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mysteria157 · 9 months ago

Text

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Black Fem Reader

CW: Profanity, Light Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Explicit Sexual Content, Missionary, Cowgirl, Fingering, Fingersucking, Cunnilingus, Slight Dom Reader (not much), Car Sex, Bathroom Sex

WC: ~16k (It's long so get some snacks)

Summary:

Maybe you're single for a reason. You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations, and you refuse to settle for less. For the ones who aren't worth the air they breathe, you chew them up and spit them out. You savor the taste so you know what to avoid the next time.

So when he looks down at you with that devilish smirk and calls you 'Princess', you're determined to prove that Toji Fushiguro is no exception.

Notes: Hello! This is my first fic with Toji and I'm nervous to get it out here. The setting of this fic and the elements I incorporated connect a lot with my own childhood and the memories (not the interactions in this fic) that I had at family cookouts and get-togethers. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated! Happy reading!

Dividers: @royallaesthetics @eloquentmoon

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter | **Sequel**

“Can I get you a drink, princess?”

When you meet Toji Fushiguro for the first time, it’s on the fourth of July at your uncle’s house. It’s a big get-together at a two-story house located in the countryside. Every year he opens up his spacious home for a gathering of your extended family to bring excessive amounts of alcohol, play old school rap and R&B too loudly, devour delicious fucking food, and set off fireworks that have been collected since the beginning of the year.

Your uncle has already made a home by the grill and taken control of the speakers after one of your younger cousins attempted to play something ‘a little too racy’ for his tastes. You’re pretty sure it was an Ice Cube song from the 90s that your uncle hates but is too proud to admit, so he lectures your cousin about ‘what young folks should be listening to’ instead.

The smell of hamburgers and ribs has been teasing your nose for the past hour, and your hunger is borderline unbearable with each sniff. You avoid the allure of the long table of food because if you look, you’ll be three plates in before the meat is done. There’s coleslaw, baked beans, greens, and macaroni and cheese. Your favorite aunt also brought her potato salad and you know she’s going to make yellow cake with chocolate frosting fresh before the fireworks. You love it so much and you were deprived of it last year when you were called in to work at the last minute. You will get some today.

The backyard is expansive and well-maintained, and your cousins and aunts have already laid their claim on swanky cushions of the nice patio furniture.

The one cousin you’re closest to in age and personality sits next to you on a large blanket a few yards away from the rising volume of your extended family. You were able to get a good ten minutes of conversation from her before her fiancé showed up and made a home inside of her mouth.

Your family normally has something to say about PDA—a stupid quip about acting ‘too grown’ even though you are both knocking on the door of thirty. But she doesn’t care—just like you, that’s why you like her so much even though her fiancé is sucking on her face like it’s his last day on Earth.

Shiu Kong is nice—gentle in his own way and carries himself with a bored air that seems to pull your cousin in. He’s enamored with her, practically folds in on himself when she’s around, and worships the ground she walks on. They’ve been together for a few years and you’ve never had a problem with him.

But that just might change today because he’s brought along a friend who has already ignited a flame of arousal and annoyance deep within your belly. From the moment Toji Fushiguro stepped into the backyard with Shiu, your family was transfixed. Your aunts can’t stop ogling, and your uncles and male cousins try to jokingly size him up.

“Oh honey why don’t you sit down, don’t be shy. Lemme get you something to drink.”

“That’s not steroids? It’s gotta be. Don’t play.”

“How much you bench?”

It’s annoying. So fucking annoying but you can’t help but agree. He’s a little older—maybe early thirties—but dangerously attractive.

Raven hair that reaches his ears, looks unbelievably soft and falls over emerald green eyes. A grey shirt hugs him too fucking deliciously for your comfort and dark jeans hug an ass that’s too fucking juicy. He’s a big man—a burly man and unfortunately, that’s how you like them.

Big, burly like a bear, respectful, and capable of making you feel small and protected but also valuing and worshipping you as a woman. Unfortunately, such men are hard to come by because you tend to intimidate them. You don’t tolerate disrespect in any form and quickly put men in their place if they try to undermine, belittle, or confuse protection with control. You know what you want, and you refuse to settle for less.

They can’t stand it.

And right now, you can’t stand Toji. As he looks down at you with a well-worn smirk on his face, a smirk that suggests he has plenty of experience in situations like this, your irritation grows. He’s a smooth talker, confident in almost everything he says. His voice is deep, but melodic in a strangely feminine way that makes his words slide like silk down your back, and the minute you heard it, your thighs threatened to rub together.

Definitely a smooth talker. But the nickname you don’t care for.

Princess.

Like you’re a dainty little thing who will bat her eyelashes and call him Daddy. It makes your walls of self-defense rise even higher, and the gentle smile you had given Shiu when he first said hello moments ago transforms into the beginnings of a frown.

Without hesitation, you rise to your feet, plant your wedges firm into the grass, and turn away from them before muttering, “I’m good.”

Toji simply shrugs; a gesture that annoys you even more because he doesn’t offer any other reaction that satisfies you. He settles into your previously vacated spot, leaning back on his hands. The jacket on his shoulders falls open and the sight of his shirt hugging his muscles is too much for you.

You inwardly curse as your eyes wander over his physique. Thick pectorals that you could easily rub your face against and make a pillow for yourself to sleep on stretch the fabric in a way that you’re sure it’ll rip. Abdominals tease just below the surface of his shirt that clings to him like a second skin. You want to lick between each one, press your teeth into the hard skin to make him wince and beg as you count each one.

Four, six, eight?

Fuck.

You don’t show how you want to straighten your spine against the chill of being caught staring. That smirk is on his face again, tugging at the corner of his mouth. There’s a scar on the right side that slashes vertically over his top and bottom lip and you dislike the arousal that begins to boil between your legs from the sight. You wonder how he got it. If it was a fight, did he win? The thought of him wrestling another man to the floor and taking a cut to the face in the process shouldn’t arouse you, but god it does.

His eyes make you think of moss as you watch them slide up your body, and it almost feels like invisible hands caressing you. They’re large and pale, littered with scars along the knuckles as they glide up your exposed chocolate legs, dip between your inner thighs, and caress the curves of your hips.

“See something you like?”

He’s ogling you but has the nerve to try and put you on the spot? You have enough self-control to let logic worm through the rising lust inside of you. You sneer down at him, sharp enough for Shiu to visibly pale and your cousin to giggle at.

“To be honest, I don’t really see much.”

You don’t give him a chance to retort and you pretend not to hear the soft hum of nonchalance he throws back. You walk away from them, turning just in time to shield the way your eyes widen at the feel of your face and neck prickling with heat.

The moment you close the bathroom door inside your uncle’s house, the breath trapped within your lungs escapes in a rush. You press your forehead against the wood and the coolness of it offers only little relief to the burning of your skin.

You turn your head and press your cheek against the wood so the cold surface can slide along your cheek as you open your eyes to take in your reflection.

Of course, Toji would ogle you. You’re confident enough to know your beauty.

A red sundress that hugs your curves, stops at your mid-thighs. Knotless braids with curled ends are piled on top of your head in a loose bun with a few strands that spill along your hairline.

You’re good-looking. But you’ve been out of practice with a man for a long time. Your last relationship ended when you caught him balls-deep in your coworker. You’re too shy to pursue a one-night stand and not detached enough for a situationship.

However, you could risk it all for Toji and you hate that you’re entertaining the thought. You hate that you’re imagining him barging into the bathroom, bending you over the counter, and taking you from behind with his large hand digging into the small of your back and whispering how much of a good girl you are as you beg him to cum.

God, get yourself together.

To calm yourself down, you find solace in your uncle’s quiet kitchen. There’s only one person occupying it, your favorite aunt, who is heavily pregnant and working on the yellow cake that you’ve been thinking about all day. You use the opportunity to distract yourself and take over for her, shooing her away to relax in the backyard.

You crack an egg against the off-white countertop, fractures splitting up the sides before spilling its contents into the silver mixing bowl in front of you. A self-deprecating thought slithers in your ears, and whispers loudly with wicked intention.

Toji wouldn’t want a woman like you.

You’re too outspoken and mean to men, too demanding with your expectations. It pushes them all away, and although you normally take pride in keeping away those who aren’t worth your time, it can get lonely.

To see your ex actively cheating on you was icing on a cake that was slowly cooking in an oven of your own self-doubt. You have standards, and while your friends consider you the voice of reason in their misfortunes with men, most members of your family think you’re too picky. You’re too much work, ‘you think you know everything’.

“Men will always have a wandering eye, it’s up to you to keep them in check, girl.”

“Honey, I love you, but the more you pick apart a man, the less he will want to be around you.”

“They love it when you cook for them, girl. Take care of your man and keep him fed and you’ll keep him forever.”

Bullshit.

It’s bullshit to take care of a man in the same way his own mother does. It’s bullshit to lose all sense of self and independence, to wait on a man when he gives you less than nothing in return—when he can hardly give you the bare minimum. You don’t mind cooking for a man who takes care of you, who loves and values you, who would never hold you back and would encourage you when you can hardly encourage yourself.

But all the good ones are in relationships now, married with a few kids, and in your resolve to stay strong and weed out the bad to find the good, it’s left you a little bitter.

Most black families are old school, and yours is no exception. They hold ‘for better or worse’ a little too close to their heart. They cling to an ideal that a man runs the household down to the basics in a way that makes you uneasy and in your defense, you snap when you’re backed into a corner.

You love them, you truly do, but they probably will never understand just how aware you are of the world and how little you are willing to put up with the problematic things that others consider normal.

Your ex was great at first. But he got comfortable. And when he got comfortable, he got lazy, a little too controlling, and a little too frustrated when you asked for certain things in the bedroom. The only person who knows about your breakup is your mother, who had the gall to be out of the country for work, leaving you to fend for yourself for today.

You watch as the batter spills on each side of your wooden spoon, parting and then falling back together like sand. In your reverie, you don’t notice a few of your relatives who have now entered the kitchen and are roaming through the fridge. You can hear one of your least favorite aunts—the bitchy one—playfully joking with someone, and whatever drivel comes out of her mouth makes that person laugh. It’s deep and suave enough to make a tingle of electricity stutter down your spine because you know it’s him.

Refusing to look in their direction, you continue mixing the batter until the lumps disappear.

“You been hiding in this kitchen for awhile now,” your aunt begins, Atlanta accent the most grating it’s ever been as she turns her gaze toward you. “You’re normally a little more talkative when your man is here. He not coming?”

There is not a trace of genuine concern in her tone. You and her bicker often; she presses your buttons and then gets mad when you press back. Your ex’s infidelity is ammunition you don’t want to give her, but being caught in a lie is something she would only treasure more to use against you later.

You clear your throat and turn the spoon in the batter once, then twice before answering without looking her way.

“No, he actually came inside of my coworker a few weeks ago. So we split up.”

You can feel the noise before you hear it—a characteristic and sharp ‘mmm’ that seems to be ingrained in your family’s DNA. It makes your grip tighten on the wooden spoon, and you scrape along the bottom of the bowl until it screeches on the metal.

“You gotta watch out for this one, Toji. She’s always been an outspoken one. Too good for ‘em all and likes to be a little mean to her men.”

You scrape harder and then turn to her, a sickly sweet smile plastered on your face.

“You’re right. The fact that I won’t settle for someone who will get bored with me after a few years makes me way too good for them. Should have turned the other cheek just like you did with your last husband. Or…was it the one before him?”

You catch the way Toji pulls his lips in to bite down on them, scar twitching as he fights to hold in a snicker.

Your aunt glares at you, purses her lips, and turns them to the side before pulling in a noise that has been passed down for generations. Her mother and her mother’s mother used the very same tactic to strike fear and insignificance in their children when they talked back. It’s a sucking of air between her teeth and the sound makes years of discipline from your own mother flash in your mind like you’re in the trenches of war.

You know she wants to say something, and you can taste the ‘you always got something to say’ in the air before Toji slides from his perch against the counter and places a hand on your aunt’s shoulder.

“Let’s get you a drink, huh? Didn’t you say you wanted me to try the beer you brought in?” She throws you a knowing glare before letting Toji lead her away; because if there is one thing that will distract her from showing out, it’s letting a good-looking man touch her.

The shaking in your hands helps you sift in the dry ingredients—a mix of sugar, flour, and baking soda—into the batter. The breaths through your nostrils are heavy and thick with anger, and the corners of your eyes sting with heat. You whip the batter harder than necessary, your aunt’s words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. Don’t—

The sight of a can of hard seltzer pressing onto the counter in front of you makes the ramblings in your mind stop. Familiar long fingers unfurl from the can and slide on the counter, their fingertips touching the edges of your mixing bowl in an effort to get to you.

“I would have given you a bottle of beer. But I had a feeling you might bash it over your aunt’s head.” He’s not wrong, and in your frustrated state, you consider his defense admirable. “I like a fight, but I’m a guest and the food looks good.”

Your grip on the spoon loosens slightly as Toji leans casually against the refrigerator, arms crossed over bulging biceps that stretch the short sleeves of his shirt. His jacket is now gone, and you can’t help but notice the veins in his forearms that protrude, tempting you to lick against them.

It takes the sheer will to tear your eyes away and focus on pouring the batter into the bundt cake mold, observing as it fills the intricate crevices.

“So he cheated? Most men are pigs.”

“But not you, huh?” you can’t help but retort, shaking the mold to disperse the air pockets that bubble on the surface.

In your peripheral, he shrugs. “I know what I like in a woman and once I get what I want, it makes no sense to look somewhere else unless she wants me gone. I’m a man…but I’m a loyal man.”

When you meet his emerald gaze, you can see a hint of pain and vulnerability that unsettles you, tilts you back on your heels from the force of his honesty. You reach for the can of seltzer and take a long swig to give yourself time to get your thoughts in order. The carbonation is sweet and fizzles along the sides of your tongue and down your throat.

“So what is it you like in a woman, Toji?”

It’s a question that probably should have been left untouched, but your curiosity overpowers your restraint. You don’t want to go back outside, because if your aunt is still feeling particularly petty, she will say something that will only make you leave. And you don’t feel like letting your family win today.

Toji’s strong gaze certainly isn’t helping. Those invisible hands slide along the crevices and dips of your body, stroking the small of your back before pressing featherlight against the back of your neck. The hairs rise in response, your skin prickling with gooseflesh.

Unexpectedly, he pushes off the refrigerator and walks closer to you, and you’re too shocked to back away. Despite his imposing stature, you know he won’t harm you. There’s something about him that’s warm and inviting, soft and tender even though his exterior is hard lines and muscle. The two of you are now mere inches apart, and the air feels thin as if you’ve reached the summit of a mountain and struggle to breathe due to the change in altitude.

Jet black locks graze against a rough cheek, the tips kissing the raised scar on the side of his mouth. Up close you can see his features more closely. His eyes are sharp and intense with deep green between his lids as if hiding a pearl in an oyster. Thin eyebrows make him look more serious and cutting and you’re swallowing back drool because your nose picks up a faint whiff of woodsy amber emitting from his body. It smells cheap—he’s put together in the most basic sense—but it still smells…good.

“I like a woman who knows what she’s about. Independent and doesn’t fuck around. Smart and pretty with curves I can grab and squeeze. Someone with some sass and isn’t afraid to put anyone in their place.”

He steps closer and your lungs heave in a desperate attempt to pull in air. The brush of the wall against your back makes you stutter out your exhale and you press your palms flat against the cool surface to keep you grounded.

“I like a woman with nice creamy brown skin that smells a little like the cake she’s baking…” Through the sea of delirium, you distantly realize that he’s describing you. “The red dress definitely is a bonus.”

That familiar smirk pulls against his lips again and your heart is thundering in your chest. You would be surprised if he couldn’t see it thumping erratically beneath the skin between what’s exposed of your cleavage.

But this is just another trick in their book to get you in their bed. Or in the bathroom. Or over the kitchen counter.

And as much as you want to, you can’t give in. Because you’ll hate yourself tomorrow.

So you tilt your chin up at him and narrow your eyes at his amused expression.

“Describing me in place of your ‘ideal woman’? That’s boring. Go use it on my bitchy aunt, she’s got fillers in her ass so that’s more curves for you to ‘grab and squeeze’ when she throws herself on you after the Hennessey kicks in.”

Toji’s eyes widen slightly before a harsh laugh barks from his mouth. It’s surprisingly nice on your ears and rattles the drums inside in a way that you don’t dislike. He pulls away from you, giving you a few more inches of space and the altitude in the air seems to level out enough for you to take an inconspicuous deep breath.

“Nah, nothing against fillers, but I’m more of a natural man myself,” he admits.

“Cellulite and stretch marks?” you ask with a lift of a brow, teasing but…mildly curious.

You watch as that smile slowly slides on his face, teeth glittering and eyebrows raising. He looks like he’s hit the jackpot.

“The whole package, princess.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a smile, you push down the lingering arousal in your stomach, refusing to let it simmer. He’s funny and you appreciate a man who loves the raw and often overlooked intricacies of a woman.

His response is disorienting, throwing you off balance, and you’re unsure of what to do next. Your usual response is to talk back, to take delight in a man fumbling when his own cards have been turned against him. But you can’t think of anything right now.

You move around him to place the bundt cake mold into the oven, setting a timer with the plastic buttons above the stove. Snatching the seltzer from the counter, you lean back against the oven, putting a considerable distance between the two of you to think.

Toji mimics your movements, retreating to the fridge to relax against it, folding his arms across his chest, and god he still takes up the room. Even though you’re further away, it still seems like you can smell the cologne as if it’s sitting right on the skin below your nose.

“Do your moves always work on women?” you ask before taking a good swig of your seltzer.

He shrugs in response and turns around to dig a beer from the fridge. You don’t bother to hold back the urge to leer at him. You want to grab his ass, listen to him squeal in surprise, and blush in embarrassment when you squeeze. The thought of digging your fingers into the skin of it as he fucks you nice and slow makes your mind short circuit, a computer rebooting and making a loud noise before frying out indefinitely.

“On the rare occasion that I happen to use them, yes they always work. But…obviously not on you.”

“I’m not easy to win over. You need to be worth my time.” Your eyes flicker up to his face before he turns around to face you.

He takes a swig of his beer and you watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs with each swallow. The column of his throat is long and pale and you want to slide your tongue along the side to taste the saltiness of his skin.

“What’s it going to take?”

His interest in you is admirable, and a small part of you is giddy with the attention. But you’re nervous to give him an inch when most are quick to take a mile.

“I have a name so stop calling me princess. I’m not a royal, so unless you’re offering me land, money, or power, I don’t want to hear it.”

He barks out another laugh, his thick chest shaking and eyes closing as he throws his head back. You despise how good it sounds and you’re reminded of these moments when men seem so beautiful and wonderful before the ugliest parts of them are visible.

“What else?” he inquires, still chuckling as he takes another long sip.

“If you’re expecting sex from me, think again. I don’t do one-night stands or friends with benefits. It’s messy and I just don’t have the strength for it.”

He seems to consider your remark as if he has no choice but to weigh your stipulation before signing a contract. Then he smirks that devilish smirk that makes your cunt pulse between your thighs when you know damn well it shouldn’t. You cannot be this turned on by this man.

“Not even if I have a big dick?” he teases.

He’s annoying and you’re mildly disgusted but still willing to banter with him, so you grimace and roll your eyes. “What, you want me to take a look first before I make up my mind?”

He full-on grins, the fucker. “If that’s what it takes.”

But in true fashion, you bounce back with your own quip. “Public indecency is a crime and I also don’t like to look at cock until after I’ve eaten something. It’s nauseating.”

Laughter erupts from him once again, loud and boisterous that it seems to shake the oven against your back. He probably thinks you’re joking. But you’re not. Dick already looks alien. Looking at dick on purpose without any sense of arousal is pathological behavior.

Your heart flips in your chest when he pushes off the refrigerator again, taking a swig of his beer as he saunters to you and the sight is criminal. Your fingers dig just slightly into the metal can in your hands, a faint pop emanating from it.

“What are you bothering me for anyway,” you can’t help but ask, frustration coating your words as you frown more at yourself than at Toji. “I have so many other cousins here who are single and would love to get their hands on you.”

At first, he doesn’t respond, and in the silence, you struggle to take a full breath again. You don’t like that he’s so close to you, but you also love the way he smells and the way he looks at you as if you’re someone and not something to fucking eat. You’re a fucking mess.

His head tilts slightly, and his hair follows the movement, brushing against his cheeks as his eyes take you in instead of scrutinizing you.

The air feels thin again, and you ready yourself to leave when your pregnant aunt suddenly barges back into the kitchen and stops short at the scene. Toji takes a slow step back, not really bothering to fumble at being so close to you. You’re sure he doesn’t really care.

She’s your favorite for a reason because she understands. She’s not dismissive and mean and she simply smiles knowingly at you both before gesturing with her head towards the backdoor.

“Time to eat. Honey, why don’t you show Toji what’s what before your uncles steal everything.”

***

He stays close to you when you both make it outside, and you do your best to ignore your bitchy aunt’s gaze from her perch in one of the patio chairs. The spread of food makes your mouth water and you waste no time grabbing a plate for yourself and absentmindedly handing Toji one as well.

“I’ve never had some of this before,” he admits, and his voice is a little apprehensive from next to you as he takes everything in. It makes sense, this is probably his first cookout…his first black cookout at least. Strangely, you’re proud to be the one to guide him along.

“What is this?” he asks, pointing to the heavy helping of greens and ham hocks on his plate minutes later. You’re both at a small table alone and away from the noise.

“Collard greens…it’s a cabbage that’s cooked in a pot for a few hours with spices and broth. The ham hocks give it flavor, cook it before you add the greens so the meat falls off the bone better.”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing as Toji gives them a wayward glance, an arch of a thin brow that makes his features more handsome than they should be, and then he takes a tentative bite before moaning sinfully in appreciation. The vertebrae of your spine lock in place, stiff with a sudden chill at the noise as you picture it slipping from his lips while you ride him until the hinges fall off.

You take your own bite to stop anything stupid from coming out of your mouth.

You figure he has to eat to accommodate for his size but to see it in action is something else entirely. He finishes two plates in fifteen minutes and as he makes his way to get another serving, your bitch of an aunt speaks up from across the lawn.

“Why don’t you get up and get him another plate?”

Why don’t you shut the fuck up?

You grip the plastic fork in your hand tightly, digging into your diminishing potato salad and swallowing the vile that you want to throw her way.

Make your man a plate before you make yours, get him a drink, get him another helping so he doesn’t have to, keep him fed.

Maybe this is why you’re single. You want to scream. You want—

“Don’t listen to her. You’re still eating, don’t move,” he levels, and you don’t miss the hint of irritation in his own voice as he gets up. “The same seltzer as before?” he asks, pointing to your drink that you didn’t realize was empty.

“I—”, you fumble before clearing your throat. “I like the strawberry one…if there’s any left.”

He shoots a wink your way and your body ignites with heat.

Your cousin worms her way over when Toji disappears, and you try your best to ignore the sly look on her face.

“Defending your honor from our bitchy aunt? My, my, the perfect recipe for your feminist heart.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl, shoving the last of the potato salad in your mouth.

“He’s Shiu’s best friend. Moved here from Japan a few months ago and is living in the same city as you. It could be fate? You want his number?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap again, feeling exasperated but knowing that unless Shiu is here to stop her, she will talk until she’s tired or you’re swinging at her.

She giggles, undeterred and gearing up for more. “He’s single too. And you’ve got all our other cousins mad as hell because he won’t leave you alone.” You don’t reply, because you’re mildly intrigued and impressed with yourself. It’s nice to have the attention from someone so attractive; it’s just figuring out if he’s genuine that’s the headache. “When the music gets louder tonight…or when the fireworks go off, take him upstairs and fuck him on—”

“Didn’t I say—fuck you.”

She guffaws, loud and unabashed and it pulls a smile from the side of your mouth. You know she doesn’t mean it, you know that at gatherings like these, you’re the black sheep and she just wants you to enjoy yourself.

“Seriously though, cousin. Shiu doesn’t keep many around, but they’ve been friends since they were kids. That’s a good sign right?”

There’s some merit to it, but you still want to be careful.

And Toji Fushiguro makes it hard for you to be careful because he wants you around him all the time and is unashamed to show it.

Later in the night when the music is booming old school hip hop that your uncle won’t shut up about (he’s drunk), your other uncles—and a few cousins they will definitely con—have a table already bustling with spades. At first, you’re unsure how they convinced Toji to join, but he’s partnered with one of your cousins who has no clue about the game, and you realize they just want Toji to lose so they can feel good.

