimmying out of his pajama pants and sliding under the covers with you so you’re skin to skin.

“God, you’re already hard.” You immediately push a hand down and wrap your fingers around his thick length, kissing him hungrily. “So smooth, want you in my mouth.”

“Uh-uh,” Dean stops you from diving down, rolling you to your back and kneeing your legs open to slot his hips and grind his cock right there. “I want you in my mouth, smell so fucking good, so ripe and hot.”

You groan. Two hours ago, you’d have been horrified by the mere suggestion, but now you want, want, want.

“Dean, you can’t-”

He answers your groan, rolling his hips and nestling his face against your neck. “I won’t if you don’t want it, but,” he pauses, pushing up to look you in the eye. “You want it, don’t you?”

His eyes sparkle, and your pussy throbs. He’s right; you’re hooked and there’s no going back. You’re so turned on that he likes the way you smell—that he wants to devour you. Dean’s always eager to eat your pussy, but right now he looks ravenous.

Your heart rate kicks up a notch, and you nod.

Dean swears under his breath before kissing you, hot and firm. He kisses you so well, every day. He’s thorough with his kisses and touches. This is no exception.

When he finally, slowly begins his descent, you’re breathless, writhing in the twisted bedding and fisting your hair. He gives every square inch of your body the same treatment as your mouth, all the way to your ankles and the arches of your feet. Everywhere he touches, licks, and kisses is a hot zone. As he makes his way back upward, you think you might come before he even lays a finger on your clit.

“Dean, I’m-” You break into a sob and squeeze your eyes shut.

“No, no- don’t hold back, honey. Make some noise, make a mess, I gotchu. C’mon.”

You open your eyes and he’s watching you closely as he hunkers back down, nodding. You mirror his nod and take a deep breath, reaching for him to sink your fingers into his hair.

He smiles as he continues kissing his way from your knee up the inside of your thigh, then splays his fingers against the backs of your thighs. You watch him gently part your seam with his thumbs and dip in to press a kiss to your swollen clit.

“Fuck,” you breathe, dropping your head back to the mattress and twisting his hair in your fists.

He huffs a quiet laugh, blowing a stream of cool air over your slick, open pussy, and you lose it.

“Aaahhh!”

You’re higher than you’ve ever been on any substance, raw, and on fire. You feel like you might rocket through the roof of the bunker into the stratosphere; then Dean slides up over you and inside you, filling you up and anchoring you. He braces his forearms on either side of your head and you wrap your arms around his back.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, accepting his kiss and reveling in his long, steady strokes inside you.

He rests his forehead against yours and breathes, dragging out and pushing back in.

“Me too,” he whispers back, brushing noses with you. “So much, honey. Thank you for lettin’ me take care of you.”

You giggle and lift your legs to hug him tight. “Thank you.”

“Next time, I’m goin’ down on you ‘til you forget your own name, but,” he pauses to rotate his hips and kiss you again. “I just had to be inside you.”

“Not complaining.”

Dean keeps that connection, pulls the thread, loops it back again, and reminds you why you’re there. He reminds you of why you love him.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Probably Nothing ||

Frank Castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: pet names, kissing, grinding, intense fingering.

Here's the plot I couldn't write. 🤣 This one goes out to all my Frank girlies who just need a break. ❤️

You've already had a shit day, and coming home to be greeted by the sight of Frank lounging on the couch with his big dirty boots resting on the coffee table is just one fucking annoying thing too far. You grit your teeth as you throw your stuff in a pile on the floor before stalking over to him.

"Hi sweetheart, how was your day?"

"Off!" You snap at him, your face like brewing thunder.

He doesn't move his feet, just looks at you for a second, reading your expression, considering.

"Okay. That good huh?"

You kick at his boot, not in the mood for games. "Get them off the fucking table, Frank."

He lifts his legs down one at a time. You spin on your heel but before your can move Frank leans out slipping his arm around your waist and yanking you off your feet and into his lap.

"Fuck off Frank! I've got shit to do, let me go!" You hiss.

He keeps his arms snug around you as you're facing him, just tight enough that you can't struggle against and away from his ridiculous strength.

"An I'll let ya get right to it in a minute darlin', but there's something I gotta do first."

You huff and hmph as you finally quit wriggling around realising you're getting nowhere, the warmth of his embrace starting to penetrate through the armour of your bad mood.

"What? What is it?" You demand, annoyed that he's just smiling up at you with that big dumb face of his.

He answers your question with a little peck on your cheek, that's it, just a quick chaste kiss and he's back studying you again. You scowl at him, unmoved.

"Frank… c'mon I don't have time for this."

He cocks his head and hmms before kissing you again on the cheek three more times. He's softer with it, taking his time, moving his mouth closer to yours with each kiss. You turn your head to say something but the words are halted, smooshed to a muffled mumble as he captures your lips in his. The kiss is still so soft, his bottom lip brushing your top one, the slightest bit of tongue flicking up, just testing the waters.

You sigh and he starts to reel you in, taking advantage of the prickly guard you've let down, kissing you so very tenderly as he feels your body gradually begin to loosen in his hold. He tugs gently on your lower lip with his teeth before licking over it and you open up slightly for him as his hand comes to caress your lower jaw. His kiss goes a little deeper now, soft sighs escaping you between the teases of his tongue against yours. But now you don't want teasing, you want more. Every so often he'll break off the kiss, his eyes flicking up to meet yours and he'll smile. Then you realise you're smiling back.

"Mm, oh I think we might be gettin' somewhere." He decides before weaving his fingers through your hair and guiding you back to his gorgeous mouth. You shift in his lap, legs spreading either side of his own and he helps you, his free hand skimming over the curves of your body as he's kissing you deep again. Small sounds begin to float in the air between you, soft encouraging ones from him, and contented moans from you. You slide your hands up and down his chest, and he chuckles at the minute rocking movements you're making with your hips.

