#it's not expected that the kid is going to be having *sex* at those ages. it's about 'setting them up for the future' and letting them

[thespacesay]

ID: a tweet by @theLiamNissan from 26 Jun 23.

Republicans will tell you "the gays are coming for your children" and then immediately turn around and pass a law making it legal to marry 13 year old girls in Kentucky.

/ end ID

Republicans demand trauma and abuse.

[fushitoru]

all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

[joeloverture]

deadfall | enemy!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine

pairing: dad’s enemy!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel miller, rival raiders with your father, is the last person you expect to save you from the group that captured you. he’s also the last person you expect to sleep with. [post outbreak] warnings: (mdni) canon typical violence (stalkers, mentions of death), porn with plot, game or tv joel, reader born before the outbreak, reader has a present/loving father figure (HAH), alternate universe — joel never went to boston, implied age gap but how big is up to you, self indulgent humor, quicksand, explicit smut, reader is a biiiit of a peeping tom, close proximity, only one bed, (brief) accidental somnophilia so dubcon, dry humping, degradation, humiliation, mirror sex, unprotected piv (he’s snipped dw), doggy style, manhandling (he fucks you in a headlock), mild breath play & choking, brief hair pulling (reader has hair!), scratching/biting, brief orgasm denial, hatefuck [no use of y/n] word count: 9.5k author's note: pwplot! a joeloverture first. also my first foray into somno! and post!ob joel! lots of firsts here. special thanks to @joelsdagger for taking a glimpse at this for me (and for being the PIONEER that forged joel fucking in a headlock) and @lovesickonmybed for being the best sounding board ever. i hope y'all like this one, i sure do.

There are no infected in the swamp — not this far out. They prefer the slant of buildings or the maw of split pavement. Blood-bloated leeches and black-trunked cypresses aren’t their domain.

You can’t say you blame them. One day in, and you’re already sick of this shit.

A few gnats have flown up your nostrils as you wade through the ankle-deep sludge. Mist curls at the edges of your vision. Your feet keep slipping on the slime covered stones that are half-submerged in the deep. Sweat crystallizes on your nape as your toe catches on a downed branch.

Before you faceplant in the sludge below, a burly hand snags your collar and hauls you up. “You always this much of a klutz?” It’s the first few words he’s said to you in hours.

A scowl buckles your lips. You shove Joel Miller’s arm off your back, splashing up scummy water as you step over the branch this time. You say nothing — don’t even dignify him with a passing glance.

“You’re a real peach, ain’t ya?” Joel says. When he takes his next step, water splashes at the backs of your calves. “Save your ass and this is the thanks I get.”

Joel Miller doesn’t want thanks. Up until he accidentally burnt his thumb with boiling hot coffee yesterday, you’d been convinced he didn’t feel anything at all. As long as his pulse is woven between bullets and stab wounds, he doesn’t give a damn what happens to those around him. His heart, much like the rest of the people at the end of the world, is calcified. Only beating out of necessity.

You’re silent as you footslog forward. The slurp of mud stretches between your shoe and the ground. Your pack jostles against your back. The ache in your bones has proven to be a better company than Joel – at least that is tolerable.

A deadfall lays flat ahead, a tree with cambered branches that droop with moss. Joel cups a hand over his eyes to block out the sun and squints past.

You go to walk past him, around the deadfall.

“Nuh uh,” Joel tugs you back by the scruff. You grunt. “‘S deeper out there. I’d sure like to see you get swallowed up by a gator, but that doesn’t work for me, kid.”

It sure works for you. If you see one of their bumpy snouts protruding out of the water, you’re using him as bait.

You don’t say that, though. Just hitch your foot up over one of the branches in the tree and start to haul yourself up. It’s a nagging ordeal – full of hissing through your teeth and feeling wood tear small cuts into your skin. Your hand tangles in an unoccupied spiderweb before you toss yourself through the other side of the bramble. Water sluices around you as you right yourself, rubbing a bead of blood from one of your knuckles.

Joel’s quick to follow, even quicker to take front again. You’ve learned he likes being ahead of you — unless you’re climbing a ledge or a fallen oak.