Feeling curious, you pretend to bring Toji a beer. He’s frowning down at the cards, irritated with his lips curled into a small scowl and your cousin is trying to act like he knows what to do, but his stupidity is palpable even from where you stand.

You offer him a beer and ignore the fact that the one on the table is still full. When he looks up at you, his sharp eyes hold you like a vice, frustration evaporating quickly before opportunity takes its place.

“Help me.” He doesn’t bother to hide the confusion in his voice and you can’t help the way your stomach flips.

One of your uncle’s snickers. “She doesn’t know how to play.” You do. “But she can try.”

You’re so annoyed, and you want to snap at him but Toji is pulling you closer to him with a muscular arm before you can. You’re in his lap before you know it, sitting precariously on a thick thigh with your back pressed against a broad chest and you can’t breathe again. The fluctuating altitudes are making you lightheaded.

Any other time and you wouldn’t hesitate to turn around and knock a man’s teeth in for grabbing you. But against your better judgment, you relax into Toji instead. His cheap cologne smells way too fucking good, he’s so big and warm against your body and your throat is drying up like you’ve taken a big breath in the middle of the Sahara.

“Don’t grab me like that,” you can’t help but grumble, only mildly put off.

“I improvised.” It’s a feeble excuse wrapped around a heavenly chuckle in your ear and you pray to whoever is listening, mentally offering up a sacrificial lamb, anything to ensure you don’t drip all over his thigh. “Now help me win.”

You do. Three times. He's adamant about winning and you're sure he has a gambling problem. And if your legs go a little numb from sitting on his thigh or if you lean into the way his outside hand slides to hold the curve of your waist, you don’t complain about it.

***

“You don’t dance?” Toji asks an hour later, joining you on the blanket that you occupied when you first arrived. It’s almost sunset, and the orange of the sky covers half of the backyard as your family revels in their merriment.

You shrug at Toji’s question, gazing at members of your family who are dancing in the yard. One of your loudest uncles is boasting about the music as he teaches one of your cousins dance steps. That used to be you so many years ago, and the moves are like muscle memory as you watch them. One of your aunts takes over the stereo, beginning what will surely be an hour of reminding everyone of the greatest hits.

You suddenly realize that it’s just you and Toji on the blanket. Your cousin and Shiu are off god knows where, and given her penchant for being a rebellious freak, she’s probably riding him on your uncle’s bed. The thought makes you shudder.

“Are you cold?” he probes, pulling you out of your thoughts.

It is cooler now, but that’s not why you were shivering. You’re ready to tell him no, to start shaking your head even as you watch him pull his own jacket off to place it over your shoulders. His hands smooth over your shoulders and down your arms as if securing it closer to your skin and your blood boils beneath your cheeks. Your skin isn’t light enough to show when you’re blushing, but you’re burning with nervousness.

“Stop being so nice to me,” you hiss instinctively, regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. The surprise is evident on his face and you immediately feel guilty. “I’m—I’ll only be mean to you in return.”

For the first time of the night, he looks angry. His eyebrows dip, the scar on his cheek twists with the harsh frown on his lips and he gives a severe ‘tch’ that makes you gape at him. “Why because you’re mean to men?” he snaps, impatient and free of any tease.

It raises your hackles instantly, and you’re talking back before you know it. “Exactly. So why don’t you take a hint and stop trying to get into my pants—”

You feel a rough finger on the side of your cheek turn you further towards him, preventing you from looking at anything else.

“You just don’t like bullshit. Stop acting up and let me be nice to you.”

For once, you don’t have anything to say even though your hand is twitching with the urge to slap the words from his mouth. You want to. It’s easy for you to fight back and push them away, you’re good at it. But you can’t fight the way his gaze seems to calm you down against your better judgment.

You pull your face from his hold and roll your shoulders, sliding out of his sharp gaze and turning back to your lively family. One of your cousins is arguing about why the Cowboys didn’t make it into the playoffs, and now everyone has something to say.

You pull in a deep breath, scolding yourself to relax just a little. He hasn’t been so bad, and you’re not one to make things intentionally difficult if a man is honestly trying. You’re still apprehensive about his intentions…but he is trying without being a beast. So you exhale your frustrations into the July air, calm down so your heart can steady its frantic pounding from the lingering scent of his cologne, and dig your fingers into your uncle’s well-kept grass.

“Fine. If I let you be nice to me…what would be the next thing you would say?”

You can’t look at him, but you feel his eyes on your body as you pluck a few blades of grass from the soil. The strands slide against the pads of your fingertips, rough and threatening to cut, before fluttering in the breeze when you release them.

He’s grabbing you again, tenderly but possessively, sliding you into his embrace so your back is to his muscular chest, his chin rests on the side of your temple and his arms wrap around your waist. Your heart is back to leaping in your chest, pumping loud and fast in your ears, drowning out the music and arguing as if you’re underwater.

“How about you tell me about your family?” he suggests, voice unmuffled through the thickness of your hearing.

It’s a random ask, as if he wants to impress them, as if you’ve been dating for a long period of time and he wants to be prepared to meet them for the first time. The thought doesn’t leave a bad taste in your mouth, even though you know it would never be a reality anyway. You don’t know if he’s just joking and frankly, the feel of him against you is warmer than his jacket on your shoulders and you don’t want to leave.

So, if it means he can stay put, you give in. You tell him about your aunts, uncles, and cousins—where they are from and what they do. You share your traditions when you all get together and the small intricacies you all share. It’s incredibly personal…maybe even too intimate. But he listens, and hums to let you know he’s paying attention, and asks you questions as you talk.

Eventually, his cheek rests on the crown of your head against your braids and you surprisingly don’t mind at all. When you notice his arms wrapped around you, you get a better view of the scars on his arms and fingers, and there is a rising urge to ask how he got each one.

“So she’s been married twice?” his voice is low in your ear so you can only hear him in the noisy backyard. His breath smells faintly of the beer he finished an hour ago, and it slides along the skin of your neck hot and thick. You resist the urge to cant your neck to the side to give his breath more room to roam.

You nod. “She got the fillers after the first husband. Those brought in the second husband. Then he left her for some girl in Cali.”

“Cali?’ he questions, confused.

You snort softly. “California.” You elbow him and the bone slides against hard muscle. Dammit. “You don’t know your states?”

“I’m foreign, not stupid.” The laugh that bubbles from your chest is sharp and you can’t help the smile that pulls against your cheeks from it. “I know my states!” He sounds truly annoyed and for some reason that makes you laugh harder. “Florida, Kansas—”

“I’m not asking you to prove yourself!” you sputter around a giggle, shaking in his embrace. But he’s not listening.

“Montana, New York…there’s another one…the big one.”

You gawk, turning just a little to crane your head up at him. He looks down at you with an embarrassed expression, his cheeks a little rosy even though his lips are flickering with the urge to laugh.

“I beg your finest pardon…the big one?”

The side of his face twists in the nastiest way, and he’s angry at being questioned. “Don’t—it’s the one down below!”

“In relation to what?”

His eyes narrow, emerald barely noticeable between thick lashes. You can sense his hold on you tightening slightly, his chest stutters in a huff and you realize with rising glee that he’s pouting. Normally you would revel in this…but—

“Texas,” you find yourself speaking up at him, voice soft and gentle on the edges. “The big one down below is Texas.”

He simply hums, his chest vibrating against your back, but his gaze is smoldering, taking you in and dipping down to your lips before flickering back up your eyes. You’re too hot now, his jacket against your skin too suffocating, your heart beating too fast against your ribcage.

You hate just how rebellious you like to be. “What, you gonna kiss me?”

The challenge is fleeting across his features and he leans down so quickly that you don’t have time to react. Your stomach flips with irritation at the implication that he would take from you without asking, and suddenly, you no longer want him touching you.

“I wouldn’t take it without asking,” he whispers in the small space between you both as if reading your thoughts. The tips of his raven locks brush against your cheek, there’s a slight kink in your neck from how you are looking up at him, but he’s so close that you don’t care. One of his hands skims up from your waist, caressing the curve of your ribs, and his thumb teasingly runs along the underside of your clothed breast. His touch is reactive in you, and you angle your body further into his actions. His gaze remains locked on yours, absorbing your very being without doing a thing and you’re fighting to stay in control.

“So can I?” he asks, voice deep with temptation. “Kiss you?”

You swallow the bucket of drool that has somehow pooled in the back of your throat in seconds. The thumping of your heart no longer fills your ears, replaced now by a deafening ringing, spurred by your growing desire as you open your mouth to respond.

“I…depends…are you any good?”

He nonchalantly shrugs, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as his scarred lips twist into a smirk. He’s completely calm and you can tell if you told him no, he would leave it alone entirely. But he’s enjoying this, you can see it all over his face.

“Jury’s still out.”

You don’t trust yourself to say ‘yes’. Some part of you feels like if it comes out of your mouth, it will sound too desperate and you want to stay in control as much as you can. But, you could give yourself this. You’ve earned it. Just one kiss and then you could hide away until the fireworks and then use the noise as a cover to leave. After all, he’s hot. He’s been so nice and honest and the warning siren in your mind has long faded.

You deserve a reward.

So you nod, stiffly but enough for him to notice, and the air seems to thin out again when he leans in a little more.

“Toji!” one of your uncles calls out, severing through the heavy cloud of lust between you both like a knife. You recoil from his touch, his touch now only making you itchy, and you pull from his embrace so that his arms unravel and his jacket slides off your shoulders. The cooler air is freezing this time against your skin. “Come help me with the fireworks, would you?”

You don’t pay attention to his response, because you’re already up on your feet and making your way inside the house. Your body floods with the embarrassment and shame of being caught by your family…kissing a man that you’ve just met. You know you shouldn’t care…but it’s so easy for their behavior to rub off on you when you feel vulnerable.

***

Thankfully, no one is in the kitchen when you finally make it inside. The music dulls down when you close the backyard door and the ringing in your ears is now silent.

You resolve to stay inside until the fireworks go off. No one is really paying attention to you anyway—most of them are drunk, others too absorbed in the music and gossip so it’s a perfect chance for you to duck away and show your face again next year.

Should you tell Toji goodbye?

No.

No, you hardly know the man. Just a few hours in good company and a kiss that almost happened that you probably would have let escalate. You probably would have let his tongue slide into your mouth. Probably would have let him pull you into one of the spare rooms, eat you out until you’re seeing stars, and then bend you over the edge of the bed to fuck you until he—

For fuck’s sake.

You yank open one of the kitchen cabinets in search of a glass. You need water because your body is piping hot. There’s a sheen of sweat on your neck beneath the layer of braids that fell when Toji laid his cheek on your head, and your hands are slick as they press into the counter to give you strength to peek into one of the lower shelves. Of course, the only one in the cabinet would be on the highest shelf. Of course, you’re too fucking short.

You climb onto the counter, knees digging into the off-white surface as you lift yourself up and peer into one of the higher shelves. You spot a glass, and you can have a heaping glass to cool yourself off enough to get you home. And then you can just use your vibrator once and go to sleep. Or twice. Or maybe a third time to get the thought of him out of your mind for the foreseeable future.

Unbeknownst to you, he’s standing behind you. You didn’t even hear the back door open and close. But you catch a glimpse of a long, muscular arm reaching past your ear to grab the glass. You’re frozen, your fingers digging into the wooden shelf, unable to turn around and face him, even though you can feel his gaze hot on your skin.

Your plan is shattered, and you have no choice but to come up with an excuse to leave him. You’re combing through scenarios in your mind as you slowly slide down and perch yourself on the countertop, finally facing him. He places the glass on the counter, away from you, and closes the distance between you until the ridges of his clothed abs brush against your knees. His hands are searing against your skin as they rest on your knees and you watch his thumbs trace an obscure pattern with a touch that is featherlight.

“Your uncle interrupted us,” Toji finally speaks, his voice carrying a hint of hopefulness despite his attempt to maintain a neutral expression. His gaze, so harsh and sharp, is alluring in its own way, tempting you to relax the steady clench of your thighs.

“It probably wasn’t a good idea anyway,” you chuckle, self-deprecation rising to the surface of your skin and prickling against the pores.

“Why not?”

Maybe because you would be too much for him and scare him away? Maybe the fear of being too demanding in bed, of not being able to stop once he kisses you, lingers in your thoughts, making the idea of having him only once and never again infuriating.

“I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. I’ll get you water and let you sneak away when the fireworks go off because I know you want to…even though you shouldn’t give a fuck about what your family thinks…but I would really like that kiss.”

Analyzing his features, you take in the sincerity reflected in the moss-green of his eyes. It’s a last-ditch effort to make sure something else isn’t hiding there, and you find yourself coming up short.

Slowly, you part your legs for him to stand between. His hands slide up your thighs tantalizingly slow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake before pushing the fabric of your red sundress up to your waist. You try to ignore the way the cool air on your panties does little to quell the heat radiating from them. His hands wrap around your waist and a gasp heaves from your lips when he yanks you to him, your thighs brushing the sides of his thick waist.

One of the hands on your waist trails up to the side of your neck, gently tilting your head up, so you can look fully at him as his thumb traces the skin of your bottom lip.

“You better make it good,” you challenge, hoping your faux annoyance can mask the anticipation building in your gut.

He sees right through it and simply hums before he leans down to finally seal his lips against yours. He’s a big man, an overwhelming man, and you feel it in his kiss as his lips take every ounce of breath you have in your lungs. He tastes like the pound yellow cake that everyone got to before you could and a hint of beer and it’s the perfect combination that you want more of.

His hands are under your dress, brushing beneath your thighs for traction and pulling you impossibly closer to the point where you feel your clothed center brush against the zipper of his jeans. You dig your hands into the fabric of his shirt, twisting and silently commanding for him to give you more. You open your mouth to coax him and his tongue is wet and insistent against yours.

You can feel your resolve dissipating in the air, fizzling against the heat that radiates from your body and your self-control is walking on a tightrope, precariously and seconds away from falling. And once it’s gone, you’ll be a woman unhinged.

He yanks you to him again as if its not enough, harder this time with a growl in the back of his throat that makes you gasp into his mouth, then rolls his hips against yours and behind his zipper you feel him hard and bulging and angry and oh—

You pull away with a harsh breath, gasping for air and biting back a moan that gurgles in your throat when his mouth works its way down the skin of your neck. Your skin is sensitive, and it buzzes with the touch of his lips and invokes a fervent need so deep within you that you’re losing awareness of where you are. You’re lightheaded, brain in the fucking stratosphere and you have to lay down, you have to—

He’s guiding you onto your back before you can do it yourself and the cool counter is a balm against the skin of your exposed shoulders and back. He looms over you from his place between your legs, big and muscular and reeking of hunger.

“Toji,” you try to speak into the air, stifling a whimper at the sight of him stretching out your leg to rest on his shoulder.

One of his large hands caresses the canvas of your calf before you watch his lips kiss your chocolate skin. His rough scar scratches against you in the most delightful way as his mouth kisses up your calf, bends your leg to get closer, and then resumes his touch on the inside of your thigh. His face should be melting with the amount of heat emitting from between your legs, but he must relish in the burn because the second his tongue slides thick and wet against your clothed cunt, you whimper pathetically into the air.

You have just enough common sense to break from the desire to be fucked thoroughly to whisper.

“Toji, we can’t,” you swallow against the dryness in your throat. “Someone could see.”

You can feel the impatience on his body in waves but he has to listen to you. If your family were to walk in here right now to see their niece or cousin being eaten out like a gourmet meal, the Earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit,” he hisses, pulling you into his arms and carrying you out of the kitchen. You don’t care enough to tell him where to go; you’re too hot, too wet in your panties, and your need is twisting at the base of your spine in the most irritating way, begging to be soothed.

You hear the beginnings of fireworks being popped off in the backyard and your family is loud, thankfully so loud as Toji locks the door to the bathroom and drops you unceremoniously onto the counter. Though the metal of the faucet digs into the small of your back and you fall into the mirror as you clamber to get yourself in order, you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s on you again, all teeth and lips and sinful tongue in your mouth with equally sinful hands digging impatiently into the sides of your panties.

“Take them off,” you demand, practically whining and in less than a second you can only get one leg out before he’s sinking to his knees, eyes wild and shoulders heaving with untamed breaths.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. So damn pretty,” he whispers in reverence, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and the compliment makes your cunt throb in anticipation.

You can’t be sure if he’s talking to you or himself. Before you can breathe to calm yourself, it’s catching in your throat, hitching against a moan as his tongue licks a long wet stripe up the slit of your dripping cunt. His tongue parts your folds as if it’s the sea, savoring your essence and then sucking your clit into his mouth like it’s the cherry on top and you love it, whine at the feel, eyes crossing and rolling into the back of your head at the exquisite feeling.

He pulls away for a moment, taking a deep breath as if to regain control, and kisses the inside of your thigh before sliding two fingers up your dripping center, collecting your slick before beginning to rub circles on your clit. He’s mesmerized, and you take a moment to marvel at just how little of his green eyes are visible to you, his pupils are dilated with hunger and focused on the way your cunt moves with his fingers.

“Your bitch of an ex ever eat you out?”

You really don’t want to think about him right now, and you also don’t like the thought of someone feeling like they need to prove themselves to you.

But there’s a big man between your thighs who wants to unwrap you like candy. So you shrug, panting softly as you speak, “Every now and then.”

Toji scoffs, eyes seeming to darken like a forest at night.

“Every now and then,” he parrots, voice incredulous as if he’s heard the most insane thing ever, like he can’t believe it.

He increases the pressure on your clit harshly, causing you to buck against him, yelping in satisfied shock when he flicks your sensitive bud hard with his tongue.

“I’ll make you feel good, princess. Don’t you worry.”

The nickname doesn’t have the effect as before. No, this time you moan in response, your guts churning with satisfaction at the prospect of being worshiped.

Slowly the two fingers on your clit slide into you, testing the waters, gauging if you’re okay, and your jaw slackens at the feel of the stretch. Fingering is an art, an act that requires patience and skill. You have to know the right pace, when to curl, how to know a woman’s body to determine what she wants. It’s glorious when it’s done right.

And god, does Toji do it right.

He’s thorough and fluid in his strokes, using the tempo of your moans to curl at just the right time and sucking and licking your clit like he’s ravenous and your head is falling back into the space between your shoulder blades, eyes wide with disbelief as you stare at the ceiling.

The fireworks are consistent outside, popping off every second and it’s loud enough that you have the courage to voice how Toji is making you feel.

“Every now and then,” he hisses again to himself, angry and curling his fingers a little harder. You jerk against him, whimpering like a fool when you feel his tongue flick your clit harder as a reward. “He’s so fucking stupid. You taste so good, it’s unbelievable.”

He’s curling more now, brushing against that spongy wall that zings heat to your belly. Your insides churn, a molten heat popping to splatter against the base of your spine, pleasure coaxing you to reach that precipice that will let you fall apart.

Vaguely you hear him whispering words into the skin of your thighs that you can’t decipher, the thrumming in your ears too loud to hear anything else beyond the fireworks outside, your escalating moans, and the obscene sounds of him slurping you up. The muscles in your thighs begin to tighten, your fingers are sweaty as they slide against the cool marble of the bathroom counter, and you dig your wedges into the muscles of his back, white panties dangling off one ankle. He’s so good, so thorough and your breath is hitching, choking on a moan.

“There you go princess, cum all over my fingers. Get me nice and messy.”

His deep words are accompanied by a sharp bend of his fingers and you’re cumming with a shout, rejoicing in the hot pleasure that puddles along your bones. It’s abrupt and overwhelming, pulling a sharp current down your body that makes your back arch until it bumps into the sink behind you. He’s groaning from his place between your legs, still pumping his fingers and licking your clit to collect as much of your slick as he can.

By the time you look down at him, you’re still catching your breath, your thighs tremble from the sudden chill injected into your muscles. You catch Toji just in time to watch him begin to slip his two dripping fingers into his mouth, but you snatch his wrist, riding off the high of your orgasm to slip his digits into your mouth instead. Thin rings of green widen in surprise and you savor the way his cheeks darken as you swirl your tongue around his digits.

“You’re unreal,” he gulps when you pop his fingers out of your mouth.

You shrug, not willing to show him just how powerful you feel, and wrap your legs around his waist, panties still caught on the buckle of one of your wedges.

“I’m letting you be nice to me, remember? So what’s next?”

With a harsh pull, he stumbles closer to you, his hands slamming against the marble counter on either side of your waist. His breath hitches as you hastily undo his belt, eyes widening as he takes in the way you leer up at him.

“You got me a drink, defended my honor from my bitchy aunt, asked me about my family, ate my pussy…you wanna fuck me now?”

“I—” he starts, caught off guard by your forwardness.

“You want to bend me over this counter, make me look in the mirror while I take your cock? Smack my ass and make me beg for you to fill me up?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” Toji chokes on a nervous laugh, hissing when your fingers graze the sensitive skin above his belt.

“Is that a problem?”

The hair of his happy trail is faint and dark just like the hair on his head, and your touch makes his stomach bunch in sensation. He shakes his head in response and you want to laugh so bad at the sight of him struggling to swallow. You haven’t done anything to the man, but he’s sensitive to your touch, and that makes the blood in your veins sing.

“If you’re letting me have you, you can have it however you want.”

Arousal hums to life between your legs, and you can’t help but be turned on at how much he’s giving you. You want him now and while the prospect of being fucked over the counter was what you had hoped, if your family comes in and hears you taking it like a champ, you’ll never show your face again.

So when the door to your truck’s backseat closes, you’re climbing back on his lap, relaxing further into him with the knowledge that you can be as noisy as you want. Your uncle has a seven-month supply of fireworks and land in the middle of nowhere, Hennessey, and classics booming from his sound system… it’s going to be loud for a very long time.

You’re running on your own current of desire at this point, pawing at his shirt so he can finally yank it off his shoulders and you’re drooling. He’s glorious and you don’t hesitate to rub your hands down firm pectorals, between the abs on his torso, and along the musculature of his Adonis belt. He’s cut like a marble statue, something that takes a painstaking process to hammer and smooth over until the result is almost—

“Let me take you out,” he suddenly suggests, voice gravelly with want but insistent.

Huh?

You’re immediately puzzled, eyebrows dipping into a furrow as you try to decipher his words. His hair is wild, black strands splintering and bushy but still giving you a gateway to his eyes and you see that he’s completely serious.

“On…a date?” A lift of his thin eyebrow in reply and the reality of him actually showing interest flags dangerously against your desire to ride him into oblivion. “Just the dopamine talking, I’m sure,” you say, hoping to dismiss the idea. You hadn’t expected him to actually…want to take you out. You can’t think about that right now because your head is too thick with hunger to try and have a conversation.

He hums, low and dangerous, a hand brushing the skin above your clit and you’re reminded of just how wet you still are from his sloppy tongue minutes before.

“You’re the only one here that’s cum, princess. I’m being serious.”

“It’ll pass,” you reply immediately, licking into his mouth to shut him up.

Thankfully he doesn’t try to interject because you don’t have time to talk right now—you don’t want to. You don’t know Toji, not well enough. While tonight has been one of the most relaxed evenings you’ve spent with a man in a long time, you’re unsure if he genuinely wants you or if he’s merely carried away by the thrill of being with a woman.

He tried to come onto you the minute he laid eyes on you, tried to kiss you after a few hours, and pocketed your panties even though you pretended to be oblivious. You just don’t know. If you had a pretty girl in your lap, you would probably say the same things. Ask her on a date, make her feel wanted so she’s more giving when you slide her panties off.

It’ll pass.

And that’s what you tell yourself when you feel his large hands palm your ass beneath your sundress. You are teeth against him, nipping his tongue, biting the skin of his jaw, the meat of his neck, and the sharp groan that you pull from him in response makes you drip like a bitch in heat against his jeans.

“Take off your pants,” you whisper to him sharply, turning around and leaning over the center console to fish a condom from inside. You had discovered them months ago, and they should have been more than enough for you to dump your ex then.

“Shit,” you hear Toji hiss from behind you before your ass stings from his slap against it. You yelp, jumping from the contact and you hope he can see your cunt pulse from between your thighs in response. “Hurry up, baby.”

When you face him again, you freeze, eyes widening at the sight of his cock. As you take him in, he snatches the condom from your hand and unfurls it on his cock.

Surprisingly trimmed with dark hair, he’s thick—not enough to be painful—but enough to enjoy the stretch so you can ride him until he flatlines and enjoy the ache in your thighs in the morning. It’s perfect; pale with a red tip that leaks into the tip of the condom, a vein along the side that you can’t lick without tasting latex. It’s a shame.

He throws you that devilish smirk, eyes twinkling in pride before he taps his thigh and beckons you like the best ride at the carnival.

“Hop on, princess.”