"Yeah, there we go…" he rumbles against your ear with a grin before he tugs your lobe then caresses that sweet spot below it with his lips.

"Frank…"

His big hands wander all over your body, kneading at the fullness of your ass, sliding up to your waist, and massaging your tits through your pretty summer dress. He manhandles you to turn around, your back against his chest. Confusion crosses your face but he kisses it away and everything's forgotten as he lifts up the hem of your dress and starts rubbing his thick fingers up and down your pussy through the soft cotton of your panties. All the while he keeps kissing the column of your neck, occasionally gently holding your jaw in his fingers to turn your head so he can plunge his tongue into your wanting mouth.

He hums with satisfaction as you grind back on his crotch, keeps on stroking you until you're whining, almost soaking completely through your underwear with how pent up and horny he's got you now.

"Shhhh, s'alright. I got all night to make you feel good ain't I, baby?"

You automatically nod, lax in his arms as he lazily circles your throbbing clit through the fabric.

"Mnh, Frank, please-"

His scruff rubs against your face as he peppers kisses along your jaw and down your neck while he squeezes your breast, pinching and rubbing at your peaked nipple making you squeak in need and frustration.

"I know, I know. You good now, feelin' better?" he asks, as if it's not obvious that your shitty mood has all but dissipated into dust. You shake your head as you lean back against his shoulder, thighs spreading wider in anticipation of him giving you what you need.

"Aw you need more sweets? Yeah…" he pulls the damp crotch of your panties to the side and you're writhing as he runs a thick finger between your glistening pussy lips. He adds another, gathering and spreading your arousal over your core. He taps at the little swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs and gives your pussy a slap causing you to buck your hips up with a yelp.

"Good girl," he drawls as the slick pads of his fingers drum over your clit and you moan.

When he finally stops teasing and slides his middle two fingers inside, you call out his name in a pathetic needy little whine.

"Frankie!"

"Mmhm." He responds as he slowly fucks you with them, massaging the very depths of you as he curls them. He keeps playing with your tits as he plays with your cunt, and you're so fucking turned on and wet you're dripping over his hand as he amps up the pace. You can't shut up, mewls and moans echoing around the apartment along with the sloppy wet noises from Frank thrusting his fingers in and out of you so hard and fast you think you could come from just that.

"Yeah, that's it baby, my dirty fuckin' princess." He growls next to your ear as he feels your inner walls gripping around him. "Attagirl. You let go f'me, just let go pretty girl, let me hear you, lemme hear my pretty girl come."

Your legs are shaking, pushing up off of him, up off the couch but he's got you, he's always got you. Embarrassingly loud squelching sounds only add to the mess you're making as you're leaking all over the crotch of his jeans. He's fucking you so fast and filthy, bringing his other hand down to rub your engorged clit and it feels so fucking good. You're so close to coming, you can feel the giant, impending monster wave of it rising higher and higher until finally, it reaches its peak…

Your orgasm floods through you, your hips jerking hard as Frank keeps on pushing his fingers in and out as you're pulsing around them, gradually slowing down as he follows your body's movements. You gasp and curse some more, your ribcage expanding and contracting like you've just run a marathon.

"Uhhhh, ohgodohgodohfuck- Fraaank! I'm gonna- I'm gonna-!"

When the last aftershocks fade you finally still, and Frank slowly, carefully withdraws, sucking the sodden digits into his mouth and licking them clean.

"Okay. You can go do your stuff now."

You lay limp on him, completely, utterly, and literally fucked out. it takes you a couple of minutes to get your brain back in gear.

"I- I don't remember what I was gonna do…"

Frank just smiles and kisses the side of your face. "Probably nothin' important then."

You hum in agreement, closing your eyes as you continue to catch your breath, your entire body still vibrating with bliss.

"Yeah, probably nothing."

😉

[random-thot-generator]

A Dark & Stormy Night

Simon x F!Reader

Rating: M for Mature - 18+ ONLY! Minors DNI

Summary: Simon awakens during a late-night storm and creates a storm of his own as he comes to terms with his feelings. Written from Simon’s POV.

Tags: Explicit sexual content, PinV, Mild Somno, Mild choking, Mild D/s dynamic, Soft Dom!Simon, explicit language, cursing, fluffy finish, no Y/N (please let me know if I’ve forgotten any tags.)

Word Count: 2191

_____♡_____  

It's just after four in the morning when the storm rolls in. Rain begins to patter outside of the flat and Simon opens his eyes in time to catch the first flash of lightning. The room he is lying in is familiar, though not his own. It's hers. Her room, her flat. He's just visiting.

But he visits a lot.

Another flash of lightning and the room is lit up as bright as day. He can see as well as feel her now, pressed up against him, the skin of her back sticking to his side. She's got her head pillowed in the crook of his shoulder, face smushed against his bicep, her warm breath puffing across his skin.

The room goes dark.

He shifts beneath the covers, old cotton sheets worn smooth as silk sliding over his legs and torso. The hint of fabric softener and the more pungent aroma of stale sex catches in his nose and, fuck― he really likes that.

He lowers his nose to the crown of her head and breathes in. The unique smell of their sex mixed with the last faint notes of her perfume makes him hard again, memories from earlier that night playing out in his mind. He can never seem to get enough of her anymore, like he's an addict and her cunt is the drug.

But it's not just her cunt, is it? It's her. He always wants her, and only her. He can't even deny it to himself any longer. He's hooked.

She was all he could think about on the flight home from his last mission, and when he got back, he went straight to her place this time. Didn't even bother to go by his own flat, first. As soon as the plane touched down, he was rushing towards the barracks, where he dropped his gear and forced himself to take a shower. Then out of the gate he went, with only one destination in mind.

Her place. He wanted to be with her. It was all he ever wanted these days.