The hours wear on. You refuse to be the first to call it for the day. Even when you get stinging salt water into your open cuts, you grin and bear it. When the sun lounges on the chaise of the tree-sketch horizon, he drops his pack on an island of mulch that’s nestled in a grove of dead vegetation. 

You slump down next to him, rifling through your pack for a bite of jerky. Joel’s knees pop. He grunts as he slips down into the dirt and unrolls his sleeping bag. He rolls over, facing away from you. Hand wrapped around his gun like it’s a lover. 

When you do the same, it’s with a barbed insult on your tongue that’s better left unspoken.

At the end of the world, everything is ruleless. But you grew up with exactly one rule: don’t talk about Joel Miller.

You hadn’t been expecting him to kill you.

The Cockroaches, the lesser raider group in Northeast Texas, had captured you. Apparently your dad had some unpaid debts, and in taking you as leverage, they’d intended to get close to him. All they got were bullets in their heads.

You’d sighed in relief when the hatch to your basement confinement had finally opened. A spillage of sun sliced down through the opening, and you were expecting the familiar warmth of your father, an apology, and reassurance that he wouldn’t let them take you again.

Instead, you got Joel. With his hulking gun, broad figure that blocked out the sun, and the scowl that would be the last thing you’d ever see.

You had fumbled against the post you were tied to, feet scrabbling against the floor. You’d winced away when he raised his knife. “Don’t–”

…And cut into your restraints.

You’d rubbed the chafing from your wrists and stared at him, nebulous and delirious. “Get the fuck away from me,” you’d croaked.

“They touch you?” he’d asked. You’d shaken your head. “Hurt ya?” Another shake.

“Good. Now get up and get ready to haul ass.” He turned around, but not before throwing his knife to the ground next to you. The clatter it made against the concrete made your ears ring.

You grabbed the knife.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask him. They’re the only words you’ve spoken since you’d seen him in the cellar. 

“I ain’t,” he says. His voice is gruff. Sandpapery. 

“Looks like helping,” you say, nodding at the pack he’d given you. He’d come out prepared. To get you.

“Your daddy ain’t the only one with debts,” he says.

You stop, booted feet sinking into the mud. Shit. “So that’s what this is. You take me away just to hand me off to some other shitty group?”

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. He turns around, already mid-stride.

You yank his knife out of your pocket and dive at him.

“Hey, hey, fuck – you little brat,” he spats. He goes off balance before he twists around. You corral him against a tree, leg hitching around his waist as you knee at his thighs, aiming for his crotch. His spittle sprays your cheek as he grunts. His fist wraps around your hand, and the knife splats into the mud. His booted heel slips and he goes sliding back as he shoves you away, hard. You cough as you slam into a tree trunk. The knot that swells out of the bark digs into your head. You drag a branch up off the ground, pushing yourself off the tree as you heft it.

Before you grab it, he slaps you. Hard. Your head goes spinning as you stumble back into the muck. He jams his boot down against your chest, mud smearing across your tank top. “I gotta tie you up, or you gonna fuckin’ listen to me?”

You reach up to grab his ankle, and he just stomps harder against your chest. You wheeze, flopping back in the sludge. “B-bastard,” you hiss.

“Yeah, yeah, shut the hell up. ‘S your dad’s shitty group I’m talkin’ about.”

You give him an incredulous look.

“Your old man ain’t the only one with a coupla debts under his belt.”

“You’re shitting me,” you say. Voice squished in your throat from his tread against your chest.

He shakes his head and finally lets his boot up. You suck in a breath, another cough rattling your ribcage. “Quit being all uppity and pickin’ fights ya can’t win if you wanna learn, dumbass.”

“Why didn’t he just come get me himself?” you grit out as you lean back against a log. You use it to lift yourself, legs feeling gelatinous from being shoved about.

“You didn’t see? Cockroach shot ‘im in the leg.” Your lips tremble, but you straighten them. “He’s fine.”

You scowl. “And you didn’t tell me this sooner?” You march forward. Your arms cross solidly over your chest.

“Figured you wouldn’t take it well.” He looks you up and down. “And I was right.”

You curse under your breath. Dip to grab your knife. Toss it in your hand while you think. You don’t flinch when it slightly nicks your thumb — it’s hardly a poke with all of the scraping you’ve been doing through undergrowth — but Joel smirks. 