Your fingers grip the hair at his nape when you feel him inside of you. It’s a delicious stretch that you have to breathe through, and the feel of his hands affectionately stroking your back catches you off guard. You don’t hate it; in fact, you want to lean into it, but you don’t want to give him any ammunition for something you aren’t sure about. So you slide down to the hilt and listen to Toji curse sharply through the sudden heat of you before you start a steady rhythm that throws him off.

Within seconds, you increase your pace, riding him with an intensity that makes the air in your throat catch and drag along the sides. He’s got a satisfying curve to him that grazes those magical spots within you to make the grip on his nape tighten like a vice. Your head is foggy with an overpowering mist that makes your mouth loose and your inhibitions low.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, pulling you out of the delirium you were basking in to focus on him. His jaw is relaxed, hot air puffing from between an open mouth and onto the skin of your neck, a few strands of his hair stick to his forehead and the sides of his cheeks and there’s a slight furrow to his thin eyebrows as if he’s trying to concentrate.

You’re giddy with desire. “Let me guess,” you tease, lips brushing against his. “Am I tight?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation, eyelids hooded and upper cheeks darkening with a blush that spreads down his neck.

“Am I nice and hot?”

“Yes, fuck yes, baby.”

It’s meant to tease, because every man that has ever slid inside of you in the past says the same shit, but to hear it from him brings a strange sense of satisfaction that you find yourself slanting your lips against his. He still tastes like the yellow cake that you never got, but the flavor is intertwined with the remnants of your essence that still lingers on his tongue that dances with yours.

You plant your knees harder into the seat on each side of him, use your muscles to bear down and give you more control, and then you roll your hips, guiding him in and out in a tantalizing dance that elicits groans from him and makes him roll his head back against the headrest.

“Let me take you out,” he gasps into the air and you refuse to answer him—you can’t. It’s harder now to believe his sincerity because he’s delirious with lust. “Answer me.”

You growl softly and yank your hands from his hair to push down the straps of your sundress. You’re not wearing a bra, and he cusses like he just stubbed his toe as he watches your breasts spill free.

“Stop talking,” you whisper and yank his head forward, beckoning him to you and he catches on quickly, licking and sucking a nipple before pulling it into his mouth. The sensation makes you shudder, a gentle pleasure that your cunt appreciates and you pick up your pace on him again. “Stop asking me. Just let me fuck you.”

He bites down in retaliation to pull a squeak from you and licks over the sting in a half-assed apology. When you look down, his gaze is illuminated by the streetlights, a harsh glare that showcases his annoyance with your deflection, but his eyes droop when you squeeze around him in response.

You’re stuffed full of him, stretching along the sides, punching the air out of your throat with each bounce on his cock and your legs begin to burn with the build-up of exertion. Your nipples are wet and sensitive against his taste buds as he teases each peak into his hot mouth and it helps to mix that pot of pleasure in your stomach to life again.

You can feel it, like a crescendo of waves crashing against a dock, but the waves are coming in quicker and more turbulent with every moan and cry that falls from your lips. You push him off of your chest, dig your fingers into his shoulders for more leverage so you can ride his cock like you have nothing left to lose.

His chest is blooming red, covered in a light sheen of sweat that dips between his pectorals and pools in his collarbones. Your bun of braids came loose when he was eating you out in the bathroom, and now some are heavy on your skin with sweat and plaster over your shoulders and between your sternum and you’re hot and sweaty and trying so hard to reign it in.

He doesn’t buck up into you and you’re unsure if it’s due to laziness or the fact that he simply wants to watch you while he brings himself closer to climax. You hope it’s the latter.

“Do you like this?” you pant into his mouth and nip his bottom lip. “You can tell me, you know. Be a good boy and tell me just how I’m making you feel.”

He groans and lands another smack to your ass that makes you gasp and arch further into him. It's the right amount of pain that makes your pussy pulse in response, the right amount of manhandling that can take you higher in a second.

“You’re a natural, princess. You ever ride him like this?”

You shake your head and he smacks your ass again, harder this time and digs his fingertips into the flesh to let the sting linger. It's so good, and you can't help the whine that you puff against his lips as he smirks up at you with a proud disposition.

“He couldn’t handle it. Probably why he cheated wasn’t it? You were too much for him. You know how you like it and he couldn’t deliver.”

You don’t answer him, but he’s right. He’s so right. He couldn’t stand it when you took control, hated when you asked him to do something that didn’t result in him being dominant, hated when he couldn’t even eat pussy without you having to ask.

The feel of his fingers on your clit makes you jump and you poke your fingers into his nape again and pick up your pace, panting and moaning like you’re running a marathon as the pleasure rocks inside of you like a pendulum.

“Oh god. Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whisper, stomach burning.

You’re fluttering around him—pulsing and clenching and gushing over the thickest cock you’ve ever had and it’s glorious, you’re in fucking heaven.

The streetlight shines faintly into your truck, painting half of Toji’s face. He’s beautiful; that same annoying flicker of desire that captivated you when his green eyes met yours hours ago glimmers thin and dilated.

There’s a ruggedness to him that exudes masculinity, but glimpses into the depths of his eyes reveal a tender vulnerability that makes you wonder how soft he could be if he allowed you to get close enough.

The thought makes your cunt tighten around him, your thighs tense and fill with lactic acid and his fingers on your clit are unceasing, rubbing in a precise rhythm that makes you hiccup on a moan of incredulity. The hand not occupied with your clit is reclined across the headrest behind him and it makes him look unbearably sexy.

“I’ve never had a woman ride me like this,” he whispers, and you smile into his mouth, your kiss messy as you swallow down his compliment. He yanks you away and breathes that same insufferable ask against your lips.

“Let me take you out.” He rubs your clit faster, using the way you tighten around him as a guide to your pleasure, and his hand leaves the headrest to dig into the meat of your ass. “One chance. One dinner. I’ll give you what you deserve, whatever you want, princess. I promise just—”

“Stop it,” you whine and fight the burning sensation in your eyes. You’re so close, so fucking close and the storm inside of you is out of control but he won’t stop fucking talking. Won’t stop being so damn nice even though his cock is rearranging your guts in the nastiest way. You grip his hair and pull him closer to you so there’s no space between you to breathe. “Stop talking. Stop asking. Make yourself useful and make me cum.”

Thankfully he does. He scowls up at you behind the curtain of his hair but pinches your clit and you squeal, rolling your hips, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. The windows have already fogged up, the truck rocks with your movements, and you are consumed with a blissful incoherence that forces you to surrender and let your walls crumble.

Your thighs burn, your dress clings to your sweaty body, and the stimulation on your clit becomes almost unbearable as you whine with the need to cum. He hisses loudly into the car, bares his teeth for a second, and then his eyes roll before he’s slack-jawed and panting into stuffy air, a current of groans beneath.

“That’s it, Toji,” you gasp, voice strained as you teeter on the brink of an orgasm that threatens to overwhelm you. “Be nice to me just like you said and give me everything like the good boy you are.”

The hand not on your clit slips against the sweat on your hips, and you lick up the side of his neck, savoring the salt taste of his perspiration on his smooth skin, just in time to hear him. It’s faint and low, practically a whisper but he chants--

‘Fuck yes, fuck yes. So fucking good. Ride me, sweetheart.’

It’s tilted in a whine, pathetically desperate, but the sound of him does the trick because the flick of his fingers on your clit makes the biggest wave of pleasure crash over you.

You don’t get the chance to tell him you’re cumming, you simply yank his head back from the sudden force, tilt your head up to the ceiling and cum with an exhausted and wrung out ‘fuck!’ that you’re sure your uncle’s neighbors will hear a mile down the road. You’re dumbfounded with pleasure, dizzy with it and your belly is hot and simmering as you gasp and whimper at just how good it feels.

He’s laying you back on the seat before you can catch your breath. You’re still coming down, still moaning to catch up but his large hands are under your knees and bending them towards your chest to chase his own orgasm. The edge of the seat digs into the crevice of your spine, and your hand flies out to smack against the back of the driver’s seat so you don’t fall but it slips with sweat, is hard to hold onto and you can hardly focus with everything that’s going on.

His mouth is on you, stealing your breath that you still can’t control, swallowing your moans as he fucks you with a ferocity that pulls your soul from your body. He pulls away with a deep moan and stares down at you with a look that makes you anxious—like he wants to see you again, like he wants to come to another cookout with your rowdy family if it means he can bother you some more—like he really likes you.

You know he’s going to try and say something that you may not be able to talk yourself out of, so you take the intense furrow in his eyebrows and the stuttering of his hips as a cue.

“You gonna cum?” you purr up at him, moaning weakly from the harsh thrusts that stroke you into overstimulation.

“Yes,” he answers without fail, eyes locked on yours. “Yes, I’m gonna cum. Fuck—”

Reaching up, you cup his cheek, unsure why but feeling an inexplicable need, and the words that fall from your lips help him across the finish line.

“Cum inside me, Toji. Take what you want and fill me up.”

His eyes widen before they roll closed and he’s slamming against you three times hard and rough before the deepest moan you’ve ever heard slips past his lips. He pants heavily stuttering tiny thrusts into you as he comes down, the tips of his hair drip a few drops of sweat onto your neck before he lowers himself to rest on top of you. He’s too big for the seat and his knee digs into the floor of the truck to maintain his balance. His hot breath washes over your neck, slowly calming down, and in your daze, you realize that you’re holding onto his shoulders.

The hard lines of Toji that you noted when you first saw him now feel gentle against you.

He rumbles your name into your neck and you’re cutting him off before the dopamine can speak for him.

“We should get back inside before someone finally notices that we’ve been gone.” He abruptly lifts to look down at you, annoyance etched on his devastatingly handsome face. He wants to argue, you can taste it, but your fear wins. “My bitchy aunt has been at me all night, the last thing I need is her snooping.”

He’s quiet still, the edge of his lips curling into a dissatisfied frown. It stretches his scar in a way that takes away from the beauty of his face. Makes him look more alien and you have to pull your gaze from him. But he doesn’t argue like you think he would. He doesn’t speak or try to talk back or voice how annoyed he is.

He slowly pulls out of you and you immediately miss the feeling, ties off the condom, and pulls you up tenderly from the seat. Your skin is sticky and the truck reeks of sex. The high has worn off and all that remains is the overwhelming unease that rises like bile in the back of your throat.

When you both are finally dressed and creeping out of the backseat, the cool air is a welcome feel to your overheated skin. It washes away your trepidation, if only for a moment. Toji looms over you, tall like a bear that you desperately want to sink your embrace back into, but he still doesn’t speak, and the crease of annoyance between his brows doesn’t leave. He should hold onto it. It will help him get over you.

“Do you mind getting my purse from inside the house? I don’t want to go back inside just yet and I need to check my phone.”

Impatience emanates from his every pore, yet you can sense his anxiety as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. But he still doesn’t fight and makes his way back inside without a word.

You lied.

Your purse is in the front seat of your car—you threw it up there when you both snuck into the vehicle in the first place, but his attention was too busy trying to feel you up than pay attention to the satchel hanging off your shoulder.

Once you see the front door close, you get into the front seat, start your car, and drive away without a second thought. Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as the temptation to turn back tugs at you.

It may not be right to leave without saying goodbye, and lying to him has left a bitter taste in your mouth. Your family is too occupied with the fireworks and each other’s company to really notice your absence anyway, and you’re sure they’ll have no problem trying to distract Toji when he realizes that you’re gone.

The grip on the wheel doesn’t lessen, but you roll down the windows and let the evening July air wash away some of the sex that still lingers on the seats.

***

“So you did fuck him,” your cousin snickers over the speaker of your phone a week later.

It’s a Saturday night and you’re knee-deep in your wash day routine. It took you all day to take out your braids and the clear shower cap on your head traps the deep conditioner inside. You wipe away some of the excess near your ear.

You have Chinese waiting to be delivered, and you’re ready to finish your routine so you can go to bed. Your eyes are glued to your television playing some sort of nature documentary but your attention is elsewhere, specifically on trying to worm your way out of this conversation with your cousin. She’s called you every single day since the 4th and she’s done nothing but make you feel guilty about your abrupt departure.

As you expected, your family didn’t really notice your absence. But when Toji asked your cousin for your purse and then realized you had lied, he sulked in a lawn chair for the rest of the night before Shiu drove him home.

“Yes, I fucked him. So what?”

“Soooo do something about it. Fuck him again? He lives in the same city as you and is here indefinitely. Make a move—”

“It was a nice night, but he was already trying to flirt with me as soon as he saw me and I still entertained him and fucked him and—I shouldn’t have done that…I should have waited, maybe tested the waters more. He only tried to ask me out because he was horny as hell.”

She’s quiet on the other line, and you look up at the ceiling in exasperation because you can feel her annoying logic rev up before she fires away.

“So you’re just scared? Your ex cheated on you because he was a spineless pissy boy who slithered away because you didn’t take his shit. That’s not a reflection of you, at all. I know you like to have it all figured out before you make a decision, but not everything works out that way. Toji saw a fine ass black woman who talks her shit and he made a move. He’s a nice guy...a little rough around the edges, but truly…a nice guy. Someone for you.”

James Attenborough elegantly voices something about the cuttlefish on the screen while you try to contemplate what to say. She’s right. You hate that she’s right. It’s why you two are so close but still you retort in the best way you know how.

“Girl, fuck you.”

Her raucous laugh vibrates over the speaker in delight and you snort and roll your eyes when the doorbell cuts you off. The prospect of your Chinese food makes your mouth water and you’re rushing to the door.

Only it’s not your Chinese food at the doorstep, it’s Toji Fushiguro. Toji Fushiguro who is protected from the rain under the overhang of your apartment door with one hand in the pocket of his jacket and the other clutching a container. The annoyed look that you last saw on his face is gone, replaced by a neutral and bored look that seems natural for him, even though his eyes don’t convey that specific emotion. Those green eyes are reminiscent of your uncle’s well-maintained lawn as they look down at you with a nervous glint.

“Toji,” you breathe in disbelief. “How did you get my address…”

Your cousin squawks on the other line and swallows a giggle. “I’m gonna go—”

“Your cousin finally gave it to me.,” he replies simply and gestures down to the phone in your tight grip. “I’ve been trying to get it since you fucking left.”

“Damn, thanks?!” she barks at him. “Lemme get out of here, I’m getting another call anyway. Bye!”

You’re going to kill her. Slowly. Painfully and maybe in front of Shiu to get a few tears out of him if you’re feeling particularly evil.

You know she’s right about Toji, but you can’t do this. You shouldn’t have fucked him in the first place and you should have thought of a backup plan on the off chance that your cousin was going to be annoying and nosy as hell.

You ignore his intense and heavy gaze, shifting in discomfort, scratch the back of your neck, and blanch in horror when your fingers brush the edge of your shower cap. You’re wearing a large t-shirt, your feet are bare and your head is covered in a shower cap with deep conditioner leaking from the sides; a stark contrast from the calm and collected woman who snapped at him all day a week ago. Mortification washes over you in a heavy wave, drowning your mantra of not giving a fuck about a man’s opinion, and you step back to grab the door.

“Listen…I’m waiting for food and then I have to get ready for work in the morning. So you need—”

“You have time to spare then,” he cuts off and walks past you. You round on him, indignant in your gaze.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?! Get out, Toji!”

“You want me to leave? Hmm?” he asks, goading you like you don’t know if you’re sure.

You’re not sure, but—“Yes, goddammit! I shouldn’t have left but I don’t do this sort of thing! The moment you met me, you only wanted to get in my pants. And that makes you trying to ask me out while your cock is inside of me, a lot harder to believe!”

He firmly places the container in his hands on your kitchen counter, takes a deep breath to calm himself, and gives you a look that either makes you want to melt into him or slap it off his face.

“Listen—”

You’re on the defensive now, backed into a corner and ready to pull every card you have to just make him go away. “You here for a quick fuck then? Because you got me to let my guard down and because we had such a steamy time in the backseat of my truck, you thought, what? You could just show up and bend me over my couch?”

That flicker of irritation is back on his face and it crinkles the edges of his eyes, makes him look nasty and hostile.

“Fuck, will you stop—”

“Wanna have a little ‘situationship’ while you get acquainted with your new life here? Have me get nice and comfortable and as soon as I ask for something more, you’re jumping ship. Sounds like a good plan, doesn’t it?”

A sharp growl leaves his throat and he glares.

“Girl—” he starts and immediately stops, eyes wide as saucers at the venomous gaze that you shoot his way. There it is, a hint of a name to make you feel small and insignificant. It reminds you of your parents when you used to talk back and they slid the name to you in a warning to stop talking. You hate it and it stings that you have to hear it from him.

“Get out,” you bark, seething with a rage that brings a sting to your eyes.

He throws up his hands in frustration, looming like a bear from his place in your kitchen. “Will you just stop it!”

“I said—”

“Oh my fucking god—I like you!”

His admission catches you off guard, cutting through your anger, and you stare at him in astonishment. His face is red with embarrassment, eyes trained up at the ceiling as if asking the gods to give him patience. He takes a deep breath before meeting your gaze from across the kitchen.

“You don’t do this sort of thing?” he asks, gesturing between the two of you. You can’t find the words to respond, still too shocked, so you simply nod.

“What sort of thing is that? Flirting with you because you looked like the sexiest little thing in that backyard and I wanted your attention?” He’s annoyed, deep voice razor sharp as he speaks, but you don’t miss the step he takes closer to you.

“Me trying to make you feel better because your family is judgmental? Teaching me about the food you like because I’m not from here?”

He’s closer now and the air is thin again just like that night a week ago.

“Helping me win that little card game?” It’s spades, but you’re too lightheaded with how close he is to correct him. “Telling me about your family? What sort of thing is that? Hmm? Tell me.”

You don’t have a retort. You’re too stunned to speak even though you refuse to let the annoyed expression on your face vanish. You want to hold onto what little shreds of defiance you have left.

“You aren’t mean. You don’t tolerate bullshit, you don’t fuck around, and you put people in their place. You refuse to settle for less, and I already told you that’s what I like in a woman…And I like you.”

What do you even say? You never expected to see him again, and your mind is muddled as if you’re submerged in water. Your heart feels too big in your chest, your body too hot and sweaty and you’re nervous. He’s angry with his confession, almost annoyed and you’re beginning to realize that it is an emotion that’s second nature to him even if it’s not as intense as you think it is.

“Is that right?” you can’t help but test him, lifting a brow. You have to crane your neck just a little to look up at him.

He scoffs, the crease in his eyebrows smooths out and the scar on his lips twitches.

“Yea, that's fucking right. So…” he takes one more step closer and his body is brushing against yours. He smells mildly of toothpaste and bergamot from another brand of cheap cologne and the combination makes you weak in the knees. “Let me take you out.”

It’s the same demand that you’ve heard so many times now, but this time, it feels more serious, more meaningful with a hint of desperation. In the kitchen light, you can see just how silky his raven locks are and you grip your phone and the fabric of your t-shirt to resist the urge to run your hands through them.

“I’m listening,” you jest with a practiced air.

That wicked smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, scar adding a devilish flair to his features, and your stomach burns with the realization that he’s too cocky for his own good, and you’ve unfortunately grown to like it.

“Shiu has tickets for something here called…football? He’s taking your cousin and has two extra tickets. Come with me and show me how to win.”

You can’t help the snort that leaves your mouth and your stomach flips at the genuine confusion on his face. “We don’t participate in the game. We watch it. But it’s fun.”

“All the more reason for you to come with me.”

“I…”

It’s a compelling argument, all of it is. And you want to, you really want to give this a shot and just be vulnerable for once. Because Toji seems like the kind of man who would let you be just who you are and would never make you feel lesser than about it.

The feel of his large hands cupping your cheeks pulls you out of your thoughts, and he tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are mesmerizing, like the color of pine trees right before the sun sets and you feel yourself weakening completely.

“One date, princess.”

The deep timbre of his voice does little to help you and it’s worse because it’s just how he fucking talks. You’re not a royal, and you don’t have land, lots of money, or power, but you can tolerate ‘princess’ if it’s coming from his mouth.

Just one date. You deserve it. You’ve earned the reward.

You wave away his hands from your face just so you can breathe a little easier. He chuckles but gives you your space, and makes his way to the door that you usher him towards.

“Fine. Make sure you bring cash because it’s easier at the concession stands. I want a pretzel…and a hot dog.”

He snickers as he pulls his hood over his head, obscuring most of his face except for the ethereal glow of his eyes. His teeth shine from his bright smile and you roll your eyes in response before watching him open your door.

“Toji?” you call, your voice softer…apprehensive.

He turns around to watch you shuffle to him, your feet and legs cold against the chill from the open door. You hand him your phone wordlessly and he takes the hint to insert his number. When he’s finished, you open your mouth to speak, lips shaping words that won’t come out—words you want to say. But you can’t. Not yet. Maybe one day.

For now, you throw him an annoyed eyebrow lift and grumble. “Parking is a real bitch, so pick me up early.”

You avert your gaze, frustrated at yourself for sounding so mean as usual. Because that’s just who you are. The bitter, mean—

A finger beneath your chin lifts your gaze to him and he kisses you full on the mouth, slow and reassuring, minty breath sliding into your mouth when he nips your bottom lip. The self-deprecating voice in your head finally quiets, smothered by a pillow held down by his scarred hands.

When he pulls away, that stupid smirk is on his face, but it’s not as teasing, and your heart does something weird in your chest that makes you swallow hard.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies finally to your demand.

You watch his eyes take in your form from head to toe before he kisses you quickly once more and ducks into the rain.

When you finally get your Chinese and place it on the counter to dig in, your eyes land on the container that was in Toji’s hands from earlier.

You peek inside, and your heart does that weird thing again in your chest when you see a heaping slice of the yellow cake that you never got to have a week ago.

Thanks for reading! You can find the sequel here!