It should bother him more, giving in to this hold she has over him, but he can't seem to bring himself to care. Not when she's this close, so warm and inviting. And so sweet.

His hands begin to move of their own accord, one cupping her breast while the other skims down and over her thigh. His fingers dip between her legs and he sighs out a breath as he finds the wet heat of her cunt. His body shifts behind her, curling his large frame around her soft warmth.

Fuck, she always feels so good. He dreams of her―her skin, her mouth, her cunt, when he's deployed and she's thousands of miles away. She haunts his sleep, the sound of her soft voice still in his ears when he blinks his eyes open, and he's angry with her when he wakes. He's pissed at her for leaving him so frustrated and throbbing with need, for making him yearn for her like he's some lovesick little tosser. For missing her.

Yet he can't stay mad, not at her. She's always so good to him, so good for him, always takes him so well, begs for him to touch her, kiss her, fuck her, and he's more than happy to oblige her every whim. She drives him crazy, makes him lose control, and fuck him, but he can't deny that he loves it, that he loves―

She's begun to stir, his calloused hands touching her most tender parts drawing her from her sleep. She sighs out a moan, her hips rolling down on his fingers before she's even fully awake. God, the sounds she makes. It sets his blood pumping fast and hot through his veins, stokes the fire already burning in his gut into a roaring blaze. He pulls her closer and places kisses along her shoulder, soft and slow and wet. His teeth rake along her neck, and he smirks when goosebumps erupt over her skin.

"Can ya take more, sweetheart?" he whispers at her ear, fingers gently stroking through her folds.

Rolling her hips against him, she breathes out, "Want you, Si."

Simon hums in satisfaction, his hands moving with more purpose now. She whimpers as his thumb tweaks her sensitive nipple and presses her ass back into his rutting hips, gasping at the feel of his leaking cock sliding along the cleft of it.

"Simon..." she sighs, and the sound of his name being spoken in that voice, the one he hears in his dreams, drives him a little insane.

She whines as his fingers swirl around her clit and arches into his touch. "...need you. Please, Si," she begs, as if he might deny her. As if he could ever deny her anything.

He drags his nose up the side of her throat, leaves yet another mark, another claim, as she writhes against him. Her small hand flutters up and lands on the nape of his neck, buries itself in his hair, pressing him even closer, inviting him to devour her whole.

"Always so ready for me," he mumbles as his fingers glide down and push past her entrance. He doesn't stop, easing his fingers in until he's knuckles-deep and she's clenching around him. She whines, grinding down on his hand, desperate for friction. "Sh-shh... It's alright, luv." he murmurs lowly. "I've got you. I'll take care of you."

And he will. He will always take care of her because she's his now. He knows it, and so does she. There's been no declaration of feelings, no heartfelt confessions, but he saw it in her eyes when he pushed inside her last night, neither of them looking away or closing their eyes to hide it this time. It was a mutual surrender, both of them tired of fighting it. There was no denying what was between them, not when it felt so right.

As he pumps his hand and crooks his fingers to reach that spot that curls her toes and makes her shake, his other hand snakes to her throat. He pulls her head back and presses his lips to her temple, his hand on her throat holding her in place as he grinds the heel of his palm onto her clit. She keens out a whine that has him groaning, an acute pulse of arousal tightening his groin and making his balls ache. His cock weeps in response, his rutting hips smearing his seed between her plush cheeks. He could cum like this easily, but he won't. Not this way.

His lips on her fevered skin and his hand working between her slicked thighs, he brings her to her peak quickly, listening to her hoarse cries as she trembles in his arms.

"Tha's it, lovie. Jus' like that," he croons into her ear, his words slurring, fingers still thrusting to drag out every second of her climax.

Her body is drawn taut as a bow string, little hitches and starts making her twitch as each spasm passes through her in waves. He could feel her orgasm dripping down his fingers and he purrs in smug pride.

"Always such a good, good girl for me," he moans, relishing how tight she squeezes his fingers when he praises her. His cock twitches in anticipation and he knows he can't wait any longer.

When she finally goes limp, he gently pulls his fingers from her cunt. He wraps his slick-smeared hand around the back of her knee, lifting her leg up and back to drape it over his thigh. His hand shoves between their bodies to fumble with his cock as he pants out in a shaking whisper against her ear, "Want ya so bad, luv. Can ya take me?"

She can only manage a whimper as she nods. With a wrecked groan, his cock slides between her thighs, the head bumping against her clit as he angles it to run through her slick folds, and her body jolts in his grasp.

His fingers grip her throat just a fraction tighter. "You want it?" he mutters, his voice full of gravel & quaking with lust. "Want my cock, huh?" He lines himself up with her entrance before clutching her hip. Again, she gives him a desperate whine and a quick bob of the head. It's all he needs before he's pushing into her, a guttural sound escaping his throat as he chokes out, "Fuckin' hell, luv.  Yer cunt's so―nngh!... So bloody tight!"

He feels unhinged, wants to pound into her, just ruin her, but it feels so fucking good he can't rush it, so instead he strokes into her with slow, deep thrusts, loving the drag on his cock when he pulls back. Her cunt is gripping him so tight, walls pulsing and clamping down to draw him in deeper, and he swears if he could, he would crawl inside and live there. It's as close to heaven as he'll ever get.

He can already feel his orgasm building, abs tightening as his breaths puff out against the side of her neck. Want to feel her cum, he thinks, his hand leaving her hip to seek out and destroy her clit. His fingers rub furious circles into it, the motions desperate and frantic. More than once he grazes his own cock with his fingertips as it glides in and out of her channel. He can feel the way she's stretched around him, and it makes him feel feral.

"Feel that?" he husks, splitting his fingers around her filled entrance. "Fit me like a bloody glove. Made fer me, luv. Only me. Ain't that right? Hmm?"

"Yes..." she pants out, "...o-only you, Si. Just for you!"