He sees you as juvenile. The product of a world that you haven’t earned the right to be in, always cowering behind your dad’s back. 

You’ll prove him wrong.

“How far are we from the nearest city?” you ask. You want to go home. Your arms ache not just from swinging at your side or lifting you up toppled trees, but to wrap around your father. Your bones protest at the thought of being in your skin. Your tank top sticks to your flesh with mud and the parasites that squirm in it.

“I’m not a goddamn fortune teller,” Joel says. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Then we better get moving.” You readjust your pack and jostle him as you march on.

Three days later, and there’s no end in sight to the swamp. Whatever towns you’ve encountered are home to only a derelict gas station and ransacked mom-and-pop stores. They’re no place for pit stops.

You (reluctantly) stay close to Joel, who you’re lucky to hear so much as a murmur out of. Most of the time, he’s redirecting you, tugging you out of the way of half-decade old hunter’s traps or reminding you not to go too far.

“The world isn’t gonna end if I step out of your imaginary line, Joel,” you say. You test your foot on the side of the bank you’re walking on. Nothing happens.

“Ki–” Joel says, brows crunched up.

“See? Fine.” You press more of your weight into the ground. He reaches for you, but your body tilts.

Your foot is sinking.

“You’re a fuckin’ pain in my ass,” Joel says. He pinches his nose bridge. “Shoulda left ya down there.”

You glare at him, bending yourself at the waist so you can try to wiggle yourself with your upper body strength. Your free knee is propped up on the squishy ground. You grunt, palms slipping against the oily, grass-filled mud. “I got it,” you rasp out as he crouches in front of you.

“Uh huh,” he says, frowning pointedly.

“I got it.” You slap his hand away and thresh your leg in the sand. It barely even wiggles. “Fuck.” You strain your leg, huffing and puffing. Dirt fixes itself under your nails.

Joel wraps his arms under your shoulders and you flail in protest. “I said I can handle it!” Instead of listening to you, he tugs at you like pulling a toy from a dog. You keep windmilling your arms.

“Quit thrashin’!” Joel yells. “Any harder and you’re gonna drag me in with you.”

Your face is too close to his. Too close for the uncomfortable heat. His humid breath fans against your sweat-slippery cheek as he groans. Your foot loosens. You prop your calf up on his thigh as he wrests you out of the quicksand. You’re chest-to-chest with him as you tip over the muck, dropping flat against him. “Mmph.”

Joel shoves you off of him, and you fall on your ass in the mud. By all odds, your boot has remained strapped to your foot. He’s already up and moving when he says, “Jesus Christ, you are just like your fuckin’ dad.”

The mud still caked into your shirt has started to flake by the time you reach a city called Monroe. Just off of I-20, you and Joel trek further into what you imagine must’ve been a medium-sized city during its heyday.

You’re bone-weary. Your back keeps popping with every step with how you keep having to sleep on the ground. You’d be thankful for even a mattress of moss — but luckily, you won’t have to settle. Sunset is nearing, which means you can see the blue water (imagine that, blue water) tainted pink and orange below. Houses and the city clocktower reflect into the gentle pull and ebb of the tide.

Joel nods at a half-bent blue roadway sign. “YMCA up ahead,” he says. He wipes the sweat off his brow and clutches his gun closer to his side. “Stay close.”

You keep your hand around the grip of your knife, following him into the city.

It’s quiet as you navigate through a labyrinth of abandoned, rust-gutted cars. At one point, you manage to slip ahead of him, and he allows it for long enough (fifteen seconds) that you opt to take a shortcut through a parking garage. You climb over the edge and dip inside, feet scraping over roots that have grown between concrete slabs. The shade is a brief respite from the scorching sun, but the humidity still wrings the sweat from your pores.

Joel slips ahead of you again, taking long, dragging strides that look as exhausted as you feel. Four days of hiking through swamp and gunk and slapping mosquitoes against your skin has made you grateful to just be walking on solid ground again. Joel steps past a busted, sticker-covered van.

A streak flickers against the dark canopy of the garage. “Infected!” you shout, but Joel falls back on his ass.