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sturnlsstuff · 5 days ago

Text

MASK OFF | ghostface!matt x fem!reader

— warnings: smut with plot, dom!matt, sub!reader, knife kink, unprotected p in v, rough sex, kinda mean!matt, edging, cursing, crying, dirty talk, pet names, mention of murder, - english isn't my first language!!

part one | part two

~~~~~~

"n-no!" you cry out with a pout, when for the fourth time matt stops the movements of his fingers, pulling them out. your orgasm just out of reach again. he was not giving you the relief you so desperately needed, practically edging you, making you squirm under him, while he was watching you with a smirk. you knew you were screwed for tonight, but you wouldn't think he could be so cruel. "please!" you whine, giving him the best puppy eyes you got, but matt only let's out a sarcastic laugh, "now y're fuckin' beggin', huh? interesting"

"i didn't do anything, i swear!" you mewl, tears running down your cheeks from the frustration. matt kneels on the mattress between your legs, grabbing the knife that was laying beside you and holding your wet folds spread with his two fingers. he puts the handle of the knife inside your dripping hole, starting pulling it in and out with unholy speed, while you were gripping the sheets, moaning loudly, your walls clenching around the thing. "i told you to keep your pretty mouth shut, didn't i?" he watches how your pussy sucks in the handle of the knife, while the sharp part was slightly digging into his hand with each movement, but he didn't care right now. not when he was able to see you like this. "your folks are downstairs, remember?"

he just smirks when you put your hand over your mouth, legs trembling when you're closer to the edge again, but he slows down, making it all go away, "fuck!" you squeeze your eyes causing new tears to fall down. you could feel his painfully hard cock straining against your inner thigh. "i'm telling the truth, i didn't say anything! please just let me—"

you cut yourself off with a muffled scream, when he quickly throws the knife onto the mattress and instead slams into you, making sure you feel his dick deep. matt doesn't give you any time to adjust, pulling almost all the way out, before going back in and starting thrusting into you.

it wasn't a secret that matt was pissed off. really mad. since the meeting in the park, he called you three times already and all three times you picked up and let him inside your room, when your parents were gone. he would do his job and leave as always. you were starting to get sick of it, finding yourself being more amused by him with each day and less scared, what was stupid for matt whenever he thought about this. you also caught yourself often fantasizing about him without the mask, even had a wet dream about it earlier this day. you had no courage to ask him to take it off or even if he'd agree to it. though matt wasn't stupid and he noticed the little details, how you would slightly put your hand on his mask, but you wouldn't dare to take if off without his permission, which made him feel somehow proud that you listen to him.

so you spent the whole day trying to distract yourself from thinking about that dream and him in general. at some point your phone rang, you picked up immediately after seeing who's number it was and that's how it all.. started.

"hello?"

"you think you're so slick?" by his voice you could quickly say he was mad. he was actually completely pissed off, feeling betrayed. matt really liked you, craved you and would never want to hurt you even if sometimes... sometimes he wasn't really capable to control himself. "what?" your eyebrows frowned with confusion, while he continued, "y'wanna make me lose my shit? wanna be next?"

"what are you talkin' about?" you asked confused, hearing his low chuckle that makes goosebumps appear on your skin, "you really gonna act all stupid now?" there was a moment of silence as you thought what possibly you could've done, but your head was empty. meanwhile matt was frustrated, grabbing the bridge of his nose and trying to calm himself down, "-- make sure your window's open, i'll be there in 10."

"but my parents—" you started, but he was quick to cut you off, "i don't give a fuck." the call ended, leaving you feeling uneasy and confused, but either way you left your window open and locked your door, just in case if one of your parents would want to come in.

matt was in fact watching your every move, no matter what time of the day it was, he knew what you were doing. he'd watch you hanging out in the cafe with your friends, seeing you and your mom shopping, eating dinner in some fancy restaurant or studying in the library. so he really did know everything and sometimes he didn't necessarily like the things he saw. like yesterday he saw you talking to a cop. he wouldn't think much of it, even if it gave him anxiety, but then this morning a police car drove through his neighborhood, even though this had never happened before. so his assumption was that you just betrayed him. maybe you wanted to set a trap for him? he thought about it for half a day, trying to calm down, but in vain, the anxiety and a sense of betrayal mixed together, creating an explosive mix of emotions. so he was really fucking pissed off and his goal for tonight was to make sure you know how mad he actually was.

the wet, squelching sound coming from you was filling the room and making you heat with embarrassment, while he continues pounding into you really fast. matt grins feeling you squeezing him so tight, it was almost painful, "why'd you do that, huh? got bored of my dick? wanted to make me fuckin' angry?" he rasps, holding your hips when you can't stay still, desperately shaking your head but not being able to say anything, only moans and soft sobs leaving your lips at how good he was making you feel. "i- oh! i'm..." that's when he pulls out just as you were almost coming, causing more tears stream down your face. he flips you over, your face pressed into the pillow. while still holding your hips, he lifts them up and enters you again, immediately going with the same pace as before.

"you're too loud", he bites on his lip, holding back a groan when he feels you clenching around him. despite his anger, he loves watching you struggle while he continues thrusting into you, his cock hitting your g-spot with every move. matt's pride gets the better of him when he sees you like this, knowing that he's the one making you feel so good. there's no mercy from him tonight when he continues bottoming out inside of you on that fast pace. broken cries leaving you have him weak, getting him closer to the edge, "'m tryin' to understand... but i really can't-- fuckkkk, yeah, keep squeezin' me like that..."

the way he fucks you this time reminds you of the first time. you could literally feel the passion and fascination in every of his thrust, but there was also so much anger which made you shiver. you were trying to hold onto literally anything, gripping your sheets, pillows, even the headboard that was hitting your wall with each movement. you'll definitely have some explanation to do for your parents later.

matt watches how your ass bounce, while his cock continue slamming into you and that sight makes his hips stutter, a low moan leaving him when he fills you up with his cum. he slows down only for a second to ride out his high, making you whine in response, before pulling out and flipping you over again, just to see your hair sticking to your forehead and tears on your flushed cheeks. he looks at your hole leaking cum with fascination, his ego immediately boosted.

towering over you, propping himself on his hands on each side of your head, matt looks at you intensely, which makes you literally feel his gaze on you, so you open your eyes. his mask inches away from your face, making your breath hitch in your throat. you really wanted to see his face, know what he looks like and not only know his body from the waist down. you wanted to see all of him and he was able to notice that in your eyes.

he grabs you by the jaw, squeezing your cheeks, "why'd you talk to that cop, huh?" the tone of his voice was low and rough, but dripping with passion. seeing you like this turned him on even more, while you still felt the desire to be satisfied, his release and your own arousal dripping down your inner thighs. "'n' don't gimme that bullshit again, 'bout not doin' anythin', cause i saw you, sweetheart."

"i swear..." you repeat again, shaking your head while he keeps his grip on your cheeks, making your words a bit muffled. "-- he started asking me questions, 'cause he found out about me and that guy you... you know..."

"killed?" matt tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes and trying to process your words. you nod weakly, while new tears runned down your face, he felt it against his skin. "i told him i don't know anything, that i only met with this guy once and nothing happened between us, that i didn't really know him..."

"and he believed you?" his tone was dripping with irony, making your heart skip a beat. "i forced myself to cry and everything, i pretended to be all sad about it and he left me alone, i promise he..."

"pretended to be sad, huh?" matt is quick to cut you off, focusing too much on one thing you said.

it wasn't a secret that you were a little bit insane, matt was aware of it since you'd let him into your room that one night. you also weren't really scared of him. well, maybe a little bit when he was mad, like for example now, but it was making you more horny than afraid, which only confirmed that you were almost as crazy as he was.

you didn't even liked that guy really, he was just a distraction from the fact you liked the hookups with the ghostface a little too much. you weren't able to get to know him, since matt was quick to move him out of the way. though you found yourself being careless to his death, since finding on his phone that he only wanted to use you anyway, just like matt said.

"yeah, i... uh, i mean, if i cared about him and his death, i wouldn't meet with you again—"

"and why was there a police car drivin' around my neighborhood, hm?" matt wanted to believe you, knowing that if you won't convince him of your innocence, then... well, things may go in a direction he doesn't want them to go. "it... it has to be a coincidence..." you swallow nervously, trying not to look away. it was the truth, you really didn't say anything, not really figuring out why. you could set him off fast, matt knew it too, but he just craved you so much, he couldn't bring himself to leave you alone.

"is it now?" he whispers into your ear, moving his tip along your dripping folds, before teasing you with stopping at you entrance, knowing how desperate and unsatisfied you still were. you whine in response, "do you think i'd just let you into my room, if it wasn't a... oh, shit—"

with one sudden movement he entered you again, starting moving with the same hard pace as before, which made you moan out loud. "c'mon, sweetheart, keep... keep talkin'... tell me more, make me believe you, yeah? fuckk, 'cause i wanna... i wanna believe you—" a low groan escapes his lips when you wrap your legs around his hips, making him go even deeper.

"i... didn't care about that guy anyway—" the sounds of you two rasping, the choked moans leaving you and skin slipping against each other filling the room, the wet sound coming from you now louder. "i lied for you, i could tell them everything about us, b-but i... oh!" matt speeds up, making your stomach drop over and over again, but you continue, "-- i... i lied for you even if i don't really know you either, i didn't even see your face..."

a hoarse, low laugh escapes matt, "oh, really now? you tryin' to make me feel bad f'you or somethin'?"

"what?! n-no! i just..."

"i don't think you understand what it means if i take that mask off." his thrusts started being more urgent and hard, immediately making you clench around him and finally getting the release you so desperately needed. matt curses under his breath, feeling how your sticky walls suck him in while you cry out of pleasure, desperately gripping the sheets to hold onto something. "shiiittt... here you go... making this pretty little mess on my cock..."

he doesn't change his pace at all causing you to whine and making it impossible for you to stay still. matt shifts, putting your legs over his shoulders, gripping your thighs tightly, this new angle allowing him to hit your g-spot more intensely. the overstimulation hurts so good, you can't keep your eyes open.

"y'really wanna see my face, huh?" he grunts softly at the feeling of you squeezing him so hard, "but that... changes everything for you... mmhm, oh fuck—"

this whole time matt was sure that he would never show you his identity, knowing that it would complicate things and if something went wrong between you two then... he would have to deal with it in his own crazy way, doing things that he wouldn't want to do to you. but there was something more inside him, a bit of insecurity about what you would say, whether you would actually like him or if you would just immediately kick him out the door and never speak to him again. and this mask hid his shyness, without it he felt so... exposed. yet a part of him wanted to see your reaction, wanted to know what will you do.

"are you sure?" he asks while still pounding into you, but you're so lost in pleasure, you don't even know what he's asking about. "'cause y'know, sweetheart... you won't be able to get rid of me completely, once i do this..."

hearing your quiet, weak "please", matt slows down just slightly and before he could overthink his decision, he grabs the bottom edge of the mask and pulls it off in one swift movement. and that's when you see him.

the moment your eyes meet, he freezes and stops moving inside of you, his fingers pressing into your thigh a little more like he was still trying to maintain control, even if his heart was pounding in his chest. you look at him with wide, aroused eyes, feeling your breath was taken away. he was so... handsome. beautiful. it seemed like you could say he was an angel and it wouldn't be the least bit dramatic.

you didn't know what to focus on, you were so overwhelmed by his beauty. his facial features, that sharp, defined jaw, the prominent cheekbones... but his very blue eyes were doing the main job here, his gaze was so intense, it made you feel small. and those pink lips that just looked so kissable.

now when he was finally without the ghostface mask, you were able to notice more details, like for example the silver chain on his neck, the earrings or how his messy brown hair looked so fluffy, making you want to run your hand through it.

and also the fact that you've already seen him before. now you remembered where you know his voice from. "matt?" you finally speak up quietly, almost hesitatingly, but he hears you and it's enough to make his breath hitch in his throat.

"you..." his voice cracks slightly, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows. clearing his throat, he continues, "you, uh.. remember?"

if you remember? how could you not? that one party a few weeks ago where a guy approached you halfway through. you remember that he was so... almost shy? you were talking like crazy while he was mostly just staring, but he introduced himself. matt. you remembered him because he had such nice tattoos, you couldn't stop staring at his arm.

"yeah, i.... of course i remember."

for him it was like a punch in the gut. he would never think that you remembered him from that party. he was hypnotized by you, just staring at you while you talked, which made him believe he made himself look like a fool in your eyes. this whole interaction was also short, because he quickly realized about his not so little problem he had in his pants, just from staring at you and listening to your voice. so he quickly left you alone, having been obsessed with you ever since.

so matt was just convinced that you thought of him as some weirdo, that you forgot about him as soon as he disappeared from your sight at that party. he was sure that when you'd see his face you would freak out, but you... you looked intrigued. he noticed something in your eyes that he couldn't necessarily name. maybe he just imagined it.

licking his lips, he puts your legs back on the mattress and pulls his black hoodie over his head, allowing you to see his tattoos. it really was him. "i didn't have the chance to tell you this then, but, uh..." you swallow a bit nervously, gently touching his arm, tracing the lines of his tattoos with your finger, unconsciously causing matt to lose his mind. "-- i really think they suit you."

that was it for matt.

letting out a low groan, he starts moving again, but this time slower, though still making sure you feel his dick deep. he now towers over you and after a moment of just eye contact, you feel his lips on yours, which stole a quiet, surprised whimper from you.

and for some reason he stayed over night this time. you were sure you wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow, being too sore, but you didn't care, not being able to get enough of him. you wanted to learn his body by heart. somehow it felt right even if it shouldn't.

a/n: hope you guys like it!! this is kinda basically the "last" part, there won't be any other long part like this but i still wanna continue this au!! so if you have any requests or idk questions about ghostface!matt just write them in my inbox, i'd loooveee to continue with this story if y'all want me to. but i'd mostly make it short, maybe as oneshots or something like that. xoxo.

@certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420

#matt sturniolo #sturnlsstuff ❦ [ghostface!matt]#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x fem reader #matt sturniolo x fem reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo

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loveinhawkins · 2 years ago

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When Lucas Sinclair starts to apologise for missing The Cult of Vecna, Eddie initially thinks that he’s hearing things.

Well, actually, the first thing he thinks is something along the lines of ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

It takes him almost a solid thirty seconds to even vaguely remember his campaign; the last day of school before Spring Break feels dreamlike, as if it happened to someone else, as if he just watched everything through a fogged-up window.

“Jesus, Sinclair. I’ve got an ongoing list of folks who owe me an apology since, like, sixth grade, and trust me, your name’s not on there. Can pretty confidently say it never will, okay?”

Eddie sees Steve tilt his head ever so slightly from where he’s walking just ahead of them, like he’s listening in. Spots his faint nod of approval.

Eddie can’t decide if he resents it or finds it endearing—kind of gets the ridiculous feeling that Steve’s vetting him on behalf of the kids.

“Okay,” Lucas says, and he’s smiling, but there’s a sort of sombreness to it, too. “Still, I should’ve—”

“Hey, hindsight’s twenty-twenty,” Eddie says, firmly cutting off whatever self-critical bullshit he was about to hear. He knocks his shoulder against Lucas’s, adds a dry, “Like, I would’ve been a dick about it no matter what.”

Lucas laughs, but it’s muted. Then he takes a deep breath, and Eddie suddenly realises that he must’ve been using the apology to get himself started, to work himself up to what he really wanted to say.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about Jason and… I thought I’d thrown them all off the trail, but—”

“Oh, don’t—don’t worry about it, man,” Eddie says faintly.

There’s a flash of Jason in his mind’s eye, the savage twist of his lip as he ran into the lake; he thinks of Lucas lying to his face, the danger of him being found out, and feels sick.

“Seriously, you could’ve told them… y’know. Wouldn’t have held it against you.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that him getting caught still feels inevitable, like he’s just waiting for the walls to close in.

But right now, at least, he can breathe a little easier. The shire might be burning, but there’s people leading him through it. He’s not alone.

Lucas looks appalled. “What? No, I couldn’t—I couldn’t do that to you.”

It’s said with such conviction that Eddie has to fight through a sudden tightness in his throat—doesn’t really know what to do in the face of such undeserved loyalty.

He settles on saying, “So, how was the game?” which is embarrassingly inadequate, but a genuine question nevertheless; the past few… Jesus, however long it’s been, he’s been in permanent need of a distraction.

Steve slows his walking pace—to anyone else it might’ve seemed subtle, but Eddie’s used to noticing such things. He somehow gets the feeling that Steve is no longer scrutinising him, not exactly; his posture’s relaxed and open, his forehead free of frown lines.

It’s more like he’s simply curious about Eddie’s behaviour. The way his eyes drift over, then down to the forest floor, then back again silently seems to say what are you thinking?

Or maybe Eddie’s projecting because he asks the very same question whenever a muscle jumps in Steve’s jaw.

“Oh, um…” Lucas says hesitantly. “I was on the bench for most of it, so—”

“Quit being modest.” The quiet whir of a tape being rewound; Max Mayfield comes up to Lucas’s side. “He made the winning shot,” she tells Eddie pointedly. “It was a buzzer-beater.”

“Oh, holy shit. Well done, dude.”

From the way Lucas is staring at Max with wide eyes, it’s obvious that he’s barely registered what Eddie’s said.

“How do you know that?” he asks. “You… you weren’t at the game.”

“I, uh.” Max looks down for a moment, fiddling with the headphones around her neck. “I listened to it on the radio.”

Lucas smiles so brightly. There’s an earnestness to him; Eddie spotted it a mile away, ever since that first day back at school, when all the new freshmen were anxiously lining up to get lunch.

Max softens—her arms are still folded, but she drifts a little closer to Lucas as they walk, all studied casualness.

(Oh, Eddie’s been there before: forced to run track in middle school Phys Ed, and the only saving grace was ‘just so happening’ to run at the same pace as any boy who’d smile at him.)

Eddie catches Steve’s eye, and this time Steve gives him a very deliberate expression, nodding fondly at Max and Lucas.

Look at them, he’s saying with his eyes, as if he and Eddie are on the same team, as if Eddie at all deserves to be let in on whatever shared history Steve has with these kids.

Eddie kicks at a stray twig. You’re not going to get a lump in your throat about this, damn it, don’t be stupid.

“S’gonna be historic, Sinclair,” he says. “Last time the Tigers won a championship was, uh, lemme think… twenty-two years ago.”

Lucas stops in his tracks.

“I know that,” he says, eyes shrewd, “but why do you know?”

Eddie raises his hands with a grin, it wasn’t me, officer. “What, I can’t repeat a few years without retaining a little school knowledge?”

“Oh,” Lucas says, and it’s like Eddie can see him mentally replaying every cafeteria speech. He grins back. “So you’re a hypocrite.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says. He glances further afield, where Dustin is animatedly explaining something to Robin and Nancy. “I know you’re not gonna give me shit for it, though.”

“Huh, guess you don’t really know me,” Lucas says, and Max snorts.

Eddie smirks. “And it’s, like, doubly historic since the last person to score a buzzer-beater was—”

He cuts himself off, because Steve abruptly turns to him, like they’re in alliance, and draws a hand sharply across his neck.

But Lucas is already hooked. “What? Who was it?”

Eddie gives Steve a helpless shrug. Sorry, man.

“I’m looking right at him,” he says.

Lucas rounds on Steve. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because,” Steve says, flustered, “that was your thing, Lucas, I didn’t wanna be all…”

He trails off with a vague hand gesture, and Eddie thinks he somehow gets what he means—smiles at the thoughtfulness of it.

“That makes, like, no sense,” Lucas says vehemently. His eyes practically have stars in them. “Damn it, we shoulda got a photo.”

Steve laughs in surprise. “All right, noted.”

“I mean, Wheeler works for the school paper, right?” Eddie says. “They’ve probably got old issues. Hey, Sinclair, you could have, y’know, side-by-side photos. Yours and then…” He waves a hand at Steve. “Ancient history.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Ancient, sure.”

“Oh, Lucas,” Max says, batting her eyes excessively, “I’d frame a picture of you. Pray to it every night.”

Lucas blushes. “Shut up,” he says, elbowing her gently; Eddie thinks that it’s the first time he’s heard Max Mayfield laugh.

Steve’s watching over them again, and his eyes go pensive when Lucas mumbles something like, “I wouldn’t mind a frame.”

The expression Steve has is something Eddie’s only seen once before, and it was on Wayne’s face. Eddie had privately dubbed it the ‘found something for your birthday’ look when he’d noticed it: him and Wayne on a road trip, Eddie not so secretly mooning over the secondhand acoustic guitar in the shop window.

“Your picture should be bigger, Sinclair,” Steve says, sounding both teasing and sincere. “My shot didn’t win a Championship Game.” In an undertone, he adds, “As Brenda so helpfully reminded me.”

Oh, Eddie’s not letting that go.

“Do mine ears deceive me? Did you take a date to a high school basketball game?” Eddie cackles. “You sure know how to woo ‘em, Harrington.”

“Hey,” Steve says defensively, “she could only make that day. Told her I had non-negotiable plans: it was either the game or it was a bust.”

Huh, Eddie thinks, that’s actually… really sweet.

Lucas looks torn between being embarrassed or touched. “You didn’t need to do that, Steve.”

“Sure I did. C’mon, you thought I was gonna go to every match and then miss the Championship?” Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “Where was Erica, anyway?”

… Ah.

“Mea culpa,” Eddie says. “She was, uh, at Hellfire.”

Lucas scoffs. “It’s fine,” he says. “Last time she was at a game, she kept shouting that she loved my tactics.” He looks out into the middle distance. “I was on the bench the whole time.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah, I missed her being there.” He’s sporting a smile that’s somehow the perfect balance of fond and mischievous; it, quite frankly, has no business looking as attractive as it does. “We had, um, alternative commentary for every game. That kid should have a radio show.” He comes closer, adds in another aside, “Would’ve made the date more bearable if she was there.”

Eddie stifles a laugh, has a moment of respectful silence for Brenda.

Max and Lucas cut in front, keep walking until they’re almost out of earshot; Eddie hears Lucas faintly say something that sounds like, “Was I totally tubular?”, soon drowned out by Max’s laughter.

There’s a short silence.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve says suddenly.

Eddie blinks at him, quickly turns his genuine confusion into a bit. “What for, Harrington? My devastating wit? Devilish good looks?”

Steve shakes his head. He smiles for a moment, in on the joke, but then he looks over at Lucas and Max again, and… there.

A muscle jumps in his jaw.

“It’s just… they’ve got a lot to carry, y’know? So…” He shrugs. “Thanks.”

It’s said so quietly, so without fanfare.

Eddie’s hit with the realisation between one footstep and the next: that he’s earned Steve Harrington’s trust.

It feels… weighty.

But Eddie doesn’t mind it; he doesn’t think it’s going to crush his ribs. If anything it feels like they’re sharing a load.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that, Harrington.”

Steve smiles, pushing back his hair; Eddie’s brought back to the moment he did the very same on the basketball court, just as the ball sunk through the net, and Eddie decided fuck it, wholeheartedly embracing his hypocrisy as he jumped up and down with the band kids.

I cheered so goddamn loud for you, Eddie thinks.

He doesn’t say it.

But he keeps walking next to Steve. Feels a little young, a little bit like he’s running track—checking his pace just so he could see a boy smile at him.

#skull rock to lover’s lake missing scenes are becoming my new fave (of which i have many faves ❤️)#eddie and lucas #pre steddie #steve and lucas #steve and max #eddie and max #lumax #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #lucas and erica #steve and erica #eddie munson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #steve harrington #steve x eddie #lucas x max

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nyx-umbrakinesis · 2 months ago

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Imagine you are laying in bed with Vox and you know he is charging/asleep and you are trying to do your walk of shame/pride and you pull out your phone to call for an Uber/taxi and when you look at your screen it Vox going "Baby come back to bed"

This ended up nsfw lmao Vox x Reader, CW: vagina fingering, and p in V sex.

You slide out of bed, looking over your shoulder to make sure Vox's screen is still dimmed and his eyes shut.

Quickly gathering your clothes and heading out through the hauntingly quiet halls of VoxTek, footsteps echoing as you scramble to call your ride.

Fuck you knew it was a mistake to sleep with your boss, fuck fuck fuck, what were you going to do? What was he going to do? Fire you? Maybe you should quit.

Your mind whirrs as you get in your ride... Odd you hadn't called for a limousine but you checked the name with the driver and he said something about an upgrade so you shrugged assuming other drivers were too busy or something.

You get in and start doomscrolling your phone to try and calm your nerves, fidgeting slightly as you feel Vox's cum trickling from you, fuck you'd forgot your panties, adjusting your skirt uncomfortably, glad of the privacy screen you look back at your phone and yelp nearly dropping it and Vox's face appears on the screen.

Vox: "Babydoll what are you doing? You should come back to bed."

His voice is so assured you almost agree, he always had something about him that mad you want to agree to anything his said, despite your own self imposed rules about not getting attached to folk down here and only having one night stands.