Lightning flickers like a strobe, the effect surreal as he glances down to see she's looking up at him, the white flashes of light glinting in her eyes like sparks. Her nails dig into his scalp as she fists his hair in her grip & molten heat surges through his groin.

"Fuck― fuck!" He can't hold out when she's looking at him that way. "Cum for me, luv," he mutters, sounding desperate. "I can't―!"

And like she was simply waiting for his command, her cunt clamps down and he can feel her gush around his cock. "Ah, bloody hell! I-I'm cum―!"

The rest of his words are choked off as his climax hits him like the concussion of a bomb, bowing his back as every muscle seizes up in his body. His cum pulses out of his cock again and again and again, until his seed has filled her up to overflowing, until it's dripping down his balls and onto her thigh.

Thunder booms at that same moment and the windows rattle in their frames, the deep reverberations strong enough to be felt through the bed. Rain lashes at the windows, coming down so hard and fast the noise blurs into a hissing cacophony.

It's like he's caught up in a religious experience, ancient and primal, the raging storm outside invoked by the carnal ritual they are performing within. Simon can feel it deep in his bones, deep in his gut, and he knows he'll never feel like this with anyone else. Only she makes him feel this way.

Like a fucking god.

The room is filled with the white noise of pounding rain and their panting breaths. They're both fucked out and now limp with euphoria, neither speaking as they come down from their mutual highs. His hand finds hers in the dark and she clings to it. Eventually, she turns in his arms, pressing her forehead into the sweat-damp hair on his chest, her arm sliding over his waist.

"Ya alright, luv?" he rumbles out, stroking his hands up and down her back.

She hums a contented sound, placing a lingering kiss on his chest. Lightning strobes and thunder rolls as the rain continues to pour down outside. She burrows deeper into his embrace, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck, lips pressing a kiss on his pulse point.

Simon knows they will need to talk- about this, about them, but right now he's content to just lie with her in this limbo state, between the before and the after. He will tell her in the morning, suck it up and say what he really feels and, maybe, hopefully, she'll say it back.

He finally rises to get a wet cloth and cleans them both up before tossing it away into the darkness. Sliding back between the sheets, he pulls her sleepy form into his embrace and sighs, listening to the rain and the receding thunder, relaxed and at peace. He's already edging towards sleep himself when he hears her mumble something against his throat.

"Hm? Wha's that, luv?"

She sighs as she drifts off, repeating her words before sleep takes her completely. "Love you, Si. Always."

And Simon feels his heart swell as his body melts into hers, the words rolling off his tongue like he's been saying them to her his whole life.

"Love you, too, sweetheart. Always."

_____♡_____  

[candiedcoffeedrops]

Your Voice (Jude Jazza x Reader)

Jude Jazza x Fem!Reader (Jude's POV/Perspective)

SFW -- WC: 1765

Fluffy, sweet indulgent nonsense that I thought of whilst avoiding sleep at 3 in the morning about a week and change ago lol.

Alright, so this is my first reader insert in thirteen years! I have been working on this for the last few days in between work and whatnot and most of the time was like, 10% writing and 90% worrying if I was writing this bastard man that I have grown to love very rapidly correctly or not. I'm open to suggestions on how to improve, I just ask that it be kind/respectful, please. :)

Thanks a million to @judejazza for inspiring me to work on this! You're awesome and I hope you like this!

Also! No beta, we die like the dude in the prologue.

Today had been long and irritating.

You had tagged along with me and Ellis today, as usual. An early morning of routine business turned into a busy afternoon of hunting down people who had broken contracts and taking them to task. That quickly escalated, and you nearly got yourself hurt. Again.

We had just gotten back to Crown Castle a few hours ago and had gone about our business. It had been a couple of months since your initial one-month tenure had come and gone, and you had stupidly decided that you were going to stay.

I couldn’t understand why. Crown wasn’t a place for someone like you—soft, kind-hearted, and ridiculously naive. You belonged somewhere safe, somewhere untouched by the dark and violent world I—and all of us—were steeped in. Yet, here you were, stubborn as hell, refusing to leave. Maybe you thought you could change us, make us better. Foolish. But damned if it wasn’t… endearing. Tch. I must be getting soft.

As I walked through the halls of the castle, I noticed light peeking out from under your door. You were still awake? It was definitely past midnight at this point. Curious, I approached the door and knocked with the knuckle of my index finger.

“Oi, Princess! The fuck ya still up for?”

“Oh! Come in, Jude!”

I opened your door and stepped inside, pushing the door shut with my foot, my hands in my pockets.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your head cocked to the side curiously.

I raised an eyebrow and spoke, “I asked first.”

“I can’t sleep, so I thought I’d get a book from the library and try to read myself asleep but… then I got sucked into the story.” You admitted as light pink dusted your cheeks, returning your attention to your book. You were sitting on your bed, atop your covers, eyes scanning the pages of an open book in your hands. Your room was lit by the lamp on your desk near your typewriter, casting a dim warm glow over everything, including you. Your hair framed your face, and you were dressed in your nightclothes like you had started getting ready for bed but never actually went to sleep.

I strolled up to your bed and plucked the book from your hands.

“Hey! Give that back!” You swung your legs under you, trying to swipe the book from me. “Jude!”

Ah, that cute little face and the way you said my name when you were all frustrated would never get old.

“Why? Ya readin’ somethin’ ya shouldn’t?” I teased, holding the book just out of reach. I took a step back, skimming through the pages. “Is that why ya can’t sleep? Gettin’ all hot ‘n bothered?” My eyes scanned the words.

She stood beneath the crumbling archway of the cathedral, where the moonlight filtered through the cracks and bathed her in a silvery glow, her heart pounding with the weight of forbidden love.

I rolled my eyes. Tch. How boring. Just some romantic penny dreadful. Figures. You would be into this kind of shit. Star-crossed lovers and all that nonsense.

