#it make my voice more relaxed and slow lmao

[chaosmiester]

are you an indica or sativa typa dood?

I prfer indica, well I think that's the right one. Don't quote me on that.

[joelscruff]

feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART TEN

masterlist | kofi | notifs | *spongebob narrator voice* 4 months later. well, i'm not gonna bore you all with excuses, god knows most of you have heard what's been goin' on with me at this point lmao. but yall have been so patient and lovely and i really really appreciate it. i hope you enjoy this chapter; it's a little bit of bliss before things get... interesting. there's still more to come (about four chapters or so) and i'll try to update much sooner next time but please remember i'm only one person & i write this for fun (and for free) in my spare time!!! ik it can be frustrating when there are long periods between updates but i'm trying my best, please know that. k love u bye 💕 chapter summary: you & joel enjoy your little weekend getaway, far from the prying eyes and ears of your parents. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: age gap (reader is early 20s, joel is mid 50s), unprotected p in v sex, creampies, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink (joel has a big dick), tummy bulge, deepthroating (or...attempted deepthroating), cum swallowing, fingering, pussy kisses, ridiculous amounts of fluff, namedropping one of my fav songs of all time because i can, the tiniest mention of sexual assault (aka noah) word count: 12.9k ao3

You think you might finally understand what it means to experience happiness.

Not the feelings you've faked for most of your life, not the plastered-on smiles and faux giggles, autopilot prayers and forced gratitude. No - real happiness. That tingling sensation of nothing but pure bliss, safety, love, and peace, something that's felt far out of your reach for most of your life. It swells in your chest, makes a home in your heart as you nuzzle into fluffy pillows, warm bedsheets, and feel yourself drift in and out of consciousness, completely and utterly relaxed. Happy, you can't help but think to yourself, I'm so happy.

You're aware of Joel's presence, fading in and out here and there as he wipes a damp cloth between your legs, across your stomach, down your thighs - taking care of you, making sure you're comfortable. Afterward he cuddles in behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, buries his face in the back of your neck and inhales deeply; you wonder if he's feeling the exact same way you are right now - god, you hope he is.

"That felt so good," you murmur to him softly, eyes still closed, "Felt so good, Joel."

He kisses your neck, holds you tighter in his embrace, "I know, babygirl."

"Can still feel you inside me," you breathe, "It's like you're still there."

He chuckles softly, "Not to burst your bubble but that's probably cum. Couldn't get all of it with the cloth." The words that should be dirty - should seem shameful - do nothing but send a warm tingle down your spine, a sleepy smile to your face. You know he's right - you can still feel something warm deep inside you, a slow trickle making its way to your opening, but there's something else. You're still pulsing every so often around the phantom of a shape, an echo of what was still there only a few moments ago.

"It's not just that," you shuffle in the sheets, nuzzling your face further into the pillow, "it's like... like you're still in there, spreading me open."

He groans and his grip around you tightens, fingertips pressing into the malleable softness of your belly. He leans down to press a small kiss to your ear, "Can't just say stuff like that, angel. Gonna get me hard again." You shiver.

"Good," you whisper, "'Cause I want you to do it again."

His legs tangle with yours under the sheets as he pulls you in, scruff nuzzling against the bare skin of your shoulder, "We'll wait a little bit," he murmurs, "You're gonna start feelin' a little sore soon, if you don't already."

"I don't," you breathe, and you mean it. "Doesn't hurt at all, really. It... it didn't hurt. I always thought it would hurt."

You can almost feel his frown against your skin, "S'not supposed to hurt," he murmurs, "Woulda stopped if you'd been in any pain."

You smile, "I know you would've."

He hums into your hair, strokes his hand down along your arm, "S'good," he mumbles, and you're suddenly aware of the heaviness in his voice, the way his lips wrap lazily around the words.

"Are you sleepy?" you ask softly.

"Yeah, baby," he breathes, "M'sleepy."

You smile at the adorable admission, then lean back into his embrace and settle in. The sun is starting to go down, casting the room in long orange and blue shadows, warm and comforting. Your eyes close again and you focus on that blissful feeling, on the weight of Joel's naked body behind you holding you close, the sound of his breathing, his smell. On the fact that you've never felt more safe in your entire life.

"I'm so glad it was you," you whisper, and you don't mind if he's already fallen asleep.

--

You're not sure how long you both nap, but you wake up soon after to a completely dark hotel room, save for the flickering lights from the traffic below and the warm glow of the buildings outside the window. Your eyes flutter for a few seconds as your brain reconnects you to the present, and you're suddenly very aware of a dull ache in your groin, an unpleasant throb that hadn't been there earlier.

"Ow," you mumble incoherently, reaching blindly for the blankets and pulling them back to peer down at yourself, but the room is so dark that it's difficult to see anything properly, "Ow."

"S'wrong?" you hear Joel mumble beside you, stirring from his own slumber.

You wince in embarrassment, shaking your head, "It's nothing, go back to sleep."

"Y'said 'ow'," you feel him sit up and reach over to turn on the lamp, "You okay?"

As soon as the lamplight floods the room your eyes cast downward, half expecting to see some medical emergency, some horrific reason for the vacation to end early, to ruin everything before it's barely even started - but thankfully it's none of those things. You're just a little swollen - puffier than usual - and aching, but not in a good way. You bring your hand down and cup yourself gently, hissing a bit when your fingers brush against your opening; it feels almost like a bruise.

"Oh, honey," Joel murmurs, and you turn your head to see his brows furrowing in concern, "Y'sore?"

You wince, biting your lip, "Um, a little."

He frowns and pulls his own side of the blankets back, and you can't help the warmth that floods your cheeks when you see his exposed body; the dark hair wisping across his tan skin, his soft belly and strong thighs - and his cock, soft and heavy and impossible not to look at. You've seen him naked several times at this point but every time still somehow feels like the first, like it's brand new. You watch as he crawls downward and gently places his hand on top of yours.

"Lemme see," he murmurs softly, and you allow him to pull your hand back, exposing your sore pussy to him. His brow furrows, "Aw baby, you're all swollen."

"Is that normal?"

He nods, eyes still trailing up and down, "It's normal," he assures you, "It's probably worse 'cause - well," he smiles sheepishly, peering up at you.

"'Cause you're so big," you finish for him, your own lips turning up into a smirk, and he chuckles.

"Yeah, that." You watch as he brings his hands down and very carefully thumbs your outer lips, pulls them apart to assess what's inside. He groans, and you're about to ask what's wrong when you see a thin stream of his cum dribble out onto the sheets below.

"Fuck," you both whisper at the same time, and when your eyes meet you can see that his are suddenly dark, glassy. You feel yourself begin to throb beneath his touch.

"Still full o'me," he murmurs, eyes trailing back down to where you're dripping, "Messy girl."

Your own eyes go hooded as you watch him lean down and press a small kiss to your clit; your hips buck up, a whimper slipping past your lips as his whiskers prickle deliciously against your sensitive skin. He smiles against you, kisses your clit again and darts his tongue out to taste, just for a moment. You whine.

"I know what you need, babygirl" he whispers, nosing your mound and closing his eyes, "I know what'll help."

Your mind races with possibilities. "Wh-what?"

He suddenly pulls back, crooked smile lighting up his beautiful face, "A bath. It'll help with the soreness." Oh. He presses another kiss to your clit, "If I can bring myself to stop kissin' this perfect pussy."

You giggle softly and he opens his eyes to look up at you again, smiling tenderly. He reluctantly pulls himself off you and climbs off the bed, reaching down to grab his discarded underwear from the floor. "I'll start runnin' the water," he tells you softly, pulling them on and taking a step forward to brush your hair out of your face, "You just relax, sweet girl. Don't move a muscle."

The bath is warm and inviting, lit candles lining the counter and floor and dousing the room in a warm glow; it's hard to believe only a few hours earlier you were on the verge of a panic attack on these very tiles. Now you lean back against the cool rim of the claw foot tub, eyes closed as you submerge yourself in the hot water. There's no panic or anxiety in your body anymore, just warmth and comfort and the welcome ache in your groin, the smell of vanilla in your nose.

"Good temp?" Joel asks softly nearby, and you hear his hand breach the surface of the water, testing the heat. You smile.

"Perfect," you breathe, eyes still closed, "Thank you."

His hand brushes lightly against yours under the water and he squeezes it gently, then murmurs, "I'll give you some privacy."

Your eyes snap open, "No," you cradle his hand in both of yours as your brows furrow, "Stay."

A smile breaks across his face, charming and boyish as he seats himself down next to the bathtub with barely any hesitation, like he'd been hoping you'd say that. He keeps hold of your hand beneath the water and tilts his face toward yours - you press your forehead against his and breathe a long sigh of relief.

"Feelin' okay?" he murmurs, "Emotionally?"

You nod, sighing contentedly, "More than okay," you whisper, "I... I still can't believe it actually happened." Your lips twitch upward and you press a soft kiss to his cheek, closing your eyes, "Thank you."

He squeezes your hand again beneath the water before pulling out and bringing it upwards to cradle your face, tilting your head to look at him. His eyes are still a bit sleepy, hair sticking up in all directions and that beautiful smile still lighting up his face as he thumbs your cheek.

"I should be thankin' you," he breathes, "For trustin' me like that, bein' so vulnerable with me." He leans in to kiss you tenderly, but his words send a sudden flutter of insecurity through your body and you pull back to look at him again, unsure.

"Was I... was I good at it?" you ask quietly, "Did I do okay?"

"Oh, angel," he murmurs, bringing his other hand up to cup both your cheeks and brush his nose gently against yours, "You did so good. So, so, so good."

He ends up washing your hair, a small but significant gesture that makes the feelings from earlier bubble up again, the warm fondness and tenderness and love. You lean back in the tub, eyes closed, lost in the sensations of his big hands deftly applying the shampoo and conditioner, massaging it into your scalp and making your eyes roll back. It's ridiculous how even this makes you throb beneath the surface, the ache dissipating a bit in the hot water. So much so that when he caps the conditioner and rinses your hair once again, you reach up to take his hand and squeeze, eyes still shut.

"Touch me," you whisper, voice already desperate, "Please."

He doesn't need any convincing, inching toward the side of the tub and reaching inside to cup your pussy in his big hand again, softly rubbing your clit. You whimper and tremble, gripping the edge of the tub for support and whining when he speeds up, circling and rubbing it exactly how you like it.

"Poor little pussy," you hear him murmur, "Just needs some relief after gettin' fucked like that, doesn't she baby?"

"Mmhmm," you manage to hum, squeezing the sides of the tub and nodding furiously, "Y-yeah."

"Took so much cock in this little hole," he whispers, and that's enough to send you over the edge, eyes snapping open as you shake and shiver in the hot water. You see him sitting there, smiling at you with a devious glint in his eyes. He knows exactly the effect he has on you.

--

"What do we do now?" you ask him softly from the couch a little while later, carefully scrunching a towel in your hair and watching as he changes the bedsheets upon your request - you'd felt a bit embarrassed asking, but you'd really rather not sleep in a wet spot. He'd been more than gracious in honoring your request.

It's late, but the nap and the bath have left you feeling wide awake, and you have to admit that you're feeling a bit hungry too despite the full meal earlier. Does sex make you hungry? You file it as a question to ask Tasha.

"Whatever you wanna do, darlin'," he says with a smile, turning down the sheets and gesturing for you to join him in bed again, "C'mere."

You give your hair one last squeeze and pad over to the bed, clad in Joel's Grateful Dead shirt from earlier today. You don't care in the slightest that it's not necessarily the cleanest article of clothing to be wearing after a bath - it smells like him, feels like him. You just can't get enough of him.

Insatiable.

You both climb back into bed and he pulls you in immediately, tugging you close and wrapping his big arms around you. You lean back into him and feel yourself grinning without even really thinking about it, eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of his chest moving back and forth against your back with every breath.

"Always look so pretty in my shirts, babygirl," he whispers in your ear, and it sends tingles down your spine, a rush of warmth to your heart. He kisses you gently and you listen as he inhales deeply, nose buried in your damp hair. His hand travels downward and you both watch as he cups your pussy yet again, warm and soft.

"Feelin' a little better?" he asks quietly, thumb trailing gently up and down your outer lips, "Still sore?"

"Better," you reassure him gently - and you mean it; the warm water did help to ease the ache.

He hums and continues to trace your soft lips, nosing your ear and breathing deeply again, and fuck, you could get used to this. This casual intimacy, being touched without any expectations, any fear or anxiety. Feeling safe and wanted and cared for in his embrace, no worrying about getting home early, no time limit looming. Just you and him.

I love you, you want to whisper.

Your stomach growls.

He removes his hand almost immediately. "Room service," he says with a chuckle, and your eyes snap open again as he reaches over and grabs the menu on the nightstand, placing it in front of you both, "Pick your poison."

Your eyes are drawn almost immediately to the dessert section, followed by a short wave of guilt. You're craving something sweet, but you can't help but think back to being a kid again, asking for treats and being denied, feeling as if your desires were unimportant, childish, silly.

But no, you're not that scared kid anymore. You're not. You won't be.

You bite your lip, "You know what I could really go for right now?"

"What?"

"It's silly, but-"

"It ain't silly, babygirl," he murmurs, and his big hand travels down to squeeze your thigh gently, a comforting gesture, "Whatever it is, it ain't silly."

Less than a minute later he's on the phone with room service, ordering you a hot fudge sundae.

You spend the rest of the night nestled in the warmth of your hotel bed, flicking between channels, legs tangled together beneath the sheets as you take turns scooping heaping spoons of ice cream back and forth. Your mouth and fingertips are sticky, chocolate lining your lips, dribbles of melted vanilla dolloped on your chin which Joel wastes no time in delicately lapping up with his tongue.

"God, you're so fuckin' sweet," he whispers to you, kisses you softly, darts his tongue out to taste again. You hum against his lips and try to keep your emotions at bay; he tastes like chocolate and vanilla and safety.

--

Waking up is different with the morning sun shining brightly through the hotel windows, but that's not the only thing that's different; you notice as your eyes flutter open that the ache in your groin is gone, replaced by a growing hunger and arousal in the pit of your stomach.

Oh, wow.

Joel's arms are around you, wrapped strong and solid, and when you turn within them and see him sleeping next to you, the hunger only grows. God, he's so handsome like this - the grey in his hair sparkling in the early light, jaw soft and lax with sleep, cheeks flushed. Almost angelic in his own way, gentle and peaceful.

Until his eyelashes begin to flutter delicately against the streams of sunlight, brow furrowing in sleepy confusion at your sudden movement; he's awake.

The desire in your belly burns.

"You look so cute," you whisper without even really thinking about it, and his eyelashes halt their fluttering to give you another look of confusion.

"Cute's not exactly a word I'd use to describe myself," he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, "S'all you."

"Well, I would," you reply with a smile, watching as he closes his eyes again and nestles his face into the pillow. You reach forward to gently thumb one of the lines at the corner of his mouth, deep-set and soft beneath your touch. His eyelids twitch but he doesn't open them, "You're so soft too," you admit quietly.

"Again," he breathes, lips turning up slightly into a sleepy smile, "Not a word I'd use."

"Cute and soft," you repeat, thumb moving downward to trace the shape of his bottom lip, "And mine."

He chuckles under his breath, face smooshing a little more into the pillow, "M'yours," he murmurs, "all yours."

All yours.

You lean in even closer and inhale deeply, nose trailing up and down along his temple. Your eyes almost roll back at the scent of him, the masculine and heady aroma of his sweat alighting your senses. You're wide awake now, pussy throbbing somewhere below as you press a kiss to the apple of his cheek, tongue darting out to taste his skin.

His eyes open halfway, eyebrow raising as he sleepily watches you work your mouth up and down the side of his face, breath coming quicker and more frantic as your legs wind around him under the sheets. Obliging your desperation, his big arms tighten around you and he rolls the both of you, allowing you to settle on top of his large, warm body.

You stare down at him, hunger clear in your eyes.

"You were inside me," you whisper.

His mouth turns up at the corners, "I was."

"It felt really good."

"It did."

You lean your face down to trace your nose along his cheekbone again, eyes hooded, voice needy.

"I want you to be inside me again."

He peers up at you, sleepiness already fading from his expression as he watches yours with mirrored desire, "Yeah? You want me to be inside you right now?"

You nod, "Yes, please."

"Then turn over on your side, angel."

A little confused but certainly not opposed, you do as he says, rolling back over onto your side and resting your head softly against your pillow. You feel his hand dip downwards beneath the sheets, then his fingertips glide smoothly along your abdomen. Your heart hammers in your chest when he lifts up your - or rather, his - shirt and thumbs your tummy gently.

"Are y'still sore?" he murmurs, "How d'you feel?"

"M'wet, Joel," you whimper, grinding back against the blankets and trying to feel him, "M'really wet."

"Lemme feel," he breathes, hand trailing downward even further. His fingers dip into your soft, soaked centre and a low groan rumbles in his throat, "Oh babygirl, so wet for me."

"Put it in," you whimper, not caring how pathetic and needy you probably sound, "Please, Joel, put it in me again."

"Christ," you hear him mutter, arousal burning in his voice, "Okay baby, hold still, I'll put it in. I'll make you feel better."

Seconds later you feel the heat of his tip crowding the space at your entrance, already wet and sticky. A soft moan falls from your throat at the sensation, eyes closing as you feel Joel's hand cup your leg and pull it upwards, holding you open. He hooks it in the crook of his arm, shuffling forward a bit and pushing the head of his cock inside your heat.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, head falling backwards. You feel his nose in your hair again, feel the stretch of your pussy and the widening of your thighs as he pulls your leg up even more.

"Yeah, there you go," he murmurs, pushing inside further. He goes slow, takes his time, until he's fully sheathed inside of you and your eyes are rolling back on their own accord, quiet whimpers tumbling past your lips. "Yeah, look at you takin' that cock."

As if by muscle memory your hand reaches downwards to cup the protruding shape of him at the bottom of your tummy, a low whine in your throat. He's so big inside you, nestled perfectly within the deepest parts of your body just like he'd been last night, large and warm.

"Feels so good," you manage to gasp out, other hand clenching into a fist against your pillow, "So good, so good." It's almost a mantra, voice breathless as you squish your face against the cotton and push back almost lazily against him, his balls settling heavy and warm at the base of your ass. You can feel every twitch of his shaft, the way the tip pulses against that special spot within.

"Yeah, you like bein' full like that, don't you baby?" he murmurs, "Don't even need me to move, do you? Just like feelin' it in there, huh?"

And you almost hate how right he is, how just the sensation of being so full of him already has you on the edge of an orgasm without any stimulation. Because you want more, you want what he gave you last night, want him to fuck you even firmer, deeper, without holding back. You want it to last hours.

But you know it's too much before he even starts to move, that familiar ache in your groin returning as your walls constrict around the long shape of him. He pulls out slowly, takes his time, pushes back in at a snail's pace. You feel a tickling sensation against your clit, his pubic hair pressing deliciously against the wet skin as he fills you - and without any warning, you start to come.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you cry out into the sunlit hotel room, trembling in his arms, legs shaking. You can tell in his body language behind you that he's taken aback by your sudden release, hand suddenly dropping from your calf so he can palm your sternum and pull you against him.

"Oh, honey," he groans, simultaneously tender and aroused, "Are you comin', baby? You comin' just from bein' stuffed full like that?"

"Yes," you grit out, voice a high keen as your body shakes and your release stretches out before the both of you in quick spasms, "Yes, I'm sorry."

"Nonono, no sorries," his voice is honey in your ear, fingertips grazing your nipples as he lays his palm flat against your chest, "You're a good girl, angel. You're such a good girl."

You continue to spasm on his cock, legs quivering and pathetic whines tearing from your throat until your orgasm has passed and you're just leaning back into his embrace, eyes closed. You breathe deeply, lashes fluttering when he noses your jaw and presses a soft kiss to the space beneath.

"S'alot for you," he murmurs, "I know it's a lot, babygirl. Don't ever gotta apologize for comin' too fast, not to me."

You hum softly, still extremely aware of his girthy size stretching you out somewhere below. Your eyes open and you peer downwards, brows scrunching in wonder and pleasure when you see where you're joined, where his flesh meets yours. You really are full, the base of his cock barely visible beneath your folds, the pubic hair that had caused your early release still pressed against your outer lips.

"How does it even fit?" you ask softly, almost by accident, but he just chuckles.

"The human body is a hell of a thing," he murmurs, kissing your cheek and pulling you in even closer, shuffling you on his dick just a little bit and making you wince a bit with oversensitivity, "You want me to pull out?"

"No," you shake your head and readjust yourself in his embrace, taking a breath, "No, I want you to keep going."

"Y'sure?"

"I'm sure."

He doesn't need telling twice. Within seconds he's resumed his slow and careful thrusts, almost rhythmic in their presses and pulls, filling you and emptying you in melodic succession. You reach down and take his big hand in yours, squeeze his fingers and let him fuck you like he had last night - tender, soft, comfortable. It almost doesn't feel real; how are you in a hotel room in another city, wrapped up in bed with a man three times your age, his cock buried to the hilt inside your body while you whimper and twitch in his arms? How did you get here?

"Y'know, women are a bit different than men in the orgasm department," Joel says gently behind you, stroking your hand with his thumb, "You might be able to come again if we try."

Your eyebrows go up, "Really?"

"Mmhmm," his hand slips from yours and he reaches it downward to carefully prod one of his fingers against your sensitive clit. You buck in his arms but don't protest, watching as he temporarily halts his slow thrusts to rub you softly. Your eyes go hooded, body melting like jelly in his arms as his his thick fingers slowly begin to work against the already swollen bud.

"Feel good?" he whispers.

"Yes."

He continues his careful circling, presses a kiss to your shoulder and resumes fucking into you. The sounds are pornographic in nature, surrounding your senses and filling the room with the low slap of his hips against your ass and the wet squelch of your juices dripping down his palm. But it somehow doesn't feel dirty or shameful - in fact, it's hard to imagine anything that feels more right than this.

"Joel," you breathe shakily, face twisting against the pillow again, heart pounding.

"I know, feels good doesn't it, babygirl?" he noses your skin and breathes you in, hooks your leg under his arm a bit more and groans softly, "God, you're so fuckin' tight. Such a tight fuckin' pussy."

It's your pussy, you want to breathe, it's yours. I'm yours. But you can barely get any words out as his thrusts pick up speed, as the sounds get louder and his fingers against your clit become firmer in their movements. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge again, the fire in your belly burning hotter than ever as you let him crowd your space as much as possible, let his body push yours further and further until your eyes are rolling back and all you can feel is the steady thrust of his big cock and the girth of his fingers against your pussy.

"I'm coming," you moan out weakly, "M'coming again, Joel."

You don't hear what he says in response, ears muffled as if you're underwater, pleasure spreading throughout your body and hitting you at full force like a hurricane as he fucks you through it. You're barely aware of the sounds you're making, high pitched and almost feral as his hips slap against yours a few more times. And then you feel it, the hot pulses of his cum painting your insides, filling you up as his cock spasms and twitches deep inside.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, voice thick with pleasure and sleep as he buries his face in your hair, hips stuttering, "Fuck. Take it, there you go."

Yeah, you could get used to this.

--

You'd been pretty sure you wouldn't leave the hotel room this weekend, just like you'd told him a few days prior. The thought of staying wrapped up in bedsheets, warm bodies pressed up against each other, sharing soft kisses and quiet whispers and tender looks...it'd be more than enough for an enjoyable getaway.

But it's hot, way hotter than you'd anticipated before arriving - and the pool is calling your name.

Or maybe something else is calling your name.

You stand in the bathroom and stare at your bikini clad form, a smile curving your lips as you assess the thin straps and baby pink frills. To think you'd tried to return this to Joel, briefly refused to wear it. Now you're about to don it in front of a hotel pool full of people like a normal woman, like someone without shame, without guilt, without a mother who'd skin her alive if she saw her wearing it.

Your smile falters.

You'd texted your mother after getting out of bed, apologized once again for missing her calls last night and told her you had a "busy" day at the festival ahead of you, that you'd let her know when you leave tomorrow. All she'd said in response was Ok.

You'd climbed back into bed defeatedly, finding a home against Joel's naked form, "She's mad at me," you'd murmured softly against his bare chest, squished into his side with his heartbeat thrumming in your ear.

"Don't think about her right now," he'd whispered, carding his fingers gently through your hair, "Think about this. How this feels."

He'd peered at you so softly, so full of warmth and affection. Those three words had been on the tip of your tongue again, so close to tumbling past your swollen lips - but you'd held it in.

It hadn't stopped you from texting Tasha though:

we had sex and i love him.

UM!! UMMM!!!! DETAILS????

monday!!! i'll call you

🫡 ok slut just leave me hangin i see how it is. AT LEAST TELL ME HE LIKED THE LINGERIE.

oh he liked it :)

queen shit

"Hi, pretty girl," Joel's voice says suddenly, and you're snapped from your reflection in the mirror to find him leaning against the doorway, clad in a pair of swim trunks and a Bob Dylan t-shirt, "Look at you."

You pose a little bit, hand on your hip, "Think the pool boys will like it?"

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, "I don't doubt it, but they might have some competition." He holds out his hand for you and you take it, stepping forward to let him pull you in close.

"They couldn't hold a candle to you," you whisper honestly, and he kisses your forehead with a smile, thumbing the corner of your mouth.

"Wait 'til you see my breaststroke, that'll really get you goin'."

You snort and slap his arm playfully, "Lead the way, pool boy."

--

Joel may have just been teasing about his swimming ability, but he certainly hadn't been wrong about it getting you going. You watch from the comfort of a lounge chair as he whips back and forth across the broad expanse of the hotel pool like a bullet, kicking off from end to end without much effort at all. His arms are strong and lean, body fast and nimble as the water splashes around his broad form. Every so often his face peeks up from the water and you catch a glimpse of his drenched scruff, the way the greying locks of his hair curl down his forehead into his eyes. God, he's fucking gorgeous.

You're laid out in your bikini just watching, letting him expel some energy before you join him. He'd told you he likes swimming but doesn't get to do it as much as he'd like, what with his work responsibilities. You wonder if he'd ever want to swim in your parent's pool...

You shake the thought away as soon as you think of it. There's no feasible way that could work, no option that wouldn't involve an obscene amount of risk. But still... the thought of watching him from the comfort of your own backyard, just completely alone without any bystanders or hotel guests...

"You gonna join me or what?" Joel suddenly calls from the water, and you blink the thoughts away and throw him a grin. He wades near the shallow end, arms coming up to lean against the concrete edge as he peers at you. "Don't keep me waitin', baby."

You feel your cheeks warm, unable to help but glance back and forth to see if anyone is watching, listening. Everyone else seems to be minding their own business, lost in their own conversations, their own fun. Nobody cares that you're here with him. Nobody cares what you're wearing.

Slipping from the lounge chair, you totter over to the edge where Joel resides and slowly sink down onto the concrete, kicking your legs over the side to seat yourself in front of him.