His gun flies out of his hand and skids across the concrete. He grunts, shuffling backward, but the stalker’s already on him, its mouth sewn partially shut by fungi. It croaks and slashes at him, blind left eye battering and twitching. Joel throws a hooked punch, but the stalker takes the opportunity to grapple him, snarling in his face.

He’s going to get bit.

You launch forward, knife in-hand. You fling yourself into a tumble with the stalker, legs strewn over Joel’s. Adrenaline plummets through your body. You stomp on its shin and it shrieks. The knife almost slips from your grip as you start to stab blindly. You thrust the blade up through its eye socket.

The thing cackles and caws, its vocal chords clacking with mold and rot. Rusted blood trickles from its nose and down your wrist as you twist the blade further until you meet bone and then whatever is left of a brain is beyond it. You cringe as you drag the knife out and wipe it across your pants. It slumps back in a mound and then falls over.

Your chest heaves as you look between Joel and the stalker. His hands are scraped up as he grabs his gun.

You extend him a hand. He seems to think about it for a second before latching onto you and letting you help him up. He grunts in acknowledgment. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

This YMCA in particular isn’t like the others you’ve stopped at with your dad. Instead of glass windows and tin roofs, it’s brick and mortar. You and Joel climb in through the window, and you almost sob in relief when you see at least a dozen oversized yoga mats. That’s a suitable homemade mattress, you think. 

There’s a basketball court whose court has been warped and fossilized by the leaks in the roof. A peek of sunset dives in through a hole, lighting up the western side of the room. You expect the pool room to still smell of chlorine. It’s a little weird when it doesn’t even though the pool’s been drained for years, you imagine. From there, you two reach the showers.

Before you let yourself get excited, Joel fiddles with the knobs. Water sprays out of it. “Still hot,” he says, absorbed in the droplets that are spraying his hand. He turns it off.

“Fuck it,” you say, tearing your tank top over your head.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Joel says, turning to face the wall.

“You aren’t the one who’s covered in mud!”

“Yeah, you’re right, I ain’t the one who went jumpin’ into quicksand. I also ain’t the one who deserved an ass whooping.”

You glare at his shoulder blades as you unzip your jeans, fumbling out of them. They’re nearly crunchy with the amount of mud you’ve been traipsing through. “They did charity drives at these things, right?” You never really went to any YMCAs before the world went to shit. “Maybe they’ve got clean clothes.”

“Maybe,” Joel says. “Maybe you shoulda thought about that before you turned this place into a strip club.” You roll your eyes and hook your bra on the shower curtain, followed by your panties.

“I didn’t know you were a prude, Miller,” you say.

He bristles at the accusation. “Maybe I should get an eyeful. Being ‘round you is like wishin’ the Lord would strike me down.”

You laugh. Joel made you laugh. First (and only) time, probably. 

“Yeah, right, you’d get struck down for something a whole lot worse before he started getting mad at you for peeping.”

You fiddle with the shower curtain and step in. There’s old body wash in an automatic dispenser on the wall. It doesn’t work, but it’s easy to wrangle open and squeeze the pouch into your hand. The grout is odd under your bare feet, but quickly becomes familiar as you twist the lever. Water spits down at you, and a satisfied sound leaves you. “Fuuuck,” you sigh. “This is nice.”

Joel clears his throat. “I’m gonna go look for clothes. And deodorant.”

“You should shower too,” you say instead.

You can almost hear the face he makes.

“God, don’t be so much of a Holy Joe, Joel. It’s practical. This water isn’t going to last that damn long, and I am not taking a cold shower when the hot stuff is all right here.”

“You’re a real pain in the ass,” he says like he hasn’t already told you.

Eventually, you hear his belt unbuckle.

He strips down a lot quicker than you. Habit, maybe, you think. His jeans slump against the floor, and then he’s in the shower. You hear the other faucet come on as the water warms against your skin. You sigh, lathering yourself with the Dollar General body wash. It forms iridescent bubbles along your body, and it smells faintly like artificial strawberries. You wonder if it ever used to smell stronger than this.

There’s a slit in Joel’s shower that exists between the curtain and the wall. You should look away, but you shouldn’t have plunged your foot into quicksand, either. There’s many things you shouldn’t do that you take it upon yourself to do anyway.