“Ya realize none of this is realistic, yeah?” I asked, waving the book dismissively. Your cheeks puffed into an adorable pout, and I chuckled.

“I don’t read it for the realism, Jude,” you replied, matter-of-factly. “I read it because it’s entertaining. Fun.”

“What’s so fun about somethin’ so obviously false?” I asked, flipping through a few more pages while you leaned over, trying to grab your book again. I held it out of reach. “Yer gonna get it back when I decide ya can have it back, got it?”

You sighed, crawling back into bed, sitting against the headboard. “That’s better.”

“Why are you playing keep away with my book?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Repayment for nearly gettin’ yer clumsy ass hurt again.”

You growled lightly. Adorable. “But I didn’t! You were there!”

I huffed, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, well, ya shouldn’t need me to save ya all the time. Learn to stay outta trouble.”

You gave me a defiant look, your chin lifting slightly. “I’m not helpless, Jude. I can take care of myself.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah? Then why were ya about to get skewered earlier?”

Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening. “I was just… distracted.”

“By what? Thinkin’ of garbage like this?” I asked, holding up the book and waving it lightly.

“It’s not garbage!” you shot back, your eyes blazing with a fire I rarely saw. “It’s a good story, and I like it.”

“Tch. It’s drivel, Princess.” I glanced at the open pages, scanning a few more lines with a sneer. “Moonlight, forbidden love... absolute nonsense.”

You crossed your arms, a stubborn set to your jaw. “If it’s so bad, then why don’t you prove it by reading some of it?”

I raised an eyebrow, a chuckle rumbling in my chest. “Ya want me to read this crap? To ya?”

“Yeah, I do.” You leaned forward, eyes gleaming with challenge. “I bet you can’t get through a single page without falling asleep.”

My tongue ran along my bottom teeth beneath my lip as I walked closer to you and leaned down, towering over you. “Is that a dare, Princess?” I looked at you, my smirk widening into a grin. “Alright, but don’t blame me when ya realize how bad it is.”

“Alright,” you said, settling back with a satisfied smile. “But you have to read it properly. Like you mean it.” You shifted, laying down on your side, facing me, your head cushioned perfectly by your pillow.

I snorted. “Fine. But if I read this and prove it’s trash, ya gotta stop readin’ this stuff.” I lightly tapped the spine of the book to your forehead. “It’ll rot yer little brain even more than it already is. Got it?”

Your eyes sparkled. “Deal.”

I sighed, sitting down unceremoniously into a chair that was by your bedside, my ankle crossed over my knee. “Alright, let’s see what has ya stayin’ up all night.” I cleared my throat, holding the book up to catch the dim light. “She stood beneath the crumbling archway of the cathedral…”

My mind drifted through the pages at first, words blurring together without much meaning. But then, something in the story caught my attention, and I found myself tuning in, focusing on the text. Gradually, I realized my voice had softened, losing its earlier sarcasm. It settled into a steady rhythm, low and even, as I read for a few more pages.

Every so often, I glanced up at you. Your expression, once filled with intense focus, began to relax. I watched as your eyes fluttered, fighting to stay open. You looked so determined to stay awake.

I trailed off mid-sentence and raised an eyebrow, my lips curling in another smile. “Oi. Sleepyhead. Still there?”

I got a mumbled affirmation in response, to which I chuckled through my nose and nodded. I set the book down before getting to my feet, careful that I didn’t make too much noise doing so. Well, at least you were about to finally get some much-needed shut-eye.

Before I could move away, you reached out and grasped my fingers with a gentle hold. My eyes widened as I looked between you and our hands.

“Wait. Don’t go yet.” Your eyes were trained on our hands, another faint blush spreading across your cheeks. “I want to hear more of the story.” Your voice was low and shy.

“Yeah?” I asked, tilting my head as I observed you, another smirk lifting my lips. “Can’t get enough garbage, can ya, Princess?”

“No, it’s not that.” Your blush deepened. “I just… I like the sound of your voice.”

Damn. Didn't see that coming. You’re clueless. Who the hell would say something like that? My voice—harsh, grating, like broken glass or nails on a chalkboard and that's what you wanted to hear? But of course, it’d be you, wouldn’t it? Blind to every possible warning, looking up at me with those big, pleading eyes. Damn you. And damn me for sticking around.

My hand was still in yours, your skin soft and warm against my calloused fingers. Your gaze lifted to mine, and you looked so… pitiful. Pleading.

I sighed. “Yer daft, ya know that?” I moved to sit back down, your hand still holding mine. Crossing my ankle back over my knee, I reopened your book, propping it up on my thigh. I glanced at you; some of your energy had returned, your eyes shining with that dumb happy look as you nuzzled into your pillow.

“Thank you, Jude.” Your voice was soft and sweet, making my heart lurch. I kept my face impassive.

“Yeah, yeah, be quiet ‘n listen.” My tone lacked most of its usual bite as I found the last page I had read.

My fingers were still in your grasp. Strange. I could’ve pulled away at any point, but I didn’t. Maybe you thought if you let go, I’d leave. While reading, I moved my hand, lacing my fingers around yours. I didn’t look up, focused on the page, but I heard a small gasp before you squeezed my hand slightly. Damn. Almost enough to make a man melt.

Without pausing, my thumb began rubbing yours absentmindedly. Your skin was soft, untouched by the harshness of this world. What a novel thing in a place like this.

It wasn’t long before I heard your gentle snoring. I chuckled softly, watching you for a moment. So peaceful. Dreaming without a care while a man you knew was dangerous held your hand and read you to sleep. You were insane.

I stood, marking the page I had stopped on, and set the book down on your nightstand. Reluctantly, I removed my hand from yours and shrugged off my coat, covering your sleeping form. You immediately melted into the warmth, your shoulders relaxing as a lock of hair fell across your cheek. My fingers hovered above you.