"God, these legs," he almost groans, immediately taking one in his hands and massaging your calf, your knee, your thigh, "Look at you."

"Stop acting like you haven't seen me naked," you tease, though you still feel a bit shy underneath his gaze as he moves his attention to your other leg.

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna stop admirin' this body," he seems lost in his own movements as he caresses the space behind your knee, "You're so god damn beautiful." His hands suddenly wrap around your waist and without much warning he's carefully pulling you down into the water, moving you in close. On instinct your arms come up to wrap around his neck.

"How the hell am I here with you right now, huh?" he murmurs, leaning down to brush his nose gently against yours, "How're you even real?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you reply a little breathlessly, "I've been asking myself that since we got here."

He slowly turns your bodies in the water, peering down into your eyes like you're the only people here - and you might as well be. You're unable to stop yourself from leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, from letting your tongue dart out to gently explore his mouth; he tastes like toothpaste and chlorine.

"Y'gonna swim with me?" he asks after you've pulled away, pupils blown a bit wider, "Gonna put that little swimsuit to good use?"

"I think I'm putting it to good use right now," you breathe, inching closer so your breasts are pushing against his chest. You're genuinely surprising yourself at your own boldness, especially in such a crowded place - it's almost like you're a different person here, the person you're supposed to be, confidence coursing through your veins. You stand on your tiptoes beneath the water, bringing one of your legs up to wind around his waist.

"Hmm," he hums, and his face is still dripping with water, the wrinkles in his skin peppered with little droplets that make you crazy, "You do have a point there, darlin'."

You lean in again to kiss him, feel a burst of pride in your chest when you see the sudden hunger and arousal in his expression. Just before your lips touch however, you pull back from him and throw yourself into the water, turning back to toss him a cheeky grin.

"Gotta catch me first," you giggle, then speed off in the opposite direction, leaving him standing there with a look of surprise etched on his face - followed quickly by a look of determination.

"Oh, I will," he practically growls, diving into the water in the same manner and reaching out to grab your ankle.

Time passes quickly in the pool, Joel chasing you back and forth, catching you time and time again until you're a giggling mess with tears streaming down your face and his fingers pinching your sides. You can't remember the last time you had this much fun, felt so free and light. You suppose your night out with Tasha had been a fun experience for the most part, until you remember the vague feeling of an unfamiliar body pressed against you from behind and the smell of alcohol crowding your senses on the dance floor.

No, don't think about that.

Before long you've exhausted yourselves, settled back near the edge of the pool where you started and just softly talking to each other. His big hands are all over you beneath the water, palms wide on your bare hips and tummy, caressing your thighs and your back, touching everywhere he can reach. You feel almost lightheaded with desire, eyes hooded as you peer up at him and tighten your arms around his neck, pull him closer and silently beg for more. You can feel the shape of his hardening cock through his swim trunks, pressed wet and heavy against your thigh. It makes you salivate.

You suddenly hook your chin into his shoulder, bury your face in his neck and whisper, "I wanna suck it, Joel."

"Yeah?" he murmurs, hands exploring your back and holding you tighter against him, letting you rut softly against his bulge, "You wanna go back to the room and suck on it, babygirl?"

You nod ferociously against him, "Yes. Please."

It doesn't take long at all for you both to be out of the pool and making your way back over to the chairs to grab your towels. It's frantic the way you rush to dry off, slipping back into your flip flops and shaking the water from your hair as quickly as possible. Joel follows suit, ruffling his own towel through his hair and making your body burn with need, lost in how sexy he looks with water droplets cascading down his large and strong form, dipping down his sternum and into his belly button. All you can think while you look at him is how badly you want to lick, to taste.

You're making your way back toward the entrance together when a woman runs up behind you, calling out, "Wait, hang on!" You both turn, confusion in your expressions as she reaches you and holds out something in her hand - your phone.

"I think you or your dad left this behind, sweetie," she says with a smile and places it in your grasp, "Gotta be careful!"

"Th-thank you," you manage to stutter out, eyes wide as she nods and turns away from you to head back toward the pool.

You stand there dumbstruck for a moment, thoughts muddled.

You or your dad.

Your dad.

You turn to Joel then. He's looking at you with what you can only describe as apprehension, lips downturned into a frown as he stands and waits for you to say something - anything. You stare back, words failing you.

And then you burst out laughing.

His apprehension turns into a smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs along with you and squeezes your hand in his tightly - as if to say, this isn't wrong, what we have isn't wrong and you know that. And you do, which is why he has to practically drag you back inside the hotel as you double over and heave out laugh after laugh, tears in your eyes.

"Silly girl," you hear him mumble under his breath fondly as he leads you to the elevator, and all you can do is keep giggling.

--

"I love your cock."

Your knees dig into the plush rug of the hotel room, ass sitting atop the balls of your feet as you kneel between Joel's wide legs. He's sitting comfortably on the couch, one hand resting to the side while the other strokes circles into the apple of your cheek. His cock is out of his swim trunks, heavy and hard in your palm as you slowly stroke him up and down, up and down, heart pounding in your chest.

You've done this to him before, you remind yourself, and he said it was good.

But not like this, another part of you argues, not properly.

"Yeah, you love it?" he murmurs, breaking you out of your thoughts. With his words his hand drops from your face and joins yours on his shaft, helps direct it toward your cheek so he can press the tip ever so gently against it, "What d'you love about it, baby? Tell me. Wanna know."

"It's so big, Joel," you practically whimper, brows furrowing together at the sensation of his warm stickiness on your face, "So big and so thick and long."

"I know, baby," he coos softly, smearing it along your jaw in a way that has goosebumps rising all over your flesh, "Bigger than your pretty face, huh?" At his words he delicately lays the length of his cock against your face from base to tip, lets it rest there as you close your eyes and try to calm your breathing. You're so fucking turned on.

"Big," you repeat, as if no other words can find their way to your brain, as if your brain doesn't even exist; all that exists is this. The feeling of his warm dick laying heavy across your face, precum leaking out onto your forehead.

"And what's it taste like, babygirl?" He's suddenly moving it downward, towards your mouth, and you happily lean forward to lap at the tip. It pulses against you, leaks onto the pink softness of your tongue. "Tell me what it tastes like."

"Kinda salty," you whisper, peering up at him with big eyes, "But good, it still tastes good to me." Your nose scrunches and you peer up at him sheepishly, "Tasha said it's not supposed to."

He laughs breathlessly, taps the tip against your bottom lip, and when more precum dribbles out you allow it to drip into your mouth. You swallow, eyes never leaving his, then swirl your tongue all around the head before slowly taking it into your mouth and suctioning carefully.

"God, you make me fuckin' crazy," his voice rumbles in his chest, eyes hooded, "Look at you suckin' on my cock." After a few seconds he pulls it out and taps your lips with it again, hissing a bit through his teeth, "Fuck, this mouth. And those eyes," his head leans back against the couch and he groans, low and deep, "You gotta stop lookin' at me like that, angel. M'not gonna last."

"How am I looking at you?" you ask shyly, a smile playing at your lips.

"Like... you're just so new to everything."

"But I am," you say with a breathless giggle, "It is new to me."

He smiles fondly down at you on your knees in front of him, so vulnerable, "I know," he tells you, "It makes me want you so bad."

"You have me," you whisper, leaning forward to mouth at the head of his cock once again, "M'yours, Joel."

His lids go heavy as you suckle gently on the tip again, reveling in the masculine taste of him and the way you can feel his heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. You suck it the same way you did last time - like a sucker or a popsicle - and you hope it feels good to him, hope you're doing it right.

"That's so good, baby," he murmurs, and you whimper at his praise.

You pop him out of your mouth and take a deep breath, peering up at him curiously, "Can...can you..."

His brow furrows, "Can I what, angel?"

"Can you show me how to... how to take all of it? Like, how to put it in my throat?"

The expression on his face is hard to describe, a mix of disbelief and untamed arousal. His mouth opens to speak but he doesn't say anything, taking a few seconds to formulate a response before clearing his throat and giving you a weak - and slightly wrecked - smile.

"Y'sure you wanna try that?" he asks you, ever the gentleman, "That's....it's a lot to take in your throat, babygirl."

"I know," you breathe, sincerity in your eyes, "But I wanna try."

He reaches down and thumbs a stray hair from your face, pushes it behind your ear, "You're probably gonna gag," he murmurs gently - a warning. "It might be uncomfortable for you."

You raise an eyebrow, "So... you don't want me to?"

He laughs breathlessly, "I... I didn't say I don't want it. But I don't want you to try something you don't feel ready for," he frowns, "Don't want you to feel any pressure with me."

"I don't," you admit honestly, "I don't feel any pressure, Joel, I promise. I just...really wanna try it. I want you to show me."

He takes a deep breath, strokes your cheek gently and then reaches down to hold the base of his cock again. Your hands fall to his thighs, still clad in his swim trunks.

"Lemme just see how far you can go without gaggin' first," he tells you softly, patiently, "Want you to stop when you feel it in that spot, okay? Don't go any further than that."

You nod, already beyond excited that you're learning something new, something that'll make him feel good. You open your mouth to take him back inside but he touches your face again, stopping you.

"Deep breath," he advises quietly. You do as you're told.

He helps guide the fat head of his cock past your lips, watches as you very slowly ease yourself down. You close your eyes, all your focus centered on this singular task, fighting to push past the slight discomfort of having your mouth stuffed so full. It takes barely a moment for you to reach the point he was talking about, when you feel the head of his cock brush ever so slightly against your gag reflex. On instinct, your eyes snap open, your entire body freezing in place.

"Right there?" he asks quietly, but you know he's not waiting for an answer, knows you couldn't talk even if you wanted to, "That's so much baby, good girl." His praise send throbs of pleasure to your pussy, warmth to your cheeks. Your eyes meet his and you can see how turned on he is, see the way the corners of his mouth twitch with pleasure. "Let go when you're ready, honey."

You hold yourself there for a few more seconds, eyes watering a little bit as you hold his gaze, just testing the power of your lungs and the strain of your jaw. When it becomes too much you pull your mouth off him and find yourself gasping for breath, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs as drool spills down your chin.

"How was that?" he asks, thumbing your cheek again with one hand and stroking himself with the other, working your saliva up and down his length, "Uncomfortable?"

You shake your head, "It was good," you whisper, voice a bit crackly, "I wanna try and take more, can I?"

He nods, smiles encouragingly and taps his swollen cockhead against your bottom lip again, slow and tantalizing, "Course you can, babygirl," he murmurs, "Deep breath."

You inhale deeply again, gathering as much air into your lungs as possible before sinking your mouth down onto him and allowing his thick girth to fill you all over again. This time when you feel him reach that spot, you let yourself keep going just a little bit further, allow the head of his cock to push more firmly against it and slip the tiniest bit into the back of your throat.

You gag immediately.

It's very loud; a dry wretch that you can admit sounds absolutely horrific in the current circumstance. Before you can even really process what to do next, he's tugging you off his cock, voice suddenly worried, frantic, "Okay, no, that's too much," he says quickly, and you look up to see him shaking his head, "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"M'fine," you try to garble out, but you're shocked when just talking suddenly sends you into a coughing fit. You bang on your chest and squeeze his thigh with your other hand, feeling more drool cascade down your chin and onto your bare chest.

"Angel," he says soothingly, leaning forward to pat your back, brows furrowed again in concern, "I'm sorry, honey."

You shake your head, "I-I'm okay," you splutter out, "Just gimme a second."

"It's too much," he repeats, almost pleading, "Please, baby, I don't wanna see you struggle, that's not fun for me."

As much as you hate the idea of giving up, you have to admit that he's right. That wretch had not been pleasant, and while you think you could eventually learn to take all of him, maybe forcing yourself to do it when you're supposed to be having fun on vacation isn't the best time.

"Okay," you mumble defeatedly, sitting back on your knees, "But I still wanna suck it."

He laughs again, relief flooding his features as he leans back on the couch and smiles crookedly at you, "You can still suck it, darlin'. Just take your time and don't push your limits, alright? Promise me."

"I promise."

You spend the next fifteen minutes or so playing with Joel's cock, stroking it with your hand, kitten licking along the shaft and head, just touching as much as you can without any time pressure for once. He pets your hair as he watches you, thumbs your cheeks and dimples, small groans tumbling past his lips, face scrunched in pleasure as you explore. You take as much of him as you can in your mouth, bob up and down slowly with your eyes trained on his face, feel the way his thick length twitches and pulses against your tongue.

It's almost feral the way you drink him down, hollowing your cheeks and basking in the way his body responds to you. You're so wet, aching to touch yourself but wanting this moment to be just for him, a thank you for this weekend, this hotel, for everything. Instead you palm his balls, roll them in your palm and revel in the desperate sounds he makes.

"I love your cock," you whine, repeating your earlier statement as you fist it up and down with spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, "I love it so much, Joel." You can feel yourself dripping in your bikini bottoms, feel your own slick gathering on your inner thighs.

"I know, baby," he gasps out, running one hand through his hair and the other through yours as his belly tenses and untenses, as his thighs tremble, "I know you love it, s'all yours, baby. S'your cock."

"My cock," you echo, almost a whimper, "Mine."

"Yours, it's yours," he moans loudly, hands curling into fists as his head hits the back of the couch, "Shit, I'm gonna come."

"Come in my mouth," you tell him immediately, wasting no time in sinking back down onto his length. He doesn't ask if you're sure; he's too far gone to be a gentleman anymore, and you love it. You watch as he suddenly sits up on the couch, reaches both hands forward and cradles your head in them firmly. He helps you move up and down, groaning as he does, and then-

His cock pulses on your tongue, thick and heavy, bobbing against the roof of your mouth. You feel a burst of cum hit the back of your throat, then another, and another, all the while Joel moans and holds your head in place, toes curling into the rug. Your eyes roll back as he fills your mouth, overwhelmed by the salty taste and thick texture, and - without really meaning to - you swallow around him to make more space. He practically whines at the sensation, pulsing once more to release one final burst of his spend.

And then he's falling back against the couch, cock popping out of your mouth, expression dazed. Without thinking about it you swallow the rest of his cum, eyelashes fluttering at the odd sensation of it all slipping down your throat. So much, gone in an instant. It's only then that you actually realize what you've done.

"I swallowed it," you say, panic suddenly brewing in your stomach, "Was I supposed to swallow it?"

He laughs softly, covers his mouth with the back of his hand, "It is perfectly fine that you swallowed it, darlin'," he smiles wide and opens his arms, "C'mere."

You clamor off your knees and crawl into his lap immediately, straddling his thighs and pressing your wet bikini bottoms against the slope of his belly. He lets out a little groan, pulls you in and strokes your hair.

"You did so good," he praises you softly, kisses your temple, "So good, baby. Made me come so much."

"There was a lot," you tell him, nuzzling into his neck and letting your breathing slowly even out, "S'why I swallowed it, I was trying to make room."

"Was it okay? It didn't make you gag, did it?"

You shake your head, a pout on your lips, "Felt good in my mouth," you whisper, "I liked it."

He hums, hands trailing from your hair to your bare back where he unclasps your bikini top and lets it cascade to the floor, then reaches down and tugs at your bottoms. You lift up carefully, let him slip them down your thighs and watches as you kick them off, leaving you fully naked in his lap.

"So pretty when you're bare like this," he whispers, and it sends more slick to your folds, oozing down and making a mess on his tummy. He cups your pussy in one hand and slides two fingers easily inside of you, thumb rubbing circles against your clit. You grip his arm, eyes falling closed and pitiful little sounds slipping from your mouth. "My good girl deserves a reward for suckin' my cock so good, swallowin' all that cum, don't you think?"

You nod, biting down on your lip and letting him fuck you with his digits, eyes rolling behind your lids.

"Yeah, you do," he answers for you, "You deserve it, angel. Always."

He makes you come easily, leaving you a messy, twitching heap in his lap as your arms wrap around his neck, body going lax and loose. After a few moments he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, helps you into the shower, smiles when you peer blearily up at him through your afterglow.

"Just close your eyes and lean against me," he tells you softly as the water falls, removing his swim trunks and getting in to stand behind you, "I'll get you cleaned up, sweetheart."

--

You nap after your shower, exhausted and sated in every possible way. Joel wakes you up around two o'clock with more room service - sandwiches and soup that you devour with bright eyes and light conversation side by side in bed. It's domestic bliss the way he thumbs mustard from your lips, pours you more water, slices your key lime pie and feeds it to you with a fond smile.

I love you I love you I love you.

"Would it absolutely ruin this moment if I suggested tryin' our hand at a hymn?" he asks when you've both finished, wiping the crumbs on his fingers with a napkin and gesturing to his guitar case in the corner of the room.

You grimace, "I guess not."

"I'm just thinkin' about your parents," he places his hand on your hip - clad in another one of his shirts - and gives you a sympathetic smile, "It's probably best to pick somethin' and have it ready."

You nod. You know he's right, that your lack of preparedness these past few weeks has been pretty reckless considering it's been the entire "reason" you've been seeing him. With a sigh you slip out from under the covers and traipse over to the couch, listening as Joel unclasps the guitar case.

"I did some research," he tells you as he walks over, hooking the strap over his shoulders as he goes, "I think our best bet for an easy tune is How Great Thou Art. Pretty repetitive chord progression, only uses G, C, and D."

You make a face, crossing your arms, "I can't believe I have to do this."

He laughs, "It was either that or Come Ye Sinners, and I think that one's a little too on the nose, don't you think?" He tosses you a smile and you can't help but return it, feeling your frustration melt away under his gaze.

"Can we do that thing again where I get a reward?" you ask shyly, biting your lip. His eyebrows go up, a smirk lighting his face.

"Hmm, I think that's doable," he sits down beside you, tuning the guitar, "What'd you have in mind?" You notice the way his eyes dart toward your groin and your cheeks warm.

"I was actually thinking that maybe..." your hands play with the hem of his shirt nervously, unsure what he'll say, "maybe you could play something for me? You said last night that you've written some songs," you shrug, trying to be nonchalant, "I'd... I'd really like to hear one, if you wouldn't mind."

He peers at you for a few seconds, smirk fading briefly only to be replaced with a tender smile, eyes softening as he gazes at you. Warmth blooms in your chest. You never want him to stop looking at you like that.

"I can do that," he tells you quietly, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, "I mean... I can't promise it'll be good, but-"

"I don't care."

He chuckles and nods, grips the guitar again and clears his throat, "Well, alright then. Let's get started."

For the first time ever, the lesson is actually a lesson. No undercurrent of sex, no inappropriate touching or sensual glances, no teasing or filthy words. You're not sure how you're able to hold yourself back so easily, able to really focus on what Joel is saying and showing you, helping place your fingers in the right locations and teach you the strumming techniques. Maybe it's because you're tired - you did come three times already today - but it's not just that.

It just feels so... normal. So easy. You think back to that first lesson, the nervousness you'd felt and the pounding of your heart in your chest, the anticipation and the fear.

It's different now. Now that he's been inside you, become one with you, it's like your whole dynamic has changed - for the better. Of course you still feel that curious nervousness, the innocence, the electricity between you. But there's something so solid and tangible about it now, something certain. Something real.

He shapes your fingers along the neck of the guitar, praising you softly every time you play a note that sounds right, encouraging you as you repeat the G chord a few times, then C, then D. You strum along slowly, taking your time, and before you know it you're playing something that actually doesn't sound half bad.

"We definitely need to work on buildin' up those calluses," he murmurs, stroking the tips of your fingers under his thumb, "Well... If you're gonna do this long-term, I mean."

You peer at him curiously, tilting your head to the side. He looks sheepish, like he's said something he hadn't meant to.

"You think I could do this, like... for real? As a hobby?"

His mouth turns up at the corners and he nods, "I think you can do anything you set your mind to, darlin'."

Your heart is suddenly in your throat at his words, emotion bubbling under the surface of your skin. You drop your hand from the guitar and reach up to cup his face, pulling him toward you to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He kisses you back just as soft, just as careful.

"Thank you," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "Thank you for saying that."

He presses his forehead to yours, shakes his head ever so slightly, "Don't gotta thank me for sayin' what's true, angel. You deserve to hear it every single day."

You finish the lesson with tears still welling in your eyes, a lump in your throat. When you lean the guitar against the side of the couch he cradles your face in his hands and gently kisses the tears away, brushes his lips along your eyelids and cheeks, your jaw and your lips, saying everything without saying anything at all.

"Okay," you sigh, taking a deep breath and opening your eyes to smile sweetly at him, "Time for my reward."

He chuckles and rolls his eyes a little, reaching for the guitar and beginning to tune it again. You watch as he twists the keys, strums a little here and there, hums softly for each note to match his voice. Anticipation rises in your chest.

"Now, uh," he clears his throat a bit, avoiding eye contact, "It's been a while since I played this one but it's, uh," he takes a breath, "It's one I wrote when Sarah was born. Used to sing it to her to help her fall asleep."

You melt at the words, smiling wider, "What's it called?"

He finally meets your eyesight, lips pressing together sheepishly, "Sarah."

Oh, duh. You nod in encouragement, leaning back against the armrest of the couch and waiting for him to begin. He takes another deep breath, dropping his gaze to watch his fingers shape the first chord. It's then that you notice his hands - usually deft and steady - are trembling a little bit, so much so that he has to readjust his position on the strings a few times.

He's nervous.

He stares at his hand, takes another deep breath.

You wait.

"Sorry," he mumbles under his breath, "Sorry, just gimme a minute."

"It's okay, take your time." Your voice is barely a whisper, awestruck by the sudden vulnerability you're witnessing. He'd agreed to the reward so quickly, you'd been sure he didn't mind. But now as you sit here waiting, you're not so sure. You watch him take more deep breaths, watch as he closes his eyes and seems to center himself.

"If you don't want to-"

"I want to," he says immediately, shaking his head, "I want to, I've just... I haven't sung in a while."

Your brow furrows, confused, "You sang yesterday in the car, didn't you? And you sang Tangled Up In Blue when we first met, and that other one, the one from the eighties."

His lips turn up at the corners, a welcome smile, "Take On Me."

"Yeah, that one."

He sighs, tightening his grip on the guitar, "It's not that I haven't sung I guess. Wrong wordin'," he bites his lip, "It's moreso that I haven't sung this one. Or any of my originals. Not for a long time."

You frown, "How come?"

"I guess... I just..." he searches for the words, staring at the floor, "No one's really asked me to. And it's not like I'm playin' gigs or tourin' or any of that pipe dream stuff I thought about when I was a kid." He laughs humorlessly, like the concept is ridiculous, "So I guess I just kinda... stopped, after a while."

You feel a sudden sadness that you can't really explain, picturing that bright-eyed little version of Joel, stuck in a household that wouldn't let him grow, wouldn't let him be himself. All those dreams and big ideas, dashed before he was able to get out and make his mark. Life getting busy, too busy, other responsibilities taking up all his time until the thing he loved most became nothing but a memory. A pipe dream.

It makes your heart ache.

"D'you mind if I just..." he meets your gaze again finally, eyes soft and a little sad, "Could I maybe just hum it? Instead? I know that's kind of a cop-out, but-"

"Of course you can," you breathe out, hand coming down to rest atop his knee, "Of course you can hum it."

"I'm sorry, baby, I know you wanted -"

"It's hard being vulnerable, Joel," you interrupt him again, shaking your head and stroking your thumb against his skin, "God knows it's been hard for me, and you've been nothing but patient." You give him a watery smile and he returns it, "Please take your time. I can be patient too, I promise."

You can tell how much he appreciates it. He reaches down and picks up your hand, presses a gentle kiss to the back of it before setting it back down and taking one last deep breath.

"Well, here it is," he says with a little more confidence, a smile playing at his lips.

You've heard him play before, obviously; you've already seen the way his fingers work the strings like it's just second nature, the way his thumb strums out the chords effortlessly. But this time is different. Knowing what he's playing is completely original, born from his own creativity out of love and devotion, a father's affection and protectiveness, it just sounds special. New. He begins to pluck out a soft, slow, soothing melody that immediately puts you at ease, makes you lean back further against the couch and loosen your body. It's tender, quiet - a lullaby.

He hums softly, voice crackling a bit in his throat at first but then settling into a smooth and comforting sound. It's almost like a waltz, the way the chords change back and forth, in and out, slow and steady. Of course you wonder what the real words are, what his quiet hums are substituting, but you find that it doesn't really matter. What matters is the look on his face, eyes distant, as if he's picturing his daughter as she was when she was little. You try to picture it too, thinking of the photograph in his house, the one of him pushing Sarah on the swing. Just a father and his little girl, against the world.

It isn't a very long song. It fades out relatively quickly, and as soon as he strums out the final chord you sit up on the couch and clap ferociously, tears stinging in your eyes all over again.

"I'd usually, uh, play it a couple times for her," he says awkwardly, "'Til she fell asleep."

"It was beautiful," you tell him earnestly, "It was so beautiful, Joel."

He shakes his head with an embarrassed laugh and swivels around to go place his guitar back in its case. He doesn't say anything else, but he doesn't need to. You know how he feels when you spot the tips of ears, tinged pink, warm from your praise.

--

The rest of the day passes in what feels like a warm, luxurious, passionate blur. You go to dinner that evening and order lobster, revel in the way it practically melts in your mouth with sips of champagne and bites of blueberry cheesecake. Joel tells you a little more about his life, tells you everything you want to know about his daughter and his ex. It's not a difficult or uncomfortable conversation like you'd been worried it might be. Instead, you feel closer learning these things about him, feel even more connected to him than you did before as he tells you about Mish and Sarah, their relationship, the arrangement.

"I think I understand it better now," you tell him thoughtfully, "Now that I've actually..." you peer at him shyly, "You know... done it."

He chuckles, "Sex is a powerful thing, it really is. And when you find someone you're compatible with it can be really easy to keep goin' back to 'em. Settle into it, you know? Even if the other parts of your relationship don't work."

"It's like...friends with benefits, right?"

"Exactly. And it really does work for some people, worked for Mish and I for a long time," he shakes his head and reaches across the table to take your hand, "But that's over now, I need you to know that. It's over. You're the only woman in my life and that's how I want it to be. You believe me right?"

His eyes are soft, warm, loving, sincerity practically glowing in his expression.

"I believe you, Joel. Of course I believe you."

You have sex again when you get back to the room, slow and intimate and tender and perfect. You claw at his back as whimpers and cries tear from your mouth, writhing in pleasure beneath him on the bed as he fills you over and over, murmurs filth in your ear and presses down on your clit with his thumb. It's like you've died and gone to heaven, this feeling of permanent bliss and satisfaction, the sensation of being so full and so connected. It's the closest you've ever felt to real inner peace; who would have thought that sitting on a cock instead of in a church pew would be the thing to bring you closer to godliness?

I pray at the church of Joel Miller, you think to yourself as you recover from your fifth orgasm of the day, laying there with fluttering lashes and heaving belly, mind foggy and eyes bleary. Joel is kissing your thighs somewhere below, whispering praises, humming against your skin as he wipes a warm cloth over your twitching pussy.