You: "Sorry sir, this was a mistake, we shouldn't... Won't be doing this again... I understand I need to look for a new job tomorrow."

Vox's face frowns, and you sigh with relief thinking he's going to agree but you shriek when suddenly with a bolt and a zap to your hand he's suddenly sat beside you, having travelled through your phone.

You blush in mortification as he's still utterly bare.

You: "S-Sir... -"

Vox: "Oh no Doll, I've found something I like, and I don't give up my toys so easily, so I'm going to convince you to come back with me now, and you're going to be a good little Doll and TRUST me."

Blinking as you feel slightly dizzy, you whimper as you feel his hand sliding up your thigh, and your body is oddly limp as he spreads you open without resistance, hiking your skirt around your waist, his eyes glued to the sight of his cum dripping out of you.

Vox: "Fuck Babydoll, that's so hot. Just waiting for me really weren't you, left me a parting gift and everything."

You: "I-I never do more than one night stands."

Vox: "That's because you've always been mine, and those other idiots were too dumb to chase soothing so damn perfect."

You can't respond as his tongue eases inside your mouth and his fingers start sliding through your folds simultaneously. You hips buck and a needy whine escapes your lips.

Vox: "Now let's see how much convincing you need to come back and stay."

Your hips arch and your chest strains as he rubs teasing circles around your clit.

You: "Vox..."

Vox: "That's right Babydoll, thays exactly how you should be saying my name."

Vox keeps rubbing you, his mouth marking your shoulder as the shoulder on your shirt is ripped, but you can't think, can't mind it as he drives you closer and closer to your peak.

The squelch of his fingers sliding into you is embarrassingly loud and he chuckles against your neck, which is bent at such an odd but accommodating angle.

Your moans increase as his fingers fucks you more relentlessly now, your clit feeling puffy and swollen as his thumb doesn't stop tormenting it too.

You hand grabs his wrist for grounding and you feel the flex of his tendons and muscles at work as he drives his digits deep inside you.

You : "Oh fuck."

Vox: "Don't worry, Doll, we will, again."

Your other hand is grabbed and placed right on his hard cock, the rigid member throbbing in your grasp and you cry out as your fall apart all over Vox's fingers.

Twitching and spasming, you swear you hear him gasp as the grip of your hand on his cock matches that of your cunt on his fingers.

Vox: "Perfect little Doll, now you're coming home with me aren't you, and you're going to be a good Toy and not leave."

Absently you nod, and don't even notice as you end up within moments on a plush bed, clothing shredded, and crying out his name once more as his cock starts fucking his own cum even deeper inside you.

Vox: "Trust me, Babydoll, you're staying right here where you belong... Mine."

*The driver had been hired by Vox and was literally circling the streets, that's why they never arrived anywhere 😂

#Nyx's Quips #hazbin hotel #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox x reader #vox smut hazbin hotel #hazbin vox smut #vox x reader hazbin hotel #vox x reader #vox x reader smut #vox x y/n smut #vox x you #vox imagine #vox smut #hazbin vox #vox the tv demon #hazbin vox x you smut #vox

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seungsuki · 2 months ago

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chalked hearts - gifting your favourite professor a memoriable present (gn!reader) warning: none note: been a while hasn't it? also thank you @alkaisen for being my so called 'inspiration'. hope you liked it, i was inspired by a scene in nice to meet you (cool webtoon btw- season one was fire)

if you ever had to give a mathematician a gift, a set of hagoromo chalk would be the perfect choice. known as the "rolls royce" of chalks, the "steinway" of writing tools, hagoromo is a luxury that many would go to great lengths to obtain. the same chalks that turn every mastermind into old folks fighting for the last fish. it's feather-smooth writing, even a mathematician transforms into an artist, the blackboard becoming their canvas.

that was exactly what you were planning on buying for your professor. you’d often notice how he relied on the university’s cheap chalk, constantly wiping his hands to rid them of chalk dust. you’d watch his expensive vest get coated by the fine powder, almost resembling a sugar doughnut.

you’d even gone as far as offering to clean the board after class—it just didn’t seem fair for your professor to teach for hours and then clean up the mess. determined to make a change, you resolved to buy him a set of hagoromo chalks. you spent months saving up every bit of your pocket money, but even the smallest set was beyond your budget.

“why are we in the market in this blazing heat?” your best friend alvin leroy groaned

“it will be quick! i just need to buy a nice cloth and some hagoromo chalks!”, you replied, pulling him closer to avoid losing him in the crowd.

“wait hold on- did i hear you say hagoromo chalks? why on earth would you need that?” alvin stopped dead in his tracks.

you looked back at your friend’s confused face. he proceeds to drag you both away from the bustling crowd, into a quieter corner of the market. you looked up to alvin who stood firm as a statue, clearly not planning to move until you confessed. with a sigh, you lowered your head, finding comfort in staring at your shoes.

“i want to buy it for.. professor….. william”, you muttered under your breath

“professor william?!” alvin nearly shouted before you clapped a hand over his mouth in panic.

“don’t shout it out loud! urgh why did i bring you?”, you retracted back your hand

wait... don’t tell me you have a crush on professor william? no way, [name]! you? crushing on professor will—hey, wait up!”

you bolted away, your face flushed as you tried to hide your embarrassment. for the rest of the day, alvin declared himself the “captain” of his newfound ship, teasing you relentlessly until you finally parted ways. the next day, he was waiting for you with a... board?

“alvin what are you doing??”, you shouted as you ran over and pushed the board down.

“i’m having a voting poll on my ship name! i’m debating between will[name] and [name]liam!”, alvin grinned, folding the board back into his bag.

“i don’t like him that way”, you grumbled, throwing the nastiest side eye on him

despite this antics, alvin's smile didn’t hold the same meaning. there was a hint of something else behind it. deep in his heart, resentment began to spread as he let you drag him into the classroom.

even during your maths class, you weren’t left in peace. your professor walked in with his neatly pressed coat draped casually over his arm, which he placed on his chair. he looked around the empty hall, spotting you and alvin seated at the front.

“i never thought i’d see mr. leroy arrive on time," william joked, pulling down the extra blackboard.

“hey!- oh professor, [name] has something”, alvin nudged you with a not-so-subtle grin

“[last name]? how can i assist you? having trouble with yesterday’s theorem?” william asked, setting his board at last

he turned to face you both, his expression patient but with a hint of curiosity. he slowly walked closer to your seat, standing not too far from you. alvin gently pulled your chair back and gave you a small pat. you turned over to the boy and wished to slap off the wide smirk he showed

“professor moriarty... i’ve noticed how you often leave with a rather... dusty coat,” you began softly as you stood up

“i thought it was unfair for you to put in so much time to teach us- especially alvin”, you snickered remembering his test score

“hey—”

“i decided to buy some new chalks for you! it’s pretty popular amongst mathematicians”, you continued

taking a closer step, you could smell his woody perfume, tinged with a hint of citrus. never in a million years did you expect to stand this close. alvin’s voice died down, watching the subtle tension and nerve you held to yourself

you presented your professor a neatly wrapped cloth with his name engraved. william’s usually sharp and calculating eyes soften by the gesture. he took the gift from your hand to carefully feel the soft cloth.

“thank you [last name]. it was rather unexpected but i am flattered”, william’s voice portrayed his genuine gratitude

the rest of the day went on as normal. students rush into the class feeling dreadful but are left with joy after william promises not to give any homework. later that evening, william walks back to the moriarty estate feeling happier than before

“you look like you outwitted sherlock holmes” albert welcomed his brother with a sip from his glass

louis glanced up to see his brother indeed looked in a good mood. he watches william settle his satchel down on a nearby sofa before he sits himself. his lips created a small smile as he looked back at albert. he pulls out the small present he receives, letting it rest on the table in front

“one of my students gave me a set of chalks as a gift for always coming home like a baker” " william replied with his rare gentle humour

“that is rather…”

“considerate. you don’t often see students go out of their way like that” " albert finished louis’s hanging sentence

louis leaned forward, wanting to see more of the chalk. adding a small comment on the expensive gift, he questioned his brother about the owner. even albert expressed a wide-eyed smile, listening to william refusing to reveal your name

while on the other hand, alvin stared at the ceiling of his dorm, replaying the events of the day. a heavy heart is what he would describe his feelings. he tried brushing off his obvious feelings of jealousy. he needed to ensure his ‘ship’ wasn’t sailing too fast, even if he was the ‘captain’.

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images are from pinterest

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youaintnothinbuta · 5 months ago

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Hello sorry to bother you if you’re not taking request feel free to ignite this but I love your writing and I was wondering if you could do a smut fic with Austin butler x fem gf reader who has to film a sex scene with another guy and Austin had to watch it so he gets upset and shows the reader how it’s done?

I’m so sorry this took SO long </333333

“I need to mark what's mine.”

Summary: You’re also an actor, and Austin gets jealous watching you film a sex scene with someone else

Pairing: Austin Butler x fem!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: SMUT, mature themes, coarse language, unprotected sex, jealous!austin, oral (f receiving)

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“Aus, are you sure you don’t wanna go wait in my trailer?” You asked, knowing Austin was already agitated.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “knowing you’re being dry humped while I’m blindly sat a hundred feet away is worse.” he said, his eyes fixed on your co-star standing across the room, who was talking to your director.

You sighed and rubbed his arm, trying to reassure him, “Austin, don’t say that. He won’t even be touching me. You’ve done this before too, you know this.”

He just shook his head and crossed his arms, his jaw clenched in tension. Finally sighing, he leaned in and kissed the top of your head.

The director, ready to shoot, called out, “Alright, let's get moving! Places, everyone!”

You took a deep breath and kissed him on the cheek, finding your place on set. Austin leant his back against the wall, arms folded over his chest. As action was called, you began acting.

Your partner had to slip off your bra, something Austin was not at all pleased with. His gaze didn’t leave you for even a second, a scowl he wasn’t even trying to hide plastered on his face. He watched on as you and your co-star ran through the rehearsed scene. He knew it was fake, it didn’t look real, it never does until post production. That didn’t matter to Austin though. It wasn’t about whether the sex was real or not. It was about the fact that, real or not, his hands still gripped your skin, his lips still kissed yours, and your neck, and his body still was that close to yours. And those little gasps you were letting slip were doing two very conflicting things in his mind.

As the scene came to an end, the director called out, “Cut! That's a wrap, thank you folks!” and wardrobe promptly helped you get a dressing gown over you.

The tension in Austin's body seemed to dissipate slightly, and he pushed off from the wall, his eyes never leaving yours. Before you could even take a step towards him, he was already striding towards you, his long legs eating up the distance between you.

“Aus, hey, it's okay,” you said, your hands finding his.

But he just shook his head, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and possessiveness. “Let's go,” he growled, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you towards your trailer. You laughed and stumbled after him, trying to keep up with his long strides.

“Austin, slow down!” You protested, trying to keep yourself covered in only your robe, but he just kept going, his grip on your hand like a vice. Finally, you reached your trailer, and he yanked open the door, pulling you inside. The door slammed shut, and he spun you around, his eyes burning holes into anything he looked at.

“You have no idea how hard it is for me to watch you with him,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I know it’s not real, but I hate it.”

You reached up and cupped his face, trying to soothe him. “I'm yours, Austin. Only yours. That's just a scene, it doesn't mean anything.”

But he just shook his head, his eyes flashing at you blindingly. “I need to…” he spoke, never finishing his sentence, yet claiming you with possession.

He swallowed audibly, then wrapped his arms around you, pressing you up against his body, and kissed you, his tongue sliding along yours in an unforgiving fashion. His body shook against yours, his need for you almost painful to see. His hands slipped down your back, digging into your hips as he pulled you against him. You ran your hands down his chest and stomach, making him suck in a sharp breath. He swore under his breath, shaking his head.

“Are you okay?”

He pulled back and growled at you, “I need to mark what's mine.”

He lifted you up, pressing you against the wall beside the door, then grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head. His lips found your throat, and he sucked hard, sinking his teeth in.

You cried out, surprised by his dominance, but his other arm was quick to slide under your thigh, holding you against him, letting you feel his need for you. His lips moved down your neck, nipping and kissing as they went, you let out a moan when he reached your tits. He chuckled, running his teeth over one nipple, then the other. You squirmed in his hold, arching your back, wanting more, wanting everything. He chuckled again, nipped at your side, moving lower, and lower.

You watched has his body creeped closer to the ground, resting gently on his knees, taking his time. His right hand untied your robe, parting it, his lips hit your hip bone, you shuddered, letting out a groan. His fingers found the waistband of your underwear, pulling them to your ankles. You stepped out of them, gladly, looking down at him on his knees in front of you. He ran a thumb over the wet patch of your panties as he held them.

You watched his face as he did it, and he smirked up at you, licking his lips. "Sweet, so sweet," he growled, slipping his fingers between your legs. Not high enough to be touching your pussy, but high enough for you to wince at how close he was. He massaged the skin of your inner thighs gently. He encouraged you to lift your leg. You complied, slipping your foot out of your flip flop, he guided it to rest on his shoulder, leaving you spread wide open in front of him. He groaned at the sight, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up at you, his eyes darkening, his pupils swallowing his irises.

You bit your lip, your heart racing, your core tightening at the sight of him in front of you. He placed a wet kiss to your thigh, then dipped his tongue inside you. You let out a loud moan of relief, your fingers finding his hair to grip. Your head fell back, you gasped at the sensation. Austin licked you leisurely, his tongue dipping inside, then back out, then swirling around your folds, lapping at the juices there.

His thumb gently lifted the hood of your clit, exposing it, and began to circle it slowly. A bolt of electricity shot through you, and you shuddered in his hold, his name falling from your mouth.

He hummed against you, the vibrations of his deep voice playing on your sensitive nerves. He pushed two fingers inside you, curling them inside, and circled your clit with his tongue again. Your hands, still gripping his hair, pulled his head back and forth, fucking yourself with his face, wanting more, needing more. Earning a chuckle from him, he pulled your ankle further over his shoulder, getting your core even closer to him.

He began to lick harder, faster, eating you like a man starved of your taste. He sucked on your clit, and you cried out, heading in the direction of orgasm. Every spare breath of air he could get, he dedicated to moaning for you, letting you, and anyone else within earshot, know how much he loved eating your pussy. The sound of his voice, his whimpers and moans, and the wetness of your juices against his face was doing its job perfectly. The tell-tale string of whines that he knew all too well fell from your lips, the ones that signaled the beginning of your orgasm.

“God, Austin,” you squeezed your legs around his head, your entire body clenching as if it was trying to hold him in place. He kept licking and sucking until you were crying out, clawing at his head as he continued to pleasure you. A desperate chorus of screams and cries came from your voice as you lost your composure all over him. He didn't change a thing, not wanting to interrupt your climax. He drank every drop of your come, savoring each spasm until you were finished.

He slowly pulled his head away from you, his chin and lips, even his nose glistening with your slick. His cheeks flushed, he smiled as he took a few deep breaths.

“Fucking delicious,” he said, standing, wiping off his chin with his sleeve. He reached to the shoulders of your robe, pushing them away, watching it fall off of you, leaving your body bare in front of him. He felt his cock press against his jeans.

Your hands soon found his bulge, rubbing against the hard length there, sending his mind spinning. He groaned at the feeling. He didn't blink once as you unzipped his pants and let his cock spring from his underwear, kissing his tip, stroking him, teasing him. He groaned again. “All yours” you whispered, letting his cock part your pussy lips, gliding between them.

He slid inside of you, and you felt your walls begin to tighten. He had barely entered you before you cried out, gripping him tighter, holding onto him. You did as best as you could to bounce up and down on him, but it didn't work too well when you were standing up like this, his height made it difficult. He picked you up, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. He stepped out of the pool of denim at his feet and began to thrust in and out of you. You locked your ankles together behind his back, using his shoulders to push yourself higher, driving him deeper. He began to pound into you, his hips making yours ache as he repeatedly smacked into them. You pressed your lips to his neck and jaw, leaving a trail of kisses everywhere you went. His grip on you tightened as you took his earlobe between your teeth, an action that always drove him wild.

“Gonna come again for me, baby?” he growled, his voice low, dirty, and very fucking sexy. “Y-Yes.” You panted. He squeezed your ass hard, plunging himself back inside of you.

“Then you better let me hear it.”

“ Oh, fuck, Austin,” you cried, feeling his thrusts get sloppier, each one taking more effort from him. “Come inside of me, Aus, please.” You continued. “Good, good girl.” He praised you, his thrusts not relenting. “Come with me,” he huffed, his balls drawing up tight. “Mhm,” you cried, trying to hang onto your orgasm.

You felt him coming first, the way he shuddered, pulsating inside of you. He pumped several times, his body locking in place, and he groaned loudly, spilling his cum into you, his arm trembling as he held you up. You too, writhed around, your orgasm further coating his cock with wetness.

He shook violently, but didn't let you go. He kissed you again and again, nibbling on your lip, your neck, and your chin. You laid your head on his shoulder, both of you panting, exhausted, and utterly content.

He lowered you to the floor, his eyes never leaving you.

“My girl,” he muttered, gently placing you back on your feet. “Only yours, Austin.” You affirmed. He picked up your robe off the ground. He grimaced in amusement, watching his own cum pour from your pussy, pooling between your feet. He held your robe behind you, letting you slip your arms in and get covered and comfortable. After redressing himself too, he found a towel to wipe you and the floor clean with.

He tossed the used towel in the corner of the room where he had found it. “I love you.” You spoke. “I love you too, my darling.” He pulled you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “You should get jealous more often.” You teased.

“Jealous?” He feigned innocence. You shoved him gently in the chest, trying to conceal your smile. He picked you up once again, holding you close to him for a cuddle.

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causewayguy · 2 years ago

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Pics courtesy of a fellow follower

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You folks know how Chinese parents like to have sons instead of daughters? They will always go 'Son good', 'Son carries our family name', 'Son is better'. But there is always one very special reason most fathers want a son for, and for me, her name is Charlotte.

Charlotte is my son’s latest girlfriend. They have been together for close to 1 year now and Charlotte has recently begun to stay over. Since my wife passed many years back, having another woman in the house was super exciting - FBTs, tank-tops, thin shirts, pokies, nip slips, etc. And all these from a hot piece of ass! Charlotte was becoming my main masturbation material.

One Saturday, I was home alone while my son and Charlotte went on their date. While scrolling through Insta, I came across Charlotte’s IG story; a selfie in my son’s bedroom and a side profile picture, with her jeans showing off her juicy ass. Suddenly, an evil thought came over me and I quickly went into their room, searching for something….viola! Charlotte’s lace panties. I started jerking off with her panties while eye-fucking her IG pictures. Before long, I cum all over her white panties. An eviller idea came to mind. I folded and placed her panties on the top of the pile, hoping my fantasy would come true tomorrow.

The next morning, I woke up at the first ring of my alarm and quickly went to the living room, as Charlotte always cooks breakfast for us. There she was. She smiled and greeted me then continued cooking her scrambled eggs. Not sure which Buddha answered my prayers as a piece of egg fell on the floor and Charlotte bends down to clean it up. My eyes widen in happiness, Charlotte was wearing the panties from last night, filled with my cum! I dashed back to my room to take care of the hardening boner, and came 3 times in just 15 minutes, thinking of what had happened and what can I do further in future.

Few weeks later, the 3 of us went on a family trip. I have been busy with work and had no time to masturbate so my balls are completely full. And Charlotte being on this trip certainly helped. At the pier we visited, I imagined the wind blowing her hair back as she sucks me off in her tight tank-top and jeans. I imagined fucking her against the wall of the art museum we visited, as though she was one of art pieces for everyone to enjoy. And finally, I imagined titty fucking her fantastic C-cuppers exposed through the gap of her black top and spray my cum all over Charlotte’s face as my son was in the shower. If the trip lasted longer than a week, I would have suffered dehydration from masturbating too much to Charlotte.

However, the best was yet to come. My son can never handle his alcohol well, so usually takes an Uber whenever he and Charlotte go drinking. One night, Charlotte ringed me well past midnight. It turned out my son was so wasted that no Uber was willing to take them home. I was fuming as I had to drive all the way down to Clarke Quay to pick them up. However, my heart melted as I saw Charlotte standing there, looking all defeated as my drunk son leaned his entire weight on her.

On our way home, Charlotte apologized over and over again to me but I just smiled at her, brushing it off. What I was actually doing was stealing glances at her deep cleavage from her wraparound white top. In her tipsy state, Charlotte began complaining about work, about friends, about my son drinking too much, about how he was not satisfying her enough. The more she complained, the more body movement she made and well, the more her boobs jiggle.

Hornnnnnnn! I was so mesmerized by her boobs that I did not notice a red light and the oncoming traffic horned. On instinct, I struck out an arm while hitting the brakes, trying to protect Charlotte from falling forward. But this meant that her front body fell onto my outstretched arm.

‘Uncle are you oka- Ahhhh…’ Charlotte moaned as she finally felt my hand on her boobs. I was high on adrenaline from the near miss, so when my hand was on the boobs of my masturbation fantasy, I just squeezed. When I realized what I have done, my cock also started to rise in my shorts. I tried to pull my hand away but Charlotte kept my hand there while she stuck her other hand between her legs. Her face was filled with CFM expression. ‘Please Uncle…don’t stop now…’

Without thinking, I sped home with one hand on the wheel and the other hand ‘servicing’ Charlotte. Alternating between both boobs, I managed to peel off Charlotte’s nipple stickers and started tuning her rock hard nipples. My car was filled with erotic female moans as well as the squishing sounds of something wet. My rock-hard boner was now like another gearstick that Charlotte groped at. I felt her pumping my cock to the rhythm of the squishing sounds between her legs, adding my moans to the already erotic surround sound in the car.

Within minutes, my car was safely parked in my garage, with me fucking Charlotte over the bonnet, pulling her golden long hair.

I could feel every inch of Charlotte’s pussy as I thrusted my cock into her. I could see her boobs bouncing out of that white top of hers. I quickly grabbed them and started to pump into her faster and harder. Charlotte’s face was filled with lust and her tongue hanging out, drooling and moaning.

I started becoming the devil again.

Me: ‘Who is bigger??’

Charlotte: ‘Uncle bigger~!’

Me: ‘Who is better??’

Charlotte: ‘Uncle better~!’

Me: ‘Who are you??’

Charlotte: ‘I am your slut, Uncle… Don’t stop!!!’

I could feel her pussy clamping on my cock as she cum but I couldn’t stop. Not yet. With my cock still inside her, I walked (dragged) her over to the back door and opened it. Still weak from her big orgasm, Charlotte leaned forward above my drunk son with her hair flowing down to my son's face. Now, I continued to fuck her harder, right above my son!

Me: ‘Who is the guy in front of you, you slut?’

Charlotte: ‘M….my boyfriend…’

Upon hearing her answer, I pulled out immediately, leaving my cock head barely touching her pussy.

Me: ‘Again, who is he??’

Charlotte: ‘Nnooo, he’s nobody! Don’t stop plea-uuuhhhhhhh’

Charlotte whimpered loudly as I thrusted my full length into her without warning. Watching her moaned right at her boyfriend’s face while his father’s cock penetrating her from the back was too much for me. I emptied my weeks’ worth of cum into her pussy raw, triggering Charlotte’s second big orgasm. Charlotte was so fucked that she fell onto my son, panting and shaking.

We rested for a bit (and me taking a mental picture of this scene) and I carried Charlotte up to my bedroom where we made some more loving before finally dozing off in exhaustion.

One year later…

Buzz, buzzz

I received a photo from Charlotte with the caption:

‘Dear, your son passed out from drinking again. 😊 Managed to get him drunk every night of our honeymoon. But now I am super horny le… Lucky I brought the bra with your cum stain with me. Sniffed it while I masturbated last night 😉. Will wear to on the flight back to SG later too. See you soon! xoxo Charlotte’

Thank you, Son, for the world’s best daughter-in-law.

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honeyyhivee · 4 months ago

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best friend!joseph joestar ⠀ྀི

⠀ྀི in which joseph joestar can change your mind every time ⠀ྀི

cw ⠀ྀི minors dni! black!fem reader in mind but read as you please, explicit smut with a little bit of plot, battle tendency!joseph joestar, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, folks!), dumbification, petnames (pretty girl, babe, my girl, pretty, doll), joseph's lowk a perv

word count & thoughts ⠀ྀི 701, lowercase intended, not proofread :(, reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated ♡

“look at you! ya’ didn’t need to get all dolled up for me.”

you laughed at your best friend, joseph's comment before rolling your eyes. “who said i was dolled up for you? it is one of the dresses you got me for my birthday though.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. his hands held onto your waist for a moment before he tried to sneak one hand towards your ass, quickly you let him go and grabbed his wrist.

“i got a date in like an hour, jojo. don’t be a perv.” you pouted a little while moving away from him. “a date? with who?”

“with my business, jo’. i was coming over because i wanted to talk to nana erina.”

he scoffed and folded his arms. “are you trying to get back at me for something because this isn’t a funny joke. she’s not here at the moment anyway.”