Do I dare?

Taking a breath, I gently moved the errant lock from your cheek without touching your face. You scrunched your nose, muttering softly before settling back into sleep. My hands found their way into my pockets as I gazed at you a moment longer.

“Sleep well, Princess,” I murmured under my breath. I crossed the room to turn your lamp off and then made my way to the door, pausing at the doorframe for one last look over my shoulder before exiting and closing the door quietly behind me.

This was fun! It was nice to slip into old shoes again and write something that I used to do so frequently. I may do more of these! Lemme know if you want to be tagged, should I decide to do more in the future!

Thank you, all! Have a great day!

[theorphicangel]

“𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.”

[ 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

tags: strangers to lovers, roommate au!, best friends brother, fluff, mutual pining, smut, 18+

synopsis: In a desperate search of a new roommate, you have little to no choice but to accept your best friend's / best barista in the world's offer of letting his older brother rent out the room, who just so happens to be conventionally attractive.

You swear nothing will happen between the two of you but one thing eventually leads to another and you find yourself in his bed, leading to an unofficial roommates with benefits situation.

You know deep down it's wrong and you're worried when you start catching feelings...but it's okay because it's only temporary, right?

séries | previous chapter | next chapter

chapter two: two turtle doves (that awkwardly get along)

You were right about not expecting to receive a reply from Gabriel.

You had actually tried to call him a few times, yet it ended up going to voicemail. Your best bet would be that he actually turns up for work today.

On returning back to your apartment last night, you had tried the best you could to remind yourself that you were living in an empty space again. Remembering to not make a meal for two, remembering to switch off the lights, remembering not to turn your head searching for someone to listen to the random thought that had just popped up in your head. It was hard. You couldn’t lie about that.

But with it especially being the holiday season, you can’t help but feel the prickles of loneliness brush up at your skin as you skim through the shows and movies to watch, with all the recommended Christmas romance movies popping up on the home page. Being petty, you turned off the tv and decided to give yourself an early night.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you’ve decided to decorate your apartment this upcoming weekend for Christmas. Due to MJ’s moving you would’ve had it done all up last week, but instead you were focused on helping her pack during her last few days at the apartment.

Checking the time, it’s currently 8:15am and you’re on your way to O’Hara’s. As you stroll down the busy streets of New York city, you can’t help but cross your fingers and pray to the gods above that Gabriel is in for his shift today. You don’t think you could really stand another cup of terrible coffee, no matter how compassionate you’re feeling.

Stepping into O’hara’s, the familiar ding of the bell above the door announces your arrival. Once again, it’s a small queue and you can’t help but notice the familiar cheery tone of the barista which most certainly contrasts the rough, bored voice which you had heard yesterday.

A wave of relief fills your body as you move to the front of the queue, a smile spreading across your lips.

“Buenos días.” Gabriel greets with a smile, “Did ya’ miss me yesterday?”

“Pftttttt of course not.” you murmur. “It’s not like I’d much rather the new barista yesterday who had made the world’s worst cup of coffee word to man– I don’t even know if I can call that a coffee.” you grunt, pulling a disgusted face.

Gabriel lets out a loud laugh as he taps in your regular into the till without even asking you. “You must be talking about my brother, Miguel, m’sorry about that, he was called in as an emergency. We’re low on staff.”

Your face drops at Gabriel’s words. “Your brother?! Oh shit m’sorry—”

Gabriel waves his hand at you, stopping you mid sentence. “Don’t be, we all know he’s shit. Mama couldn’t find a replacement at the last minute so she was desperate.”

“And it was an emergency?” you repeat, crossing your arms as you look him up and down.

“It’s not my fault that I got forcefully dragged to a bar against my own free will!” He exclaims. “It was bottomless Wednesday!”

You hum in response not really believing him. “So that was really your brother then?” Grabiel nods.

At the sounds of footsteps behind him, Gabriel turns his head and then quickly turns back.

“Oh, speaking of the diablo.” He mutters before calling out to his brother. “Oi Miggy, no vas a creer lo que esta chica dijo de ti." [you won’t believe what this girl said about you]

“¿Qué?”

“That you’re shit at making coffee.”

“If you’re gonna continue complaining about me then I’m not coming in to help you next time, Gabi.”

“I’ll tell mama.”

“Uh–huh.” Miguel hums in an unbelieving tone.

Now that you had Miguel standing next to his brother, you could really see their similarities and you almost wanted to kick yourself for not spotting it beforehand. They were almost the spitting image of each other, though Gabi was a little shorter and Miguel seemed to be like a total gym rat in comparison.

Miguel now looks at you, deadpanned as he was the previous day. “I’m sorry about the coffee yesterday—”

“Oh no worries, it was fine.” you lied.

“I mean, it would’ve been better if someone had actually taught me how to use the machines.” Miguel says.

“It’s common sense in my opinion.” Gabi replies hastily.

“Good thing no one asked you for your opinion.”

“Ay, callate.”

“Whatever.” Miguel trails off to the backrooms, tired of the conversation, muttering the excuse that more oat milk is needed.

“Ignore him. He’s a dick but you’ll get used to it once you’re around him more.”

“Is he working here permanently?” you ask, curious about the mysterious older brother, “You never spoke much about him, Gabi.”

“Yeah, well he wasn’t around a lot. He was at university doing his post-graduate degree at Stanford Uni–”

“Stanford?” you practically shout out the word, a few heads turn in the cafe to look at you.

“Hey, keep your voice down.” Gabi warns. “But yeah, yeah, studying genetics or whatever he’s obsessed with at the moment. He’s moved back in with us…in fact that’s what I wanted to tell you—”

“Hold on, hold on, you can’t just move away from the fact that your brother just graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in the country.”

“He got a funding grant–”

“A funding gran–”

“Shhhh!”