"I keep thinking about how many sins I've committed in the last twenty four hours," you mumble to him, sleep quickly making its way into your psyche, "And then I remember that I don't care."

His laugh is the last thing you hear before you drift off.

--

Sunday morning is bittersweet. You spend most of it wrapped in Joel's embrace, tracing the freckles and scars on his skin, drifting in and out of consciousness while he peppers kisses all over your face and neck. You have to leave the hotel by noon, get back on the road again and head back home, but the bed is so warm. He's so warm. Everything is warm.

"You never fucked me in the shower," you whisper to him softly, so quiet you wonder if he can even hear you, "Or on the floor."

"I still can," he murmurs, voice husky with sleep, fingers trailing delicately through your hair, "We have a little time."

You nuzzle into his warmth and close your eyes, sighing contentedly, "No," you breathe, "I just want you to hold me."

So he does.

--

The drive home is quieter, but not in a bad way. You're still tired from your escapades and find yourself dozing every so often, vaguely aware of Joel turning down the volume or switching the song to something more chill when he notices you starting to drift. His hand is ever-present on your thigh, stroking the skin over and over like it's just habit at this point. You know you should be forcing yourself to stay awake, to enjoy these last few hours before life goes back to normal, but he really did a number on you.

It's only when you stop at a gas station - the same one where you first saw the playlist you weren't sure you were meant to - that you finally start to feel more awake.

"So tell me about this Angel playlist," you say with a smirk, waving his phone at him as he gets back in the truck, "Can we listen to it?"

A look of surprise crosses his face, but he doesn't seem upset, "How did you even find out about that?"

"I'm in control of the music, remember? It's your spotify."

He groans, cheeks flushing as he pushes on the gas and pulls out of the station, avoiding eye contact. "You were not supposed to see that."

Intrigue floods your brain, fuels your grin, "So it's for me?"

He takes a moment to respond, thumb stroking the wheel as he eyes the road, lip between his teeth. You can tell he's debating whether or not he should answer you, but his silence says everything. Impatient, you practically bounce in your seat, "Can we listen to it? Pretty please?"

He laughs a little breathlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, "Who is this girl sittin' in the front seat of my truck?" He squeezes your thigh, "You're gettin' bold, darlin'. I like it."

"Enough to let me listen to the playlist?"

He sighs, but you know he's not mad, can see the smile tugging at his lips, "...Maybe. At least enough to listen to one song. Will that tide you over?"

"Yes, it most certainly will," you're already tapping Angel, eyes alight with curiosity, "Which song?"

"Northern Sky by Nick Drake, should be the first one there."

You turn to him with a raised brow, "How do you know that's the first song?"

"'Cause I made the damn playlist."

"And you listen to it a lot?"

He laughs again, eyes rolling fondly as he turns his attention back to the road and grins at your words, "You're somethin' else."

You've still got a shit eating grin on your face as the song starts, the soft strumming of guitar filling the small space. Oh, this is pretty. You playfully nod your head to the chords and he rolls his eyes again, strokes your thigh and keeps his attention focused on the road.

And then the lyrics start.

I never felt magic crazy as this I never saw moons, knew the meaning of the sea I never held emotion in the palm of my hand Or felt sweet breezes in the top of a tree But now you're here Brighten my northern sky

Your grin fades almost immediately, realization blooming on your face as the reality of what this playlist actually is begins to dawn on you. You'd thought maybe it was songs he wanted to share with you, songs he wanted to teach you how to play. Just random tunes that he compiled together with you in mind.

No, that's not what this is at all. As the lyrics continue, the melody growing more steady, more beautiful, you realize that these are songs that remind him of you. An entire playlist dedicated to the way he feels.

You stare at the road as the song plays out, not speaking. Your eyes are stinging with tears but you can't bring yourself to say anything, to even look at him. You feel him squeeze your thigh again, a comforting and reassuring little gesture. As if to say, l know, I'm here. As the final chords fade out you frantically reach for his phone and press pause, out of respect for his privacy but also because you're completely unprepared to hear another song like that. You catch him peering at you in your periphery, and you will yourself to look at him with watery eyes.

"Satisfied?" he asks softly, giving you that gorgeous crooked smile.

All you can choke out is a "Yeah."

--

Arriving back at the parking garage hurts. Joel pulls his truck in beside your car, still in the same spot you'd left it, and takes the key out of the ignition with a long sigh. You look over at him, emotion burning in your throat.

"I don't wanna go home," you whisper.

"Oh, babygirl," he murmurs, brow furrowing, "C'mere." He holds his arms open and you clamor over the center console to settle into his lap, burying your face in his neck. He holds you tight and rubs your back, hushes you softly when you start to cry. How is this weekend already over? How are things just supposed to go back to normal now?

"I don't want you to go back there either," he breathes, "If I had it my way you'd be comin' home with me." You feel him press a kiss to the spot just beneath your ear, "But you're strong. You're stronger than you think you are and I know you can get through this. Whatever they have to say, whatever they do, you'll get through it. We'll get through it together."

You don't say anything else, just melt into the warmth of his body and let him hold you, comfort you, until your cries and hiccups fade into even breaths. You pull back slowly and peer at his beautiful face, long to say the words you've been holding back all weekend - but you know there's a reason you've been holding back, know this isn't the right time, not yet.

Instead, you kiss him. It's soft and sweet, a tender goodbye. Temporary, fleeting. You know it's not forever, know you'll probably sneak over tomorrow night to see him again under cover of darkness, find yourself in his bed, get wrapped up in him. But it's a goodbye nonetheless. A goodbye to this - the simplicity, the sense of normalcy and lack of time constraints, the domestic bliss and the thrill of the escape. A goodbye to the bliss.

Driving away from him a few minutes later, watching his truck fade into the distance in your rearview mirror - you think it might be one of the hardest things you've ever had to do.

[esouliie]

GOLD SKIN, EAGER BABY

warnings | smut, subby!mommy wanda concerned with hurting you yet can’t help how her body reacts, she’s also such a cum slut lmao, inexperienced!reader, kissing, oral sex bc you give her head against a wall hehe :3 (18+)

Mommy Wanda fucking you cruelly like this… Mommy Wanda fucking you like that… when really it’s Mommy Wanda’s first time with you. She wanted to make it special, focusing the entire night on you, but you wouldn’t have it…not when almost every day, you’d been waking up with a sticky mess between your thighs from tempting dreams about the older woman.

You needed her just as badly as she needed you.

You see - being older and freshly divorced - she’s had more experience than you, so she’s quite self aware, knowing all too well how eagerly she comes.

She knows how uncontrollably her body reacts when she’s being eaten out. Her curvy figure tends to lash out against her restraint as waves of pleasure roll through her entire being, in a way that’s different from her usual norm, all because a tongue is now what’s fucking her… pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

The foreplay had lasted a while. Deciding to take it slow as you shared gentle caresses, longing to study each others bodies. But with how easily worked up she became, it wasn’t long before she had guided you to your knees, whispering nothing but sweet promises to guide you through these uncharted waters.

Not long later, she was close to coming. She tells you in a drawn out moan, “Fuck baby, grab onto my thighs,” not wanting to accidentally trap your head between them.

Poor baby… your first time eating a girl out, not knowing what’s ahead of you.

A sight - magnificent yet concerning - to behold.

A painstaking reward.

It starts with a sharp cry then immediate silence, followed by all the muscles in her stomach tensing in a rippling effect. Her back contorts in an unusual manner, the arch of her neck extending towards the heavens and her head pushing back against the wall. Strong hips bones begin to thrust forward, unrelenting and uncaring for your safety as they fuck your mouth. Behold the true power of the woman under you as she battles to prolong the last of her orgasm.

And then, like a dam breaking, the words spill out uncontrollably. In the midst of the silence that follows her crescendo of passion, she finds her voice.

Raw and primal.

“That's it, fuck baby," She murmurs, voice husky with need. "Feels so good, so good f'me."

Her muscles, once tense with anticipation, begin to relax, trembling from the exertion. Luckily, your hands are still on her thighs, and not only did you prevent yourself from dying of suffocation (not that this was the worst way to go) but you also managed to stop your girlfriend from collapsing to the ground.

With her weight supported by your hands, you rose to your feet, immediately seeking out her soft lips.

A hand against your chest stops you. “You okay, sweetheart?” She asks, breathless as her fingers search meticulously, the wetness undeniable as it soaks the lower half of your face.

“I’m okay, Mommy. Was fun.” You smile so sweetly she can’t help but give in, melting against your plumped lips. Her eager tongue gliding along yours, coaxing the sweetest of sounds from you, as she commits the taste of herself on your tongue to memory.

“Come, baby.” She grabs your hands, guiding you to the edge of the bed as she gets down on her knees. With eyes full of mischief and hands edging closer towards your panties, she husks, “Mama wants a taste too.”

[onismdaydream]

build me up

sweet stepdad!leon x fem reader

tags: mdni. 18+. stepcest. afab reader. sex toys (dildo). slight voyeurism. masturbating. pet names. oral (f receiving). multiple orgasms. daddy kink. not proofread.

notes: first actual fic i'm posting in.. 2 years? pretty proud of myself even if i'm really rusty lmao anyway, this is based on an ask i sent to @lipglossanon of sweet stepdad, so hopefully i did it justice!

You didn't hear the creaking of the old wooden floors as Leon came home — you didn't even hear him call your name when he didn't find you in your usual spot on the worn couch. He said he would be working late tonight, that an emergency came up at the office and they needed his expertise. So, needless to say, you didn't realize he was watching you from your door, his tall and muscular body leaning against the frame, enjoying the show you were unknowingly putting on for him.

Quiet moans escape your lips, your face scrunching up in pleasure, as you work the toy in and out of you. You’re on your back, flimsy shirt pushed up so you can tease your perky nipples, while your other hand holds onto the thick base of the dildo, pushing as much of the length in as you could. A deep blush covers your cheeks and stretches down to your chest, coloring your skin with a pretty shade of pink. Your legs spread slightly more as he silently observes, almost as if your body knew of his presence, giving him a better view of your glistening pussy. Evidence of your arousal make the light shine off of your inner thighs and the silicone toy, drawing Leon's attention even more. Who could blame him for the way his cock twitches, stiffening at the irresistible sight in front of him.

"Feel good, sweetheart?"

You start from the sudden voice, eyes shooting open before they settle on him and you visibly relax, shoulders falling back to the mattress.

"My poor baby just couldn't wait for me, huh?" His voice is thick with arousal, the rough sound making your pussy clench around the thick dildo. Leon takes a few steps forward, licking his lips as his eyes rake over your captivating body. You open your mouth to say something — apologize, maybe — but he cuts you off before you get the chance. "Don't let me stop you. Keep going, darling."

You hesitate for a moment, suddenly feeling self conscious despite everything the two of you have done together. Masturbating and pleasuring yourself with a toy just seems so… intimate.

"Go on, show daddy how good you can take your little toy." Instead of teasing you like you initially anticipated, he watches you with rapt attention, palming the front of his jeans. A surge of arousal flows through you at the movement, feeling your heartbeat quicken at his heated gaze. Licking your lips, you nod shakily and begin moving the silicone dick again, quickly returning to your previous pace.

“Such a good girl,” Leon praises, grunting softly as he squeezes his shaft through the rough material. “You were made f’r taking cocks.” You gasp sharply at his words and rub at your clit with your other hand, feeling the familiar build up in your abdomen.

“D-daddy.” Your needy whine is barely audible over the loud squelching noises from your pussy. “G’nna cum.”

Leon hums, taking the last couple of steps necessary before he’s at the foot of your bed and climbing onto it. He walks on his knees, stopping in between your spread legs and placing his large hands on your thighs. “C’mon, baby. Wanna see your pretty face when you cream on this fake cock.” His touch sends electricity through you, rubbing your soft skin as your legs begin to tremble. You cry out his name as you feel a gush of slick oozing from your still stuffed cunt.

You’re only vaguely aware of your surroundings, the soothing timbre of his voice making the come down feel syrupy and slow. Blinking up at him, he smiles at you — a soft one, filled with adoration and love — before he leans forward to press light kisses to your neck.

“Did so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his slight stubble scratching against your skin, breath warm. “‘m so lucky to have a girl like you.”

You sigh contently, your fingers finding their way into his silky hair. One of his arms rests next to you, holding his weight up, the flexing muscle visible out of the corner of your eye. He continues to cover your throat in kisses, all sweet and caring, before his teeth gently scrape at your skin. It’s a barely there sensation, but it makes you whine nonetheless. Leon lifts his head enough to look you in the eyes, his hand trailing up your side before it stops at your ribcage.

“Want something, pretty baby?”

You nod, shivering at the warmth of his hand, your eyelashes fluttering shut. “Want you, daddy.”

He groans faintly and moves his hand up to cup your breast, kneading the fat gently and rolling your sensitive nipple between his fingers. “Mmm, so lucky…” Leon watches in reverence as you react to his touch, committing every single detail to memory. Ducking his head back down, he leaves a trail of wet kisses down to your soft tummy. When he moves his hand to grab at the toy that’s still partially in you, you expect him to replace it, filling you up with his thick fingers or fat cock like he always does.

But he doesn’t.

Your breath is knocked out of you as he pushes it back in.

The angle that he has allows the toy to penetrate you even deeper. Each thrust has his fingers brushing against your swollen clit, making you writhe in pleasure. You can barely keep your eyes open when the tip rubs that sweet spot, back arching off the bed.

“That’s it, baby,” He whispers. You aren’t even sure when it happened, but Leon’s mouth found its way back up your body, his tongue darting out to lick at your areola. His breath teases along your skin, your nipples hardening as he places more sloppy kisses around your breast. “Want you to feel good.”

Leon’s spent enough time with you to know how to coax an orgasm out of your body and he uses the knowledge to his advantage. He presses the toy as deep as it can go, the tip pushing against your cervix, making your legs kick out under him. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to lift a finger.” He uses his thumb to rub at your clit, fast circular motions that make you see stars.

“D-daddy, please,” you manage to whine out, panting as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. It’s hard to focus on anything other than where he’s touching you, making you feel lightheaded as another climax washes over you. A pleasant, almost numbing feeling courses throughout your entire body, your cunt weakly spasming around the toy as he slowly begins moving it, easing the fake dick out of you. You whimper at the drag of it against your raw pussy, but he just shushes you, pecking the corner of your lips.

“Such a good girl.” He mutters, tongue pushing easily into your mouth. Leon kisses you slowly, savoring each moment, until the need for air becomes too great for both of you. He’s breathing heavily as he pulls away, his eyes taking in your swollen lips and flushed cheeks. He just can’t get enough of you.

He shifts again, this time pressing his mouth against your lower thigh, right above your left knee. A high pitched whine leaves your throat when his lips travel higher. He gently nips your skin, his warm tongue soothing the slight pain that follows it. “Just one more, baby. Wanna clean your pretty pussy.”

He waits for your shaky nod, squeezing your doughy thigh lightly before he laps at the slick that’s still drooling from your cunt. You’re a little looser than usual from your earlier orgasms, so he can effortlessly press his hot tongue into your hole, fucking in and out. Your hips buck up, pushing his nose against your sensitive button. The vibrations from a deep moan makes you cry out his name, body thrashing weakly underneath him.

“Always so sweet,” he groans, drawing back slightly to sloppily kiss your clit. “Could spend ages here.” He sucks the bundle of nerves in between his lips, latching onto it, making your third climax sweep through you. You can’t even form a coherent thought as you coat his lower face with your cum, his tongue cleaning up everything he can.

You feel too spent to try and move, your entire body feeling heavy with exhaustion. He pulls away from your sore pussy, pressing a loving kiss to your stomach. You don’t catch what he says as your eyes begin to droop, but when you open them again, he’s carefully wiping your thighs with a wet towel. You make a low whining sound, looking at him with pleading eyes, wanting him to come closer. He smiles as he notices you’re awake, gently brushing his lips against your forehead.

“Feelin’ alright, darling? I didn’t overdo it, did I?” He grabs a water bottle that he must’ve brought with him, offering it to you.

“‘m fine,” you mumble groggily. “Just tired now.”

He hums and opens the bottle for you, helping you drink some, before laying you back down fully. You fight to stay awake longer, but your body feels drained and the warmth of Leon holding you against his chest makes it nearly impossible. You drift off to sleep as his hands rub your back soothingly, whispering hushed praises against your head.

[nackrosor]

~Midnight Healing~

𝓢𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓖𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓡𝓲𝓵𝓮𝔂 𝔁 𝓣𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓮!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

[I highly recommend to put this song on repeat as background music. It will help set the mood.]

warnings/tags: 18+ smut, p*rn with feelings & plot, unexperienced reader, first kiss, first time, oral s*x (fem receiving), p in v, soft Ghost, slow dance, mutual pining, slight angst/comfort, Soap being the best mate, the team being supporting in their own way lmao, cap. price approved 👌🏻 summary: You're at the pub, enjoying a night out with your team. The soothing lulling music, the booze, Johnny's taunts and your own repressed feelings embolden you to invite Simon to join you in a slow dance. The dance leads to long overdue confessions which in turn lead to your first time together. word count: 12.5k. (longest one yet)

A special and huge thank you to my dear @magnoliabutters who has helped me SO MUCH. You've given me so many suggestions that inspired me to write the best possible version of this story. I probably would have given up halfway through if it wasn't for your support. I love you and appreciate you a lot. ♥️

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, elbows resting on the smooth surface of the counter with a thumb circling the cold rim of your half-full glass of bourbon. The soothing blues music playing in the background adds to your sense of calm, with notes vibrating through your limbs, echoing in your ribcage, and clearing your thoughts. You let yourself be lulled by the soft melancholy tune, quietly humming along and rocking your head in rhythm. 

Given your job as a task force officer, you rarely get a breather and a chance to enjoy a night out. It is a luxury for you and that is what makes it so special, a time to truly look forward to. Especially when you can share it with your brothers in arms, your family, not bonded by blood but by a profound feeling born through shared hardships and nurtured by trust, respect and understanding. One would imagine you'd prefer to spend your free nights alone or with different people, perhaps even a one-night lover, rather than with your coworkers, the very same guys you spend your entire days with, through sweat and tears, anger and frustration, and occasionally a moment of respite. This is exactly the reason why you wouldn’t dare unwind with anyone else; they are everything for you, the sole people you trust and you would gladly give your life for without hesitation. Why would you need anybody else? 

Seeing them loosen up for one night, just enough to treat themselves to a pint or a glass of whiskey is such the delight. You wouldn’t even need to chug a drink of your own to feel the tension leave your body, finally allowing yourself to relax. 

This time is no exception. Same place, same company, same feeling of being exactly where you need to be, of needing literally nothing else in the world.

"Enjoying yourself?" 

Soap's voice sounds clear in your ear and interrupts your blues-induced trance. A lazy smile greets you as you turn to look up at him. He settles down on the barstool next to you.

"Yeah… I love this music. It feels like a lullaby but instead of making me want to sleep, it makes me want to move, you know? "

"Sounds like you want to hit the dance floor! Care to give us a show?" 

"Wouldn't you like that!" 

You smirk at him, bumping your shoulder against his.

"Who wouldn’t?” he returns the nudge, playfully winking at you, “But I know someone who would particularly enjoy it, more than anybody else."

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. Every time you come to the pub, you can't avoid one or two, occasionally three, drunken brash males hitting on you or simply gluing their eyes on you from afar, never stopping for the entire time you're here. You'd think that being literally surrounded by four menacing - some more than others - muscular men would prevent anyone from ever looking your way twice, especially weak-minded misogynists who don't believe a woman could take care of herself… That clearly isn't the case. Go figure! These people have no sense of shame or… self-preservation. 

"What ugly old man’s ball sack-looking dude is staring at me this time?" 

A chuckle escapes him. He shakes his head as he swirls the liquid in his glass before taking a sip. 

“No ugly old man’s ball sack-looking dude , just a possibly ugly dude.”

"Oh?" a wry smile takes form on your lips, "well, I could get behind that."

"He's been throwing some not-so-sneaky glances your way ever since we arrived."

"Yeah?”, you ask, taking a quick glance around the room. “Coordinates, Sergeant. Don’t leave me in the dark."

Soap's eyes glint mischievously as he subtly nods to your left, then raises his glass to his lips to take another sip and mask his grin. You follow the trajectory of his nod, gaze skimming the whole length of the counter, overlooking the serene faces of Gaz, Laswell, the captain, until it locks on a familiar pair of big dark eyes. The smirk on your lips immediately falters and your stomach flips. 

Simon is holding your gaze, seemingly unfazed, arms folded across his chest and muscles flexing under his black windbreaker. No matter how accustomed you are to seeing him in his casual attire, your heart always loses a beat whenever your eyes land on him. The way his skull balaclava hugs his face and the way the hood of his dark grey sweatshirt is all the way up, hiding his head, make his mesmerising eyes circled with black make-up even more striking and thus much more lethal to your poor weak heart. You’re so attracted to him, so infatuated… you’ve never felt this inexorable pull toward anyone before. It’s like a new form of gravity, so strong that you can’t even avert your gaze; it takes too much effort, like going against the laws of nature. 

Soap’s giggle draws you back from the trance. Your eyes dart around aimlessly for a moment before you whip around to glare at your friend.

“You’re a bastard.”

He shrugs innocently, that stupid grin of his still tugging at his lips.

"You saw it for yourself, he was staring."

"Yeah, 'cause he probably heard you or read your lips or… something."

"Right,” he says with a scoff, elongating the word. “Didn’t know superman was part of the 141…"

His mocking tone makes you roll your eyes. Grabbing your glass, you bring it to your lips and savour the sensation of the cool, sweet but strong liquid flowing down your throat. As you knock the empty glass back onto the counter, you catch a glimpse of Ghost. Fortunately, this time he appears to be engaged in discussion with Price, providing you with the green light that allows your wistful gaze to linger on him, unnoticed. 

"Well, you must admit that…”, you mutter almost to yourself, eyes reverently roaming his figure, “...if anyone had superpowers in our team, it would definitely be him." 

"Heh. You certainly look at him as if he already has them."

Johnny interrupts your reveries again and you shake your head, tearing your eyes away from Simon and trying to clear your mind in the process. "Stop it. He's just, he's-" 

"He's single, for all I know." 

The sergeant shrugs again with an innocent smile as you give him the stink-eye.

"You’re a menace ."

You poke him hard in the ribs, causing him to wince and almost spill his drink. You both can’t help but laugh.

“I swear if you told him or anyone anything… I'll strangle you in your sleep.”

“Mmm, so passionate, y/n. He’s gonna love that.”

You roll your eyes again, yet can't help but smile.

Soap is your best mate; you're closer to him than the rest of the squad, which is saying a lot given how close the team is. You may or may not have let your feelings for Simon slip during a private conversation one night at the HQ while you were a little tipsy, and he's been a little shit about it since then, unwilling to let you live it down. You know it's all in good fun, there's no malice in his words, but his taunts do nothing to help you keep your feelings under control. 

“You should tell him, by the way.”

“We’ve already talked about this, Johnny…”

“I just don’t understand why you’re keeping it to yourself. You scared of getting rejected?”

You shrug, your gaze fixed on the empty glass in front of you as you fidget with it absentmindedly. He struck a nerve. Taking the first step without being absolutely certain that your feelings are reciprocated and thus making a colossal blunder scares the shit out of you. Actually, the mere thought of taking a shot in the dark makes your stomach churn with dread. 

“Y/n, he would never turn you down. Never .”

“You don’t know that.”

Soap scoffs incredulously. “C’mon! You’ve seen the way he looks at you! There’s nothing PG-13 about it.”

He pauses for a moment waiting for your retort but when you don't give him any, he draws conspiratorially close to your ear. “Although, I guess you don’t get to hear what he says about you when it’s just us boys…”

You perk up, turning toward him with a curious and clearly hopeful look on your face. Does he know something you don’t? Or is he messing with you? You can never tell with Soap.

“W-what does he say?”

Soap grins victoriously, undoubtedly pleased with himself for catching you failing, yet again, to hide your stupid little crush. 

"Gave my word that I would keep my mouth shut..."

“Ugh!", you push him away with a hard smack on his arm, "you’re insufferable.”

“Go talk to him and find out on your own. In the unlikely case that what you fear the most happens, any of us smart boys would gladly take his place in your heart, love ."

You shake your head with a scoff, eyes drifting aimlessly to the other side of the room. Turns out, Johnny was trying to get under your skin, as per usual, however you can’t help but mull his words over.

Perhaps he's got a point, perhaps it is time to let it all out in the open and face the consequences , whatever they might be. Johnny said that Simon has talked about you with the guys. It might be nothing, but what if he really has let his own feelings slip during a conversation, just like when it happened to you with Soap? Or perhaps, he had a real heart to heart talk with his mates… 

You have your doubts, but then again why would Johnny mention that he spoke of you? Why would he try so hard to reassure you that Simon would never reject you? Why would he stress out the fact that he often gets caught staring at you? Could your friend be doing this solely for a laugh? No, Johnny is not that kind of person. He cares about you and he clearly understands how much you care about Simon. He would not give you a friendly push merely to watch you fall face first to the ground. There must be some truth behind his jokes and teasing… but are you ready to risk it all to find out? Being rejected isn't the only fear that prevents you from acting on your feelings... 

"Whatever.” You sigh at last, propping yourself up by pushing your palms against the edge of the counter. “I'm here to unwind, not get caught up in my head as usual. So… now, I’m going to dance. And, just to be clear, I'm not doing it for you or Simon or anybody other than myself."

The pointed look you give him makes Soap raise his hands in defeat, however it doesn't wipe that little smirk off his face. The glass grazes his curled up lips as he looks at you with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah… You'll thank me later.”

His words get lost in the rising bustle of the pub; the cacophony of voices and the clatter of glasses gets louder just as the music fills your ears the more you get away from the bar. The soothing tune comes out of two huge amps set at either side of an empty stage, and floods over you, the sole person standing in front of it. You feel a bit self-conscious at first, sensing everyone's eyes on you but you try your best to ignore them. Letting your eyes flutter shut, you focus solely on the music, allowing yourself to be transported by the slow lulling rhythm. 

Soon, you're swaying your hips in time, your feet picking up their own pattern. You don't care about how you're moving, how it may look; all you care about is letting go, setting yourself free, feeling the music pass through you, and being completely in the moment. You dance worry-free, entirely surrendering control of your body to the enthralling and sinuous voice of the electric guitar. Few things are more freeing than dancing like nobody’s watching…

The song comes to an end almost too quickly and so does the enchantment that has seized you. When you open your eyes, chancing a look around you, you immediately meet Simon’s stare. He's still sitting at the bar but now he's turned toward you, back to the polished wood of the counter, one elbow resting on its edge. Clearly he has been watching you the whole time, enjoying the show , as Soap said. You feel a thrill run through you. Perhaps it's the alcohol kicking in, perhaps those feelings pushed deep inside you are finally emerging to the surface. Or is it just the adrenaline of the dancing still holding control over your body? 

Regardless of the answer, you find yourself walking toward him; the initial notes of a new song matching your sultry and unhurried steps. He firmly holds your gaze, but you notice the shifting in his seat as you approach him with renewed confidence.