“then i have no reason to be here myself.” as you went towards the door, he followed and waved his hands. “pretty, pretty girl, don’t tell me you’re being serious.” you avoided eye contact with him as you nodded.

“hm, fine, if you think your ‘date’ can take better care of you than i can, go on.” he actually left you alone, walking towards the couch. with your hand on the doorknob, you began to hesitate. you knew that joseph was sitting there right now with a smirk on his face, if you stayed you’d prove him right yet you still opened the door only to close it right back.

things were messy between you and your best friend, they always had been, but this time was worse. this time, joseph was making sure that you could never even dream of getting with another man.

you gripped onto him as he roughly fucked himself into you. you were laid on your back, both of your legs resting on his shoulders with your eyes shut as he continuously hit that spot that made you squirm.

“all mine, babe. you’re all mine.” dumbly, you nodded and recited “all yours” back to him, which only made him grin wider. “keep those eyes open on me, pretty. you gotta know who you’re talking to.” he teased.

once you had your eyes open, he began to slow his pace down a bit, giving hard thrusts. your mouth stayed open with no sound, as your eyes threatened to roll back. “look at my girl. fuck-” he leaned down more, continuing to give you these deep strokes while sucking on your neck.

“more, please.” you whimpered, stuttering your words. “more? you want more?” he asked in a mocking tone but all you could do was nod in response. “why should i, hm? go ask your date for more.”

joseph was always so unbearably annoying at the worst times. you began to twitch around him, which gave him this signal that you were close.

he leaned back up before fixing your legs and holding them still. luckily for you, he was one moment closer to his release. he settled before speeding up his pace again, the sounds of your squelching getting louder as his dick pushed into you relentlessly.

“sorry, doll. ‘m gonna cum in you.” he groaned, remembering that the two of you had no protection at all. to his surprise, you replied back with a whiny “please, i need it.” he couldn’t hold back anymore while he pumped himself into you, you clenched tighter around him.

your moans grew louder, as your eyes rolled and your manicured fingers gripped onto the couch. your essence painted a white ring around his dick and simply seeing that pulled joseph into his peak, his cum finally releasing into you.

his hips stuttered against you before he got your legs from off of his shoulders and pulled out completely. his eyes widened looking at his seed spilling out of your hole while your legs were spread wide open.

you laid there trying to catch your breath only to feel a tongue lapping up your pussy, causing you to jump and nearly shut your legs. joseph caught them before they closed and looked up at you.

“can i finish?”

don’t use or steal my work, thanks!

#jjba smut #x female reader #black reader #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #battle tendency #joseph joestar smut #joseph joestar x reader #jjba joseph #jjba headcanons

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wildemaven · 11 months ago

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common thread | frankie morales

wm masterlist / frankie masterlist

-> pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

-> words: 2060

-> content warning: 18+ blog; smut smut smut, there might be a plot- there might not be, benny’s fighting, alluding somewhat to anxiety but no real mention of it, established relationship, unprotected p in v (not mentioned but reader is on BC, otherwise wrap it folks), mentions of bodily fluids, mentions of drinking, reader wears Frankie’s shirt but no other descriptive features of reader, nipple play, labeling dubcon just to be safe, consent not mentioned but implied within their established relationship, implied somnophilia but very vague, kissing, shared orgasms, I think that’s everything- please don’t hesitate to let me know if I missed anything.

-> notes: was this born purely from the fact that I own said shirt and that I might have had thots of stealing it from frankie… yep! Big thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to my thots and helping me make sure some things worked together. And for enlightening me on the word spooge. Anywho, I don’t even know what this is really— hopefully you enjoy it.

You're lost in the moment. Grateful for the way your mind is able to lend such vivid imagery. Manifested bursts of him against the darkness, intermittent flashes of Frankie dancing across your eyelids.

His unrestrained smile you so frequently witness, teeth and dimple bared with an exuberant ease. His eyes, packed with millions of different shades of brown and gold into the smallest little pools of warmth, express everything he needs to say without uttering a single phrase. His voice wraps around you with a smokiness, a tonality that seeps deep into your bones, metastasizing himself in every bit of you. But it’s nothing compared to the real thing.

A memory from earlier in the evening trickles in. Frankie’s shoulders relaxed, his laugh unobstructed by lingering weighted thoughts. Completely surrounded by the sweeping lights and obnoxious yelling that’s accompanied by one of Benny’s fight nights.

His hand rests comfortably between where your legs cross, tucked in and with zero desire to move unless necessary. His body slumped back in the metal folding chair that sits next to the one you’re occupying, Santi in one flanking the other side of him. Even while deep in a conversation with Santi, he still manages to oscillate his attention between his best friend and you, never once making you feel unnoticed by him.

Once Benny takes the ring, Frankie’s reserved demeanor shifts into sobered excitement. His fists clenched and slightly jabbing the air out of pure ritualistic habit, mirroring every punch delivered to the bloodied opponent sparring against Benny.

Frankie hangs back after the final call is made and Benny’s arm is thrown upward in victory. Late nights at the gym with the blonde fighter had paid off. He’d googled rigorous drills to run Benny through nightly for a month straight to prepare- jab, cross, jab to the body -Playfully showed you his own wonky technique in the middle of the kitchen while you stirred garlic into the simmering marinara sauce you had started when he called to let you know he was heading home one evening.

Benny’s bruised body dangles over the metal cage, a triumphant wail rips from his throat as Will and Santi grab at him, engrossed in their own fight to congratulate Benny while fending off other spectators and screaming women.

Frankie pays no mind to the celebratory explosion shared between his buddies. A squeal of surprise comes from somewhere within you melds with a growled C’mere as Frankie’s arms pull you closer to him. His arms forming a net around you, stronger than any fisherman had ever thrown out to sea, sheltering you from the dispersing crowd. You grab onto his tan canvas jacket, the material rough and gritty, but it withstands the stress of your grip grounding you to him as your breath is stolen from your lungs. Frankie’s lips fuse to yours, pursuing a more secluded adaptation of celebrating. His mouth still tastes of the tapped beer he’d been sipping on throughout the fight, the hoppy bitterness coated on his tongue is no rival for the sweetness that is Frankie. The kiss coming to an unhurried close, soft lingering pecks breathe into him thanking you for supporting him, supporting Benny. I love you’s and Let's head home lead to rushed goodbyes and rain checks for drinks later in the week— no time wasted milling about with only you on his mind.

Your lashes flutter in an unrushed manner, kissing the tops of your cheeks with each crisp fatigued breath you take in. Brief glimpses of his brawny silhouette move just outside of your closed off vision, melding with the soft light that pours in from the hallway.

His whiskeyed tone cuts through the hazed filled air, pulling you back into this real time pleasure seeking dimension.

“Baby— fuck! Fuck, Babe you feel so goddamn good!” Hot and humid syllables fanning across your neck, mixing and reformulating with the brininess of your skin.

He shows you he means it with each intentional move he makes. Every bit of him in motion, diligent and relentless.

The weight of Frankie settled snugly between your legs. His hips flexing against your inner thighs with each calculated thrust, exerting a carnal like rhythmed pace.

He’s intoxicating, a divine ambrosial tonic. The fiery elixir is so addictive and sweet, you slowly sip your allotted daily servings. Always selfishly craving more of him. Everywhere. At once.

There’s an eagerness that drips from his saccharine tongue, intent on pleasing you sufficiently. His words drumming against the hollow channels of your ears. Begging. Coaxing. Praising.

“That’s it, Babe— c-can you give me one more? I need you to come with me!” His lips brush over yours. All full and red from how you like to draw them in your mouth, ardently sucking and rolling them between your teeth. Your tongue soothing over the fleshy skin, offering a tempered smile at the way he grieves the sensation. “I know you can, Hermosa, you’re almost there. Fuck, baby! Love watching you fall apart— one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever experienced in my life.”

Frankie’s never showy or boastful. It’s not even luck that he relies on. It’s endless learning and knowing exactly what makes you tick. His own desires secondary to yours. The steady drag of his cock is sturdy enough, your velvety walls claiming him as their own for the time being.

Something pricks at you. Somewhere below the surface. A euphoric flame alit. Ignited by Frankie’s earnestness. Burning slowly through your cresting body.

It’s a mirroring of pleasured expressions. Brows contorted. Mouths softened, hanging open. Lips grazing the other’s briefly. Noses bumping and nudging. A synchronous exchange of explosive breathy moans, reverberating through your chest.

“Mírame. Let me see you— all of you.”

Your vision is fuzzy. Slowly adjusting to the scene before you. There he is, your Frankie. More beautiful and handsome than you remember. His skin flushed with a twinge pink. His own eyes are heavy with an emphatic desire. A single clump of sweat drenched hair curls to a point, swaying against his forehead. His jawline sharp and nearly unhinged as he stares down at you— a man with a need to satiate and protect you.

“Francisco—“ A breathless plea. His namesake called out to him. The sweetest sounding voice he could ever hear, mesmerized by the way it dances off your tongue.

“Yeah! You look so fuckin’ good like this, Hermosa. Wearin’ my lucky shirt and lookin’ so goddamn sexy in it, too. Love it when you wear my shit.”

His shirt. Or so he thinks. Technically it did start out that way, being his shirt and all. It came about as the result of a beer mishap a few years ago. A rowdy group knocking into his frosted cup, ice cold beer sloshing over the brim, soaking his shirt completely.

With only minutes until Benny’s match, it was a mad dash to a closing thrift shop across the street. Nearly turning their closed sign on him, Frankie flashed his pearly whites, pleading with the sweet woman for just a shirt to replace his beer soaked one.

The announcer's voice echoes into the night sky, signaling the next match was starting soon. Frankie grabbed a single hanger from the rack. No time to inspect or deliberate on the last minute purchase, tossing more than enough cash on the shop counter and bidding the shop owner a thanks ma’am, goodnight. Frankie frantically ripped the soured shirt from him, tossing it in the trash can outside the event doors. Pulling on the new-to-him threadbare t-shirt and slapping his worn hat back on his head as he went in search of you.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. A soaked in beer shirt replaced by a beer branded one. No mistaking the faded Budweiser logo printed across the back. A smaller, less in your face, but still obvious enough, strategically positioned on the front. He wouldn’t have hated it initially if he actually liked the stuff, preferring Stella Artois that got him into this situation.

Benny won his fight that night. Was it all his hard work paying off? Surely. Or was it a newly acquired beer shirt bringing him some extra luck? Frankie thinks a bit of both. From then on that shirt was worn every fight night, whether Frankie was in attendance or not, Benny winning his first title at the end of the season.

Frankie was wearing the shirt tonight, too. Until he wasn’t. Picking up where he had left off as soon as the front door clicked closed, now alone, with zero onlookers and strobing lights. The dim lit hallway was as far as you both made it before he had you pressed against the wall. Your hands scrambling to remove every stitch of clothing from him. Needing more of him, more skin to touch. His shirt thrown onto the pile of your already removed clothes.

It wasn’t long before Frankie was unwrapping your legs from his waist, your back slowly sliding down the wall until your feet hit solid ground. An agreement made to order from your favorite restaurant as you both slipped on an article of clothing from the heap of clothes— Frankie grabbing his black boxers and you swiping his lucky shirt.

Your shirt. For now, your shirt. Parading around the house in only the vintage loose knit beer branded shirt. The neck and sleeves tattered and frayed. All these years you and Frankie had possessed it, only added to its distressed appearance. Frankie’s musky pheromones now the only thing this beloved shirt is ever saturated in.

It’s how he finds you hours later. After you had called it a night, eyes were too tired and body beyond exhausted to focus on the movie he picked out. The t-shirt being the only thing veiled over your sleeping form. Its thin worn material leaves little to Frankie’s ardent imagination. The hem hardly draped over your bare hips.

Frankie watches you shift in your sleep, the shirt sitting higher now, exposing more of you to him. His cock twitches. A steady drip of his spend slips from your soaked cunt. He’s transfixed by the sight of it. Palming himself through his boxers, not even fazed by how hard he is already. He suppresses the urge to wake you, savoring how serene you look all splayed out on the bed.

“Fuck—“ He sucks in a sharp breath.

A choked sob is the only response you can give him. Your brain far too flustered to conjure up any sort of coherent argument about the shirt belonging to you at this moment.

The well loved garment now cropped over your chest, all bunched and twisted. The logo, now broken lines of illegible letters, lost in the rolls of fabric. Frankie had slowly peeled it higher for his own viewing pleasure. Losing himself in the soft bounce of your breast, brought on by the way he rolled his hips at a languid pace.

It begins to emerge. A coiling tension forming, building, tightening with every tempoed thrust Frankie delivers. Massaging that sacred spot, triggering your inner walls to grip him with an immense force.

He senses it instantly. The telltale signs of the cresting moment. An inferno of heated arousal burns through his lower abdomen.

“Fr-Frankie! I’m close— oh god!”

Surrendering. Dissolving into a puddle of pleasure. Back rigid, arching off the bed. Your nipples damp and taut, as Frankie’s tongue traces around the hardened peeks. Breath hitching as your orgasm splinters through you. White noise cutting into the air.

“I can feel you, baby— fuckfuckfuck!”

Time slows. Your name on his lips. A single word he recites delicately, an intimate poem for only you. His release is a welcomed warmth as it coats your pulsing cunt, filling you for the second time tonight.

Your finger trails down his back. Gliding through the pool of sweat that’s gathered at the base of his spine. Dame un beso, Francisco. A lazy slow press of his lips, your mouth naturally parting to him— an unhurried kiss, your tongue reacquainting with his.

Collapsing into the bed, Frankie pulls you into his depleted body. Too tired to care about anything but sleep. His hand finds its way under his shirt that you’re still wearing, resting where your heart beats for him forevermore.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedrostories #wildemaven writes

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robinsno1lesbian · 4 months ago

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your rockstar!robin concept was so hot :o i’d love to see more of her! maybe a drabble about helping her unwind on the tour bus after a show hehe

𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ⋆୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ｡⋆

-r.b. x reader

summary: hooking up with rockstar!robin in the back of her tour bus…(1.8k)

warnings: SMUT!! rough sex, fingering, oral (r receiving), semi-public sex, drug use -don’t do drugs folks, this is just fiction about an 80s rockstar-, shot-gunning, spanking if you squint?, dirty talk, pet names (princess, baby, good girl), strap-ons, hair pulling, mention of exhibitionisms + degradation, i did not beta read this, as always let me know if i missed anything!!

a/n: i love how i said i would post the “scotty doesn’t know” fic next and then i proceeded to post anything but that. i swear it’s still happening, i just can’t seem to find the motivation for that specific fic right now! so here’s some rockstar robin instead! also shoutout to @aylasology who helped with the creation of the whole rockstar robin au! <3

mere minutes ago, you had been watching your girlfriend perform. she’d been mesmerizing an entire stadium of people; the masses going wild for her.

robin had this way about her -the ability to wrap even the largest crowd around her finger with such ease: one strum of her guitar would be enough to have the fans cheering for her. you got it, you really did, considering you’d been one of them yourself not too long ago. just a fan among hundreds, trying to catch a glimpse of the rising rockstar dressed in leather and lace.

even now that you do know her, and her touch is no longer just something straight out of your wildest dreams, you couldn’t help yourself but watch the woman perform as if in trance whilst her long, calloused fingers wrapped around the neck of her guitar.

you would never get tired of the sight: robin buckley, entirely devoted to her music. seeing her like this made you realize, once more, that she’d been made to be up there on stage, singing songs only you knew the true meaning to.

most of them about were you, about the taste of you on her lips and tongue. although no one was supposed to know -officially- you would’ve sworn she was looking at you through the entire set, hungry eyes taking in your body as you watched her from backstage.

you could only imagine the things she’d do to you once she got off stage and had you all to herself to relieve the pent up tension…

now your girlfriend has you on all fours in the back of her tour bus, bend over for her. her fingers are scissoring inside your body, working your cunt open for her, your fishnet tights ripped apart at your crotch so she can pound into you.

she loves you like this, messy and exposed. you learned this about robin fairly early: that sex with her is a mess. that it’s spit and sweat and you at her feet. that she loves to snap pictures of you; tits out or popping in an expensive set of lingerie she got you. that she loves to use your body, sniffing cocaine off of your belly before licking along the line and letting you taste it on her tongue afterwards.

robin lingers above you, her lips by your ear to talk you through the relentless fucking.

she’s got a joint between her lips, occasionally tapping it against the ashtray nearby with her free hand, while the other is buried deep between your folds.

“god, pretty girl, do you hear that?” she rasps, her voice -still hoarse from the concert- quieting down so you can hear the filthy noises of your slick squelching around her fingers. “is all that for me?”

all you can really do is nod, unable to answer properly, as her fingers hit your sweet spot again and again.

“yeah?” she mocks, pumping two digits deep into your wetness.

“fuck robin” you gasp, fingers curling in the fabric of the mattress you’re currently getting fucked on.

the smokey air around you smells of arousal and sweat, your slick dripping from your thighs onto the fabric, whilst her praise and dirty talk rings in your ears.

“you’re so good for me” robin grunts over your shoulder, setting the joint down to grab your ass -harsh enough for her rings to leave marks on your skin. she slaps it once, making you gasp out pout, before going back to kneading the flesh while she speaks “so fucking pretty like this”

“mhm” you nod, grinding your hips backwards to meet her fingers halfway.

“there she is” robin hums, a third finger toying around your entrance. “that’s my eager girl. you want more?”

she doesn’t have to push it forward, instead you’re taking it on your on accord, greedily grinding backward to take it all.

“that’s it” she says breathlessly. “that’s it, take it”

the hand that’s been kneading your ass sneaks around your front, rubbing almost painfully harsh circles around your clit. you would wince away from the brutal treatment if it didn’t feel so good.

that, on the other hand, is something she learned about you: that you might not seem to be the type, but that you like it rough. the first time robin got out the strap and fucked you from behind, you found yourself squirting for the very first time. she got bolder, then, pulled your hair harsher, called you her slut. and, the thing is, you loved it all. you loved the roughness, the way she only ever got with you. you loved being her “fuck toy”, her “whore”, even, after long nights on stage when she needed a stress relief.

now, robin rubs you raw with calculation, every move perfectly timed with her deep thrusts.

“my god” she mutters breathlessly “you know i wanted to fuck you the minute i saw you backstage? fuck, baby, you make it so hard for me not to get you out on stage and take you in front of all of these people”

it’s embarrassing how much wetter her voice (and the mere thought of her actually doing that) makes you.

“i want them all to see” she kisses your pulse point from behind, gently pulling your earlobe between her teeth before whispering: “how pretty you are when you’re getting fucked”

suddenly, her lips are on your spine, kissing and licking down your back. you try to catch a glimpse of her over your shoulder but robin grabs your hair and turns your face back into the mattress.

“ass up, baby” she instructs, grabbing your hips to arch your back. you whimper as the woman behind you manhandles you, rutting into the ground beneath you in anticipation that comes with the thought of having her mouth on you like this.

it’s filthy, when robin shoves a pillow under your body for easier access and spreads you open with her thumb. you can hear her moaning softly as your pussy opens up for her with a wet squelching sound. for a moment, you feel oddly self conscious: you can smell the scent of your arousal from where your head is pressed onto the pillows and it’s only growing with each passing moment that robin spends between your legs.

but then she puts her mouth on you.

her tongue feels warm and wet as she drags it through your folds from behind, lapping you up like a woman starved. she is relentless, dipping into your hole and moving in circles around your swollen clit.

and she doesn’t let up, not when you grind back against her nor when you whimper into the pillows.

you’re drooling for her, dripping and sweating and making a mess, and yet she’s drowning in you. robin’s head is moving from left to right, determined to make you cum on her tongue. it won’t take long at all, with the previous fingering that already had you painfully close to the edge.

“i’m close” you tell her with a weak lift of your head. “i’m so close robin i’m gonna- i-“

robin moans into your cunt in response, one hand moving from your ass to press her fingers against your clit while simultaneously fucking her tongue into you.

it’s all it takes.

with a desperate cry of “oh my god robin!” your orgasm rolls over you. your hips are rolling back into her mouth, making it easier for the woman behind you to lick up your cum and working you through your height with both her mouth and her hands.

you’re pretty sure you’re screaming, though you wouldn’t know for sure with the pleasure rushing through your body. it doesn’t even occur to you to think about the fact that you’re in a tour bus after all. that there could be people around, walking in on the two of you like this. you kind of hate that the thought of it makes you clench around robin’s tongue. your legs are shaking beneath you as you ride it out on the rockstar’s tongue.

eventually, she stills her movements and leans back, her hands rubbing against the back of your thighs. you do look up this time, and robin lets you, allowing you to see her disheveled hair and smeared lipstick, mixing with your arousal on her face.

“everything okay?” she asks with a nod in your direction, reaching for the halfway finished joint she’s left in the ashtray.

with a weak “fuck yeah” you drop your weight down onto the sweat stained mattress beneath you, taking a moment to gather yourself while the woman behind you lights her joint and takes a drag, inhaling the thick smoke into her lungs before blowing it out through crimson red lips.

“want some?” robin offers.

you crane your neck upwards in response, so the woman grabs your chin and pulls your lip down with her thumb to exhale the smoke into your mouth right from her own.

“so pretty” she murmurs, still holding your face absentmindedly while you exhale. “so so fucking pretty, fuck”

you’re just vaguely aware of your exposed state: ripped fishnets, mascara stains on your cheeks and on her expensive sheets. but it doesn’t really matter when robin sits back and spreads her legs. she grins, the mischievous look flashing over her features the moment your eyes fall to the bulge in her jeans.

“come here?” robin asks.

you don’t have to be told twice, immediately scrambling to your feet and crawling between the taller woman’s legs, instinctively reaching for her belt.

robin hums in satisfaction, her fingers combing through your hair. “that’s my eager girl”

you fingers undo her belt and make quick work of the zipper until you can pull down the denim along the thin fabric of her boxers, revealing the leather harness she’s wearing.

robin has been wearing your favorite silicone cock strapped to her body for the entire concert, you realize, as you wet your lips under the woman’s watchful gaze.

“come on” she whispers, grabbing the base of the toy to bring it up against your mouth, tapping it against your lips. “open up”

your mouth is on her strap in an instant, sucking it into your hollow cheeks, your head bobbing along the entire length of it.

“oh fuck. princess” robin groans, the joint lazily hanging from her lips. she grabs you by the back of your hair, pulling you down and forcing her cock down your throat until you’re gagging on it.

“yeah” she hums, taking another drag. “yeah, that’s good. gonna choke on it for me baby?”

her head falls back when you force yourself to take it, drool dripping down your chin as robin reaches out to hold back your hair. she’s grunting, hips snapping forward to fuck your mouth as though she could actually feel your lips around the silicone.

“alright baby” she decides after her cock is glittering from the wetness of your spit. “that’s enough. just- come here and ride me, yeah?”

and you know, even though your legs still feel weak from your first orgasm, you could never deny her that…

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x fem!reader #robin buckley x female reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley smut #robin buckley x fem!reader smut #stranger things

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anyasathenaeum · 1 year ago

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Can I request a first time smut with Vash please???? big bonus points if you can make it reunion sex hehehehe im a huge sucker for that kinda stuff. thank you so much!!

A/N: The way I'm immediately putting this with Eriks!Vash (I wanna smash him so bad he just makes me wanna *insert horny grip meme here*) I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Anyways, feel free to think of this as a follow-up to this fic. Anon who requested that fic - guess you're getting that spice after all!

Warnings: MINORS DNI, AFAB!reader (female terms used), smut, lots of smut, hints of Vash having a size kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks, practice safe sex!)

The only thing you could register, other than the sound of your heartbeat in your ears, was just how warm Vash's skin was against your own.

You'd been separated from Vash for two years, since the destruction of the city of July, and you'd only just found him in a quaint little town, disguised as a man named Eriks. His hair had grown longer, and he had scruff on his face and now wore glasses, but deep down, he was still your Vash.

Your reunion had been filled with tears of sadness, regret, happiness, love and disbelief, with you both clutching onto one another as you both cried and rejoiced at being reunited. And now, as the house where Vash had been living became silent as people drifted to sleep, the two of you had fallen into one another, pressed up against each other, clutching at each other with a desperate need to be comforted and assured that this was real.

Clothes had quickly but gently been shed, leaving you bare before Vash for the first time. You could feel the heat rising in your face as you stood there, your body exposed to Vash in a way you'd never done before.

You and Vash knew that you had feelings for one another, and despite being in a relationship prior to the events in July, this was the first time you and Vash had ever gotten so... intimate.

Now, Vash was looking at you with wide, blue eyes, filled with an awe and a love so tender that it would have others believing you had hung the stars in the sky.