You mouth the words, “fucking hell.” to yourself.

“Yep, he’s truly raising the standard for the family.” Gabriel awkwardly chuckles. “It’s weird having him around after being gone for so long but…” Gabriel looks back through the door to the backroom, there’s a sound of things falling and spanish curses which echo from the storage room. “I’m glad he’s back and so is mama, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.”

You hum along, your expression becoming soft. “Just make sure you teach him how to make good coffee now.” Gabriel chuckles loudly at your comment.

You turn your head and scan the cafe. Your eyes widen. Today, it seems will be a good day as your favorite spot in the corner is available today. Making your way over Gabriel doesn’t take long to come over with your drink.

“Anyways chica, I saw your missed calls and—”

“Oh, did you?” You say aloud sarcastically, playfully swatting him on the arm, “And you didn’t think to be bothered to reply to me? After three years of my loyal friendship this is how you repay me?”

“Okay, one: ow!” He pointed a finger at you. “And two: it wasn’t like that. It was bottomless Wednesday and don’t reprimand me because I’ve already had that from my mother and my brother.”

“Serves you right.” you snort.

“As I was saying, if you’d ever let me speak.” he says, still wincing. “I have good news and bad news regarding your roommate situation.”

“Oh…”

“So, what do you want first, the good news or the bad?” Gabriel offers.

You take a sip of your coffee first as you debate.

“The good news first please.”

“I found you a roommate.”

“Really?!” you exclaimed, your face lighting up with excitement. “Are you fucking serious?!”

“As serious as I can be.” Gabriel wincing again as you hit his arm. “You really have to stop doing that to me.”

“Maybe I can forgive you for ignoring me yesterday.“ you mutter to yourself, a smile now tugging at your lips. “So what’s the bad news?” You’d think that after hearing that good news you can barely think how you would even be affected by the bad news now.

Gabriel points back to the counter, where Miguel stands serving another customer. His face is currently in a state of pure confusion, as his fingers aggressively tap at the till.

“That’s your new roommate.”

Your face dropped as Gabriel’s words sunk in.

“Are you–”

“Serious? Yes, yes I am.” He exhales. “But look, he really needs someone to cheer him up.” You raise a brow at his sentence.

“Listen, but you didn’t hear this from me so this stays between us, okay?” Gabriel held out his pinky finger in front of you.

“Okay.” your promise, not hesitating to join your own pinky finger with his. Gabriel twists a little, as if to seal the promise for definite.

“He wasn’t really meant to come back at all, not even for the Christmas period. It was just random. His roommate back in California moved out and he had no choice but to move back with us because the rent is so skyhigh over there— but anyways, his girlfriend also broke up with him and he never really said why but I just think she can’t be bothered going long distance. Buttttt to be honest who would? Miggy is so boring over text, like I don’t even think he can understand the meaning of emojis–”

“Wait, so he needs a place to stay?” You interrupt, your brain trying to process all this information.

Gabriel nods, “And for someone to cheer him up!” he adds. “Pleaseeeeee, you’d be doing a really big favor for me, it’s so awkward between him and my mom, they’ve barely spoken since he’s moved back in. In fact since he left for uni I’m not even sure that they spoke at all. But please get this tension away from me.”

“What makes you think that I’ll be able to cheer him up?”

Just from looking at him you could already tell that he's a grinch. Totally miserable. A total opposite to what you had with MJ.

“Because you’re you andddd it’s only temporary. That’s another piece of good news actually. By New Year's he’ll probably find a place of his own.”

You wince as you repeat the word. “Temporary.” Another roommate who’s ready to leave before even signing the lease.

“I know that he’s not the ideal roommate but it’s just something for now whilst you look for someone a little bit more permanent.”

You hum at him in agreement. It does take the stress of your back for now….what’s the worst that could happen?

“Por favor, ¿para mí, mi dulce mujer?” Gabriel pulls the one trick move that you can’t resist.

[please, for me, my sweet woman]

The puppy dog eyes.

You let out a sigh as he stares at you, curling his bottom lip which makes you roll your eyes even more.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

/

“Do you want help with that?”

You wince at Miguel carrying four large boxes in one hand. You can’t see his face, his large veiny hands gripping the bottom stack of the boxes.

“No, gracias.” he mumbles, managing to lug them all to his room without a struggle. You knew he was a…big guy, but you still felt uncomfortable at his refusal for your help. Miguel left you no choice but to stand in the corner awkwardly as you watched him make multiple journeys to and fro the apartment.

It had all happened so quickly. Once you had agreed to let him move in, Miguel agreed to sign the contract the next day, albeit it was only for one month. At least that gives you more time to look for a future tenant for next year.

Once he was all moved in, you both awkwardly waited for one another to speak. Thankfully, he began first.

“I guess I’ll go…tidy up my stuff.”

You nod apprehensively. “Right. Uhhh, dinner's at six if you want it.” Miguel nods along too, not adding anything more to the conversation and disappearing into his room.

At six, he didn’t emerge. You knocked on his door as a reminder and a muffled voice replied indicating that he was busy.

You know you shouldn’t take it personally, but it was hard to ignore the feeling of loneliness that surrounded you despite having a new roommate. You let out a deep exhale as you ate at the kitchen table alone.

This was going to be one long Christmas.

taglist: lmk if you would like to be tagged!

@nakimushiohime @keidilla

[callmerhynner]

Wanna switch?

synopsis: A wish a psychic has chanted all his life gets granted, by a witch that just wants more answers. Regret seeps, but will something else too?

tags: bad elden german, witch!fem!reader, maybe ooc Kusuo, story building (if you squint), no idea tbh, slice of life (maybe?)

"Saiki, good timing buddy!" a purple-haired medium exclaims, seeing his friend, greeting with a up-high wave and a bright-lit smile.