You stop when you’re right in front of him, a coy smile plays on your lips while you hold out your hand.

"Care to join me?" 

His eyes flicker to your extended palm then wander over your face, as if he's looking for a cue that would tell him whether you're joking or being serious.

"You're outta your mind, princess ."

You raise your eyebrow at the word 'princess'. He knows you don’t like to be called like that but he doesn't seem to care. He keeps using that stupid term, especially when he wants to reprimand you, putting you in your place or just to tease you and get under your skin. But there is something in the way he said it just now, an endearing nuance in his tone that combined with his thick accent makes you melt like chocolate.

"Why? You seemed really interested only a minute ago."

You tease him with a challenging look on your face while you nonchalantly tug down the zip of your biker jacket. After the dance you're feeling a bit flushed, you need to let your skin breathe. No other reason for uncovering your cleavage, right? Definitely not to draw his attention to the deep neckline of your dress. Of course not, why would you do that? 

"I was only-" 

You interrupt him, arms folding across your chest, drawing his eyes even more to the curves of your body. " Enjoying the show , right."

"No.” He counters quickly, his voice loud and clear even over the music. Doesn’t he sound a little nervous? Or are you simply imagining it? 

“I was just… glad to see this carefree side of you. It's a good look on you."

You stare into each other’s eyes, your heart thumping hard in your chest. You didn’t expect to hear him say that.

"Well…”, you bite your lip as you try to ease your racing heart, arms falling back to your sides, “...dancing is very freeing. You should try it."

"I don't think it would work for me."

"Why don't we find out?" 

Shivering just a little, you take another step forward. His head slightly cranes up so that he can keep his piercing gaze on yours. You move your hand on his wrist, fingers wrapping gently around it before giving a little pull in your direction.

"C'mon…", you give him a teasing smile as you step back, head nodding back to the space behind you, “...let’s go.”

Despite your pulling, Simon doesn’t budge a single inch, but you see him hesitate. You keep tugging at his wrist, stepping backwards, even attempting to pout, until he silently relents and stands up, letting you drag him toward the stage at last. You didn't expect him to give up. You thought you'd have to put much more effort into it, or that you'd have to be the one giving up in the end. You're genuinely surprised by the turn of events but you won't let that dent your spirit now. You've just started playing with fire and you can't help but feel the thrill of it, the excitement lighting up inside of you. 

You stop when you reach the spot you previously made your own during your solo dance and turn around to face him. He stands there, tall and motionless, the hood of his sweatshirt still on; he looks so out of place on the dance floor, the sight makes you chuckle.

"Don't worry Si, nobody would dare judge you."

"I don't care about that."

"No?"

With a smile on your face, a gaze fixed on him, you start to sway your hips in sync again. His eyes immediately flicker down to take in your movements. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that he looks like a freaking pole, standing so still in front of you, not moving even one muscle. His whole focus is on you and he seems to particularly enjoy being able to watch you from the best seat in the house.

“You could move your shoulders a little bit, you know? Or even just nod your head in time with the music.”

It’s so evident that he doesn’t know what to do with his body, where to even begin. You almost feel guilty of having dragged him there, of putting him on the spot.

“Here, follow my steps.”

You pick up a simple left-to-right footwork, following the slow but steady rhythm of the drums and encourage Ghost to mirror your motions with a nod and a gentle smile. He studies you, eyes observing your body attentively, picking up every little movement you make. 

He appears quite stiff as he attempts to follow along; his bulky body doesn't seem keen to make him look as graceful on the dancefloor as it does on the battlefield. But he's trying at least, and quickly getting the hang of it.

“That’s it! You’re not half bad, Si!” 

A soft chuckle escapes you as you bite your bottom lip. Seeing him dance - or try to - makes you oddly giddy, euphoric even. It's just such a rare and bizarre thing to see that you can't help but smile wide and enjoy the moment to the fullest.

Raising your arms in the air, you swing your hips and bend your knees as you lower your body to the ground, only to raise up again, twisting your curves like a snake. The thrill of his probing stare piercing you causes you to shudder; his eyes are unwavering, admiring your every move with utmost devotion. Having his undivided attention makes you feel alive, it makes you feel special and bold. 

You take a step closer and reach out to grab both of his hands in yours, your movements mellowing to fit his laid-back rocking. His calloused hands are surprisingly soft and warm as they wrap perfectly around yours, like matching pieces of a puzzle; his touch feels comforting, stable, safe. As you look up at him, eyes locking once again, you feel your heart pound rapidly in your chest. A small smile takes form on your lips to mask the turmoil rising within you.

“This feels… nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

Your heart soars upon hearing his answer, smile widening.

“I didn't know you could dance."

"I can't dance”, you correct him with a light chuckle, “I simply enjoy moving my body to the music."

"Never seen you do that before."

"Well, most of you guys don't even like listening to music, so I only get to do it when I'm on my own… which is a rare occurrence since apparently you babies can’t leave me alone for more than one minute."

You squeeze his hands playfully, a cheeky grin playing on your face. You notice his eyes crinkle lightly in response.

"You can use my office, if you want. There's enough room to… move around."

You let out a hearty laugh, head shaking softly. Your eyes lower to the floor for a moment, monitoring the way both your feet move perfectly in sync and at the same time picturing the silly image in your mind.

"You gonna sit at your desk, grumbling over your paperwork while, with music blasting in my ears, I dance like nobody’s watching right in front of you?" 

"Why not,” he says with a shrug.

His voice doesn’t betray his collected demeanour, but you know he’s smiling underneath that mask.

"Well, for one…”, you raise one eyebrow, giving him a knowing look, “I think it would get pretty distracting, rather quickly." You bring your joined hands to the level of your eyes and his chest, slowly interlacing your fingers with his. The muscles of his arms seem to tense for a moment.

"...Fair enough."

"Secondly…”, you trail off, eyes flickering up to meet his serious stare, voice losing a bit of its jovial nuance, “...people might start talking."

"Who cares."

His remark is curt and blunt, and it takes you a bit by surprise. He actually sounds as though he wouldn't care less if your coworkers were to start spreading rumours about you two possibly being... intimate. Or perhaps you're merely grasping at straws. After all, you're talking about dancing. Nothing more, right? 

"You’re telling me that you wouldn’t care what the others may think or say?" your tone is clearly hesitant this time, vulnerable even, eyes frantically searching his, "...watching us dance like this? Being this close?"

He keeps silent for a long moment, gaze boring into yours. His hands then pull on your wrists, tugging you closer to him. He swiftly wraps his arms around your waist, while your hands fly onto his chest for support as a surprised gasp escapes your mouth.

“How could I give a crap about them or what they think… when I have you here in my arms?”

His straightforward statement catches you off-guard, causing you to stumble upon your feet. It feels like the tables have turned. Your flirtatiousness made him take the bait and now you’re the one who doesn’t know how to act. Your boldness instantly vanishes, it’s as if you never had it in you in the first place. A tardy nervous chuckle slips out of you as you struggle to regain your synced rocking.

“You must’ve had a drink too many, huh Si?”

“Never been more lucid in my life.”

You stare deeply into his eyes, a wild-eyed look on your face, as he firmly holds your gaze. Tension soaks the air around you, you can sense it getting thicker and thicker. Suddenly, there's not a single soul in the pub but you two. Your eyes locked, bodies swaying gently together, lightly brushing against one another. Your heart thumps forcefully against your chest. 

[ 2:26 min .]

… 

I just want to get your head back, baby

Give you all the love I got, for sure

So, baby, if you've got that feeling

You know I wanna give you that midnight healing

Oh, I just want to make love to you all night long

… 

Perhaps it's merely your perception, but the music appears to get louder. The song’s lyrics are now distinctly clear; they echo in your head, tickling your mind like a subtle hint intended specifically for you.

Returning your attention to Simon, you detect a strange glint in his eyes. Did he receive the hint as well? The way his grasp on your waist tightens, palms roving over your sides and drawing you even closer to him, seems to confirm your supposition.

You both seem to lean forward, attracted like magnets, until your faces are merely inches away. The music deafens, slowly making its way into the background, providing the perfect mood for this special moment. Neither of you says a word, instead you let your eyes speak for themselves. Everything around you seems to blur into a negligible mist. Simon has you hypnotised, just as the music did, with the intensity of his gaze and the warmth of his touch. As one of his hands slides up to your neck, fingers grazing the soft hollow area just above your pulse point, a sharp shiver travels up your spine. 

The room spins around you. All of a sudden, your heart pounds hard against your chest and in your ears. You sway on your feet with fingers tugging on his jacket to keep your balance. His hands move quickly to your back, to support your body as you shift your weight on him for a moment before catching yourself. You feel hot, dizzy, and out of breath. 

"Y/n?" 

"J-just give me a moment, will you?" You say rather harshly, unable to keep the rising panic and tension out of your voice.

His concerned gaze is the last thing you see before you abruptly pull away and dash back towards the counter, mind buzzing, chest tightening. You notice Soap’s smile drop into a puzzling look as he watches you rush over but before he can ask you anything, you hear Gaz's hesitant voice coming from behind you. 

"What's going on?" 

You throw a quick glance over your shoulder, instantly meeting his perplexed look. Your actions seem to have drawn the attention of Price and Laswell, too; you find both of their gazes set on you. 

You struggle to take deep breaths, your eyes darting aimlessly from one friendly face to another while your hands clutch around the table edges, fingertips turning white. It takes all your efforts to not raise your gaze toward the dance floor and rest it on the man still standing exactly where you have just left him. 

"Nothing! It's all going great!" 

Your voice comes out higher pitched than normal but you try to mask it with the most convincing smile you can muster. 

You turn toward Johnny before you can witness the other's reactions or give them time to question your words. Your friend pierces you with a questioning look that doesn't leave room for lies. 

"I-I think I'm gonna pass out."

He immediately reaches out to place a comforting hand on your arm as he slides his freshly refilled glass towards you.

"You ok? What happened?" 

Your hand shakes as you grab the drink. You rub it to your forehead, cheeks, and neck before moving it to your lips. The cool sensation of the glass against your feverish skin seems to ease your panic, even if only a little. You focus completely on the cold liquid scorching down your throat as you take a long sip. 

You gasp, pulling from the rim of the glass. "Nothing. It's just-" you take another deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut,"...it felt all-too real, all-too quickly, I guess. I'm not entirely sure. I panicked."

"Y/n," he coos softly, gently squeezing your arm, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to-" 

"But that's the point! I want it! We were so close, I mean… you saw it! If it wasn't for the mask, I’m pretty sure he would’ve leaned in for a kiss. I-I felt my heart was about to burst!” The words fall out of your mouth in a nervous rambling. “I wanted to close the distance so bad… that I fucking ran away." A deprecating chuckle escapes you, eyes rolling in disbelief. "I'm so fucking stupid!" 

Johnny squeezes your shoulder again, offering you a genuine smile.

"You are not stupid, y/n... Well, maybe just a little bit." He grins in response to your not-so-convincing glare. "Could a little more privacy help you feel better? You know there are rooms upstairs, you could always go there if you want to..."

You watch as his hand disappears inside his jacket and reappears a moment later, holding a small silver key between his fingers. He holds it out to you and you take it from him mindlessly.

Soap laughs as he detects the mute query in your stunned expression.

"I took it earlier thinking I might get lucky and use it for myself, but it looks like I’m not the lucky one tonight…"

Your gaze darts from your friend's face to the key, then back to him. Your heart starts racing again as the true meaning that small metallic object holds hits you like an unforeseen gunshot to the chest. You let out a loud groan, your hands flying to your face to hide your grimace.

"What is it now?"

"Johnny...", his name falls out of your lips in a sing-songy cry, barely audible above the music and chatter. Lips quivering both in embarrassment and fear for the confession you’re about to make. With a whisper, you share, "I've never been with anyone before... I've never even kissed anyone." You chance a look at your friend through your fingers. "What if I make a fool out of myself in front of Simon? Hell, who am I kidding? I-I already have!"

The astonished expression on Soap's face only aggravates your growing anxiety.

"Creeping Jesus! Y/n… I thought you… uhm, it’s okay-," he awkwardly shifts in his seat, his mouth opening and shutting without emitting a single sound, at least not one that you can hear. His gaze abruptly darts to the side, focusing on something far over your shoulder before moving back to rest on you with a barely concealed alarm. "Ok, take a deep breath, he's coming over."

You only have time to curse under your breath and pull your hands away from your face before you feel a presence behind you that makes every hair on your body stand on end.

When you hear your name being called, you turn warily to face the man standing by your side, stomach twisting as you meet his inquisitive stare. You believe you can also see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, too. 

"Simon, I'm… I'm-"

"She needed some fuel, L.T.!" Soap rushes to your aid, grinning up at Ghost and smacking him on the arm - a little too hard. "She's all good now… right, y/n?" 

He gives you a quizzical look, as if he's asking whether you're ready to handle the situation on your own or if you need more time; at least, that's what you believe he’s trying to convey.

You respond with a feeble nod before your gaze shifts to Simon. You offer him your glass. "A sip?"

He stares at you intently, seemingly studying your face, his expression now unreadable. 

"No."

"A-alright, more for me..." you fake a smile and then guzzle the drink all in one go. You slam the empty glass on the counter as you suck air through your teeth, grimacing at the piercing sensation of the scorching liquor spreading inside your system. Your gaze is drawn to Soap's, and you give him a somewhat confident smile, which he returns with a little wink.

Your hand then moves on its own accord, finding Ghost's large palm and interlacing your fingers with his; the contact sends a chill up your spine. When you look up at him, a ghost of a smile appears on your lips. You're not sure what you're doing or what's going to happen, but you try not to second-guess yourself too much and risk screwing up for the second time in a row.

Taking a step back, away from the counter, you beckon him to follow you.

"Come with me…"

He does not resist your pull. He does not hesitate for even one second. He trails behind you as you lead him up the stairs and to the second floor. 

Neither of you dare utter a single word as you walk through the corridor and come to a door that matches the number on the key Soap gave you. You don't dare glance at him as you walk in, taking in the dim tavern-like atmosphere of the tiny bedroom. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the king size bed in the centre, which takes up most of the space. Your mouth goes dry. You wonder what Simon might be thinking, if the same thoughts that course through your mind are pestering him as well. 

The sound of the door being closed startles you and makes you whirl around. Your gaze immediately captures his, and you gulp under his piercing stare.

With slow heavy steps that mismatch your thundering heartbeat, he walks over to you, stopping only when he’s towering right over you, standing tall in all his imposing height. You keep your gaze levelled in front of you, unable to meet his eyes, however his fingers curl under your chin and nudge your head up, forcing you to face him. 

" Princess… " he murmurs in a low breathy tone, his voice tinged with something akin to irritation, “why are you playing little games with me?”

Your stomach flips again. Of course he’d assume you’ve been messing with him, leading him on; it’s only fair considering the odd behaviour you’ve had all night. And probably not just tonight. 

“I’m not, trust me…”

He pauses for a brief moment, his keen eyes studying your face, possibly looking for proof of your sincerity.

"You brought me here. Why ?" 

"I-I don't know…"

"You don't know?" 

You mentally reprimand yourself for your dumb answer and shake your head in an attempt to dissipate the haze that has settled over your mind.

"I mean, I know why, but-" you try to swallow but your throat is dry. The intensity of his dark eyes boring into yours causes you to stutter, "f-fuck Si, you make me so nervous I can't even think straight!"

Your voice comes out louder than intended and soaked with frustration. Your hand moves on his wrist, tugging at it to pry yourself free from his grasp, but his hold on you does not relent.

"You were dancing for all the pub to see until a minute ago, and I make you nervous?" 

"Yes! Of course! I don't give a damn about those strangers! Why should I? Besides that's not the point! You make me nervous because you are... you are-" 

You shake your head again as you let out a shuddering breath, your gaze averted from his. You know you can't really back down now. You have to tell him the truth but it's damn hard to find the right words to express exactly how you feel. And more than that, to finally find the courage to say them.

You feel like your heart is on the verge of bursting out of your chest.

"You’re someone I really care about, Simon."

His fingers squeeze your chin, urging you to look up, and when you do you notice that his eyes have softened. 

“That made you panic?”

You give him a lopsided smile, but a short-lived one, for your anxieties come tumbling back, slithering into your mind and compelling you to address them, once and for all.

"T-There's something else..."

You want to tell him that you've never been with a man before, that you've never even had your first kiss yet, and that the thought of him, the only man you’ve ever loved, desired , possibly being your first, makes you incredibly nervous and self-conscious. You really want to tell him everything and free yourself of this burden but your voice gets stuck in your throat and you gape up at him, feeling your stomach churn.

Simon waits patiently for you to speak up, his fingers still holding your chin. The soft look he offers you seems to ease your tension a little. 

"I have…”, you draw a sharp breath, "...no experience in this field , if you catch my drift...”. You mutter those few words in a small voice as your face twists into a grimace. 

Your confession hangs in the air for what feels like eternity, your heart seems to have stopped beating altogether. 

"I know."

“Wha-?!”

You are completely thrown off by his matter-of-fact tone.

"H-how? Why-" you stutter, mouth gaping, your eyes wide. How could he know? You've never told anybody, not until a few minutes ago. But he couldn't have heard you, could he? That would be impossible. 

"Is it really so fucking obvious?" 

"No.” 

In stark contrast to yours, his voice sounds cool and collected. His fingers graze your skin as they move up from your chin to your cheek. "I figured you had no idea how this worked when suddenly you’re lacking your usual confidence and turning into a bloody school-girl. It threw me off at first. I thought you didn’t want this…”

" Hell…”, your head slowly shakes in disbelief, eyes darting to the side. 

Suddenly you don’t know if you should feel relieved, ashamed or sorry for it all. Your own body chooses for you, opting for an odd mix of the three; shoulders slumping, mind buzzing, you stare into space while his words sink in. 

So he's been into you the whole time but your mixed signals, caused by your stupid anxieties, have made it look like you were not into him? Or that you were just playing with him? Seriously? What kind of shitty B-rated rom com is this? 

" So , you've never been held by a man.” Simon’s calm voice draws you back to the moment, his fingers taking hold of your chin once again. “ Blimey . Is that what makes you so nervous?" 

"Is it really not a problem for you?" you ask out of genuine curiosity, brows furrowing as your eyes meet his.

Simon’s scoff almost turns into a hearty laugh as he holds your gaze, eyes crinkling.

"No man has ever put their filthy hands on you and I should be - what? Sad? Disappointed? For God's sake, princess..."

He shakes his head, fingertips taking better hold of your jaw as he leans down.

“You and your worries…” His tone is almost scolding but playfully so, eyes studying every feature of your face. “Stop thinking so much, you numpty . It’s not good for you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know…”, you let out a long shuddering breath, in an attempt to let go of the lingering worry still tightening your throat, "I just… don't want to fuck this up, Si. You mean too much to me..."

He hums softly. 

Silence engulfs you. A silence tinged with renewed tension. Not the type of tension that fuels your anxieties but the kind that makes you warm inside. Soft distant notes coming from downstairs fill the room, washing over you in a soothing yet electric wave, reminding you of the dance you shared, of how close you were and the desire that was rising, burning hot, inside of you. 

Just like a magnet the attraction between you and Simon grows. 

His free hand moves on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him and just like before, out of instinct, your hands land on his chest. He holds your chin high, his gaze piercing straight to your heart.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" 

You bite your lip, surprised by his forwardness, a nervous giggle shaking through you. "What kind of question is that-"

"Do you want me to kiss you, princess?" 

He asks a second time with a more serious tone that makes your nervous giddiness fade. Looking deep into his eyes, you take a long breath to ease your racing heart, or at least attempt to.

"Y-yeah, I want you to kiss me."

His hand moves over yours resting on his chest, and guides it up to his neck. 

"Pull up my mask, uncover my mouth. Only my mouth."

You stop breathing altogether, heart jumping in your throat. 

"Y-You want me to do it?" 

"Aye."

Touching his mask, pulling it up to uncover his face feels like such an intimate gesture… Your eyes roam reverently over his newly uncovered skin as your fingers gently peel up the fabric of his balaclava, until his mouth is completely exposed to your sight and you can let your adoring gaze truly linger for the first time. You’ve caught glimpses of his face before, his chin looking vaguely familiar for the few times you’ve seen Simon drink or eat in front of you and the team. But that’s all it has ever been: glimpses. You’ve never been allowed to study his clean-shaved chin and alluring mouth like you are now, from so up close.

"You have pretty lips…"

Your comment slips out of your mouth before your mind could register it and you grimace out of embarrassment. "Uh, sorry, that was-" 

Words die on your tongue as soon as you feel his hand firmly squeeze your jaw. Your eyes immediately dart to his, which bore into yours. Slowly - breathtakingly slow, he draws closer until his lips hover inches away from yours and you can feel his hot breath on your skin. You swallow dry. In a heartbeat he closes the distance, kissing you gently, softly but with a clear, barely-withheld passion. 

You respond to the kiss after a moment of stun. The contact of his lips on yours feels like a soft dream at first, one that seizes your mind in a haze and makes you walk on cloud nine, and then grows in force, as if Simon can't contain his desire any longer.

Your lips part and his tongue slips into your hot mouth, eager to explore this new territory. You moan in the kiss and meet him in a twisting dance of control. 

Every move comes surprisingly natural to you, as if you’ve done this a million times before.

His hand travels down from your back to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a possessive squeeze, then slips even lower to lift your short black dress at its edges and tug it upward just enough to expose the back of your thighs. He doesn't waste time when moving his hand onto that newly uncovered area, kneading the tight flesh there as he bends forward, causing you to arch your back and latch your hands around his neck. Bodies tucking closer. 

You take a deep breath as you slightly pull away, lips still grazing his, your hot breaths merging together. 

All the words you thought would play out in your head in such an important moment are now nowhere to be found. Instead, it’s all just a feeling of rightness between you and him. None of your fantasies could have ever prepared you for a feeling so… intoxicated. 

"Simon…", you usher in a barely audible whisper, slipping your hand under his jacket and feeling his muscles tense under your wandering touch. His lust clouded eyes search yours, his chest heaving hard, hands pressing against you and relenting a second later, as if he’s trying to restrain himself. 

"...I want you to be my first."

A guttural sound comes out of his mouth at your words, his fingers spread again on your ass cheek, squeezing it hard and causing you to whimper. His gaze seems to get darker and he draws closer once more, teeth grazing your bottom lip, nibbling at it. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Positive."

And just like that, as if a barrier has been finally lifted, his lips crush onto yours once more but harder, hungrier than the first time. In one swift motion he yanks the biker jacket off your shoulders and tosses it on the floor. You instantly match his eagerness, returning the favour; his own windbreaker dropping at your feet. 

Before your mind can register what’s happening, you find yourself back against the wall, your shoulder blades hitting the hard surface in an audible thud. You feel your guts twist as heat starts to pool in your belly. 

Your lips are still connected, unwilling to separate. His hands dive on your hips, the thin fabric of your flared dress creases under his ravenous groping. One hand slides down, curling up the hem and slipping underneath, meeting the side of your bare upper thigh. His palm closes around it, firmly, possessively as he lifts your leg up to his hip; you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to find a red mark on your skin later, nor would you be displeased. You moan in his mouth in response and let your own hands wander on his body, blindly scanning the muscles of his torso from above his sweatshirt, only to slide lower and lower, until you find its edges and curl them up. Your fingers sneak under the fabric, meeting the smooth skin of his abdomen; his muscles tense up at the teasing contact. Your palms climb up his abs, his pecks, committing the tactile sensation of every inch of his taut torso to memory. 

As you both pull away, gasping for air, you let your eyes fall to where your hands disappear under his clothes; you want to look at him, feast your hungry eyes on his naked body but before you can do it yourself, Simon grabs the hem of his sweatshirt and pulls it off his head, adding it to the rest of your discarded clothes. However, he doesn’t give you time to take his bare chest in, for he grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you up like you weigh nothing at all, walks you over to the bed and drops you on the mattress. 

Only at this moment are you allowed to let your eyes wander over the muscles of his torso, probably the only part of his body you've already had the pleasure of seeing in the past, although mostly in not so pleasant times, when he needed to be patched up. This time it's totally different. Your hungry gaze devours every inch of him, glinting in twisted pleasure when it meets the scars that you remember having tended to yourself. 

You're too eager to touch him again to keep laying there waiting. Quickly throwing your boots off the side of the bed, you crawl on your knees toward him, hands latching on the inseam of his trousers to unzip them. In the meantime he yanks his own boots off his feet and out of the way, with eyes glued to yours. 

When you're done with his zip, before you can tug his jeans down, he pushes you back on the mattress and joins you on the bed, settling himself on top of your body, knees resting at either side of your legs. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time.”

The way his raspy voice breaks a little as he ushers his confession makes your stomach twist.

“Do w-what, exactly?”

His hands move on your collarbone, peeling the thin straps of your dress and your bra off your shoulders. You allow him to tug them down your chest as you look up at him with nothing but unyielding passion. His eyes wander over your freshly uncovered breasts and you can see his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, jaw setting hard. 

He takes a moment to answer, staring down at you, perhaps struggling to give voice to something that has been swirling against the recesses of his mind for quite some time. 

“Push you on a bed, pin your body under mine and… taste you.”

A sharp shiver runs up your spine at his words, heart skipping a beat. 

One of his palms closes around your breast, firmly squeezing the soft flesh, while the other lifts the skirt of your dress up to your stomach. Without missing a beat he bends down beneath your thighs and presses his mouth against your panties, just above your lower belly. 

“Oh!”

Your hips buck up on their own at the sudden stomach-churning contact. His free hand moves to rest on your upper thigh, pressing your body back against the mattress. 

"This is uncharted territory, innit?"

"I-It is, Lieutenant…", you match his playful tone even though your voice is but a mere whisper, struggling to get out in between your ragged breaths, "...nobody has yet claimed that path..."

You hear him hum in appreciation and you feel his voice too, vibrating against your core.

"Don't mind if I do."

You take a sharp breath as you feel his lips press against you again, only lower this time, teasing your most sensitive part. The thin fabric of your underwear does nothing to muffle the intense touch and yet the obstacle irritates you, you want it out of the way and Simon seems to share your feelings. Both his hands move on your hips, grabbing the hem of your panties and sliding them down and off your legs. A thrill curses through your whole body at the sight of your undies being tucked inside the back pocket of his jeans. Simon’s eyes crinkle lightly as they watch your reaction, lips curving into a smirk.

You don’t really care about them now, whether he’s planning on returning them or making you walk out of here butt naked. All your attention is drawn to the cool breath blowing against your delicate skin, turning hot only a second later as Simon leans closer, until you feel his lips meet your heat and cause you to whimper. The cloth of his mask grazing against your folds only adds to the stimulating touch.

His hot tongue swipes up your core once, twice, with hands spreading you wider for him to reach every inch of you. Another slow stripe from your entrance up to your clitoris and your body shakes in ecstasy. He latches his lips to you and starts to suck hard, swirling his tongue around your nub and dragging it up and down along your wetness. 