So you watch the dirty water cascade down his sharp, scarred shoulder. You eye how the gnarl of his bone adjusts as he lathers himself with soapsuds. He stretches to get his hair and his bicep tenses with the movement. He’s built, and built well. From years of survival, trekking through swamps not so different from these, and aiming guns in places he wanted to and places he didn’t. The way the sun flits through the rectangular windows makes him look golden.

You imagine how it’d feel to walk up behind him, to massage the knots out of his sore muscles. You don’t even notice it, but your hands are traveling your own body now, fingertips going to pluck at your pebbled nipples. He’d been rough when tussling with you in the swamp. Would he be rough with you in bed, too? In your mind, you run soft, open-mouthed kisses down his back, reaching your hand between his legs to wrap around his—

A clanging noise stops your hand in its tracks. You drop it limp at your side. A wave of revulsion crawls like insects up your back.

“Shit!” Joel says, fumbling around in his shower stall.

The plastic body wash dispenser goes sliding out under the curtain, foamy with soapsuds.

You can’t help it. You snort. And eventually, your snort becomes full-fledged laughter, breaking the seam of your lips as you lean against the wall of the shower.

“Shut up,” he says, but you hear the tinge of a chuckle embedded between his vowels. You hear his half-huff of laughter before you force yourself to stop giggling.

You two stay under the shower streams until the water runs cold and bitter and all of the mud that had banded around your limbs is congealed in the drain. 

You leave the showers first, roaming around until you find a discarded cardboard box that’s brimming with clothes in your size. There’s jeans that should do well in the elements and another tank top suited for the crushing heat. 

When you’re dressed, you call out to Joel that you’ll be in the yoga room. You spend the down time arranging the yoga mats into two separate mattresses. Joel’s feet will hang off a bit, but you imagine it’ll be better than sleeping on the floor.

Footsteps scrape from the doorway, and your head snaps up.

Joel Miller cleans up nice, it seems. He’s kept his boots, but apart from that, looks like a completely different person; his jeans now hug his hips tighter, his raggedy tee from earlier has been replaced with a form-fitting ribbed tank top. Any traces of mud, sweat, or gunk have been washed off his skin and down the drain. His hair hangs in wet stripes, sticking to his crinkled forehead.

You haven’t realized you’ve zone out until he’s waving a calloused hand in front of your face. “Hey, peach, anyone home?”

You clear your throat and replace it with a scowl. “Don’t call me that.” It’s deflection, and you know it. You think he knows it, too.

He gives you a funny look. “Uh huh,” he says. He taps his fingers along his hip bone. “Well, what the fuck are ya doin’?”

You furrow your brows at him. “Setting up camp…?”

“This is a shit camp to set up,” he says. “Stalkers in the parking garage, city I ain’t ever been in before? No, we need a vantage point.”

“And I assume you have one in mind?” you ask.

“Yeah, I do. ‘S a hotel, ‘lil further into town. Got three floors, we probably can block the stairwell from the inside to keep any raiders out.”

You nod and heft your backpack over your shoulder. It’s bulging from the extra clothes you’d stuffed into the bottom, and your arms are sore from the wrangling you’d given it after the collar of one of your new shirts jammed the zipper. 

Joel turns to stand guard at the door while you collect your stuff. You can’t seem to focus much on that, though, not with his ass practically at your eye level. The tighter denim definitely does him favors. You swallow the newfound lump in your throat and stuff your water flash into the side of your pack.

It has to be the lack of human connection. It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen anyone other than your captors, and the majority of this week since you’ve seen anyone other than Joel. Joel, who with every word, breath, movement, flinch, gets a rise out of you. Joel, who stirs the pot with you at every chance he gets. Joel, who almost certainly looks at you and sees a reflection of your father whom he hates.

He’d said so, early on.

This isn’t only one-sided. It’s a living, breathing disaster.

“‘S a hotel’ my ass, Joel, this place looks like a loaf of moldy bread.”

Joel insists on staying on the third floor. Says that the second floor is ‘too low’ and that being on the third floor poses a good choke point for any raiders or infected who might stumble upon your camp. He wants to ‘bottleneck’ any intruders, whatever the fuck that means.