"Nevermind" the psychic merely replies, turning his heels and walking away. The purple haired male doesn't take the hint, however, and wraps his arm around his shoulders and pulls him closer. He waves a letter at his face and start talking about how a pretty girl had finally become friends with him--he expects it to go farther, though.

Saiki looks at the letter he's waving begrudgingly, thinking of ways he could get away with killing the fool that was on his hunt for the coffee jelly he had seen in so many advertisements.

"It's not even addressed to you." he says. Toritsuka lets out a cartoon-ish shocked face and sighs in defeat. As the medium drops to his knees, the boy takes the letter in curiosity.

He regrets being curious more than he regrets taking that letter's offer.

Now, he was sat on the floor carpet, you continue meditating and keeping yourself reserved, though that wasn't going as good as you'd hoped seeing as a certain pink-haired psychic was watching you. You continue to keep humming, trying to block out the stare you could feel through your skin. After one more try, you let out an annoyed grunt and sent a glare at the boy.

"What do you want?" you say, brows furrowed.

"Don't get so pissed off at me, you're the one that invited me." he replies, pointing out your past conversation.

“I’m gonna kill that idiot.” you sigh, pinching off the candles’ wicks that circled you and standing yourself up. “I’m guessing your servant told you about my offer?”

"He's nowhere related with me." the psychic replies with the same monotone voice that piqued your curiosity

You stand in front of him, head tilted in thought as you measured him up and down. He stood quiet, surely reading your mind as you estimated his every noticeable detail.

"I'm guessing you already know why I invited you over?" You hum, walking past him and going over to your study desk, looking for something, by the looks of it.

"He mentioned." He says bluntly, with how fuzzy your mind was getting. He has been reading through your thoughts but it sounds as if it was broadcasted on a broken radio. If you didn't look so decent and well taken care of, the psychic would question if you had been drinking.

"I know you're psychic and all, and that--ugh, where is it." you groan, looking through each drawer and corner of the desk. "--and that you're probably hearing very thought in me right now."

"I do warn 'ya, not many can even understand this broken head I got up here." you chuckle lightly, knocking on the top of you skull before continuing to look for whatever it was you were looking for. "From what people like you tell me, my head sounds like a wounded doll or some 60s voicebox."

"What do you mean 'people like me'?" The pink-haired boy questions, eyebrows furrowed down.

"Did I say that? I don't remember." You just turn to face him with an innocent smile and a shrug. Turning your back again.

"Are there other psychics?" he sounded a lot more emoted when the topic was mentioned. He trued harder and harder to read through your thoughts, to no avail.

"I'll tell you about that later, for now... Aha! There you are, little prick." You exclaim, raising a large old-looking book with a gilded lock guarding it. "This will answer both of our questions..." you smile with a dark air surrounding you.

"If you're willing, of course." you add, looking up at the man in front of you. You let a hand out for him to grab, reluctantly he does. Your eyes squint as your smile grows bigger in excitement.

You open the book with a key you had tied to your necklace and skim through pages and pages until you see your desired spell. As if by magic, the candles were lit up once more, you and the psychic inside the lit circle back-to-back. You raise your arm as something resembling static buzzes around it, eyes going pale, you chant an ancient text from the book.

"In tiefen Schatten, weben Flüstern,

Tauschen wir Formen, unsere Seelen zu bewahren."

The room starts to fume and fog begins to puff in from the static's heat. The room's walls are barely seen with how thick the air is, from the posters to even the doorknob, nothing is noticeable. It's a wonder what your parents must think when about when you're up to these gimmicks.

"Dankbarkeit gelernt, in neuer Fleischlichkeit,

Lehre gegeben, für dich und mich."

You chant before the smoke begins to collect and wrap around each of your bodies, the pressure is tolerable yet uncomfortably tight. The psychic begins to cough when the clouds around his necks tighten and smoke chain begins to wrap his wrist linked to yours. He feels his feet lift, this was crazier than what he could have ever imagined.

'How powerful is this witch?!' he yells to himself as you both spin around. He shuts his eyes, wishing the worst on every soul he could think of that led him to this decision. And before he knew it, he was back on the floor, laid down on the hard wood floor. He skimmed the room, nothing.

It was as if nothing had happened, there were not smoke nor any traces of the witch's doing. He stood up, thinking he may have been pranked since nothing felt different, who was he kidding? A witch that could take away his powers? He should've never hoped anything to come of it.

He stood up, he expected the chatter of people's thoughts to clamor him as they usually did, when he heard nothing, his finger fiddled with his other hand to check his germanium ring.

"Huh..?" the air stood quiet, he stood still and the room was suddenly colder than the Antarctic. 'Where is it?'

The ring rolled in front of him, in shock, he looked up seeing a girl that looked his age stood above him. You just tilted your head down at him, smirking with a glint in your eye.

"You plan on laying there til the sun goes down or what?" you hum, lending a hand out for him to grab. He lifts himself up without your help and looks around the room once more.

"How does being average feel?" you ask, prompting yourself to sit on your chair.

"What did you do?" he says, but without his psychic abilities, there would be no way for you to even understand him further than that glare he was putting out.

"Hm?" you sound out, clearly confused before getting the hint that he still remains in denial of his powers no longer with him. "I can't read your thoughts, nor can you make me understand yours."

"What?" he still doesn't seem to get it.

"Talk." you simply put. "Talk with your mouth, you can't talk to me telepathically anymore." You pioint at your lips as you speak, his eyes bulge out before he finally opens his mouth.

"What did you do to me?" he asks, incriminatingly, even with his feet positioned as if he was ready to throw down a fight.

"Your wish, was it not?" you say, tone stating as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You're no longer a psychic, just a simple, average, and mostly un-unique boy from a small city school."

"Aren't you happy, Saiki?" you say, the smile in your face soon showing in your voice.

to be continued...

Part 2