He said it. He wanted to taste you. And that is exactly what he’s doing, with no hesitation whatsoever, nor waste of time. You’re already a quivering mess beneath him, pathetic whines falling from your parted lips, hands closing in fists as fingers dig into the sheets. 

“F-Fuck, Simon…”

You feel his soft chuckle against you; it drives you mad. 

He shifts from his position, lips pulling away as he grabs the back of your thighs to tug you closer and pin your spread legs to your stomach. You chance a look at him through your heavy lidded eyes. His lips and chin are wet with your juices, the sight ignites a fire inside you that you’ve never felt before. The way you’re spread for him, your privateness so thoroughly exposed for the first time in your life… you thought that you’d be embarrassed, that you’d be awfully shy to show yourself like this, especially to him. You do sense a faint tightness in your stomach and a warmth spreading in your face, yet there’s another feeling prevailing over the rest. A feeling that surges from Simon himself; the way he leans back down, hands travelling up your body to grab your breasts, the way he’s devouring you like a starved man, the way he’s taking care of you, making sure to pleasure you, to make you feel good… It allows no room for awkwardness or discomfort, only a warm pervasive and soothing feeling of pure care and devotion to wash over you and envelope you whole. 

The lewd sound of his mouth working against you has long prevailed over the music and it only seems to grow in tone the more the tightening of the heat in your belly grows in intensity. You feel it coming, the high is close. Your hands fly toward him, landing on his head. You grab his mask, tug at it, feeling it slip from its place, then you freeze abruptly, as soon as you realise what you’re doing. You look down again, instantly meeting Simon’s hard stare. A strange glint passes over his eyes; he seems to ponder something for a moment then come to a final decision. In a few dismissive moves, he pulls away from you, grabs the dark fabric curled under his nose and yanks it off his head, throwing it carelessly on the floor. 

Your heart is sent into a frenzy. It no longer knows what to do; whether it should keep thundering in your heart for the intense and building pleasure or stopping altogether for the shock of what you have just witnessed. Your wide eyes wander toward him, curious and hesitant at the same time but they only catch a glimpse of his bare face before he disappears between your legs once again, latching his mouth on you even more greedily than before, possibly feeling more free in his movements without the mask impediment. You want to watch him, stare at him as he drives you to heaven but your head falls back on the mattress, eyes squeezing shut and back arching sharply as a wave of skin-crawling chills sets your entire body aflame. It is nothing like the orgasms you’ve had before, when you touch yourself. This is a new feeling; it’s intense, it goes to your head, it makes you dizzy and wordless. It makes you feel loved. 

Simon keeps moving against you, tongue curling at your entrance, gathering up the fruits of his hard work. His hands still pinning your thighs close to your stomach, fingers digging in your soft flesh as he eases your shakes. 

Your mind is still struggling to come out of the haze when your hand blindly travels down in search of him. Fingers tug at his short locks of hair, urging him to come up to meet you. He lingers a moment longer to press a soft kiss on your swollen bundle of nerves, then on your lower belly and between your breasts as he makes his ascent. Finally he faces you, eyes meeting again. 

If your body wasn't already heavily overwhelmed, the sight of his beautiful sharp features would send all your senses into overdrive. 

He looks at you so openly, dark eyes twinkling with adoration and what you can only read as vulnerability, that you find yourself unsure of how to act. 

Would this special moment turn awkward if you were to make a comment on his looks? You wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Removing his mask must take such an effort… you don’t want to risk making this more stressful for him. You opt for keeping your comments to yourself, at least for now. 

Instead, you let your hand rest on his face, caressing his skin, softly, slowly, as if it’s the most fragile thing in the world and you have to handle it with utmost care. You hope that by doing this you can show him and reassure him that everything is ok, nothing has changed, surely not for the worse. That you deeply appreciate the fact that he decided to let his guards down, to be vulnerable with you. That’s what you try to convey with your adoring gaze and your tender touch, and you sincerely hope it reaches him.

When you feel him lean into your touch, a content smile spreads on your face and you instinctively tilt your head up, capturing his damp lips in a passionate kiss that instantly rekindles the desire inside of you. Simon matches your eagerness, hands travelling down your body to caress, grab, squeeze, grope and tease anything he finds on his path. You do the same, mapping his muscular torso, skimming your fingers down to his navel. 

For a moment, only a moment, you hesitate to go lower as you get caught up in your head, worries threatening to hold you back again, but the way he interrupts the contact of your lips to place a trail of sloppy kisses down the sensitive skin of your neck makes your worries fade again and you slip your hand inside his unzipped jeans. You relish in hearing the guttural sound that rewards your action; it compels you to rub your hand over his boxers with more confidence, feeling his bulge with a light squeeze.

Simon hastily brings his hand to his waistband and tugs it down, his boxers receive the same treatment. Your hand now closes around his erection, giving it a few tentative strokes. He draws a sharp breath.

“ Bloody hell , princess…”

He mutters in the crook of your neck and you shiver. His reaction encourages you to increase the vigour of your movements.

“Is this ok?”

He hums softly, hips starting to buck in sync with your hand. He lets you fondle him, drag your fingers on the tip wet with precum, make him moan in pleasure as your hold around his girth tightens… then he pulls away, grabs your hand and brings it to his lips for a soft peck on its back.

You follow his movements, eyes drawn to his lips then flickering down to his cock. By the touch you assumed it was pretty big and the sight only confirms your thoughts but it shocks you anyway.

You hear him huff a laugh through his nose.

“Do you think you can take me, mh?”

Your eyes dart back to his face, meeting his amused look.

“I don’t know…”, you bite your lips, the angles of your mouth curling up in a playful smirk, “but I sure as hell ain’t gonna back down from a challenge.”

Your heart soars with joy seeing his face crack into a pleasantly surprised expression, a chuckle coming out of his mouth.

“Good girl.”

He pins you with his mesmerising gaze, bending down on you again. He leans on the side, toward the bedside table. You crane your neck to watch. His hand slips into a black smoking-bowl and comes back with a small metallic sachet. Protection. Of course. This place is well-equipped. Your curious eyes keep following his movements as he takes the condom and secures it onto his throbbing erection. You swallow as his gaze moves back on your face, your stomach starts churning again. He seems to sense your nervousness and leans down, hand grabbing your jaw, eyes piercing right into yours.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll be gentle.”

You nod with a smile, then take a deep breath.

“It’s okay. I trust you, Si.”

He leans in for a quick soft kiss, hand guiding his erection between your legs, tip rubbing against your slit to coat it in your wetness. Your whole body tingles in anticipation. 

“Stop me anytime if you need to.”

He waits for your confirmation before he slides in, bit by bit, easing you to the intrusion. An instant groan comes out of his mouth.

“Oh, you’re so fucking tight!”

Your brows furrow, your jaw sets, soft cries come out of you as he settles inside your walls but you don’t stop him. He kisses your neck, right on the spot he learned that makes you quiver the most, your hands clutched at his sides. It doesn’t take long for the nagging feeling to fade and for you to get accustomed to the sensation as your core stretches to welcome him fully.

Simon feels your body relax and starts to push into you, slowly, carefully, letting out pleased grunts of his own. His hands wrap around the back of your thighs and lift them up to his waist. You latch your legs around his body, a maneuver that allows him to bury his cock deeper inside you and that causes a loud moan to erupt from you.

“G-God… That’s…”

His lips trail back from your neck to your jaw, teasingly brushing your skin, until they hover on your open mouth; his eyes take in your contorting features with a pleased smile. 

He rocks at a steady pace against you while his hands roam your body, travel up your hips, caress your breasts, skim along the shape of your arms, stopping only to let his fingers interlace with yours, and pin your hands down to the mattress, at either side of your head.

You feel your lucidity slip from you completely. No coherent words come out of you, only a nonsensical mumbling. The way he’s thrusting inside of you, so deep and precise, hitting that perfect spot at each push, it takes every fiber in your being not to scream out loud and make the whole pub know how Simon’s fucking you sensless. 

You can only focus on how you’re connected to him, how he is filling you up so beautifully, how your bodies move wonderfully together; it’s almost like a dance, a primal animalistic dance that belongs to you two only. You even have the music to accompany your dance moves, a soft sensual melody that perfectly complements your passion-imbued union of trembling bodies.

So this is how it feels to have sex? This is how it feels to be wholly consumed by lust and desire? Or could this overwhelming sensation simply be Simon’s doing? To have him make love to you?

“Y/n…”

It takes a lot of effort for you to hum back in response.

Simon’s lips crush clumsily against yours as his movements become frantic and sloppier. He must be close to reaching the high. And so are you. Your eyelids are heavy, your sight slightly blurred and unfocused.

“Si, I think I’m about to-”

He pulls away from your lips, spine straightening, piercing eyes landing on your face as one of his hands slips from yours and travels along your body, down toward your core. He deliberately rubs your slit with his palm before he picks up a hectic waving motion to stroke your swollen nub, immediately triggering a shock wave of shivers to spiral up your back. Your head spins at the additional stimuli. Your eyes squeeze shut, cries fall out of your mouth as you contort in pleasure.

You feel his other hand grab your jaw and shake it lightly, demanding your attention.

“Eyes on me, beautiful.”

You look up at him with glazed eyes, dizzy and yearning for your release. With every stroke and every thrust you lose yourself more and more into the bliss.

His hand settles on your neck, closing around your throat, not hard enough to delay your breathing but providing you with such a thrilling and wicked pressure that makes you salivate and that instantly sends heat flaring in your belly, causing your need to build faster and even more intense.

Panting hard, your hands now free, you grip onto Simon’s strong arms while you progressively lose focus on every way he’s indulging your desire, instead centring your heightened senses on the feelings he’s awakening. The last thread of restraint then finally snaps and you reach the peak, core lightening with an answering flame that you’ve never felt before. You lose yourself in the waves of pleasure overtaking you, barely taking notice of Simon’s rutting inside you once, twice, three more times before his body goes still against you and a deep groan erupts from him. Both of you anchor the other’s body, pressing together, relishing in the other’s shudders and panting breaths. You’re so flush against him that you can feel his heart, challenging your own in a speed race and then gradually slowing down.

Chest heaving, you cradle the back of his head, letting your fingers thread between the roots of his hair, while he blows his hot breath on the crook of your neck as you both ease down from your highs. The warmth of his body is comforting against yours, you never want him to let go. The rousing feeling of his cock still buried inside you, resting between your fluttering walls is one you could easily get used to. It almost takes your breath away when Simon slides out of you, leaving you bare.

His damp lips press against your boiling skin, trailing up your jaw. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, committing this idyllic moment to memory. 

His thumb gently strokes your chin, fingers resting upon your cheek. When you open your eyes, he's already looking at you with the loveliest smile you've ever seen graze his face. You return it with one of your own.

"Si..." you pause, staring deep into his eyes. There's so much you want to say, a multitude of emotions running wild and untamed inside of you that needs to be addressed and yet you struggle to find the right words to tell him how you feel.

The realisation of what has just happened downs on you. You've spent years fantasising about this moment, fearing the real thing wouldn't even come close to your idealised perfect first time. Wondering when, where, with whom you would live through this experience. You're euphoric to admit to yourself that the real thing has surpassed the fantasy by a landslide. 

"I'm... glad it was you."

It sounds silly when you say it. You could have chosen from a billion other thoughts you had swirling in your head, yet this one drowned out the rest. But as silly as it may sound, it’s the truth: you’re beyond thrilled he was your first. There’s no other man in your life that you trust, respect, and love as much as him with whom you could share such intimacy. 

You see the angle of his lips curl up to one side, the pad of his thumb softly brushing the outline of your bottom lip. 

" I'm glad it was me ."

Your face cracks as you erupt in a giggle. With your palm against his cheek, you gently push him away. "Simon..."

He smiles down at you, his eyes crinkling as he leans down again to kiss the crown of your head before drawing all the way back and getting off the bed. 

Your gaze follows him as he tosses the used condom into the trash can and pulls up his underwear and jeans. As he picks up the rest of his clothes from the floor and gets dressed again, your devoted gaze glides up and down his body, a permanent smile engraved to your lips. You feel so lucky to be able to witness such a sight… You still have a hard time believing your eyes.

“Now, who’s enjoying the show ?”

His amused glance meets yours, and you give him a sheepish smile, followed by a shrug.

"I'm just taking it all in..."

"Oh, you've already taken it all in , princess."

You let out a shocked scoff, your mouth wide open. You dismissively wave your hand in front of your face and shake your head, as you feel a crawl of heat flooding to your cheeks. 

"Oh, shut up..."

You love his sense of humour. It’s one of the qualities you like the most about him. And now that you’re… well, even closer to him, the sarcasm is only bound to get more pungent. Not that you’d complain about it.

His low chuckle fills your ears as you distract yourself by adjusting your bra and dress, then taking a seat on the side of the bed to slip your boots back on. You notice a heap of black and white fabric on the floor at your feet and bend down to pick it up. It's his balaclava.

The thought doesn’t even have time to fully form in your mind that you’re already pulling the mask over your head. Unfortunately there’s no mirror in the room to check your reflection, to see how the skull fits you but the cloth feels surprisingly nice against your skin and… you can smell his scent.

The sudden lack of rustling from behind you causes you to spin around and you find Simon staring at you, holding your jacket. He walks toward you, handing you the garment, reaching then for your face to adjust the fabric on your nose and on your chin. He stops to give you an appraising look.

"It looks better on me."

You chuckle, smacking him playfully on the chest. “Oh, c’mon… what if I want to wear one, too?”

"And hide your beautiful face? Negative.”

“Well, then…”, you pin him with a challenging look, palms pressing hard against your cheeks, securing the mask on your head. “I won’t let you hide your beautiful face, either.”

You see him softly shake his head as he huffs a chuckle through his nose. After a moment, he reaches for his back pocket and retrieves your undies, waving them high above your head. 

“What? You’ll put those on your head instead?”

You try to suppress the laugh by biting on your lips but it erupts out of you anyway, like a river in flood. The pointed look he gives you only makes it worse.

“Alright, alright…”

Still snickering, you pull on the fabric and peel it off your head, holding it out to him. 

He takes the mask from you but doesn’t let go of your undies. He puts them back in his pocket as casually as he took them out.

You scoff, tilting your head to the side. "Really?" 

“I’m keeping them, as a memento.”

You stare at him, appraising his solemn expression. If he wants them then you’ll let him have them - the fabric is ruined anyway. They're not even your favourite pair, thankfully.

“First and last time you steal something from me, Si!”

“Can’t make promises, princess.” 

Your chest swells as you try to read between the lines. It's inevitable. You can't help but wonder if he means to tell you something else. Will there be a next time, or multiple next times? Does he plan on stealing something else? Like, your heart? To be honest, he's already halfway there, but he doesn't need to know that. At least not yet. 

You keep on looking into each other's eyes for a bit longer. You think you can detect the profound fondness behind his look. Your lips curl up in a shy smile.

“Ehm… I believe we kept the guys waiting long enough." you say, breaking the silence. "We should get back downstairs."

He gives you a curt nod but instead of moving away, he draws closer to you. Taking your chin between his fingers, he leans down and angles your head to brush one more kiss against your lips. The contact is strikingly gentle and it takes your breath away. It’s a kiss infused with unspoken words of devotion, promises, feelings which are too strong to be shared so early on but that are already there, growing, blossoming. Both your hearts are gardens in bloom. 

He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours for a lingering moment before taking a step back and disguising his face once again. 

The action saddens you but at the same time it fills your chest with pride; you're the only one who has been blessed to bask in the beauty of his seldom-seen bare face and no one else will receive such special treatment. Not today. Hopefully never. Is it selfish of you to wish that? Perhaps, but you don't care. Not when images of your lovemaking are still so fresh in your mind. Not when you can still feel the worshipping touch of his hands and tongue on your body. Certainly not when the cool, humid air of the room hits the wetness of your exposed core beneath the dress. 

You exchange a knowing look before moving towards the door and walking down the stairs together. That soothing tune, now linked with poignant core memories, floods in your ears once again, growing louder as you return to the main area and towards the bar. Your team is still at the counter, exactly where you left them... how long ago? You have no idea how much time has passed. You were too engrossed in your passion to pay attention to the outside world and its trivialities.

Johnny glances behind his shoulder just as you and Simon make a beeline toward the group. You can see his lips moving; he must be saying something to the others because they all crane their heads to look at you before returning to their drinks. Soap is the only one who whirls around, bivouacing on his seat and all over the counter like a fucking braggart as he meets your eyes and winks at you. 

Oh, he'll take yours and Simon's hookup as a personal victory, and he'll brag about it; you already know it. But you're far too happy right now to be bothered by it. Let him gloat. You're the one who got the reward, anyway. 

When you eventually make it to the bar, no one acknowledges your arrival. Nobody says anything about your absence or the dance prior to that. Their silence only serves to emphasise that they are all aware of what happened. The furtive glances they cast your way, some more mischievous than others, serve as plain confirmation. 

"Now that we're all here, I suppose we can head out." 

The captain's voice calls out to everyone as he stands up from the barstool. "Unless the two lovebirds fancy one last drink?" 

You try to ignore the appellation he used and the way your stomach flipped in response. You raise one hand and shake your head, avoiding his eyes as well as the urge to glance up at Simon. "I'm good."

A beat.

"Alright then. Off we go."

On cue, everyone gets off their seats, some knocking back their glasses, others stretching their legs. You take advantage of the shuffle to walk over to Johnny and hold out the key to him. He takes it back without a word but the sly smile playing on his face is hard to miss. You hope at least he has the decency to hold off of grilling you for deets until you’re back at the HQ.

You seem to catch a movement in your peripheral vision: Price giving Simon a firm pat on the shoulder? You’re tempted to turn your head to take a better look when a loud scoff interrupts you and draws your attention back to your best mate.

"Bloody hell, y/n! You and L.T. are not joking around!" 

Your brows furrow upon hearing his remark and when you follow the trajectory of his stunned look, your eyes widen as they meet the cloth of your undies poking out of his back pocket. You spring into action right away, grasping the exposed edge to yank it farther inside his jeans. Simon’s own hand reaches behind him to wrap around yours, fingers interlacing, as he maintains his focus on Price in front of him. Your chest swells at the gesture, heat rising in your cheeks,  but you manage to turn around and zap Johnny with a fierce glare anyway.

He makes a show of zipping his lips and throwing away the key. However, the grin he flashes you is so contagious that you find yourself returning one of your own.

It appears like you're in for a ride full of taunts, jokes, knowing looks and funny name-calling. Your mates will give you two no rest… but who gives a shit about it? Simon said it first. Why should you care? You'll take this and much worse if it means getting the chance to explore your feelings with the man of your dreams and spending many more nights out - or inside his spacious office - dancing together.

MORE STORIES 🥀

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[hazelfoureyes]

The most important question of all: What type of drunk is everyone in the hotel?

Deeply held personal beliefs here lmao

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ Alastor

𖦹Alastor loves being the center of attention and he drops his need for an air of mystery when he’s a few fingers deep into the rye. He grabs unwilling participants by the wrists and swing dances with them, despite their clear lack of understanding on how to swing.

𖦹He hums and sings under his breath while sitting in a comfy chair.

𖦹Loqacious! Vaggie would like him to shut the fuck up, Charlie is alarmed because he always reminisces about his real life murders like discussing a loving partner long gone. He is a talkative drunk through and through.

𖦹 Next day: No shame the next morning. Everyone’s annoyed and he might be a little sheepish, but ultimately he doesn’t care.

𖦹Smutty: Never lets you top, but once he’s had a few and has relaxed, will happily lie back and let you take care of yourself with his body while he watches you. Rarely vocal during sex, he’s suddenly talkative and showering you in groans and moans.

Lucifer 𖦹Lucifer doesn’t drink. He really doesn’t. Oh geez, okay well if Charlie is asking so sweetly and everyone else is what’s the harm in-

𖦹Shirt unbuttoned halfway, everything he says sounds like a double entendre even if it isn’t. Cannot stop flirting, even accidentally. The flirty drunk has arrived.

𖦹He stays put, picks a chair or stool and just hunkers down, watching happily over the gathering.

𖦹Pet names for everyone. CharChar, Magpie, Legs, Whiskers, Bambi… Niffty is just Niffty. Even drunk he is a little scared of her.

𖦹Next day: No hangover, excitedly and nervously listening to all the stories of things he did. “Yeah that sounds like me hahaha”

𖦹Smutty: Slow love making, takes his time and moves over you like molasses. Doesn’t care about finishing, just likes the feeling of being close to you and hearing the sounds you make. 50/50 you fall asleep together with him still in you.

Angel Dust

𖦹Angel handles his liquor like he’s handles his men; with an open throat and a smile. It’s genuinely hard to tell if he’s drunk unless he’s so gone his pitch of voice has changed. 𖦹With a little inebriation, he’s leaning into his friends and talking really openly about his feelings and problems in life. 𖦹Drunk? Like— drunk drunk? He’s loud and hanging on everyone for stability. Every grin borders on sleazy, but if the wrong person made a move they’d get four hands to the face pushing them away. Alastor thinks he is the life of the party; Angel is the party.

𖦹Next day: Angel has no memory of what happened the night before and even if he does he will just pull his sunglasses down and pretend he doesn’t.

𖦹Smutty: Angel likes drunk sex, because he can feel his body disconnect from his mind. His eyes would be unfocused, and no matter the lover his gaze would always be at the ceiling. His attention purely on the sensations his body was offering him. He’d be quiet, just enjoying himself.

Husker

𖦹Husk is usually ornery, but when drunk he becomes the wise old man who wont stop talking to you like a kid. Husk, I’m a grown ass adult? Ha, in my day you would still be in diapers. That doesn’t make any sense Husk. Sense? Your lot don’t know shit about sense.

𖦹When he isn’t pretending to be everyone’s drunk Gandalf, compliments flow like booze from a tipped bottle. You’re real pretty when you smile. Wish I saw more of it. — That’s what I like about you, you always get back up.

𖦹Husk is always topping up everyone’s glass, and even when drunk he’s the one who registers when someone’s had enough. On many occasions he has replaced Angel’s drink with just orange juice and soda water when he wasnt looking, too drunk to notice.

𖦹Next day: Yesterday didn’t happen, order a drink or get the fuck out of the bar.

𖦹Smutty: Husk doesn’t like sex when he’s drunk, he doesn’t like the implication anyone may not be fully aware of what’s happening. He’ll cuddle, caress, kiss, but no sex unless you’re relatively sober or you had explicitly made plans to enjoy a drunken romp. In which case, he relishes in changing positions often to find new ways to make you gasp out his name. Tipsy or not, his hands are always steady.

Charlie

𖦹Charlie is the happiest drunk to exist. Her confidence sores with a little liquid courage. She’ll clamor onto the bar and declare she is going to redeem all of Hell, making the Pride ring a glorified bus stop between death and the pearly gates.

𖦹Clumsy. She talks with her hands and spills her drink everywhere. Constantly running into things with her hips and feet. She will trip over nothing, and apologize to the air for the misstep.

𖦹Charlie oscillates between talking nonstop to being dead silent, big doe eyes watching intently as you speak. She’s hanging on every word.

𖦹Tells everyone she loves them, then cries about how much she loves them.

𖦹Next day: Hungover, doesn’t understand why people drink so often, this sucks. Slightly embarrassed about getting up on the bar but otherwise has no issues knowing she doted on everyone.

𖦹Smutty: The Morningstars are similar in that they take their time. They need to hear every little gasp, every held breath. Charlie would spend hours exploring the places she could make bring you pleasure. Little giggles from between your legs as she gives herself mental pats on the back.

Vaggie

𖦹Drunk Vaggie is similar to Sober Vaggie. Serious but caring, and relatively quiet. She wouldn’t become overly showy or loud. Your only indication she’s been drinking is the slight slur to her words and the way her hands tip her drink a little too much when talking.

𖦹Goes on full rants about heaven if the topic comes up. Just bashes the hypocrisy and curses her fellow angels.

𖦹Slips more into Spanish, her words dipping between the two languages.

𖦹Little more handsy, resting her chin on her darling’s shoulder and letting her hands come around their waist while they are talking to people.

𖦹Next day: Needs everyone to shut the fuck up and turn the lights off. She swears she’s never letting Angel mix her drinks again. Mortified to hear she was necking in the lobby.

𖦹Smutty: Drunk Vaggie just wants to kiss and hold you, enjoying the way the room spins a little around you both as you lose track of time. She’s down for more, but only if you’re taking the lead.

Niffty

𖦹Please stop handing her drinks.

𖦹Fuck, she’s drinking other people’s drinks when they aren’t looking.

𖦹She’s dusting the ceiling, she’s vacuuming the sofa, dear God she’s scrubbing Angel’s hands with pure bleach shrieking, “Diiiiirty.”

𖦹Unhinged. More so. Somehow. Makes everyone a crown of trash.

𖦹Next day: is she still drunk? No? This is just her natural state of being?!

𖦹Smutty: Bad boys welcome, everyone else can get shanked.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @alitaar , @maddiemouse-1226 , @christineblood , @zombiesnips-blog , @readergirlstuff

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot

[supermarketbae]

who cares if I orgasm or not all that matters is bills. Vocal billy>

This time he wakes up at night feeling horny, and he’s moaning dirty things in ur ear, still dominant billy just also whiny lol. Telling you the craziest shit he’d do to you. his moans and voice turn you on so much. orders you to ride him and you start but you feeling sleepy/ tired so he takes control and thrust his cock up into you praising you for taking his thick cock and he’s losing his shit.

*clears throat* *inhales* WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL HOW DOES YOUR BRAIN FUNCTION LIEK THIS EXCUSE YOU??? WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT???? this is actually unhealthy for me 💀. ANYHOO *out of breath exhaling*

warnings: Smut, Vocal!Billy, Quiet!reader, degradation, praise, dirty talk (like excessive this time), breeding kink ig but not really, exhibisonist!Billy (maybe??? idk if ya squint) This whole fic in general lmao.

A sigh, then small, nameless shapes are being drawn into your back. A signal to you that your boyfriend, Billy, is still awake. You blink sleepily, turning over you snake your arms around Billy's waist smiling up at him. "Didn't mean to wake you darlin'" he whispers pressing a sloppy kiss to your eager lips. "I don't mind..." you reply watching as his eyes start to trail down your figure. "Do enlighten me though," you tease "What's gotten you all worked up this late?" You relax when his lips come to ghost your neck, quickly finding your sweet spot with ease "you," comes the hungry reply. It resonates low in your belly, a liquid warmth that trickles down your spine. "It's always you baby." Billy mumbles to you hips starting to grind into yours.