"(Y/N)... G-God..."

Vash's voice was low and rumbly as he pressed you up against him, his body trembling slightly at the feeling of you against him.

You felt a shiver go down your spine as Vash's large hand pressed against your bare lower back, pulling you into him as his lips ghosted over the sensitive skin on your neck, his scruff scratching against you slightly.

"You're so beautiful."

Vash's warm breath fanned over your skin, sending another shiver down your spine, your fingers digging into his arms slightly as you tried to suppress a quiet moan.

You could feel Vash's muscled and scarred body moving against yours, and before you could process it, Vash had lifted you up, his hands tucked under your thighs as he carried you to the bed, gently placing you down so that he sat against the headboard with you in his lap.

"V-Vash," You got out breathlessly, looking up at him as you sat in his lap, straddling him a bit. Was this really happening?

You could feel the silky warmth of Vash's cock brushing up against your folds, a shiver coursing up you as your eyes widened - he was big. You had known that from the moment you saw his cock; long, and surprisingly thick with a beautiful reddish-pink head, veins visible along the sides.

However, now, as you felt Vash brushing up against you, you realized you didn't understand just how big.

"I-I don't know if I can... take you," You mumbled in embarrassment, your cheeks flaming pink as you felt Vash's cock twitch against your pussy - did he find that idea attractive?

"Oh, (Y/N)," Vash whispered gently in return, his large hands rubbing your thighs tenderly as he spoke, "I'll prepare you. Don't worry, love. I plan to make sure you're ready before we go any further."

Sure enough, with that, Vash pressed his lips to your neck, gently sucking and kissing your skin with just enough pressure to leave little marks - signs of his love for you. You stifled your moans, but the moment one of Vash's prosthetic fingers found your clit, you let out a choked gasp.

Vash just smirked a bit at your reaction, "Bingo."

With that, he gently pressed his lips to yours as he continued to circle your clit, drawing more muffled moans and cries of pleasure from you against his lips. You bucked your hips desperately in his lap, seeking more friction as you felt your orgasm beginning to build deep in your abdomen, your heart racing as Vash's fingers continued their nimble work.

"God, (Y/N), you look so beautiful like this," Vash all by growled out, his eyes filled with desire and love as he gazed at you coming undone by his touch, "I-I've missed you so much."

"I-ah! M-Missed you, Vash," You replied between gasps and moans, your orgasm nearing with every second Vash had his hands on you, "L-Love you... love you s'much."

"I love you, too, (Y/N). I've thought of nothing but you," Vash panted back between kisses to your skin, relishing the taste of you as he felt you tense in his arms, his lips ghosting over your chest and neck, "Nothing but you these last two years."

His passionately words of love for you, plus the feeling of Vash circling your bud perfectly, had you cumming harder than ever before, a cry of Vash's name leaving your lips as you came undone, the pleasure washing over you in wave after wave after wave.

"That's it, (Y/N), God, you're so beautiful when you cum for me," Vash mumbled gently, kissing your lips softly as he held you close.

You were panting softly in his embrace, your head resting on his shoulder as Vash hugged you to him, letting the aftershocks of your pleasure run through you.

"W-Want you, Vash," You panted out, gently grinding yourself on Vash's cock - you could feel the precum leaking out of its head, likely from just the sight of you cumming in his embrace, "Want you so bad."

You heard Vash hiss softly as you pressed your pussy down against his cock, his whole body tensing and his hands clutching onto your hips so hard he probably bruised you.

"(Y-Y/N)! G-God, Mayfly, pl-please, be careful! S-Sensitive!"

You couldn't help but let out a breathy laugh as you looked at Vash's face - those beautiful, blue eyes, wide and filled with pleasure and awe, the beads of sweat on his brow, his expressive eyebrows, his pretty nose and lips, his long, blonde hair, everything - he looked different than the last time you saw him, but God... he was still gorgeous.

"So... beautiful..." You whispered gently, your hand coming up to cup Vash's cheek as you pressed the softest and most tender of kisses to his jawline, the scruff rubbing your skin as you did so.

"Make love to me, Vash."

You surprised yourself with your own words, and you could see Vash's eyebrows rising in surprise, but the smile on his face spoke of his desire as he nodded, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek delicately. You watched the most beautiful blush spread across Vash's cheeks and the tips of ears and his nose, those baby blues focusing on you with a gaze filled with love, tenderness and desire as his hand returned to your hip.

Slowly, oh-so-slowly, Vash's hands lifted you by your hips, letting you reach down to align his cock with your soaking wet pussy, teasing him gently by swiping it through your folds a few times first. The gasps and whines Vash let out were worth it, his voice rising in pitch and volume at the sensation of his cock brushing up against your slick.

"(Y-Y/N)!"

You couldn't help but smile softly, letting the head of Vash's cock push into you slightly as you sunk down onto him, causing you both to moan out in sync at the feeling of Vash stretching you out at last. The stretching feeling burned slightly, but within moments, the discomfort was giving way to pleasure.

"I-I love you, Vash," You gasped out, clutching onto him so hard you're sure your nails broke his skin, leaving marks, "I love you. Don't ever go... somewhere I can't follow you."

"N-Never, (Y/N), never!" Vash replied, whining at the feeling of you clenching just around his tip, desperately fighting the urge to slam you down onto him in one move, "I love you. N-Never wanna be apart from you again. It almost killed me..."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, each nerve feeling like a livewire as Vash touched you and pushed into you gently as he shifted you, his words making your heart pound frantically in your chest.

Looking up at you tenderly, Vash whispered, "You ready?".

All you could do was nod, not trusting your voice to work at the moment. In one consistent but slow movement, Vash sank you down into his lap, pushing into your pussy inch by inch until he was in to the hilt, gasping as he felt you clench around him.

You hissed at the sting of him stretching you out, but it was outshone by the pure pleasure and happiness you felt as being joined with Vash this way at last. Finally... the two of you could share in this intimacy.

"Big... y-you're... big, Vash," You whimpered out, bringing your mouth down to his shoulder and biting down a bit, causing Vash to shiver.

"Sorry, (Y/N)," Vash cooed back softly, his hand brushing through your hair gently, "But you took me so well, Mayfly. So well..."

You whined in response to his praise, your pussy tightening around Vash and causing his breath to hitch.

"God... I can feel every bit of you. So tight, Mayfly. Try to relax..."

You did as Vash said, taking a deep breath and trying to relax yourself, letting yourself rest in Vash's lap. You wanted nothing more than to stay this way, holding onto Vash, feeling him against you, in you, for the rest of time.

"I-I'm gonna move now, (Y/N). Is that okay?"

"Yes, Vash," You whispered breathlessly, feeling so unbelievably full, "Please. Move."

Vash's smile was so bright, hearing you say that, and as gently as possible, he lifted your hips, sliding out of you almost entirely before pulling you back down into his lap and thrusting back into you, drawing out a moan from your lips as pleasure shot through you.

You shifted slightly, moving your own hips in time with Vash's guiding hands, allowing Vash to thrust deeper and deeper into you, both of you gasping, moaning and whining at the friction between you. Soon, that same feeling from before began to build again in the pit of your abdomen, a feeling of pleasure getting you close and closer to the edge.

"Nngh! (Y/N), G-God, you feel amazing... you're incredible, M-Mayfly..."

Vash's moans of pleasure had you clenching on him, a small gasp escaping the both of you as you continued to roll your hips, Vash holding you close in his lap as he thrusted up into you in time with your movements. You could feel his large hands splayed across your back, holding you close to him in a protective, almost desperate manner, your own hands clutching onto Vash's shoulders for leverage.

You two were close, so impossibly close.

"V-Vash, I- I'm gonna cum, I-"

"M-Me too, (Y/N), m-me too!"

With a few thrusts, you finally felt your orgasm wash over you, pleasurable wave after wave crashing into you, causing your pussy to clench down on Vash's cock in a way unlike anything he'd ever felt before. With a final thrust, Vash spent himself inside you, a warmth blooming in your abdomen as Vash pressed his lips to yours passionately, holding you close to him as he painted your walls with his seed.

"I love you, (Y/N)," Vash gasped out against your lips, holding you close to him as his chest heaved. You could see tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he spoke, his voice quiet but so, so loving, clearly moved by the intensity and the intimacy of the moment.

"I love you, too, Vash," You replied, pressing your forehead against his and just hugging him close, relishing in the feeling of his warmth against you, your own eyes burning with tears.

All the emotions coursing through you were overwhelming, but you couldn't help but feel love, happiness, and relief. Vash was here with you, and you were here with him, and there was no doubt that the two of you would never be separated again.

"So... can we do that again?"

You sighed at Vash's question, a small smile appearing on your lips. You might've just awakened a whole different beast.

#anya's athenaeum #trigun stampede #trigun stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun #vash the stampede #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #trigun smut #tristamp smut #tristamp vash #vash smut #vash x reader smut #vash the stampede smut

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universallydestinytaco · 4 months ago

Text

The Little Smiling Mermaid (Chapter 6)

🌊 THANK YOU to all my 150 followers! Sorry, I didn’t get to draw an illustration this week BUT the wonderful @oskidontle had blessed me with this lovely fanart of Mer!Pim (thank you again), Please follow them and check out their own awesome Smiling Mermaids AU!✨

Charlie and Mipnessa got along swimmingly enough for two people who just met each other that day…unless, Charlie pondered, if they just-so happen to have already met! Charlie took note of how Mipnessa vaguely resembled the mystery person of whom he recalled rescuing him that morning…and while he wasn’t quite sure at first, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and potentially refresh her memory; He also had a string gut feeling that it wouldn’t be wise to potentially out her as one of the elusive merfolk out of politeness….if not being proven wrong and labeled as a silly-hearted daydream-believer. Charlie ran back to his quarters to swipe the green cloak that was left behind to gently fold it up, then he started rummaging through his closet for a perfectly-sized decorative shoebox to place inside of as a grandiose gesture to Mipnessa before running back to bequeath the gift. “Y’know I have a funny hunch that this is something you’d totally look great in.” The flattered Mipnessa giggled in response: “Showering me with gifts already? You must take a fancy to me.” Feeling overwhelmed with butterflies in his stomach, Charlie blushed with a nervous grin. Mipnessa opened the box and held up the cloak, while she admired the deep emerald green shade, she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what fabric was used for it or could she figure out why it smelled like the brine of clam chowder. “It’s beautiful, and it matches my dress way better than the shawl I’m wearing too.” Charlie replied with a fairly obvious double-meaning: “A match made in heaven.” as he held her hand and proposed: “Perfect for an atmospheric afternoon-to-evening stroll, lemme show you to the outskirts of the palace, the sunset views are amazing out there!”

Meanwhile, Alan had just caught up with the rest of the party as an eagerly-lovestruck Pim alongside a curious Glep followed Graham Nelly to the crisp shore nearby Prince Charlie’s castle. “I can’t wait to see his cute face again!” Pim squealed in delight while fidgeting his hands, Alan sternly reminded him with a business-like tone to mask his anxiety: “We’re here to fetch back your cloak, so that nobody could recognize you and drag you back to that toxic, discourse-infested mess of a palace; We also really shouldn’t stay up here for too long lest we want to be some crazed stowaway’s four-course meal.” Pim’s glee briefly turned into annoyance as he was tempted to roll his eyes at his paranoid friend’s repetitive jargon had it not been for the fact that unlike his family, Alan’s “survival mode”-demeanor was out of genuine concern and love rather than blind bigotry over land folk. When the group made it to their destination, they would come to find that much to their surprise, Charlie was indeed out-and-about, bringing an unexpected guest with him for a neat little walk by the sparkling sapphire waves. While the party of sea critters hid behind the conveniently large rock while observing the scene from a far, they all quickly took notice that the lady accompanying Charlie was wearing an accessory all too familiar to Pim, who shook his head in disbelief before taking another look to find that Charlie was clearly flirting with with her as well. While Alan started discussing a plan to swipe the cloak with Graham, Glep took notice how his buddy Pim was doing. “My cloak…” Pim quietly uttered while overwhelmed with a flurry of mixed emotions, flashing between shock, confusion, hurt feelings and jealously all boiling down into unbridled fury. Glep never saw Pim this angry since that time he was just a teenager and his sister Amy tore the lock on his diary and blurted out all his secrets, including who he was crushing on at the time. Something REALLY must have struck a cord with the usually understanding and compassionate mercritter…

Graham proposed: “We could, like, wrangle a bunch of dolphins together to create a huuuuge wave and splash it right on her so that Prince guy can offer to hang it up for her and when they leave we can snag it from a clothes line, concrete plan!” Alan argued in a snippy-yet-monotone inflection: “Yeah but there’s no clothes line anywhere near water, besides, it would take us all night to achieve that plan anyways.” Graham then got another bright idea: “I know JUST the thing, dude. I have in my collection and it’s this neat tool called a grappling hook! It’s what land folks use to retrieve items from far-away.“ Alan rolled his eyes with an exasperated yawn. “Oh really? Go off I guess.” Graham happily explained: “It’s this long-ass stick with a string attached and at the end of the string it’s a hook! and you toss it far enough and the hook catches-“ he was cut off by a loud, panicked gasp from the horrified Alan, who furiously chided Graham while using his claws as gestures to express his disgust: “You keep a literal weapon used for catching and eating our kind?!! What in Davy Jones’ locker is the matter with you?!” Graham casually shrugged, replying: “I’ve only ever seen something like this being used to catch fish only to throw them back, like they kept catching fish but it’s obvious that she was trying to retrieve something she lost down there.” Alan stood there dumbfounded with his left eye twitching for a few seconds, until he broke silence with a sigh with one claw on his face, “Look, It would just be easier for one of us to sneak up to that lady and quietly snag the cloak away from her.” Graham cheered: “That’s it!” Alan realized exactly what he had in mind and groaned: “Alright, I understand now that I have to put my big-boy shell on.” Glep piped up: “Eskewazebewaboyo!”, Pim’s face perked up at the suggestion. Graham agreed: “Hell yeah! They’ll be too distracted to notice Alan, they’ll be all like: Oh, where is that heavenly sound coming from? Ha! It’ll be a synch!” Alan gulped, “Well, here goes nothing.”

During the conversions Charlie ignited while subtly prying for clues, he had realized that Mipnessa wasn’t the mystery critter. First off, she knew how to swim but preferred to go sailing over swimming. Second she does sing but her voice was rather different from what he had in mind BUT she did play the lute well. Lastly and most glaringly obvious of all was that she had just embarked on Eustace’s ship at the same time the rescue took place and was still miles away from Gremblonia. That being said, Charlie was perfectly content with having Mipnessa as a bride, she may have not been an exotic dream girl but she was a charmingly meek and proper lady whose lute could harmonize well with his ocarina! “You know Mipnessa, I could take you sailing on our ship and go on one of my wild adventures out at sea, maybe we’ll take on a kraken or get into a gang fight with pirates.” Charlie proposed in a suave tone, in response Mipnessa sheepishly loosened up the green cloak ‘round her shoulders, replying: “…y’know, maybe I would like that.” for a brief moment that felt like forever, the two locked eyes and gazed at each other’s presence for what felt like forever. As the sunset started melting into nighttime, the most angelic voice made it’s way to the couple’s eardrums, snapping them out of their trance. Charlie started running around frantically looking for the sound as Mipnessa’s curiosity peaked, joining him as she didn’t pay any mind to Alan’s pincer clinging onto the cloak slipping off of her shoulders. Once the cloak was freed from Mipnessa’s grasp, Alan scurried back fast he could before they’d notice. Meanwhile back behind “home base”, Pim peaking behind as he vocalized his feelings with a warm, sweet a capella with a noticeable tang of seductive amour and just a hint of bitter jealousy; This was Pim’s subtly, classy way of saying out-loud: “That boy is MINE, you got nothing on me you basic bitch!!”. Just as Alan made it to just inches away from water, the lobster tripped on a pebble and got tangled up in the shawl and tried to wriggle his way out. Pim took notice, stopped what he was doing and immediately swam to the scene to finish the job.

Just then Mipnessa realized something was missing. “Oh dear, my cloak!” Charlie blushed upon seeing Mipnessa’s curvy frame accentuated by her sleeveless dress, but quickly snapped out of it. “D-don’t worry, it’s probably back where we left off.” Charlie stumbled back to where he and Mipnessa where viewing the sunset, what he discovered was more than just the cloak itself: it was none other than the mystery critter who rescued him, half-submerged in water while clad in a seashell bra, freeing what looked like a lobster that somehow got trapped inside before taking back what was rightfully theirs. Charlie stood there and froze in shock, asking himself if he was just seeing things or he was trapped in some sort of dream, as he rubbed his eyes in disbelief, the mystery critter already vanished. A tinge of guilt filled Charlie’s heart, as he wished he could have apologized for giving her cloak away, but his thoughts broke as Mipnessa was calling for him to return. Charlie ran back and tried to explain what happened but all that came out was nervous gibberish that Mipnessa initially assumed was Spammish, until he blurted: “Damn lobster made off with the cloak!!” while shaking his fist. Mipnessa giggled: “Duke Eustace was right, you are a washed-up mess of a boy!” Charlie once again froze, embarrassed, until she nudged him a with a smile and reassurance: “At least you’re not some stuck-up old prune.”

~ Damien (and the rest of the search party) spent two days looking for Pim with a nagging conscience, he swore to Neptune if he found his littlest sibling, he’d work hard on being a better brother overall. Ironically, he found a patch of sea flowers to rest upon for the night, just as he was about to lie down he saw a short, cloaked figure picking the flowers, presumably for herbal use. “Pimberly, is that you?!” All he got in response was the laughter belonging to an elderly-sounding sea critter. “Oh deary, I’m afraid I’m not the lost Princess, I’m just an old botanist making medicine.” Damien’s heart sank, his pink skin turning grey at the reveal. “But, I have seen Princess Pimberly ‘round these corners.” Damien’s eyes widened with relief, begging: “Please, tell me where!” The old wisenheimer gave a concerning hint: “I’ve seen the Princess swimming in-and-out of this grotto hauling a satchel full of the most WORTHLESS crap!” Damien pressed for more answers: “So, where is this grotto?”

🐚

Chapter 7 Coming August 9th

#smiling friends #the little smiling mermaid au #charpim #pimlie #pim pimling #charlie dompler #smiling friends mip #alan red #glep #smiling friends pim #smiling friends charlie #smiling friends glep #smiling friends alan #the little mermaid au #fanfic #fanfiction #adult swim

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theitgirlnetwork · 5 months ago

Text

Earn It

Ch. 8 : Put Me On A Feeling I've Never Had

Note: Yeahh my bad, I was not supposed to be gone so long. I am so thankful anyone still here, I still love this story, my life just started lifing again you guys. Thank you for the notes, reblogs, comments and messages. Thank you to those who created things in honor of my story. I love interacting with you guys and hearing thoughts (constructively, I'm sensitive). This one is pretty long and Art and Heaven centric, but the full gang will be around in the next chapter. Once again thank you for the love and I hope you're still rocking with me. I was a little rusty but we're getting back into it. Also...there's a nasty scene, MDNI. Grown folks...the song I feel like is playing in the background is Novacane by Frank Ocean. If you guys have any songs you feel like apply to any characters or relationships in my story, please share! Thanks, hope you enjoy! <3

Warnings: Cheating (fr this time y'all :(), explicit sexual content (MDNI!!!!!), small mention of disordered eating, and some strong language.

Translation: Tanti baci- Many kisses; la mia dolce piccolina - My sweet little girl

Taglist: @spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

2019 (California)

“Let’s go.” Tashi mumbles, tying the thick hotel robe around herself as she shuffles across the floor, forcing her lip not to curl as her scar peeks out from the heavy, white fabric.

Art releases a deep breath, rolling from his stomach onto his back, determinedly keeping his eyes shut. His large hands blindly feel across the painfully cool, silk, sheets. Painfully empty, silk sheets. The folds slip along his fingers as he feels for a body that’s not there, finally giving up and forcing his eyes open to push off of the soft mattress. It’s not like it was offering him any comfort anyway.

He pulls on a pair of shorts over his underwear before walking sluggishly to the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth as he hears the hotel door clicking open, knowing none of them belong to the two people that he wanted to see the most.

Like a zombie he stalks his way into the suite, the room filled with people Tashi hired in an effort to keep her machine oiled and running. Nutritionist, masseuse, physical therapist, assistant coach. All bustling around, shaking up the protein shake he was allowed to have in lieu of the real, delicious food that he could hear the rest of them murmuring about ordering.

Art falls into his routine on autopilot, letting his personal trainer stretch his legs as he lies on the floor, stretching his back with the resistance band. All under the scrutiny of Tashi’s watchful eye out of her peripheral vision, focus flickering between Art and the television. He clenches his jaw and tries to drown out the sound of what feels like the 50 thousandth reporter questioning if today’s match was going to be the one that pulls him from his losing streak.

Maybe they should get off their asses and try to see him on his court. Maybe then they wouldn’t feel so comfortable talking shit behind a desk and a camera while he was working his fucking ass off.

“Art, relax your shoulders. You’re tense.”

That earns him another glance from Tashi, lips pursed as she pops a strawberry into her mouth.

The blond corrects his form, releasing the air constricting his chest, letting his eyes slip up toward the ceiling in resignation.

After finishing his warm up stretches Art downs the protein shake, feet dragging lazily along as he stands in the kitchen trying to psych himself up for the day.

Donaldson has taken the win in several tournaments, even making his mark at Wimbledon, several grand slams-

That’s right, Shane. The only thing the player is missing is that elusive U.S. Open. Now, he was a fan favorite prior to a painful injury last spring, but has made a full recovery. And yet, he seems to be in some sort of slump, hopefully with the support of the new team hired by his coach he’ll be able to take the victory today in his match against DeMario-

Tashi slowly brings her gaze upward, raising her eyebrows at Art as he looks at her, dropping the plastic remote back onto the coffee table after muting the tv. Shrugging, she brings her coffee to her lips and sits back against the cushions, crossing her legs and facing the tv again.

Art’s lips part as he works up the courage to say what he’d wanted to say for the last few months…hell maybe years.

Before the words can come out, the door beeps again. The only other person with a key card clicks the door open and once again, the words get caught in Art’s throat, it’s too big of a risk.

“Daddy!”

The little voice has Art’s heart clenching, blue eyes softening immediately as dark curls and big brown eyes come bouncing toward him, he’s bending to catch the girl attempting to fly into his arms, only to be stopped short.

“Hold on baby-” there goes the other voice, the one that makes his heart speed up instead of clench. Heaven lifts the squealing girl, grunting as she hoists her onto her hip, nuzzling her nose into her cheek. “Gotta let Daddy get ready for work right?”

“But I want to play with him.” his little girl whines and he could weep.

“Oh, you will, la mia dolce piccolina. But first, Daddy’s gotta get ready to play some tennis, you remember why?”

“Because he’s the best tennis player in the world.” She squeals.

Heaven’s lips roll inward as she glances at Art then Tashi and then back to Art, whispering a quiet, “Yep.” Before walking over to the couch, lowering the little girl to Tashi, relishing in her giggles as she dangles her over the back so she can reach Tashi’s face, “Go on, tanti baci.”

Tashi smiles, accepting the uncoordinated kisses the child scatters all over her face, mumbling a thank you against her cheek before sending a meaningful look to Heaven, nodding her head in Art’s direction and turning back to the TV in front of her and turning the volume back up.

Art rolls his eyes, cocking his head back as Heaven makes her way over to him, the little girl squirming in her arms to smack her hands on her father’s cheeks. “Oh, is it my turn?”

“Yes!” She grins, cheeks dimpling in a way that makes him melt.

“Yes?” He cheeses back, blowing a raspberry into her hand and taking in each messy kiss his daughter plants on his skin. “Thank you, princess.” When his daughter releases Heaven adjusts her on her hip, a soft smile on her own face as she watches the interaction. Art stares down at her, watching the smallest of movements she gives him, her eyes flicking up to his and just as quickly turning away. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She says gently, finally giving him her eyes fully, pouty lips just begging for him to take them with his own.

Art brings his hand to her chin, tilting it up to guide her to meet him halfway, sighing in relief when her eyes flicker closed in anticipation of a kiss. He places his other hand over his daughter’s eyes with a breathy chuckle, inching closer to her lips only to be stopped short by the creek of someone jumping up from the couch.

“We need to get down to the courts.” Tashi calls, not looking up from her notebook, but clearly disapproving from the look he’d grown to know very well over these last few months.

Before Art can do anything, Heaven recoils, pulling back again, this time shuffling a couple steps away, ponytail bouncing behind her as she walks between Art and Tashi, not offering either of them so much as a glance. Her voice fades as she disappears towards the kids room in the suite, the last thing he hears is her murmuring into the little girl’s ear. “Should we check on sissy? Maybe we can all order some breakfast before we watch Daddy play.”

“Pancakes!”

“Pancakes? Pancakes are for big girls, are you a big girl who can walk on her own without running to get Daddy?”

“Yes, I am.”

“That’s good, mama, let’s get you some pancakes then.”

Art stares down the hallway, picking at the skin on his fingers as he tries to catch the rest of the conversation. Just a little bit more.

But he couldn’t have more, at least, not right now. He’d have to settle for this little bit he got. So, he scrubs his hand down his face, and grabs one of his shirts and follows Tashi out of the door, biting back a yawn.

“-and the pool.”

“And the pool? That seems like a lot of fun. I wonder when you’re going to practice your reading.” Heaven hums. She holds the door leading to the tennis courts, guiding the little girl through first before adjusting the two year old on her hip, following closely behind. “Don’t run, Aurora, walk to the seat please.”

Her heels clack as she walks along the gravel walkway, nuzzling her cheek against the toddler in her arms, offering a soft smile to the man who helps her up to the seats reserved for Team Donaldson. Slipping shades onto her face, Heaven ducks her head to hide away from the reporters, suddenly noticing her arrival and snapping some distant pictures before they decide to swarm her.