The issue with the third floor? There’s mold. Everywhere. In the days after the outbreak, a leak must’ve happened somewhere in the pipes that bled through the ceiling and all over the top floor. None of the rooms you’ve checked have been left unscathed so far. It’s embedded into the rugs, the walls, the ceiling, all of it. At least it’s a good deterrent for the people that pass through. The infected, however? You have a feeling they’d be just at home.

“Would you shut the fuck up?” he says through his teeth. He pinches his nose bridge – he does that a lot, or maybe you just stress him out a lot – and glares at you.

“No, Joel. I’m fucking exhausted,” you hiss. “I’ve been roughing it with you all week, all you do is give me shit. The only thing this voyage of ours has taught me is that my dad has perfectly ample reason to hate your guts.” You’re closer to him now, knocking him back with your fist to your chest.

“Quit bein’ cute,” he scowls. “I’m the only reason your ass isn’t eyeball-deep in quicksand.”

“Yeah, and you’d be stalker food without me. So I guess we’re even, aren’t we, Joel?” You shove past him. “I’m just a way for you to pay off your stupid ‘debts’ anyway,” you mutter under your breath. He wasn’t protecting you, pulling you out of that damn pit. He was saving his own skin.

The hotel room door at the end of the hallway is slightly ajar. You lift your knife just in case, and step inside. 

It’s lacking the mold that the rest of the rooms have. People have definitely stayed in here before, what with the rumpled blankets left on the bed and a flashlight situated upright on the dresser. The thick layer of dust on the flashlight tells you that they never came back.

The room itself is satisfactory enough. Beige, almost green walls, close in at all sides. A cloudy mirror is hung by the window. Moonlight stipples the room. There’s a busted, corded phone on the nightstand that’s propped up on a Bible, a shattered nightlight, and a small table. You toss your pack onto the quilted bedspread and collapse onto the mattress. For an old, creaking thing with a busted spring or two, it’s still the most comfortable thing you think you’ve ever felt in your life. You sigh in relief and nuzzle into the pillow.

Joel clears his throat from the doorway.

“Find your own room, dipshit,” you say, nudging your pack off your bed with your knee. It thunks against the floor.

“I don’t think so.” He crosses his arms.

“I’m not sharing with you. You snore.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do.”

You don’t have to look up to know he’s doing that thing where he pinches his nose bridge again. “You’re a fuckin’ piece ‘a work, kid, you know that?” You hear his pack drop against the ground. He drags a chair across the room and you cringe at how it squeals against the floor until he jams it under the doorknob. Then, the mattress dips.

You look at him sideways. “Get off my bed.”

“‘Your’ bed? You just discovered it two seconds ago.”

“Finders keepers.”

“Well I’m takin’ it from you. Losers weepers.”

You grit your teeth so hard you hear the bone scraping bone in your ears. 

“That’s now how this works–”

“We’re even now. You don’t wanna owe me one, and I sure as hell don’t wanna owe you one. So roll your ass over, act like an adult, and go to bed.”

You grouse under your breath, but with Joel, you have to pick and choose your battles. So you roll back over and wiggle yourself under the quilt, tucking your face into the musty pillow underneath you.

You sit in silence for a couple of minutes, staring at how the moon spills milky light along the alabaster ceiling. Then, you roll over again, stretching out the knicks in your back. Despite being the comfiest you’ve been in days, you’re feeling restless. You know Joel wouldn’t hurt you in any substantial way – you’re a bargaining chip to him. Nothing less, and certainly not anything more.

In spite of that, you find yourself drifting off with your face to him.

When Joel first wakes up, he thinks a clicker’s gnawing at his leg

Blinking the crust from his eyes, he realizes nothing’s gnawing on him at all. 

Rather, it’s you.

In your sleep, you’ve thrown your leg over his thigh. Your crotch is angled up against the bulk of his leg, a furnace that sears him through his jeans. Your head has dipped, forehead overheated and angled against the crux of his neck. If it were just that, he’d roll you over (maybe hard enough for you to crash on the floor) and hog the blankets for himself.