You let a quiet whimper slip past your lips, clinging onto him tighter as his gravelly voice reaches your ears "You blow my fuckin mind love," the small nip to your earlobe sends you reeling. "I think I have every inch of you memorized," he pauses once more to land a kiss on your lips again. "And then you go and surprise me." Billy mutters, smirking at your enamored expression. "So tonight," he continues, pushing your shirt up slightly higher to play with your tits, "If you'll let me, I'd love to memorize you again." A small whine is stuck in your throat, but you refuse to let it free. The noises that Billy can drag out of you make you cringe. "I need words Darlin'" he says deep voice making you arch into him as you reply a breathy "Please Billy..." he wolfish grin only grows wider at your response "What? Please what darlin'" you shift your hips against his again clenching at the moan you pull out of him. "Ruin me." you groan almost silently. Billy hears you of course. How could he not? He practically knows your habit by heart.

He knows how you try to silence the sweet sounds that he craves. That he needs. Billy also knows how to coax them out of you, loving every small whine that graces your lips. grabbing your waist, he gently rolls you on top him. smiling at your instant confusion. "I want you to ride me baby." Billy grins watching your eyebrows furrow gently "But-"you stop yourself seeing his drunken gaze upon you letting a small tremor course through your body. A slow sultry smile spreads across your face. "So, I take that as a ye-" Billy whines as you pull down his sweatpants and boxers, clothed cunt coming to rub against his weeping cock. You raise your shirt above your head taking it off slowly giggling when Billy growls hands coming to grip your hips "Fuckin' tease." He says biting at your now exposed chest. "I learn from the best." you state eyes heavy. Kicking your panties off, you sink onto him. You bite your quivering lip in an attempt to keep quiet.

"Wanna hear you baby." Billy groans as you start bouncing, eyes coming to flicker over your tits back to your face that's contorted by pleasure. You let a small whine fall past your lips at his words. It only spurs him on. "I want to-oh fuckkk-I want to know-ah-when you feel good baby." your face warms at his words. "Making me feel so, so, good." he whimpers out to you. Leaning closer to him you place your head on his bare chest, lip still trembling out of intense pleasure. "Such a good cumslut for me hmm?" Billy whispers to you, watching your hand come up to muffle your quiet moans. "c'mon sweetheart-ah- goddd your so tight-I wanna hear how I'm ruining you darlin'" you nod your head vigorously at him letting out small mewls. "My good fucking girl yeah-ah-" Billy's eyes roll as you sink completely down on his cock "so goodddd" he shudders. When you let out a breathy whimper his eyes darken ferally. "J-just like that darlin' I know you want-ah-know you want to." Your thighs ache from tiredness but your body is begging for release, begging for Billy to ruin you for him. So, clinging to him you whine slurring

"Billy s'too much, sososo tired I-" you choke on a moan as his hands come to grip your hips slamming them onto his. "Fuck" he whimpers voice an octave higher as you spasm around his girth. "Shit baby-ah-your so-oh goddd- you take me so well" Billy's moans are bordering on incoherent which fuels your already blinding pleasure. "s'like this little pussy's m-made for me to breed huh?" You nod your head not trusting anything to come out of your mouth but moans. "c'mon baby, let-goddd-let it out- I know you want to baby-moan for me sweet thing." You choke at his words lips finally parting "B-Billy" you moan out walls clenching tighter around him.

He gives you an answering moan, mouth coming to sloppily kiss your tits as the bounce in front of him. "There ya go sweetheart-ah-so good- thats it baby" Billy whines to you. "Faster-ah-ohmygod-pleaseee-sogoodso-" your moans are loud and unrestrained now, spurred on by Billy's hips pistoning into yours. "Gonna cum," you whimper out "please baby-I-oh god Billy~" your falling apart at the look he gives you. He looks completely lust drunk on your noises, perking up whenever you mewl out his name. "Then cream around my cock sweetheart-ah-doing-too fuckin' good." Billy whimpers back to you. "Billy," you groan already so close to the edge. "Louder." he bites back to you, cheeks flushed and pupils blown. "Billy" you moan voice heightened feeling the coil of arousal low in your belly. "Louder." He whines bucking up into you sporadically, groaning as you take all of him. "Billy I-" he cuts you off "Louder, pet." he whispers to you once more.

The pleasure you feel is immense as you cum around him spiraling out of control and slowing your brain. Your vaguely aware of him praising you as one of his hands comes to wrap around your throat. The other moving your hips through your high. He groans out your name as your cunt swallows him once more, holding you on him as he cums with a broken whine. Tiredly, you wrap your arms around his neck as he slows the pace of his thrusts when you start to whimper from the stimulation. You slow your ragged breathing, it soon becoming in time with Billy's. He nips at your collarbone affectionately, leaning you both back to a more comfortable position. You see a slow, lazy smirk spread across his face.

"Wonder if we'll get noise complaints."

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

A/n: Did this get out of hand? ABSOLUTELY! don't blame ME!! blame my brain @billysbot for a request i cant js do a drabble on🤷. I don't make the rules I js work here. <3

[dimlylittorch]

first official post of my own thoughts bc I’ve decided to let myself be deranged on here..

the cod boys with a chubby partner who finally works up the nerve to attempt to send a nude!! this is so self indulgent y’all😭

PSA: !! I’m probably a horrible writer pls forgive me !!

My Masterlist🌱

Reader x John Price, Reader x Simon Ghost Riley, Reader x Johnny Soap MacTavish, Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick

Random Headcanons: Edition 1

Warnings: NSFW

(mention of erections, nudes, inappropriate voice recordings, probably poor workplace behavior lmao)

Price

y’all have to be careful with our old man!! you might give him a heart attack :((

imagine he’s just in his office, bored out of his mind filling out his routine paperwork. Keeps dozing off, doesn’t feel like getting up to get more coffee. Practically praying for some kind of distraction or crisis to present itself. Suddenly he gets a text from you!! You know he gets bored at work so you try to send him little things that he’ll look at throughout the day, funny videos, a pretty tree you saw, etc.

But this time? Oh lord. He opens his messages from you and he sees your image with the blurred setting? With the caption ‘just in case you’re having a slow day.. don’t let anyone else see, okay?’

Of course our old man is scratching his beard, trying to guess what it is. He thinks on it for a moment, but ultimately gives up.. he opens it and goddamn. It’s your pretty little self perched on the bathroom counter of your shared apartment.. naked. Suddenly another text comes through, an apology. ‘I’m going to delete that- it looks really bad, I’m sorry’

He just about slips out of his chair with how fast he’s texting you ‘Don’t you dare.’

Ghost

Ghost? Ghost is a different story. You don’t have to worry about his heart- you have to worry about yours. The second you send him something like that? Sweetheart, there’s no stopping what he’ll do after the fact :]

He’s had a rough day, having to train some stupid ass recruits (his words, not mine). He’s already annoyed- someone took the last packet of tea from the kitchen area, he got caught on a nail turning a corner and his shirt ripped.. it’s not our baby’s day, y’all :((

He goes up onto the roof to get away from everything before he punches a whole in a wall- or in another person. He gets up top, sitting with his back to the ledge as he lights up a smoke. Grunting and grumbling to himself about everything that happened today, just thinking about being able to go home. Suddenly he gets a message from you. He sighs softly out of relief, and mumbles to himself ‘thank fuck.’

He opens the message, seeing a few little paragraphs about your day. You know he can’t text much during work, but you send him updates and he reads them at night whenever he can’t fall asleep. That way he still feels like he’s with you/talking to you while you get a good nights rest <3

He’s scrolling through the paragraphs, deciding to read a few to calm him down. He gets to the very top.. and he drops his smoke on himself., dropping his phone too. He quickly curses, brushing it off and stamping it out. He picks up his phone and.. the screen is broken. He’s so pissed off, poor baby. He manages to open his phone and see the picture through all of the cracks. He’s cursing to himself at how he can’t see the full picture. Suddenly he’s on his feet, heading down the stairs as fast as he can, ready to go home and make you recreate that photo..

Soap

We all know Soap is a menace. He probably sends you nudes (with your consent, of course) every few days. He’ll be trying on clothes and feeling himself? Who wouldn’t want to see a cute naked picture of him in the mirror. This definitely isn’t his first ball game, be sure of that ;)

Johnny has been having an alright day, mainly doing his duties nonchalantly, per usual. He manages to finish early and decides to hang out with some of the boys today, he knew you wouldn’t mind. Goes into the rec room where everyone was relaxing, playing pool, watching sports. He grabs a drink out of the mini fridge and kicks back on the couch, Ghost on his right, Alejandro on his left.

Between you and Johnny, you were definitely the more level headed one in the relationship. You knew that if you texted him throughout the day, he would get distracted and not get any work done, solely wanting to focus on you (just like a puppy, istg). He had texted you letting you know that he would be staying a little late today. You were always nice about it when he did that.. but today you felt a little needy, deciding to tease him a little.

He suddenly gets a text from you. Ghost and Ale, as nosy as ever, happen to be glancing at his phone screen when he opens his messages to a picture of a naked you on your knees, on your shared bed in front of a mirror, with the caption ‘that’s okay Johnny. just miss you, is all’. Johnny practically chokes on his drink, immediately slamming his phone against his chest, hoping Ghost and Ale didn’t see. He can already feel himself getting hard, and Ghost and Ale just chuckle. ‘Might want to get on home, Johnny’ they tease

Gaz

sweet, sweet baby Gaz. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t overly accustomed to sending nudes either!! In my mind he’s just the perfect gentleman, never initiating something like that unless you bring it up first :3

Gaz is outside, helping unload cargo from one of the trucks, just a usual shipment of supplies. He’s sweating his ass off, tired and ready for the day to end. He takes a break, sitting on a case of cargo for a moment and pulling out his phone. He sees a few messages from you and he smiles to himself, loving that you think of him throughout the day. He decides to go into the bathroom to get cleaned up. He walks in, grabbing a few paper towels to wipe some of his sweat off with as he opens his phone. First he sees a voice message, and he holds it up to his ear as he leans against a sink, ready to listen to his sweet love’s voice.

The audio recording starts to play. He immediately freezes, his body tensing as he listens to you. He could hear a faint buzz in the background, accompanied by your soft noises, clearly enjoying yourself. He’s frozen in place, barely comprehending what he’s listening to. The short voice recording ends and he just pulls his phone down from his ear, dumbfounded as he can already feel an erection growing. You send another text, a picture of you with a towel, cleaning yourself up. ‘I hope you’re having a good day <3’ is all you send with it. Let’s just say, he went into one of the bathroom stalls and didn’t come out for a little while, making sure to send you back a similar message. ‘My day is so much better now, baby’ he texts back with his own recording

I hope you guys liked this!! Please give me feedback, it would mean the world. Let me know if you want me to make a continuation of these, or do a part 2 with more characters!! Happy holidays <3

[mellowswriting]

I saw your request about fic ideas! I love your fics with javi p and his housewife kink so something with that!

a warm welcome

pairing || Javier Peña x f!Reader

word count || 3.5k

summary || After a two week long work trip, Javier is exhausted and desperate to come home to his wife. Luckily for him, you’re ready to welcome your husband home. 

content || no use of y/n, SMUT, housewife kink, unprotected p in v, kind of rough sex, dom husband!Javier, domesticity kink (is that a thing? i’m making it a thing.), ‘grumpy asshole who’s only soft for one person’ trope, sweet and soft but a little possessive, Javi is pussy whipped lmao

a/n || the way this has been sitting in my inbox for a criminal amount of time... but I finally got inspired by the pure sex this man radiates

Javier Peña Masterlist  |  Main Masterlist

The moment Javier slipped that ring on your finger and made you his wife, he thought life couldn’t get any better. He always knew the two of you would strive to fulfill all those promises, vows of love and support, of a warm and happy life together. He anticipated a typical life - longed for it, actually. Mowing the lawn and going out on date nights. Holidays and sleeping in on the weekends. Arguing over what restaurant to order from and negotiating chores. All of the achingly mundane parts of married life came just as he expected, but it also came with so much more. 

Javier never expected his life to have the air of a goddamn Thomas Kinkade painting. 

Nearly two weeks have passed since he’s been home. The damn agency dragged him halfway across the country to speak at a conference and he couldn’t be more relieved to be trudging up his porch steps. He’s exhausted. All of the traveling and schmoozing he was forced to endure has left him tense and jetlagged, and all he wants is to collapse into bed and forget the whole thing. 

All of that melts away the second he pushes open the front door and takes in the sight in front of him. The living room is lit up with the fire blazing away in the fireplace. Blankets and pillows are laid out in front of it in a makeshift bed, the coffee table shoved off to the side to make room. The robust scent of food lingers in the air, something slow-cooked and rich. And you. Oh, you. Leaning against the archway that leads into the kitchen, wearing that soft black robe and the brightest smile he’s ever seen. 

“Welcome home.” You greet him. 

Javier drops his bags right there in the entryway and closes the space between you in three long strides. This is all he needs. The honeyed sound of your voice, the sweet smell of your perfume, the softness of your cheek against his palm - every part of you sends relief washing down his spine. Javier kisses you like a man starved, as if the sustenance to feed his soul lies right between your lips. Fuck, he missed this. He missed you. 

If the agency ever tries to send him off like that again, he just might have to quit. 

Javier wraps his arms around you and holds you close, taking a moment to simply hold you there in his arms. A relieved sigh heaves from you both and for the first time in weeks, he feels whole again. You nuzzle closer until your chest brushes his and a low, pleased sound rumbles in the back of his throat. It’s obvious you aren’t wearing much beneath that robe. He presses a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I missed you, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his hand rubbing up and down your back. Your body relaxes into his and something in his chest expands, preens at the safety you take in his embrace. “How was everything while I was gone?” 

“Don’t worry, I kept all the fires burning like a good little wife.” You tease. It earns you a playful smack on your ass. 

“Oh, I know you did. You’re always good for me.” Javi’s fingers catch your jaw and tilt your head up, and he smiles at the way you lean into the touch, into his praise. “But I want to know how it was, what you did while I was away. I want to know everything.” 

You can’t help but go a little weak in the knees when he gets like this. The dominant air about him is intoxicating and every ounce of your being aches to soften into him, to place yourself into the capable hands of your Javi. He’s just so good. Such a good man, a good husband. He loves pampering you and supporting each of your endeavors, no matter how big or small they might be. The balance is soothing. The equal meeting of needs, soothing of souls. A complementary give and take that leaves you both fulfilled and cared for.

“Well, I finally tidied your office while you couldn’t hover about it. I reread In Praise of Folly for the hundredth time. I tried some new recipes… not all of them were good, but you’ll love the roast I made. It’s warming in the oven, by the way.” You tick down the list, humming contemplatively as you think back over the last two weeks. “Oh, I got a mani-pedi.” 

“Oh, let me see them.” An appreciative hum falls from his lips at the dark polish coating your fingernails. His thumb brushes over them thoughtfully, a little smile on his face. Maybe it's weird, but he’s always loved this; providing for you, letting you use the money he earns to do nice little things for yourself. “Pretty. I like the color.” 

“Thank you, honey.” You sing-song. 

Javier kisses your knuckles. “Go on. I want to hear more.” 

“Let’s see, what else… oh, and I got something for you, too.” A mischievous tone threads into your voice, one he knows all too well. Your teeth nip at your soft bottom lip as you flutter those eyelashes at him - and he knows he’s fucked in the best possible way. Your fingers trail down your sternum, teasing the robe open just enough to expose a hint of white fabric beneath it. White lacy fabric.

 Oh, fuck. 

You slowly untie the robe and let the black fabric slip down your shoulders, a stark contrast to the pure white lingerie you hid away beneath. The lacy chemise hugs the cinch of your waist and flares out slightly at your hips, accentuating the curves of your body that make his mind race. It’s new. You went out and bought something brand new and sexy just for the moment he came home to you, and it does something to him he can’t quite describe. The fabric is so thin and delicate, and he can see everything; the obvious lack of underwear, the imprint of your nipples, every inch of the gorgeous woman he missed so much. Your warmth radiates into his palm as his hand follows the line of your waste and settles on your hip. 

“Oh, look at you…” Javier’s voice is threaded with wonder and he can feel you shiver beneath his touch. He squeezes your hip, careful not to tear the fragile fabric. “My pretty little wife, all wrapped up like a present for me.” 

There’s no mistaking the undercurrent of desire that rumbles low in his voice, beneath the praise and appreciation. You lean into his touch, your shoulders subtly pushed back to give him the perfect view of your breasts. Something hungry and aching cleaves through his chest at the glimmer in your eyes. He knows what you want, what you need. He can read your body like the well-worn edges of a beloved novel. Reading familiar lines time and time again, only to feel that same surge of emotion: the love, the awe, the comfort. 

No matter how many times he gets to hold you like this, see you like this - Javier can never get enough. 

There is a fragile balancing act that hovers in the air between you in moments like these. You gaze up at him with that demure heat burning in your eyes, a hint of a coy smile tugging at your lips. He stalks after you slowly as you lure him into the makeshift bed of pillows and blankets layered out in front of the fireplace. The flames send heat licking up the bare skin exposed by the slow work of his fingers unbuttoning his shirt. You reach for him, your gaze roving over his chest with an obvious hunger, an appreciation that still has his breath catching in his throat after all this time. Your fingertips brush his stomach as you slowly undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. 

It isn’t until you teasingly rub his cock through his briefs that the fragile balancing act finally tips and shatters. Javier surges forward and captures your lips in a rough, desperate kiss, his hands fumbling to strip away the last of his clothes. He drags you down onto the floor, drinks in the surprised giggle his manhandling brings out of you. The amusement doesn’t last long. Not when his teeth drag along that sensitive spot on your neck and his fingers find their way between your thighs. 

Javier’s presence is all-consuming, evokes a pure reverence that sucks the very air from your lungs. He brings out something base in you, something that runs on pure animal instinct and lust - and he isn’t any better off. There’s a wild light in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of you beneath him, all wrapped in lace and eager for his touch. He rucks the chemise up and out of his way, and his self-control nearly snaps over how wet you already are. He has barely laid a finger on you, yet you glisten in the low light of the fireplace. So eager. So ready. 

The muscle in his jaw jumps with the clenching of his teeth. Nearly two weeks without the feeling of your wetness on his fingers and the heat of your pussy fluttering around his fingers - never again. He swears he’s addicted to your body. He practically went through withdrawals without having your slick cunt to bury his face in. His fingers curl up into that sweet spot harshly and you gasp his name, your thighs closing around his wrist. 

“No, open up for me.” Javier rasps, his voice rough and demanding. He’s too impatient, too strong; his other hand wrenches your thighs back open before you can even obey him. He plants his hand firmly on your inner thigh to keep you nice and spread out for him. “That’s it, let me feel you, honey. I missed this perfect fuckin’ cunt.” 

The pad of his thumb rubs a light, teasing circle against your clit, and the harsh contrast from the rough thrust of his fingers makes you tremble. You whimper his name but Javier can’t draw his gaze away from your body, from the sight of his fingers sinking inside of you or the shift of your breasts with every harsh breath. He can’t stop himself from leaning over and kissing your sternum before trailing his lips over to tease your nipple through the thin fabric. His tongue is hot against your sensitive skin. Your spine curves, arching to chase his touch, and your fingers grasp the soft hair at the back of his head. 

 Curses and begs fall from your lips in a broken mess of sentences, each plea bleeding into the next as you beg him to just take you already. Those cries pry at his willpower, at the rationality that still holds his actions captive. The rampant desire that sings in his veins doesn’t distract him from his tenacity as a thorough lover. He wants you nice and ready for him, all warmed up and soaked from his talented fingers. 

He shakes his head hesitantly. “I should… I should get you ready, sweetheart. Don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You huff a frustrated sound. Before he can tease you for being so desperate, your hand blindly feels around the mess of bedding until you produce a familiar clear bottle - the lube he usually keeps stashed inside his bedside table. He shakes his head with a disbelieving grin as he snags the bottle from your hand. Of course, you would be so prepared. He wasn’t the only one going crazy without his other half.  You have been wanting after him just as much as he has - if not more. 

Javier doesn’t bother wasting any more time. The shock of cold lube is quickly erased by the heated glide of his cock along your pussy and you moan his name. The sound sets his jaw on edge, sends sparks of possessive desire arcing up his spine. Those pretty brown eyes meet yours as his cock nudges your entrance and he can see his own desperation mirrored in your face. It’s all the fuel he needs to finally sink into your cunt in one fluid thrust. 

He can make time for teasing later - once the basic need to take and fuck and claim has retracted its claws from his skin. 

The harsh bite of your nails into his skin makes him hiss and thrust into you sharply, a pleasurable punishment that you take beautifully. Your thighs just tighten around his hips and rock into his thrusts, and Javier is reminded for the millionth time just how much he loves you. He doesn’t let up. Every thrust jolts through your entire body. The only thing that keeps you from sliding up in the blankets is the bruising grip of his hands on your hips. An even, steady rhythm that leaves your mind hazy and drunk on him. Javier watches, attention rapt as your lashes flutter and your hands twist the blankets in a vain attempt to steady yourself. You should know by now that he won’t give you the opportunity to gather yourself. No, he wants to see you in a fucked out daze. He watches the flash of surprise across your face at the grind of his cock against your g-spot. Even as you whimper and writhe and tighten around him, he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

He just can’t get enough. He needs more. 

His thumb finds your clit with practiced ease and you tighten around him so fiercely that he damn near spills inside of you right then and there. It’s been too long. His stamina is all shot to hell. Every quiver of your cunt, every tremble of your thighs, every wrecked sound you give him - he’s consumed by you. Left feral in the heaven of your body. 

“Just like that… fuck, you feel so good…” The honeyed praise sweeps through him, has him slipping onto his forearm just to feel you closer. His forearms bear his weight as his face buries in the crook of your neck. The change in position is slight, but it sends your back arching up into him nonetheless. It’s all too much, too good - the kind of sex where you just can’t get close enough, can’t feel enough of your lover’s skin against your own. Rushed and messy and so full of love that it almost hurts. You hold him close as he fucks you senseless, one hand buried in his hair and the other anchored at the back of his neck. “Oh my god.” 

Pride burns hot in his chest. He knows that sound, that tone. All high and whiny and begging so pretty. You’re close - he can feel it in the short, rapid pulses around his cock, the sweet beckon of your body asking so sweetly for just a little more to push you over that edge. You deserve it -  his beautiful little housewife, keeping the fires burning at home, being his safe haven in this crazy, fucked up world. You have him wrapped around your finger and there isn’t a single place in the world he would rather be. 

Every stroke of his thumb against your clit sends shockwaves through you, forces those rough, high-pitched sounds from your throat, and Javier loves it. He leans back just enough to get his eyes on you, his nose brushing yours as those bright eyes consume you. This is his favorite way to see you - expression twisted with pleasure, skin slick with sweat, unencumbered by self-consciousness. Just you and him and the filthy, slick sound of sex in the air. 

“You’re close, aren’t you sweetheart?” Javier murmurs when he feels your fingers tighten in his hair, sees that familiar flash in your dazed eyes. His teeth nip your jaw teasingly - he just can’t help himself, even when you make a disgruntled little sound in response. He just rubs your clit faster and you melt for him all over again, your cunt tightening so harshly that he hisses your name out through grit teeth. “That’s it, that’s my girl. Fuckin’ come for me, come all over my cock.” 

You do. You break for him with a strangled sound and Javier doesn’t stop. He couldn’t even if he wanted, even if you begged. He watches, awed at the sight of those tears finally spilling from your pretty eyes as you writhe and shudder beneath him. Your soft sounds of pleasure soothe those maddening instincts, the ones that first reared the moment he became your husband. It vibrates low through every atom of his being, rumbling in his chest in a pleased hum. He draws out your pleasure just to hear more of those lovely little sounds, all high and delicate. You blink up at him through dazed eyes and you smile, adoring and purely intoxicated. 

Javier kisses you softly, drinks in the happy hum from your lips. A sweet lull in the neediness, a moment to take you in like this. Warm and happy and fucked out in his arms. Your lips are soft against the stubble on his cheek, a stark contrast to the teasing nip of your teeth against his jaw. Javier looks down at you, an eyebrow raised as he takes in the glint of mischief in your eyes. Neither of you needs to say it. He knows exactly what you want by the look on your face and the light smack you give his thigh. 

And he’s more than happy to give it to you. 

His spine straightens as he yanks you down by your thighs. Javier pins you with his hands on your hips and fucks you deeper, his cock hitting so deep that your lungs damn near collapse. Your eyes roll and that dark, possessive fire sparks in his chest. There’s nothing he loves more than taking you apart with soft, tender touches - but this… this is a close second. Holding you down, keeping you in place so you have no choice but to let him take, take, take. 

“Fuck.” You whine, clawing at the blankets as the stimulation wrenches through you, overwhelms each of your senses until you’re left trembling. Every plunge sends you reeling, but you can’t help yourself - your hips lift to take him deeper, your knees dig into his ribs, your nails bite into the back of his neck. You take him beautifully - like you were made for him. Made to be his wife, to be fucked on the living room floor next to a blazing fireplace. Made to be his. 

All his, forever.

A rough sound grits out through his clenched teeth as he comes deep, his moan breaking with the last of his last sharp thrusts. Your cunt pulses around him rhythmically, only serving to draw out his pleasure until he’s trembling above you. Javier lets you coax him to melt into you, his hips still fitted seamlessly with yours as he lets his full weight sink into you. Your arms wrap around his shoulders. You just hold him as his breathing slowly returns to normal, as his softening cock slowly slips out of you. It’s calm. Peaceful. 

He has no idea how long has passed when he finally heaves himself off of you. It doesn’t take you long to tuck yourself into his side. Your body molds to fit his; your thigh hitched over his, your cheek resting on his shoulder, arm slung over his chest. Javier curls his arm around your side and traces the intricate patterns in the lace over your ribs, even as you squirm away from the ticklish touch. 

“Javi, stop…” You whine, propping your chin up on his chest to give him those puppy dog eyes. 

“No,” He sighs nonchalantly. It isn’t easy to resist that cute pout of yours. “Can’t keep my hands off you, baby. Missed you too much.” 

That melts your resolve. Your gaze softens so much that he damn near chokes. He isn’t a bashful man by any means but the way you look at him as if he hung the moon and stars in your sky… he can’t help the pink tinge that blooms across his cheeks. You’ve softened him over the years. Kneaded at him until he became tender and pliant, and maybe a bit of a romantic. Javier brushes your hair out of your face and the back of his fingers caresses your cheek slowly. 

“You hungry?” He murmurs. That urge to take care of you is never quite sated. Now that you’re well fucked, he plans on making sure you’re well-fed, too. 

“Mm, I could eat.” You shrug. 

“Stay here, I’ll bring you a plate.” Javier gives you a quick smack on your ass before dragging himself to his feet. He can feel your eyes on him as he stretches, all too aware of your appreciative gaze on his naked body. He calls out as he makes his way into the kitchen, “Then I’m having you for dessert.” 

The sound of your laughter brings a smile to his face as he sets about making plates for the both of you. He couldn’t imagine a better life, something he would want more than this. Good food, a beautiful home, and most importantly - his amazing wife.

[mariacrow]

Hi love, Let me start off with saying that I adore your writing! I was wondering if you could do some cute fluffy relationship head cannons with TFP Optimus, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee with a human female S/O please?

Totally okay if you ignore this one, just wanted to throw something out there. Keep up the amazing work!