Tashi’s mother leans forward, kissing Heaven’s cheek, murmuring in her ear for her to pass her the baby to hold in the row behind her. Heaven crosses her legs, bouncing her knee nervously as she stares at the empty court. She bites her bottom lip until she tastes metal, and then takes to toying with the rings on her finger.

Today is a big deal.

The match is nothing serious. Just some young, new player who was probably absolutely pissing themselves because they’re going against the Art Donaldson. But Art’s been…struggling. She doesn’t know what’s causing it, this slump he’s in. They’ve been operating the same way for the past few years, but suddenly, it seems like Art’s checked out. It bothers her to watch him just go through the motions, like a little worker bee with no thoughts or ambition of his own. Heaven can’t stand how uninterested he seems in everything. Tashi seems to think it’s a confidence issue, at least that what she tells Heaven as she rolls her eyes and scrolls through his dropping stats. Art’s mother thinks that he needs to take another break.

Heaven doesn’t know what she thinks. What she does know, is that Art hasn’t been fucking winning. And when Art doesn’t win, none of them win.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Heaven jolts from her thoughts, turning to look up at a brunette lady, her hair pulled back into a probably once neat bun, mussed from rushing around, working the event. She adjusts her headset and looks down at Heaven with a smile. “Hi, yes?”

“Team Donaldson wants to see you in their waiting room.”

2007 (California: UCLA Campus)

Art claps as loud as he can as Heaven and the rest of the cast takes their bow. He watches her curtsy deeply with a pretty smile on her face, her chest rising and falling with effort. As she allows the male lead to take her hand and guide her off the stage, her gaze falls to Art, and she fixes him a strange look.

He knows he probably looks stupid. Art can almost feel how goofy the smile on his face is, but he can’t help it. 2 hours and 15 minutes. That’s how long he got to watch her. She came on and off of the stage but his eyes followed her the whole time. It felt like she was only on stage for 3 minutes. Time suspends while Heaven dances. Art watched her body contort, and her muscles stretch as she moved across the stage. He felt fucking privileged. Like he didn’t deserve that experience. He doesn’t know how Patrick and Tashi could pass up the opportunity to see her like this. The glow on her face as she tells a story with her form.

Art is startled by a soft nudge to his side, turning to see Heaven’s stepfather giving him a knowing grin. The blond coughs, finally and fully shaking the trance he’d been in and giving the older man his attention. “She’s…she’s amazing.”

“Believe me, I know, my daughter is the brightest star.” Luca pats Art roughly on the arm, his strong hand a stark contrast from his kind smile. “It seems like you know that too.”

Art feels his face heat, eyes briefly darting back toward the stage. “Yeah, I do.”

“And your friend, Patrick, does he know?”

If this was any other situation he’d cover for his best friend. Art would tell the older man that something happened. Make up some excuse, some lie as to why Patrick wasn’t here to support his girlfriend. But he didn’t have it in him.

Why should he? Why should he talk his way out of something good? If Patrick actually knew what he had he’d be here. Tashi he can excuse, she’s recovering. But even then, Art can’t think of anything on God’s green earth right now that would have been able to keep him from watching her like this. Or even just the chance to spend time with her.

"Heaven deserves...everything."

A few minutes pass before Heaven comes barrelling out, leaping into her stepfather’s arms like a little girl, her smile wide as she cuts their brief conversation about the other dancers Art missed while he was in his Heaven induced daze. The elder man grunts as he catches her, showering her in praise and presenting her with the Chanel gift bag before slipping into the conversation that her mother was unable to make it.

Art enjoyed the warmth of the moment. He basks in the joy on her face, and the hum of jealousy at the fact that he’s not the one causing it is manageable, remaining at a low thrum in his chest. When she finally turns to address him, he straightens, determined not to sound like a fanboy meeting his celebrity crush.

“Well?” Heaven cheeses up at him, clearly waiting for her ego to be stroked. She rocks on her feet, her hands clasped together behind her back. She’d loosened her hair out of the intricate style she’d performed with, but still stood before him in her final costume, looking like a princess who walked straight from a fairytale.

“Well…I’m gonna empty my bank account to get tickets for every other night, so-”

“Then I’ll expect to see you there. I’ll put on a good show” She says softly, pushing onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Heaven brings her lips to Art’s ear. “Thank you for coming.”

“Um,” Art’s voice cracks as he feels her press against him, not knowing how to embrace her in a way that wouldn’t give away the fact that she literally made him fall in love with her all over again moments before. He settles for rubbing her back, holding her a beat longer than what’s appropriate. He holds himself back from tightening his arms around her when she does pull away, opting to present her with the flowers he’d bought her instead. “I got you these. I saw they gave you some when you were taking your bow but…these ones are from me.”

Heaven bites her bottom lip glancing behind him and then back into his eyes. “Thank you, Art.”

“Yeah. You were beautiful, Hev.”

Luca’s eyes narrow as he looks between his stepdaughter and the young man he’d watched sitting on the edge of the fabric theater seat the entirety of the performance. He’d expected to be joined by Heaven’s boyfriend tonight. He’d heard from Tashi that she still was not feeling well and his wife made it abundantly clear that until Heaven was part of a company that she deemed professional, she would not be making the effort to attend a performance.

So when a young man came in looking like he was about to win the lottery, eyes glued to the stage before the performance even began, stars in his eyes and hands gripping the side of the seat, he thought this was him. The older man was relieved, really. He’d love for Heaven to be his baby forever. He’d never take for granted the day that he was taking his niece to the ballet to see Coppélia. She was briefly in town and he’d taken the night off work to take her out while his sister and brother-in-law got a break. He’d gotten the nicest seats in the house to show his niece a good time.

What Luca hadn’t expected was for a beautiful woman to tap him on the shoulder, her adorable little girl dressed like the doll in the ballet peeking out from behind her leg. The woman had all but demanded that he and his niece trade places with her and her daughter, offering to pay him after pointing out that his niece was asleep and not paying attention anyway.

He didn’t mind giving up the seat, in exchange for the beautiful woman’s number, and the bright smile on the little girl’s face. She was missing her front two teeth and was barely taller than her mother’s knee, but he watched them. He saw the little girl stare up at the dancers with wonder, sitting with her back straight, imitating their arm movements as the ballet went on. He watched her mother smile down at her, pointing out things the little girl might miss. It wasn’t long before he fell in love with the woman and her daughter, and soon, they were a family.

But now, the little girl who used to ask her stepdaddy to twirl and lift her like the big girls he took her to see was on stage where she belonged. And there was a boy. A man. Here, mesmerized by her. He watched the love in the boy’s eyes in real time.

The only problem was that he wasn’t him. He wasn’t the boy who was supposed to be here, on the edge of his seat, watching his little Stellina shine. No, he was a friend.

Maybe it wasn’t fair to be rooting for the boy in front of him when he hadn’t met the boyfriend. Maybe he owed him a chance to prove himself too. But one thing he and Beatrice had instilled in Heaven, trait that she and her Tashi share, is knowing you have to earn the things you want. Tonight is the first big night of many for Heaven. But, it was the first. She deserved support. As long as Luca was alive she would have it, but he’s not naive. He knows he won’t be enough anymore. And it all boils down to one thing. Art was here. Patrick was not.

So, if he invited Art to dinner, it was because he’d earned a seat.

“I could have been a pro, that’s all I’m saying.”

Utensils clang over the music and chatter of the restaurant Heaven and her dad had guided him to. Apparently, they went to it every time Mr. Whitlock visited Heaven at school. It’s an American Steakhouse and Brewery. Fancy enough that he couldn’t come in sweats, which Patrick would have hated. But not so fancy that they had to be all stiff and uncomfortable like at the restaurants his dad normally drags him to.

“Papino, please-” Heaven whines, dramatically dropping her head into her hands.

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Art.” The older man waves his hand, dismissing his daughter playfully. Leaning in conspiratorially to Art. “My daughter is closed minded, but she is not the only athlete in our family. If my football career would have taken off-”

“You see!” She points, sitting up pointing at her father. “Football” she mocks with a thick italian accent. “Ask him where he was born, Art.”

“It’s not about the birth place!”

The blond chuckles at the exchange, enjoying the banter between father and daughter. He wishes he and his dad had this. Jokes. Familiarity. Heaven softens around him. He remembers what she looked like around her mom. Tense. Nervous. Insecure. And around everyone else, it was like she held herself apart. She stays where its safe, next to Tashi, in their own world, keeping everyone else out. Just the two of them plotting their world domination together. Art often found himself feeling jealous, like he was on the outside begging to be invited in. But right now she’s open. Showing him things he;d never gotten to see from her before. “Where are you from Mr. Whitlock.”

“Luca.” The older man corrects, taking a sip of his water. “And italy-”

Art feels a foot brush his leg under the table and whips his head to look at Heaven, willing his face not to turn pink and for his dick not to get hard as her lips mouth to him ‘New York’.

“You see this? Arthur, when you have daughters, don’t spoil them, they’ll turn into brats, like my Heaven.”

“A brat? I’m not a spoiled brat. Art, am I spoiled?” she asks, leaning against his arm, fixing her big brown eyes at him.

Art could fucking melt.

“Don’t bat your eyelashes at him and confuse the boy, here” Luca reaches over and musses his daughter’s hair, earning a laugh and a whine that he’d pay if he messed it up. “Answer now.”

“Hev…”

“Art, no.” She pouts.

“I’m not gonna lie to your dad, you’re a princess, Hev, it’s just what you are. Pretty girls like you tend to get what they want.” He jokes, pinching her cheek. Heaven swats his hand away and crosses her arms, mumbling about them ganging up on her.

“Sorry,” A voice calls from beside the table. It’s their waitress, carrying the desserts they’d ordered. “I didn’t want to interrupt, your chocolate mousse, sir.” The waitress places Luca’s plate down in front of him and he naturally sighs as his daughter’s eyes automatically shift away from it to her glorified fruit cup. He wishes she’d let herself indulge, but he knows from experience. Heaven will not bend. Her discipline will not break. Even as she eyes Art’s strawberry cheesecake, a snack that happens to be her favorite.

The older man doesn’t know what he’s expecting but it’s certainly not what he sees. He watches the blond young man push the plate toward Heaven, and as he suspects, she pushes it back, the glass is pushed back and forth until the boy shrugs, placing his hands in his lap, as if declaring that if she didn’t have any, he wouldn’t either. Another thing his daughter hates. Waste.

Heaven rolls her eyes, scooping a small piece of the creamy dessert onto her spoon and taking it into her mouth, causing the boy to grin with victory. Victory that is short lived and replaced with flushed embarrassment when she grabs his chin, taking a much larger scoop and pushing it into his mouth with the same spoon. Luca can’t help but join his daughter in laughing as the boy sputters trying to swallow the hunk she fed him. But he also can’t help but notice her bringing his water to his lips, rubbing his back and thanking him for a piece of his cake. The cake that he didn’t touch again, the grimace he’s hiding clearly revealing that he doesn’t like strawberry cheesecake and that his decision may not have been a coincidence after all.

As they close out their meal, he thinks back on what he witnessed that night. Heaven’s beautiful dancing had definitely been the highlight. But as his daughter and the boy who had stars in his eyes as he looked at her spoke about everything and nothing he had a feeling that he was witnessing something even more rare.

And this would not be the last time he saw Art Donaldson.

“He likes you.” Heaven singsongs, strolling into the doorway as Art holds it open, following closely behind her. “My dad.”

“Thank God, I was worried about that.” Art breathes, letting her lead him to her dorm room door.

When she reaches her unit Heaven turns, leaning against the door and looking up at the blond man in front of her. “Why? Pressure’s not on you, it’s not like you’re my boyfriend.” Art just raises his eyebrows, nodding his head. “Too soon?”

“Uh, yeah,” he breathes, dropping his head slightly. “Pretty sure it’ll always be too soon.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He forces himself to ask her the question burning in his mind, looking at the floor. “Have you…have you heard from him?”

“No. But, I’m pretty sure I’m not the girlfriend he’s worried about losing.” She shrugs.

“He’s just…if…Patrick’s a fucking idiot, alright?” Art needs her to understand it’s not her. She’s not the problem. He would do anything for her to get the only issue is that Patrick isn’t right for her. He can’t handle her looking up at him with sad eyes like those. Her gorgeous rose petal lips should only ever be spread into a smile. Leaning his forehead to hers, Art lets his eyes slip closed in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna be a really shitty friend right now, so if you really don’t want to hear it, you should go in your dorm and I’ll drive back to school and kick myself for fucking up with you again.”

“Art, you promised-”

“You wouldn’t have to wonder if you were with me. I meant what I said. I’d be at every show, every rehearsal, fucking, I’ll sit in a room and watch you twirl for fun if you want me to. I want to make you happy.”

“Art, what do you want me to do?” she whines, literally stamping her foot on the carpet, still not moving, sharing his air.

“Let me show you how good it could be.”

“You want to sleep with me-”

“I’m in love with you.” he sighs. “I’d do anything. Let me show you.”

“You should stop saying that.” Heaven says wearily, running her hand through blond curls. “I’m starting to believe you.”

He sighs again, leaning into her hand and scanning her features intently, waiting and watching for a sign that this is going in his favor. He just wants to be with her. Take care of her. He’d be so good at it. She just has to let him try.

And then a miracle happens.

Art’s brain blows a fuse as he feels Heaven’s lips against his. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s tasted her. He wills himself to take it slow, but as her lips part for him he finds himself groaning and wrapping his arms around the backs of her thighs, hoisting her up against the door. Being with Heaven feels like being an addict getting a fix of their favorite drug. It’s euphoric. A high he can chase with all his might but the only thing that got him to true ecstasy what having her.

He’s almost scared of what making love with her would do to his psyche.

Patrick would call him a pussy for saying it that way. But that’s the only thing that he could conceive of calling what he was about to do. Or, the only thing he could say that would be applicable and not sacreligious.

Heaven gasps as the cool air of her room hits her as she grips Art’s shoulders to keep her balance as he carries her in. The sound of her keys hitting the floor is drowned out by her attempts at breathing steadily and what could only be described as whimpers coming from Art as he bites and sucks at her skin. She hadn’t expected him to be the type to like to leave marks. But here the usually gentle man was, manhandling her onto her champagne, silk bed set, head buried in her neck like a fucking vampire, large hands switching between shoving up her shirt and tugging down her pants.

She scrambles to pull at his shirt, squeaking out the word, “Off.” as his lips encase one of her nipples.

He listens immediately, reaching one hand back and whipping his own shirt off before kissing a wet trail down her body, kissing her hip bone, tucking a finger under her underwear. Art pauses then, waiting for confirmation that he could continue. He looks like a wounded puppy when Heaven sits up, legs effectively closing to him.

The somber look is immediately traded for one of shock and then pleasure when she guides him to sit in the bed, and climbs into his lap, her hand unzipping his shorts and pushing into his boxers. “Fuck, Heaven-”

“I figure, I should thank you. For showing up for me today,” she whispers into his ears, relishing in the noises he makes as one of his hands grips the blanket below them and the other buries into her hair. “and any other day since I met you. I do appreciate you, Art. You matter to me.”

Art’s desperate, lifting his hips each time her hand moves up, leaning into her as she whispers in her ear. “I…fuck it feels so good.”

“Yeah? Do I make you feel good? Is that why you wanna be with me so bad, handsome?” she hums, squeezing the tip and trying not to react to his tightened grip when she does.

“I wanna be with you because I…fucking oh fuck, I fucking love you.” he breathes, chest rising and falling, his abs flexing with effort. “Fuck, let me see your face.”

“But I wanna keep talking to you.” Heaven says, letting her lips brush the skin of his ear. “You’re attracted to me, Arthur. You want to fuck me. That’s all. S’okay.”

Art’s eyes squeeze closed and he pulls her even closer to him. “No, I love you. Even if I can’t fuck you.”

“Really?” She twists her wrist and changes the pressure in her grip.

“Unh, fuck, no I love you, but I need to fuck you.” He whines.

Art drags his hand from the back of her neck to cup her jaw, guiding Heaven to his lips. He kisses her deeply. She can’t describe it. But she feels it in her toes. She can feel the intensity. This wasn’t what she was used to. This kiss felt like something she’d never experienced before. It felt like begging. Like he was pleading with her to understand. He needed her to get what he means, what he feels. When he says anything he means anything. When he says he loves her he means it.

And for the first time, even in her own mind, Heaven acknowledged that she wanted him to know she felt the same way.

So when he pulls away to give her air, she chases his lips, capturing them again and getting another taste of the same intensity he’d given her before. “I really tried, you know. To stay away from you.”

“Don’t stay away from me, I need you.” He breathes against her lips, his own dragging along them as they refuse to take any more space from each other. Art nudges her nose with his softly, dropping his hands to her waist. “Heaven, please.”

“What do you want me to do, Art?” Heaven asks, pulling him from his pants. Her eyes locked on him. He’s blurry in her swimming vision, but she can see him build the courage to tell her what he needs from her, taking a deep breath.

“Tell me you love me too.” he says against her lips, holding her down against him, rocking her hips to set a pace with his hands. “Tell me, baby. Please.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I fuck I love you.”

“I love you. Again.” he groans, guiding her a little faster, sliding one hand down and tugging at her underwear again. This time she pushes up onto her knees, separated by his thighs, she helps him get the fabric off of her body as his gaze follows her upward, leaning his head back.

“Arthur.” she says sternly, cupping his cheeks with her hands, “I mean it.”

Art and Heaven share a gasp as she sinks down on him, his strong, calloused hands grip soft, muscled thighs as they share two pecks before pushing their foreheads together, both peering down to where they’re joined together, the only sounds in the room are the slow creaking of the bed and the pants passed between the pair.

Heaven had never felt so close to someone before. She’d never felt this good. All she could think about was Art. Art’s hands on her, squeezing her, pushing her hair out of her face, pressing his thumb into her cheek, encouraging her to open her eyes whenever they slip closed as she rises and falls above him.

Art’s eyes, that drink her completely. The perfect mix of blue and brown, glossy and locked on her. He always demands her eyes. He’s made it clear he loves when she looks at him, but the way Art looks at her…it’s like he worships her. It’s like he’s worried if he blinks she’d be gone. He makes her feel the most beautiful she ever has.

He’s beautiful. It distracts Heaven to look at him, beneath her, yet somehow demonstrating his strength. Holding her up, guiding her movements with his strong arms, veins running up the muscles that hold her. All while offering her the prettiest slurred moans.

“Fuck, Heaven, you feel so good.”

“So good, squeezin’ me, you need me baby?”

“He didn’t fuck you like he loved you, no one can. Only me, gorgeous. No one can love you like I can.”

“S’like I’m meant to be inside you.”

As Art’s thrusts grow harsher and deeper, they keep their slow pace. Heaven buries her head in his neck, letting him rock her as she cries into his skin. She feels the pressure building in her lower abdomen.

Art feels her tighten around him and suddenly he’s lucid. The squeeze pulls a cry from him before he’s turning his head to be in her ear. “You gonna cum, sweetheart?”

“Yeah” Heaven whimpers.

“Yeah? Fuck…I’m so glad, baby. Hold on okay?” He lifts her then, earning a squeal from Heaven as he rolls them so he’s above her, just barely hovering as he brackets her with his arms. Art leans down, placing his weight on her before pushing into her again, staring down at her face as she bites her lip, trying to silence her noises. “Please don’t. I fucking dream of those sounds, I wanna hear them. I earned them, I want to hear you.”

“Fuck, Art-”

“Fuck yes, baby, say my name.” He groans, dropping his head to her chest, pressing open mouthed kisses and littering hickeys along her breasts. “”Cum for me.” He pants against her damp skin.

Art has never heard anything more beautiful. He’d never felt anything fucking like it. In the few years he’s spent on this earth, he’d never experienced anything like feeling Heaven Whitlock cum around him. He almost feels sorry for the past version of himself that hadn’t been inside of her yet. If he had known…maybe it was best he didn’t know. He fell in love with her before any of this. Maybe that’s why it felt so good. Maybe it’s just Heaven. Maybe her parents knew what the fuck they were doing when they named her.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go back to being a person after this. How is he supposed to want to do anything else? He feels like a fucking junkie, worried about when he’d get his next fix. He needs to treat every kiss like it could be his last. Every touch. Every moan. Every thrust. He wants to live here. With her. In her.

It’s not even over. Art’s still fucking her right now and he’s praying to God that she won’t leave again. She can’t take this from him. She can’t take herself away from him. Her pretty face, crying out for him. Looking at him. Loving him. That’s right baby, eyes on me.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby.” He whines, kissing her deeply as he feels her wrap her legs around him, pulling her closer. “Fuck…I’m-” Art starts to panick, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s almost over. Then she’ll go. She’ll make him go. He wants to be close. Together. He needs more. More time. Please-

“It’s okay, I…feel- I want you to cum, Art.” She presses the sweetest kiss to his nose, wiping dampness from underneath his eyes that he didn’t even realize was there. “I love you.”

It’s the most innocent thing in the world. A little peck on his nose.

He’s never cum so hard in his life.

“I fucking love you.”

He basically fucking blacked out. She came again…with him. Art could die now, and he’d be fine. Somewhere in his mind he feels like what they just did altered his life. He knew he wanted Heaven. He knew that when he first saw her. He knew he loved Heaven, he found that out when he saw her dance. But this intensity he feels…he’d do anything for her. Anything she asked. Anything to make her smile. If she’d just stay.

And despite knowing her for only a couple of months, almost a year now, he knows exactly what she’s about to do. They’ve played this game before.

“So, um,” She clears her throat, rolling out from under him as he releases her, laying on his side and staring as she slips off of the silk sheets and reaches in her drawer, pulling out a white nightgown. Heaven wraps her arms around herself. Closing off. Covering up. “I’m…I’m on birth control so you don’t have to worry that you…”

“Came inside of you?” Art asks, a soft smile on his lips.

Heaven straightens, eyes narrowing. “Yes. That. And now I have to go pee.” She turns to leave for the bathroom, only to feel a large hand encase her wrist, tugging her back toward the bed.

“Are you really going to pee?”

“Yes, where else would I go?”

He tilts his head, still holding onto her, running his thumb over the back of her hand before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “You have a tendency to run-”

“I don’t run.”

“Hev, baby, you run. When we get close. We were really close just now.”

Heaven sighs, rolling her eyes before climbing back onto the bed, swinging her leg over Art to straddle him again, this time pulling the fabric of the blanket between them. She intertwines their hands that are not already clasped together, and Art lifts his knees for her to rest her back on. “You scare me.”

The blond man stares up at his lover with a confused look. As she sits perched prettily on his lap he can see she’s being earnest. The anxiousness on her face makes his heart hurt. All he could think is that he’d rather hurt himself than hurt her. She has nothing to fear. But he lies quietly. Letting her playfully pin his hands down with her own, leaning down to his face.

“I don’t get what you’re doing here.”

His brows furrow. “I’m earning you. Like you said.”

“That game is way over-” Heaven giggles, rolling her eyes. “What happens if you get me and you figure out I’m not worth it.

“That’s not possible. We both know that, Hev. You’re everything. You’re perfect.”

She shakes her head at that, nuzzling his nose again. “Fucking tennis players, man. Toxic ass bunch.” Heaven huffs at herself, shaking her head. “Just can’t leave ‘em alone. You know, Tashi gave me her blessing to hook up with you? Told me to get you out of my system already.”

Oh.

“Oh.” He steels himself, letting her weight above him be his anchor. He commits this feeling to memory. Just in case she’s about to say this was a fluke. In case this really didn’t mean what it meant to him to her. “Did it work?”

“I just told you I loved you and let you nut in me Arthur.” Heaven deadpans.

“I know it was awesome.” He smiles goofily, lifting their joint hands and nudging her dimple with his knuckle.

“Oh, was it awesome?” she mocks, leaning down and biting his cheek lightly, giggling as he finally stops indulging her and rolls her to lay in front of him, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I actually do need to pee.”

“You sure?” he mumbles against her cheek.

“U-T-I.” she hums, patting his head before pushing up, his arms allow her to move this time. Heaven smiles flirtily at him before slipping out of the door.

Art lies back on her bed and smiles to himself. She’s right. She did say she loved him. He’s never felt more alive than he does right now. Everything about this felt so right and real. Things were how they should be. Art with Heaven. Heaven with Art.

It was like he was high. Nothing could take it away from him. This moment was perfect. They were in love, and happy and nothing would pierce this bubble they’d created.

Except that damn buzzing.

Art tells himself he thought it could be his or her phone.

They’re both discarded on the floor. It could be anything. An emergency. With her parents. His. Tashi. Anything.

He tells himself he didn’t even consider it could be Patrick texting her. And when his jaw clenches, and he runs his hands through his own hair hastily before opening the texts, he tells himself that he saw his best friend’s name and wanted to make sure he was okay. And that he showed great restraint when he chose to delete the message he sent Heaven, claiming to miss her and expressing the need to talk. He could’ve thrown the fucking thing against the wall. He could’ve sent the motherfucker a picture of himself in her bed. Instead he protected her feelings.

And sure. He felt guilty. There was definitely a weight on his chest as he placed the phone perfectly back on the floor where it was and climbed back on the bed.

But Art can admit, it definitely got lighter when Heaven came tiptoeing back into the room, smiling at him, for him, lifting his arm so she could lay with her back to his chest. Twisting her body to kiss him and promising to talk to Tashi.

And it for fucking sure went away when she bid him goodnight. “Goodnight…I love you.”

It’s time he and Patrick take some space anyway.

“I love you too.”

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