Thank you, love 🥰 I planned on doing TFP Autobots relationship headcanons so here are your boys amongst everyone else ;)

This one is EVEN LONGER 💀 (that’s what she said pt. 2)

For Decepticon headcanons click here! 💜

I AM SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES OR TYPOS, I DIED WRITING THIS 😭

TFP Autobots x reader

❀ relationship headcanons ❀

2nd person

female reader

how you’d get together, confession

how you’d function together, PDA

intimacy, preferences (NSFW)

how long would it last

excluding Arcee because I mainly do male characters

OPTIMUS PRIME

HE SAID 🤨

It would take a looooong time for you two to click. He would treat you equally like he does everyone else and not give you any signals, not even mixed, so you would think it’s impossible to take it to another level with him.

As time would pass though, you two would isolate yourselves more and more when you’d have a chance. He’d take you on long relaxing rides.

Most of the time he would let you blabber while he’d stay silent and listen. He can listen to your beautiful voice all day.

After a couple of romantic rides he’d finally confess to you, asking if it’s even possible for a creature like him to love a creature like you. He’d ask you to be his one and only, to conjux.

He’d totally understand if you’d reject him but of course you wouldn’t reject him, IT’S OPTIMUS PRIME, WHO WOULD REJECT OPTIMUS PRIME??? (lmao)

He’s okay with PDA but he’d still kinda avoid it, he prefers when you two have proper privacy. He’s often too busy throughout the day anyway.

But when you do get some alone time, he always makes sure it’s the best you’ll ever get.

His sex drive isn’t high but at times he would get intimate with you and make you feel special.

He’s quite romantic actually, vanilla yet very sensual. He would do anything to give you maximal pleasure.

He likes to take it slow and passionate, take his time with you but sometimes, just sometimes, when he has too much pent up stress, he’d take it a bit rougher than usual to relieve himself.

He’s not that vocal, definitely a groaning and grunting type. He’d praise you though, tell you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.

Definitely calls you “little one”.

Prefers missionary or you riding while facing him so he can look at the complete soft beauty in front of him. Sometimes you push his size kink button which makes him tightly grab onto something, sometimes even damage it.

After he’d feel kinda bad, he’d make sure he didn’t hurt you or bring you any kind of displeasure. He’s the king of aftercare though, that’s for sure.

Da hell u mean how long would it last??? FOREVER OFC. IT’S OPTIMUS PRIME!!! 🤸‍♀️

🍓

RATCHET

Grumpy doc. (MY FAV!!!!!!!!!)

He’d pretend you annoy him the most just to deny his feelings.

As time would pass and as you’d grow on him more you’d catch him getting distracted by you. He’d just keep staring at you with a poker face, secretly admiring you. When you’d catch him he’d shake it off and continue his work.

Slowly he’d get overprotective, wanting to become your guardian probably. He’d also talk with you more often, perhaps even flirt a little with his old doc jokes, make you giggle and admire your blushy face.

He’d take advantage of some alone time with you in the base to confess. He’d let you sit on his shoulder for the first time while he works and talk quietly to you.

Finally he’d spill his spark for you, apologize for being too rough on you at times and asking for a chance to change that.

He’s actually a very good kisser, you could smooch him all day. But NEVER in front of the others. PDA is a nono, especially when you get him flustered which you tend to because he cannot absorb so much beauty at once.

Four walls and a locked door is the best for him. He can admire you properly and have his way with you. He might seem vanilla but he can get kinky.

He’s a control freak in bed too. Considering his age, his pace isn’t the best. He’d always complain about his hips and back but his strength is definitely something to cherish. He’s actually quite experienced so he doesn’t need a quick pace to give pleasure to both of you.

He’s girthy and it’s definitely something he’s proud of. He can get quite cocky and throw a couple of dirty talks. He can get very loud too, likes when you’re loud as well so he can shush you for fun.

He kinda has a breeding kink too (perhaps even doctor & nurse/assistant or patient kink), loves filling you up and seeing your tummy bulge, not letting it leak out.

He isn’t an exhibitionist but he’d love to do it on the control panel with you or in the med bay. As time would pass and as he’d remember how good IT feels, he’d want to do it anywhere and at any time, whenever you’d tickle his wild side with a provocative comment or a provocative look.

One thing that’s hilarious is that he can almost immediately fall asleep after nutting (excuse my language). He tries his best not to but he’s an old tired doc after all, you can’t be mad at him.

He’d pray it lasts because deep down he knows he got too attached. Even when you two would argue, when he’d yell at you for a stupid thing for example, later he’d do anything to make it up to you.

He loves you very dearly.

🍓

BULKHEAD

GENTLE GIANT!!!

He would confess to someone by secretly researching customs about Earth and he would be nervous at first.

You two would bond with some common interests he did research on previously. He’d buy you gifts and take you anywhere you want but at the same time he’d worry about your safety.

He gets flustered very easily so you’d get the memo that he likes you from the start.

It would take him a long time to confess which would result in him being a pure blushing mess. The moment you’d kiss him he’d probably almost faint.

He’s ok with PDA, he doesn’t care what anyone thinks. When he’s with you he’s in another dimension.

He’s a big snuggly wuggly teddy bear. Cuddling has become one of his fav things in the world because of you.

He would also need a lot of time to allow himself to get intimate with you hence he’s so huge. He’s scared he could hurt you.

Hence he needs a lot of words of affirmation, communication is key with him.

He’s a soft dom but can also be a switch if that’s what pleases you. He likes when you tug at his chin. He also loves when his digits are tangled in your hair, it’s his favorite part of your body.

He isn’t really a kinky type or at least his fear of bringing you any harm is suppressing anything that can come out onto the surface. That’s why he might be an experimentalist.

He would not stop until you’re fully pleased. You need to talk to him a lot during sex if you want him to be maximally confident with you.

He’s probably the best at aftercare. Would wrap you up in a blanket and bring you food or anything you ask for really.

He only prefers long term relationships and he’d hope you’re his precious little human forever.

I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT!!! :’((

🍓

BUMBLEBEE

Precious Bee is so clingy that it’s SO obvious that he’s into you.

He wouldn’t leave your side almost. He’d be all happy and bubbly and win you with his optimism.

Don’t let that bubbliness full you though, he’s a hot head and would do anything to protect you. He’s protective in the right amount though.

He’d always snuggle into your hair and press his muzzle against your cheek, as if he’s kissing you. He’d ask you to kiss him back by tapping his cheek and muzzle.

When you’d kiss his muzzle it would be over for him. You’d officially become his partner. He’d probably find a tiny gear to put on your wedding finger.

Totally into PDA! Especially when it annoys Smokescreen and makes him jealous.

Cuddles and any kind physical touch are his absolute FAV. He’s so spoiled when it comes to nuzzling which he does all the time (is obsessed with your softness).

He’s actually very quick to get intimate. You could say his sex drive is high due to his youth.

He’d take it nicely and passionately, especially with his servos. He has a specific kink with digit play. Loves touching you absolutely everywhere and almost every time he overstimulates your private parts with them before he actually penetrates you with his spike.

His stamina is crazy and he always takes advantage of it. His pace is very quick all the time but if you ask him to be slow he will. Your pleasure is also very important to him.

He has a thing for beauty marks, he’d kiss every single one of them every time. You’re the only one he puts his muzzle down for. But not gonna lie he loves when you tug on it.

Perhaps he’d be into leashes and chokers and stuff if you really asked him.

He’s a very soft lover after all so expect epic wholesome aftercare.

Considering he’s a hot head there might be some minor arguments with him but that won’t stop you from having a long term relationship.

🍓

WHEELJACK

JACKIEEEE! (2ND FAV!!!!!!)

He’d flirt the hell out of you. He’d flirt and flirt and flirt, make you blush and get flustered all over again until he makes you fall for him. He’d tease you with calling you “sunshine” or “kid” or “doll” or “baby girl”.

He’s a player, likes it casual but when he knows you’re the one, he doesn’t give up. He’s extremely stubborn.

You’re probably the only reason he’d stay in the base.

He’d take you out and if he notices you’re a romantic soul, he’d be the most romantic man out there even though, in reality, he isn’t romantic at all.

Doesn’t mind PDA, loves showing off how he’s the best boyfriend in the world (or at least he thinks so lmao).

You know he’s a HUGE hot head. Would kill for you.

The moment of confession would probably be the night you get intimate. We could say the best way he can express his love for you is through sex so expect some extreme overstimulation.

He’s into lingerie, especially black and red. Loves making you stain your panties good too.

He INVENTED dirty talking. Also very into oral, eating you out like the tastiest snack. He also loves eye contact, he’d make you look at him or else he’d stop.

He can combine all sorts of paces and positions and roughness, he has his own magic tactics. He loves making you scream while he’s praising you. Doesn’t matter if the base is full or not, he’s a risk taker and it really turns him on.

Sometimes he’d even grab you with one servo and slide you up and down his spike like a pocket pussy. Backshots and reverse cowgirl must be his fav positions.

One his fav places to cum is onto your face, definitely. Or into your mouth. He likes it gushy and messy. His stamina is crazy too.

Would shower you with kisses and praising afterwards, make sure you’re alright.

As I said, he’s into casual stuff but you’re probably the only one who would make him take relationships seriously and enjoy the long term.

🍓

SMOKESCREEN

He’d be so cringe at first. He’s an act first then think after type of mech.

He would flirt SO MUCH with you to the point he’d start annoying you.

He’d notice though. He may seem confident but in truth he’s nervous underneath all that cockiness. He tends to overthink.

He’d ask others for advice, research, anything that could make you his.

At first he would view you as just another one of his dolls he plays with but when he’d realize he actually has serious feelings for you, he’d get serious.

The confession would be spontaneous as he’d probably make out with you like the horny teenager he is. He’d promise to be loyal though and he’d keep that promise.

He’s into PDA, loves showing off how you’re his.

He has a weird kink in making you jealous and vice versa. You’d play a flirting game with anyone you know just to get each other jealous which would result in “who’s gonna give up first and frag the other”.

Loves giving you pet names but also loves when you give him pet names too and refer to him as “baby boy” hence he’s a switch. Also into exhibitionism.

Has a thing for breasts and thighs. He can whimper at times too and when you’d bring it up later he’d deny it and be like “WHAT!? NU-UH!”

Loves when you ride him or his face but is also into backshots even though he prefers when you face him. Perhaps he has a tiny sex tape kink too.

Surprisingly he’d make you cum every time which he would brag about later. His cockiness is always present nonetheless.

As I said, even though he can be an immature horny teenage boy, he can get serious when you put him in his place.

🍓

ULTRA MAGNUS

UH OH 💀💀💀

If you choose to fall in love with this man expect to be heart broken twelve times until you get together (if that’s even possible).

Kidding, it’s possible. But still very difficult. Prepare for a long one, he’s a very complicated mech 💀.

He would not even notice you. At first he’d just call you a native or a soldier but once he starts calling you by your actual name that would be the signal that he views you as someone who he has a positive opinion on.

You’d have to be REALLY pushy on him, be as clingy as possible, annoy the hell out of him so he’d actually set his guard down.

You’d develop your relationship with him scolding you like a parent, telling you what to do and what not to do while you’d disobey him. Sometimes you’d even bring a TIIINY smirk on his face because you’re just too cute, he can’t be mad at you forever.

With that, he’d get overprotective and follow you around all the time, not letting you out of his sight.

Would always correct you that you should refer to him as “sir” or “lieutenant” or even “commander”. He loves it when you do it in bed especially, it REALLY gets him going. Also has a brat taming kink.

This would go on for a loooong time until you actually conjux. He’s definitely a type of mech to keep you in handcuffs in a relationship.

PDA? What’s that? Sometimes it would seem he’s keeping you a secret.

When it comes to intimacy you’d probably think this mech’s sex drive is ZERO. But oh. He’d grope you and touch you everywhere, ex vent into your ear, giving you a sign at the most unexpected time that he wants you then and there.

He has a LOT of pent up stress so you’d be his stress outlet. His foreplay is a bit dry to be honest but he’d learn his way with you.

Even though his roughness can result in not caring about your pleasure at all, he’d still make your eyes roll in the back of your head.

Soon he’d realize how good you actually make him feel as he’d lean and kiss you (your lips, torso or back/neck, depends on the position which don’t matter to him as long as he’s on top).

Would definitely mark you all over with his servos because he tends to grope HARD. He also loves seeing the outline of his spike on your stomach as he couldn’t help but press onto it and feel it move in and out of you.

His aftercare is very poor too. At first you’d get intimate as if it’s a one night stand. He’d leave almost immediately or the next morning without even saying anything.

He’d isolate himself as first, making you feel as if he’s using you as a toy but in the end everything would come together and he’d give himself to you.

He’d still keep his formality at times. Getting intimate with him would probably be the only time he’d express his emotions as much as possible even though it really isn’t much.

This could go on either forever or fall apart after some time… Depends on you.

Dividers belong to @baexywth and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more 🍓

@k----a27s helped me with Bulk, Bee and Smokey! ❤️

[yandere--stuck]

Thinking about Yandere!Ratchet from Safety Hazard being on Synthetic Energon and being much more forward with his human. He’s definitely gonna be embarrassed by the way he was with them when he’s off of it lmao

“You're such a tease, you know that?” Ratchet hissed.

You blinked, not quite believing your ears. You turned about, furrowing your brows as you shot a look up to Ratchet at his station by the main computer screens. The green of his optics shone on you like spotlights, glowing brightly as he glowered down at you.

“Excuse me?” You asked, incredulous.

“You think I don't know what you're trying to do,” he sneered. “Showing up here, showing off your flesh, teasing me…”

“Ratchet, I'm not dressing any differently from what I usually wear!”

The medic growled, frustrated. “Then, it's not the clothes. It's just you. Something wrong with you that makes you beg for my attention.”

He took a sudden step toward you, the floor of the base shaking for a moment. You backed up, a sudden, cold wave of fear washing over you.

“Ratchet, stop,” You said, voice wary. “You're not making sense and you're scaring me.”

A smirk carved its way onto Ratchet’s face as he continued his slow advance on you.

“What doesn't make sense is what you do to me,” Ratchet purred, “I should be disgusted by the sight of your skin, but instead, I have the urge to reach out and-”

Large, stubby digits reached out to grab at you. You tried to sprint past his servo, but he was far too fast, scooping your small form into his servo and holding you tight in his grip. An involuntary shout escaped you, and your stomach dropped as Ratchet lifted you into the air. You were face-to-face with the Medic as he laughed, watching as you attempted to squirm and kick yourself free.

“Gotcha,” He grinned, green eyes shining with something that looked like hunger.

“Ratchet, p- please,” You gasped out, barely able to breathe. “It's the Synth-En! This isn't you.”

He didn't dignify your words with a response. He only continued to grin and hold you with his gaze.

Blood pounded in your ears to the beat of your rabbiting heart. As much as you tried to calm yourself and slow your breathing, you couldn't bring yourself under control. Terror shot through your nerves, your entire body taut like the string of a bow, bracing for Ratchet to crush you under his thumb.

But, he didn't. For too long a moment, he simply looked at you. Drank in the expression of fear on your face, how he had you right where he wanted you, like an organic prey animal in a trap. And, hey, that's basically what you were, right?

And then, the thumb of the servo holding you moved. An involuntary gasp bubbled up from your throat, sounding as desperate and breathless as a final breath. But, not to crush you. It brushed against your cheek, so decisive and purposeful. So gentle and just as potentially deadly.

You met his eyes.

“... You're my human. You know that, right?” He asked.

Your brows furrowed. What the Hell was he talking about? You opened your mouth to argue- but, as if reading your mind, Ratchet tightened his hold on you, silencing you.

“Don't lie to me, or I'll squeeze.”

Your breathing was shallow as you trembled in Ratchet's hold. His stubby digits curled tighter around you. You felt the pressure squeezing against your organs. The air was forced out of you, left coughing and unable to inhale. He simply watched as you spasmed and fought to be able to breathe.

And then he relaxed his hold. You quickly inhaled and exhaled, desperate to get air back into your burning lungs. Your body weak, all you could do was allow yourself to be held up by Ratchet as you recovered in his grip, panting like a dog.

“Now, what do we say?” Ratchet teased.

“I'm yours,” You relented. “I'm yours.”

“Now that's a good human.” Ratchet praised, expression just a touch softer. “And I trust the others won't be hearing about this when they get back. Right?"

[custardcrazy]

i have a Ted logan request! it’s kinda inspired by the tutor piece you wrote but instead of being Ted’s tutor she’s Deacons tutor (or babysitter) instead and she comes over to the Logan household and Ted sees her there and is immediately head over heels for her and is constantly trying to find an excuse to go to whatever room she’s in and stay there much to the annoyance of Deacon and their father on occasion

sorry if i got to specific but you’re my fav Ted Logan writer and I’m happy his requests are open!!!

young as we are

summary: you're deacon logan's new babysitter. it doesn't seem like it'll be anything too special -- until you meet his cute older brother, that is. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: okay so I might've changed around the prompt a teensy bit, but hopefully it still fits what you wanted. i'm no good at writing slow stuff so i got kinda impatient lmao (also. i'm?? your favorite?? you have no idea how genuinely happy that makes me. i'm smiling like an idiot. thank you so much.)

You checked the note you'd written the address down on to make sure you hadn't gotten the wrong house -- okay, all good -- before ringing the doorbell. 

The house itself was pretty nice, just looking at the exterior. One of the perks of babysitting in a somewhat well-off area like this one was that you usually got paid decently for your troubles; and it wasn't nearly as bad as working retail, if the stories you'd heard from your friends were anything to go off of. And kids could be sweet, unlike food service customers. 

It was only half a minute before the door was answered by a balding middle-aged man with a stern expression. Mr. Logan, you presumed; it was probably his voice you'd heard on the phone. 

"You must be the babysitter," he stated directly, not giving you time to answer, "come in, then. I have some things I have to inform you of." He didn't wait, disappearing into the house and leaving the door ajar behind him. Feeling slightly awkward, you followed. 

Once you entered the foyer, he began speaking again. "Deacon's probably in his room right now. He has to be in bed by nine P.M., and he knows that, but I don't doubt that without me being present he'll try to stay up." Indicating some bills on the counter, he continued, "there's some money for a pizza. The number to call is on the refrigerator. Dinner should be at six." 

"Oh, and my … eldest son, Ted." If it was even possible, his tone became more snide. "He should be back in an hour or two. Don't let him bother you at all -- if he gets too annoying, just let me know when I get back later in the evening, and I'll deal with him." 

You barely got out an "uh, okay, thanks" before Mr. Logan was yelling for Deacon. 

He was maybe around twelve, you guessed. It was obvious that he was reluctant to come downstairs, but did so after a look from his father. You smiled at him, but he didn't return it; you didn't really mind. He was at that awkward age, after all. And if your instincts were correct, an overbearing father could inflict a number on any kid. 

It wasn't that you weren't familiar with strict parents -- but it was near-impossible to get entirely used to them. Being in charge of their children meant that you had to be extra careful. You couldn't trust a young kid to not tell on you if you were a little lenient when it came to bedtimes, and you couldn't trust an older kid to not try and put the fact that you were more easy-going than their parents to the test. 

Still, once Mr. Logan had left, you immediately relaxed. 

And so did Deacon, by the looks of it, because suddenly his tense demeanor all but disappeared. 

It was almost frightening how abruptly he turned his attention from his father's car pulling down the driveway to you. 

"You ever watched RoboCop?" 

He asked, with a certain bluntness only preteen boys were capable of. 

"No, I haven't." Encouragingly, you smiled again. "What's that?" 

"I have the tape," and already he was turning away, "gimmie a sec." 

You had the sneaking suspicion that his father didn't have the same enthusiasm for science fiction movies.

And you were right; even during the movie he spoke up now and then to tell you stuff about the characters or the plot. About how "RoboCop could probably take down an entire army by himself". You thought it was kind of spooky how the titular protagonist was a reanimated guy forced to follow cyborg programming to uphold "justice" in an already-corrupt city, disregarding any humanity he once had. 

… Or something like that. Deacon just found the guy "badass". 

By the time that you'd nearly reached the ending of the movie, you were invested. 

But not too invested to not look up when the front door opened, and thus you made eye contact with probably the prettiest guy you'd seen in a while. 

He froze midway through his path to the stairs. 

For a moment, both of you just looked at each other. He looked familiar. 

Oh, yeah, you'd seen him at school a couple times. Passed by him in the hallways or in the cafeteria, maybe. You hadn't really noticed him before, but maybe that was because you hadn't gotten a good look at him. Like now. 

And then Deacon took notice, coughing in an awfully non-subtle way into his fist, and you realized that maybe you shouldn't stare like a creep. 

"Uh, you must be Ted, right?" You laughed semi-awkwardly. "Hi. I'm just gonna be babysitting Deacon until your dad gets home." 

Hopefully you remembered his name correctly. From the way his father had said it, you had expected him to be some flavor of delinquent -- piercings, leather jacket, all that stuff that an uptight man like Mr. Logan would disprove of. A high school dropout who was bumming around in his dad's basement without a source of stable income. 

That couldn't be further from the truth; the Ted you were seeing now was a slightly gangly, floppy-haired boy your age who was looking at you like he'd seen an angel. 

It took him a moment, but he nodded vigorously in response to your question. 

"Yes. Yeah. I'm -- that's me." Ted glanced away, finally breaking away your gaze. "Um. What's your name? I - … I don't think we've been introduced before, dude." Even from your position on the couch, you could pick out spots of rose pink on his cheeks. Even as he focused determinedly on the ground. 

You couldn't help but be hopelessly endeared, so you gave him your name. 

He gently repeated it once, as if trying out how it felt on his tongue. "Oh. Radical." 

There was another brief moment, in which the movie still playing on the boxy television faded into the background. Then, his eyes were back on yours; they were a warm brown, you noticed. 

Apparently, Deacon had enough of his older brother interrupting his sacred movie, because he spoke up again, breaking the silence. "Ted, don't you have stuff to do?" 

You wanted to reprimand Deacon for his less-than-polite tone, but didn't have the chance, because Ted responded first.

"Oh." Seemingly snapping back to reality, he glanced away. "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that." 

Before you could tell him that you were going to order food later, he'd bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time. You heard the far-off shutting of a door; and then a little later, muffled music that had a lot of distorted electric guitar and drums. 

Deacon scoffed to himself, but settled further into the couch cushions. 

You didn't see Ted again that night. He didn't even come downstairs to snatch a slice of pepperoni pizza, and just remained in his room. Maybe he didn't want to bother his little brother anymore, you thought, trying your hardest not to feel disappointed; even if you'd barely had any sort of conversation with him, there was something … Something very magnetic. 

Mr. Logan was back at around eleven, and by that time you were seated by the television once more. Alone, because you'd miraculously managed to get Deacon to go to bed. 

"I'm guessing everything went fine," remarked Mr. Logan, taking off his cap. You were beginning to get used to his clipped tone, and shut off the terrible sitcom you'd been killing time with. 

"Yeah, I left the change for the food on the counter." 

He pulled out his wallet, counting out crisp bills. 

"Did Ted give you any trouble?" 

Taking the money, you made sure it was the correct amount -- why'd you even bother, a man like Mr. Logan must've been specific about everything. "No, not at all. He barely said anything to me, actually." 

He only gave you a noncommittal hum in response to that, not even looking in your direction as he headed for the counter; probably to make sure you weren't stealing any of the change. "Well, good night." 

It wasn't a thank you -- not even close, but you'd take it. You'd been paid, after all.  "Good night." 

Ted's face upon seeing you still was fresh in your mind as you made your way home. And during the next several days that passed. It wasn't surprising, really. Nobody had ever looked at you like that; nobody had ever looked in awe of you on sight. At least, not anybody that had really caught your attention. 

Eventually, Mr. Logan called again. Apparently he had another work thing to do -- not that you were listening closely when he mentioned it. Your heart jumped at another opportunity to see Ted; it was a little embarrassing, really. You weren't some boy-crazed lunatic, pining after a guy you barely knew. 

Well, pining was a strong word. But you did pay extra attention when walking around at school, trying to catch a glimpse of him on your way to your classes. 

(You didn't.) 

This time, your pulse picked up when you walked up to the house. You even hesitated before you rang the doorbell again. But when you did, you heard some general commotion from within the house before Deacon answered the door, looking a little annoyed. 

"Hi," he said, "Dad's getting ready or whatever." 

He stepped aside to let you in. "I thought Ted was gonna answer the door. But he ran off as soon as he heard the doorbell." Sighing, he flopped down on the couch. "Lazy ass." 

As if on cue, Mr. Logan entered the living room, fixing his hat. You idly wondered if he wore it to hide the fact that he basically lacked all of his hair except for on the sides and back. 

"Deacon, watch your language." 

"Sorry." Even though his voice was muffled into the cushions, he didn't sound apologetic in the slightest. 

Mr. Logan turned his attention to you. "You don't need a refresher on anything, right." It sounded more like an order than a question, but you chose to look past it. At least he had offered to jog your memory if needed. The bare minimum was nice sometimes. 

"Yeah, I'll be fine." 

He gave you a curt nod. It wasn't until you heard the garage door shutting behind his car that Deacon sat bolt upright, suddenly energized. 

You looked at him expectantly. 

"Let's watch Ghostbusters," he declared. "Dad thinks it's stupid." 

And so, with little fanfare, you were basically doing the same thing as last time. But instead of dystopia, the setting was mildly less disturbing this time. And the main protagonists were human and likable. No offense to cyborg cops, but he didn't offer much in the way of personality -- so nobody could blame you. 

You were sure you'd seen this movie before, but the memory was vague enough that most of the events were new to you. However, even though you were focused on watching the film, there was something else on the back of your mind. An underlying antsiness; and you had a good idea why. 

Said antsiness was confirmed when, about half an hour into the movie, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. It took all of your willpower not to look, but you knew who it was. 

It was only until he breached your peripheral vision that you allowed yourself to smile. 

"Hey, Ted." 

Today, he was wearing all loose clothes -- a baggy tee shirt with BLACK SABBATH printed on it in slightly distorted purple font, and what looked like sleep shorts. All in all, it made him look very soft. Like he was planning to do nothing but lay in bed for the entire day. Even his hair was kind of mussed up, a curl or two (or three) sticking out from the rest. 

He returned your smile tenfold with a near-blinding grin. "Hey." 

Deacon, unlike you, didn't have to hide anything. 

"Are you just gonna stand there and stare at the babysitter?" 

Delightfully, Ted flushed, hand flying up to fiddle with his hair. "Uh. No. I was just wondering if I could -- " he hesitated, before continuing, "if I could watch the movie too, y'know. I think Ghostbusters is a totally exceptional example of cinema." You didn't catch the way Deacon narrowed his eyes at his older brother. 

"Okay. Just don't interrupt too much." 

" 'Course." 

You were mildly startled when Ted sat down in the middle of you and Deacon -- you'd expected him to sit on the other side, but apparently that wasn't the case. The younger Logan let out an audible sigh and scooted further away. 

True to his word, Ted didn't speak up for the majority of the movie. But you were aware of his presence in a way that was almost comparable; since you were mere inches apart. He didn't sit still, and adjusted his position every so often, but you had the feeling that was the norm since Deacon didn't mention it. 

However, it seemed by the near-ending Ted reached his limit on not making at least one comment. 

"Dude. I forgot how impressive the special effects are," he mused in his best attempt at a hushed tone. "Must've taken them ages to do this stuff." 

"Yeah," you agreed, glancing over, "it's pretty cool. Slimer really gives me the creeps." 

Ted opened his mouth to respond, but shut up when a loud "shhh!" came from Deacon's general direction. 

For a moment, you and him just looked at each other. Then, not able to stifle it in time, you snorted; he lapsed into a fit of giggles, and as a result of that so did you. It wasn't really your fault -- his laugh was very contagious, even muffled like this. 

Somehow, you managed to get through the rest of the movie without much more incident. Even if your heart lurched every time Ted's arm or leg accidentally brushed up against yours with the way he was fidgeting. 

By the time it was over, it was around six, and so you called to order a pizza. Ted didn't retreat back upstairs, much to Deacon's disappointment, and pretty much hovered around you as you all waited for dinner to arrive. Not in a weird way, not at all -- he just resembled a puppy trying to get attention, really. 

"What'd you think of the movie?" He asked, just after you'd gotten off the phone with the pizza place. 

"It was pretty good," you hummed, putting down the receiver. "A couple moments were slow, but overall I enjoyed it. What's not to like about some guys capturing ghosts and defeating otherworldly entities?" 

"An excellent way to phrase it," grinned Ted, "and I agree most wholeheartedly. The ghost-buster dudes are impossible not to root for." 

You chatted a little more about it with him; his way of talking was a bit unique, but somehow you found it just as attractive as everything else. Sadly, your conversation was cut short by the doorbell. As soon as you'd taken a single step in the direction of the door -- 

" -- I'll get that!" declared Ted, with an enthusiasm that was a little frightening, already moving to grab the pizza. 

"Hey, wait, there's money on the counter!" 

"... Oh." 

Backtracking, he grabbed the cash and resumed his course to the door, covering the distance with long strides. 

It wasn't long before the food was gone; and you unceremoniously stuffed the ripped-apart cardboard box into the recycling bin like last time, hoping Mr. Logan wouldn't take issue with how you'd basically just jammed it in. After Deacon had wolfed down maybe three slices, he'd disappeared somewhere. Probably to his room -- you  reminded him to be in bed in time, lest Mr. Logan stop letting you babysit, and he'd only replied with a dull "okay". 

You were practically alone with Ted now. 

"So, uh." He broke the silence as soon as you returned to the living room. "... Wanna go upstairs? There's not much to do down here 'sides watching more movies." 

"I don't see why not," you said without thinking. 

For a second, he looked caught off-guard just as much as you were, (seriously, what) but recovered quickly. "Cool. C'mon, dude." 

Beaming, he motioned to you, and you were helpless to do anything but follow. 

His room was a bit messy, but you would've found it strange if it wasn't. Posters were all over the walls, Metallica and Van Halen and other assorted bands and movies. In the corner was a shelf filled to the brim with various memorabilia; action figures, guitar picks, markers and books that looked kind of dusty. His laundry bin was overflowing a little, but at least it was confined to another corner. Everything was just so Ted and that was probably the best way to describe it. 

He made his way over to the window, opening it just a crack. "Let's just keep the window open so we can hear Dad pulling in the driveway. His car is super loud -- I think he'd go ballistic if you were hanging out with me." 

You knew he was right, but it still struck a minor chord on your heartstrings -- which you attempted to move past as fast as possible. "Oh, yeah. Good thinking." 

At your compliment, he was all smiles again. 

You felt yourself melt a little, and sat on the bed before your knees gave out or something. 

Before long, you were both sprawled out on the carpet playing a serious game of Uno. For a guy who you were learning wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box, he was pretty good at making you question your own abilities; either that or he was just extremely, ridiculously lucky. He did have an awful poker face, after all. 

He snickered every time he drew a plus four or plus two card, and blanched whenever he didn't have a playable card. Which was cute, but also pretty advantageous for you. 

After a frustratingly long time of going back and forth; of him denying you every single time you dared call Uno, you finally won. 

"Dude!" Ted exclaimed, throwing down his hand as if deeply and truly offended, but you could see that he was grinning again. "That was totally 'cause I let my guard down." 

"I don't know," you teased, "or maybe it was because of my great and unbeatable card-game skills." 

He hung his head in mock-shame. "You're right. I suck." 

You were conflicted between bullying him a little more or comforting him to lessen the blow of your victory, but before you could decide, you both heard the tell-tale sound of tires crunching on the pavement and the whir of the garage door opening. Ted scrambled over to the window, peeking through the small opening he'd left earlier. 

"He's back," he announced, turning back to face you. 

"Okay," you said, getting to your feet and making sure you hadn't dropped anything. "See you later, Ted." 

" 'Bye!" He called after you.

Thankfully, you managed to make it down to the living room, jump onto the couch, and fumble for the remote just in time to turn on the television a good minute before Mr. Logan entered. During that brief time, you felt strangely like you were a spy, a double-agent -- that if you were caught fraternizing with the enemy, you'd be given grave consequences. 

It was hilarious, you had to admit. 

Mr. Logan didn't ask you about Ted this time, just cutting right to the chase and taking out his wallet.

"Is the change on the counter again?" 

"Yeah," you answered, giving him a "thanks" as he handed you a couple bills. You marveled again at how clean they were -- it almost felt criminal to stuff them in your pocket, but what else could you do? 

Once more, Mr. Logan turned away, going for the counter. "Good night." If he was as disinterested as he sounded, it was no wonder why he didn't try to make small talk with you at all. And you were grateful for it; you were sure that it'd just be awkward and nothing else. You rushed a little to leave. 

But just as your hand turned the doorknob, you were stopped in your tracks by a shout. 

"Wait!" 

Apparently, you and Mr. Logan were both equally shocked, because he also whipped around mid-action. 

In Ted's hasty descent down the stairs, he nearly tripped over himself, but regained what little composure he'd been holding onto, and jogged over to you. Either he didn't notice his father standing there, looking utterly baffled; or he just didn't care. In his hands he was holding a cassette tape. 

He held it out to you, still catching his breath. The color in his cheeks could be attributed to his rush downstairs, but you had a sneaking suspicion that wasn't entirely the case. "Here. Sorry. I was gonna give it to you earlier," bashfulness showed clearly in his expression, "but I forgot." 

It was only a second before you realized that you'd have to exit the situation to avoid any questions from his father -- whose eyes were darting between the two of you in an extremely worrying manner. So you took it from him, even whilst having absolutely no idea what it was. 

"Thanks." 

And with that, you were out the door. 

--

The second you got home, you got a good look at the tape. 

On the outside, written in an untidy scrawl in black Sharpie, was your answer. It was a mixtape. How much time had he spent making this for you? Your mind conjured up an image of him sitting by the record player you'd seen in his room, painstakingly selecting his favorite songs to record. 

Flipping it over, you realized there was a scrap of paper taped to it -- a note. 

You hardly had to think about the question hastily written on it with a bright pink marker, with little stars doodled around the edges. 

It was the only thing that was running through your mind for the rest of the night. They were agonizing, the few days that passed before you finally received a call from Mr. Logan again. It was probably the only time ever that you were glad to hear his voice. 

Deacon was a little disappointed when you told him to wait a minute to watch Raiders of the Lost Ark.

"Don't start loudly making out or anything," he said, sulking as you quickly ascended the stairs. You wanted to scold him for the sake of preserving your own dignity, but you had more pressing matters to focus on at the moment.

"So," Ted began sheepishly, after you entered his room. "You got my note, right?" 

"I listened to the tape, too," you answered near-breathlessly. "Yes. I'd love to spend more time with you, Ted." You smiled broadly. "You're really sweet, you know that?" 

He went bright red in response. 

And then ducked behind his bangs. 

It took him a little while to speak, but you were patient. 

" … thanks, dude. I'm really glad," he finally murmured. "I spent ages making that tape, but it wasn't until I was gonna give it to you that I realized that. Like. Just hanging out like this wasn't gonna be enough. At all."

Right now, the main emotion your brain was registering was giddiness. 

"I'm really glad, too."

[libraryofgage]

Steddie Pokemon AU

So, Pokemon Concierge is on Netflix, and it's just so good guys. Like, it gives me the same vibes that Pokemon Soul Silver does. I can't explain it, but it hit right in the yearning part of me that wants to live in a Pokemon world.

Anyway, I wrote this to kinda counteract that yearning lmao

This is a fluffy AU, very wholesome and little-to-no angst. If there is any, none of it is related to Steddie. It also jumps back and forth, showing Steddie's life now and the journey of them getting together and settling down.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

Present

Steve slowly approaches the agitated Rapidash. His hands are raised to be visible, his shoulders are relaxed, and Dustin is standing with his Vaporeon a few feet away just in case he needs to put out a fire or two. Steve's Dragonite is standing behind Dustin, ready to pull him away at the first sign of trouble. The Rapidash glares at Steve warily, smoke billowing from its nostrils as it moves back and forth in its tiny enclosure. A fire-proof strip of leather is wrapped around its snout, keeping it from biting or snapping at anyone who wanders too close.

On his head, Steve's Buneary, named Bunna on a whim by El, shifts anxiously, her ears perked as she tugs at his hair. He doesn't give any indication that he notices, keeping his eyes on the Rapidash. When he's a few steps away, the Rapidash's eyes widen and it rears back, making Steve freeze.

He takes a deep breath, keeping his heart at a calm pace. "I'm not gonna hurt you," he says, his voice low and soothing. "My name is Steve. This is one of my partners, Bunna. We're not really from around here, but you could probably tell, huh? We traveled here from Hawkins. That's a tiny little town off Route 86. Really pretty, big fields to roam and a forest all around. You can even see the stars at night."

As he speaks, the Rapidash slowly calms down, shifting occasionally but no longer rearing back. The animosity in its eyes has diminished some as well, leaving behind a hesitant wariness. Steve smiles gently, taking another step closer. When the Rapidash doesn't try to warn him away, he continues to slowly approach.

He reaches the fence of the enclosure this time and slowly exhales. "Can I?" he asks, slowly reaching out only to freeze when the Rapidash snorts in warning. "Okay, no problem."

When Steve drops his hand again, Bunna takes it as her cue. She hops off Steve's head, balances carefully on the fence, and chitters as she approaches the Rapidash. It's fine with other Pokemon, allowing her to come close enough to reach the leather strip wrapped around its snout. Bunna pokes it a few times with a pink-topped ear, jumps onto the Rapidash's snout to step on the strip with her paw, and then hops back down.

"Bun!" she shouts, waving her paws at the Rapidash. "Bu, Neary, Ne Ne, Bunear." As she speaks, she gestures to Steve with her ears.

After a few moments, the Rapidash puffs out another little cloud of smoke, and Bunna nods. She turns and jumps onto Steve, landing on his shoulder and settling there happily. "Thank you," he says, reaching up to gently scratch under her chin before approaching the Rapidash.

This time, it doesn't move, but it does watch closely. Steve continues to be slow and gentle, reaching up to feel along the leather strip. He eventually finds the clasp holding it in place and carefully pulls it loose. Once he's gently tugged it off, the Rapidash snorts and stretches its jaw, revealing teeth that could easily clamp down on Steve's hands.

They don't, though. Instead, the Rapidash studies Steve for a few more seconds before nudging its snout against his hands. Steve smiles wider, gently smoothing the fur that had been flattened by the leather. "I'm gonna let you out now, okay? And then we can go back to Hawkins and you can rest for as long as you'd like," he promises.

Once he's finally gotten the Rapidash out of its enclosure and comfortable enough to travel, he waves for Dustin to slowly approach. The Rapidash moves to stand behind Steve, wary but not aggressive with Steve acting as its shield. "Man, I thought it was gonna bite your hand off," Dustin says, his shoulders slumped with relief as his Vaporeon winds around his feet. "I was ready to call out your Chancey."

Steve waves off his concern. "No, it wouldn't hurt me unless I spooked it," he says, feeling the Rapidash gently nudge him in the back. He looks over his shoulder, noting the impatience in its eyes and its eagerness to leave this place already. "All right, all right, we're going."

"Can we visit Eddie when we get back?" Dustin asks, watching as Vaporeon scampers up Dragonite's tail and settles on his head.

"If he's not busy. It's spring, Dustin. You know he gets more challengers in spring."

Dustin grins. "Yeah," he says, "I wanna see him kick their asses."

Steve snorts, reaching over and shoving the bill of Dustin's cap down.

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

Past

Technically, this is the third time they've met, if Steve could even call it meeting. The first two times he and the other boy crossed paths, it was while Steve was leaving a gym, riding the high of victory. He'd nodded to the boy in greeting before hurrying to the Pokemon Center to heal his team and plan a celebration dinner.

The third time they meet, they're in Juniper Village, and it's raining. Steve is sitting in one of the many fields in the village, letting himself get soaked as he wallows in his own misery over his third failed gym battle. His Dratini is curled up next to him, his Ralts is moping in his lap, and his Riolu is leaning against his back, nearly as devastated as Steve. If not for the rain, his Growlithe would be out as well.

Maybe it's dramatic of Steve, but he's allowed a little drama sometimes. It's not like he walked into the gym expecting to win with ease, but the wall he keeps hitting shows no sign of cracking, and a quiet whisper in the back of his mind keeps saying this is where his journey ends. He'll never get past the Juniper Village Gym, he'll never reach the Elite Four, and he'll never prove to his parents that wanting to spend his time with Pokemon is more than a childish fantasy he should get over.

His eyes are just beginning to sting when something rolls into his knee. Steve blinks, looking down to see a Sandshrew pop open and tilt its head at him. He's about to cover it with his jacket (it can't possibly be comfortable in the rain) when a hand with ring-covered fingers reaches out and gently knocks the Pokemon on the head. With a quiet poof the Sandshrew disappears and a Zoroa snickers.

Someone plops down on the ground next to Steve, huffing softly when the Zoroa jumps into their lap. "So, is this some new training tactic I don't know about?" they ask.

When Steve looks up, he locks eyes with the boy he's met in passing outside the last two gyms. His hair is plastered to his face, and he seems to have no intention of picking up the umbrella he's abandoned to the side. "What?" Steve asks.

"This whole sitting in the rain thing," the boy says, waving one hand to gesture to the weather as his other rubs between Zoroa's ears. "I've heard of sitting under waterfalls, but this one is stumping me."

Without thinking, Steve blurts out, "I'm moping."

He blinks, feeling his face grow hot as he quickly looks away. It just gets worse when the guy snorts, the laughter piercing right through Steve's chest. It makes him think of his parents and the way they'd derisively laugh whenever he spoke about fighting gym leaders and traveling the region. His Ralts shifts in his lap, burying its head in his stomach as it picks up on his emotional shift.

"Hi, Moping," the boy says, "I'm Eddie."

Whatever Steve had been feeling comes to a screeching halt, his emotions nearly tripping over themselves as he processes what he just heard. When it finally clicks, his whips his head around to stare at the boy, Eddie, taking in his amused grin. "Did you just...make a dad joke?" he asks.

"Yep," Eddie says, making the 'p' sound pop. "Did it work?"

Surprisingly, yes. It was so abrupt that Steve suddenly feels that sitting here in the rain because he lost a gym battle is just absurd. "Yeah," he says, his voice soft.

Eddie grins wider, leaning closer and bumping their shoulders like they've been friends this whole time. "So, what's your name really, big boy?"

"Steve. My name is Steve." he says, getting a slight smile of his own. Then he realizes something and looks around them. The area is completely empty except for him, Eddie, and their Pokemon. Everyone else in Juniper Village is smart enough to stay inside when it's raining like this. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I saw this guy who usually looks very proud of himself just moping in the rain, so I figured I'd try to cheer him up a little out of the goodness of my heart."

"Really?" Steve asks, narrowing his eyes. "The goodness of your heart?" He wouldn't be surprised if it was less the goodness of Eddie's heart and more the prospect of getting acquainted with the heir to the Harrington TM/HM corporation.

"Okay, fine," Eddie says, holding his free hand up in surrender. Steve braces himself, trying to cut off any disappointment before it can be felt. "You just looked like such a pathetic little depressed Lillipup that I couldn't help approaching you."

Steve blinks again, utterly speechless as he stares at Eddie. After a few seconds, he finally manages to say, "I'm not a Lillipup."

"Really, Stevie?" Eddie asks, his tone and grin becoming amused, "That's the part of that sentence you got caught on?"

For some reason, that's what makes Steve crack. It starts slow, with a tiny smile, and eventually becomes breathless laughter as he leans back and nearly crushes his Riolu. It ducks out from behind Steve, sliding to sit next to his Dratini, and stares at him in utter confusion as he falls into the muddy grass behind him. Raindrops fall into his mouth and mud stains his clothes, but Steve doesn't care.

He hears Eddie fall onto his back as well and looks over to see his Zoroa circling his stomach before settling. Eddie grins at Steve, and they enjoy the rain together for a few more minutes before dashing to the nearest Pokemon Center to get dry.

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

Hello! Not to send in another Ganondorf request (I'm sure he's popular lmao) but if you wouldn't mind, maybe some soft smut would be fun? I'm specifically thinking a reader who just doesn't have a whole lot of experience with sex, if any at all, and now Ganondorf would treat him and whatnot.

Thank you for your time, I love your writing!!

Not a problem at all! Ganon is a personal favorite of mine so I'm always excited to write for him~!

Thank you for your kind words, and I hope you enjoy~

Title: Inexperienced Lover

Characters: Ganon x m!reader

Contains: inexperienced sex, soft sex, fingering, pet names(love, dear)

Fandom: Legend of Zelda

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

"W-Wait!" Your voice startled Ganon into stopping immediately from entering you.

"Yes, love? Is...everything okay?"

All your breath came out in a rush, having held it until he spoke. "I-I...it's my first time. I-I'm sorry, I should have told you. I-I just..."

Given your position on top of him, you buried your face in his chest. His hold on your legs loosened from the slightly firm grip, and he replaced the area with gentle strokes of his fingers.

"You don't need to apologize, dear. I should be the one to do so. I never did ask if you were capable of withstanding such a size. I merely assumed."

You let out an amused huff, turning your head to the side to speak. "H-Honestly, I thought I could handle it. But I guess I wussed out."

"Don't say such a thing. You just aren't ready." He moved a hand to pet at your head, large fingers gently playing with your strands of hair. "Are you wanting to continue at all?"

You nodded. "Is there...anything else we could do? Or...how could I...be better prepared?"

"Hm...well. You mentioned you were not prepared for my size." A hand traveled down to the soft mounds of your butt, gently kneeding them under his grip. "I know of a way. That is, if you will allow me."

Swallowing down your fears, you nodded once more, silently enjoying the feeling of his hands on your bottom. "You're free to do anything except use your...um...y-y'know..."

Ganon couldn't help but chuckle. "Are you that inexperienced that you refuse to say 'penis?'"

Your flushed red, lightly slapping the Gerudo's chest. "Y-You hush! S-So what if I didn't want to say it?!"

His chuckled turned into a soft laugh. "I jest, love. I jest."

With the two of you settled and relaxed, Ganon returned to what he had in mind. He gently massaged your soft behind once more before spreading the cheeks. You immediately reminded Ganon of earlier, to which he assured you he wasn't inserting his shaft into you.

No no. Instead, the Gerudo gently teased your entrance with a finger, circling the tight ring with gentle movements. You relaxed against him, humming in delight over the sensation.

Okay, you thought. This feels fine. I can manage this.

Once you fully relaxed, when Ganon was able to see you were ready, a finger slowly slid inside. Granted his fingers were thicker, but they were still much smaller than his cock, so he figured this would be the best way to get you adjusted to him. He was slow, gentle, stopping whenever you made the slightest sound of pain and only continuing when you gave him the word.

"F-Fuck...e-even your finger is thick," you breathed, gently gripping at the man below you.

"You're okay, though, right?" Ganon's voice was gentle, careful.

You slowly nodded with a hum of confirmation, allowing Ganon to slowly slide his finger fully inside. He gave you further time to adjust, moving when you patted his chest.

The movement of his fingers was slow but calculated. He slowly pulled them to the closest knuckle before slipping back in, giving you about an inch of movement with every slow thrust. You felt tight around him, but that was the point of this; to gently work you up.

He kept this pace until he felt your hole loosen a bit, using that chance to gently speed up, making his movements a bit deeper. Such a change urged your hips to rock, your cock grinding against Ganon's muscular form. The two of you let out such pleased hums as the moment passed, Ganon keeping such a close eye on you and your reactions.

It wouldn't be long until, with this current pace, you could manage full movement of his finger, lewd, squelching sounds echoing into the air with every thrust, causing you to bury your head into your lover once more. Ganon chuckled at this, slowing his movements some.

"Love? Are you alright?"

You were too shy to answer at first, but with a teasing push of his finger, Ganon urged you to speak.

"I-It's...loud back there," you breathed. "I-I'm making...dirty sounds..."

"My dear, those sounds are nothing short of bliss." The Gerudo's voice rumbled in his chest, allowing you to not only hear, but feel how aroused he was by the sound. "You are feeling good, and that's your body reacting as such."

You were feeling good...Yeah. You were so embarrassed to say it but he was right. This was all wonderful. You never knew his fingers alone could feel like heaven. You almost thought you were ready for his dick, but a part of you still shuddered at the idea.

"C-Could I get more of this for a bit? P-Please?"

Who was he to deny his love?

Ganon even surprised you with a second finger, repeating the actions he did with his first finger: slow, stopping when you showed pain, and resuming when you called for it. Hylia, you felt full, but knowing it was just his fingers eased your anxieties. Just like before, he would move shallowly, letting you adjust before you were loose enough for him to move more. In all honesty, your mind was nearly mush from this by itself. Your mouth hung open in soft, breathy moans, your eyes staring at nothing in particular before fluttering shut.

"How is it, dear?"

You almost didn't realize he spoke. It was the vibrations of his chest that jolted you back to reality.

"S-So...nice...~ G-Ganon~ I-I think I'm ready."

"You think or you are ready?" For a man hellbent on ruling the world, what king would he be to his partner if he didn't let him decide if he was ready for such an experience?

"I-I'm ready," you breathed. "I'm ready. P-Please."

He was careful to remove his fingers, a whine leaving from your mouth at how empty you felt. Though you wouldn't have to wait long, as you felt the head of his shaft pressed at your opening.

"We're on the cusp. Are you sure, love?"

For the first time tonight, you sat up against him, gently taking the king's face in your smaller hands as you gazed up at him with pleasure hazed eyes.

"My king...you may enter me."

Your words nearly broke the man, but Hylia bless him for having composure. He slowly slid his cock into you, treating it like he was using a finger once again. The difference was that this was still thicker than two fingers, but on the bright side, the fact he stretched you out beforehand was enough to loosen you up and allow him to slide in with some ease. He wrapped his arms around you like a protective hug, and with each movement, he treated you like a fragile glass doll.

His thrusts were nothing short of careful, moving inside of you with such care, fearing he would break you if he went even a hair faster. Your moans fueled him, aiding him into keeping his gentle pace, and his moans, in turn, only made you shudder. You could make this Demon King moan, make him whimper with how tight you were, and you both relished in this moment.

Though when the time came for it, Ganon didn't expect you to pass out soon after cumming. As he was when you were awake, Ganon was sure to take care of you before he settled you in the bed, admiring your sleeping form before following in your footsteps.

[dailypacesetter]

imagine he says no, lol. lmao, even.

"SHHH!! Can you rodents shut up? I need to concentrate."

The Pacesetter turns to the side again.

"Before I give you your gift, lemme just say some words first…" He takes a deep breath. "Uh, Flint? These past couple years have been amazing... Meeting you at your doorstep that day was… the best day of my life, man. I'm sure your heart raced when you first laid eyes on me and so did mine…I've never met a Suit quite like you... You know I'm the most handsome, perfect guy there is, but you… cog, I think you're so much more! You complete me in a way I didn't think was possible, you somehow make me feel even more perfect!"

The Pacesetter laughs nervously, shaking a bit now.

"We make such a great team, together we smoke and dazzle those pesky toons with no effort! And when we go back to our place and relax, playing our music together, COG, I always have so much fun! And…"

His voice lowers, slowing down.

"I can only hope I make you feel just as perfect… Because, Flint, you are the most perfect Suit there is. And I want you to know that. Everyday, I wanna remind you that you're the best partner a guy could ask for… I really do wanna spend all my days with you…"

He coughs, his voice gaining it's usual tone. "And so, that leads to my gift!" The Pacesetter is visibly shaking. He drops to one knee.

@dailyfirestarter DAY 26

[elliebarker]

neeeeeeeeeed for u to write me smt abt working!reader and housewifey!ellie who cooks for u when you work 12 hour shifts (and she east u out later too to take away the soreness)

help you relax ( e. williams )

you had just finished up your work day, an extra hour and a half added to your usual 12-hour day because of your damaging boss, you finally clock out and head to the parking lot to find your car. you were absolutely exhausted and the only thing you wanted was the go back to the comfort and safety of your home, and your wife.

ellie had her sleeve rolled up and wiped her brow with her arm as she finished preparing dinner for you. in the distance, ellie heard a car pull up right outside your guys' house, the stop of the engine, and the door of the car opening and shutting. ellie brought the pot on the stove to a lower heat to avoid burning down the house as she went up to greet you. she was decorated in an apron, top, and her usual skinny jeans. she walked, with anticipation, to the entrance of your guys' house. the key turned in it's knob and in you walked, tired and drained from your day full of work.

"hey babe," ellie's voice pouring out ease and immediately calming your stress and nerves. you muttered out a response, sleep heavy in your voice. ellie took your jacket off, massaging your sore back muscles for a slight second, and hung it on the rack. she grabbed your hand and pulled you into the kitchen. the two of you sat down and enjoyed the dinner she had crafted for the two of you, exchanging a few kisses and hugs while you both went up for seconds. the night was slow and romantic, simple tunes played from you record player as the two of you snuggled up on the couch and breathed the day away. you had missed ellie. and, ellie had missed you. a little too much. you were comfortably laying on the couch, arms wrapped each other, when all of a sudden you felt the dust of ellie's lips on you neck. you paid no attention to it, she was probably just trying to find a more comfortable position. then, a few minutes, later, it happened again. her lips gazed your neck, placing kisses along your jawline down to your collar bones.

"ellie..." you pleaded.

"cmon honey," ellie said, looking up into your eyes, "lets get to bed," she smirked and pulled you into your bedroom, a look of mischief and intent in her eyes, "i want to help you relax."

an: no because i love this request (ps so sorry but my smut writing abilities suck ass so it'll just...fade to black... and you can imagine the rest) i honestly struggled so hard to make housewife!ellie without making it like those disgusting male gaze yassifed ellies lmao

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