But you’re thrusting your fucking hips into him, letting out sleepy little whimpers while you fuck yourself on his leg. That explains why you’ve been acting dumber than a box of rocks. He oughta tan your hide for this. Bitching at him all week and really, you just need to get dicked down. Ironic, ain’t it.

He should still shove you off the bed. Call you a whore and leave you to rub your pussy raw in the bathroom instead of on his leg.

You give a particularly hard thrust, a keening little sound catching in the netting of your teeth. He swears you’re soaking through the denim.

He bites his tongue. The moonlight accentuates your closed eyes, your lashes fan out across your cheeks, there’s a cute little pinch in your lips as you unwittingly try to muffle the sounds coming out of you.

He can’t help himself. He raises his knuckles to your cheek and taps, taps, taps at the bone until your eyes startle open.

When you first wake up, you think you’re dying.

There’s a shortness of breath in your lungs. You feel like you’re being burned alive, your skin hot to the touch. You’re mummified in the crusty, flaky hotel sheets. Each intake of breath is musty and clings to your nostrils. You’re throbbing. Between the legs and elsewhere. Confusion puckers your brows. There’s slick between your legs — and Joel’s leg between your legs.

You tear away from him, making a disgruntled noise as the sheets tangle around your legs. His hand is raised to your face. There’s a moment where all you register is the judgmental squint in his dark eyes.

“What the fuck– you pervert,” you hiss, slapping him across the chest. A queasiness squiggles in your stomach as you inch your way back.

“Oh, no, peach. That was all you,” he drawls. He wraps his thick hand around your hipbone and pulls you back. You kick him in the shin, but there’s no real force behind it.

“Y-you’re lying,” you snarl. But a brief look at his lap tells you he’s not. He’s barely touting a semi, yet you’ve got the entire Mississippi River in your YMCA-issued panties.

Joel shakes his head at you. “‘S why you been actin’ up, you little shit? Just needed to get fucked?” He grips your hip so hard that it stings and hauls you against him. You tell yourself that the moan you let out is more of a hiss.

“I don’t– you’re making shit up, old man,” you say, squirming in his grip. You can’t help the way your hips sway at the tease of friction his knee gives you. You feel lightheaded, a freshly kindled bonfire.

“Am I?” Another squeeze to your hip. “Don’t look like it.” He notches his knee tighter against your swollen cunt, and your head dips forward as you bite into your lower lip. “Look’s like I’ve got a ‘lil slut more worked up than a hornets’ nest that spent all night rubbing her needy fuckin’ pussy on my leg.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine.

“Jus’ say the word, peach. I’ll do ya real good. Make that ache go away.” He rubs his thumb in a circle along your skin. The calloused pad of his thumb slips underneath the hem of your tank top, a lit match dragging along your skin.

“I don’t think you have it in you, Miller,” you say. But your voice gives you away. It’s breathy, coarsened by your sleep-stained, lust-stained rasp.

“Yeah? Well I didn’t think you had it in you to be humpin’ this ‘old man’s’ leg, but ya learn something new everyday.” He doesn’t grind his knee into your cunt — more so wedges it up. Pain blurs a watercolor line with pleasure as your back arches. His hand drifts from your midriff to your thigh, arm hooking around it so he can heft you up against his thigh proper. You grunt as you end up chest to chest with him. Your hips rock into his, guided by the North Star of his hands clutching at your hips. “Can feel ya,” he says. “Drippin’ all over me.”

You grind your teeth, digging your fingers into his shoulders. He groans as your nails claw at the skin there. “Shut the fuck up so I can pretend you’re someone else.”

He chuckles. “You can play pretend all you want, but I’m the one you’re soaking, ain’t I?”

You make an aggravated sound. Your left hand drags down his arm, leaving angry red tracks in their wake. Before he can gripe about it, you slap your right hand over his mouth. His eyes flare. Eye for an eye, his teeth sink into the flesh of your palm. You hiss at the sting. It only makes you pump your hips against him faster. The friction of your shorts and panties against the bulk of his leg and the wrinkle of his denim jeans makes your clit twitch against him.

Your flesh stretches as you tug it from his teeth. Your hand plants itself in his hair instead, dragging his head to the side. His eyes flutter, lidded and dark. “Don’t act like you don’t damn near cream yourself when I talk to you like this. You like being told what a nasty. Fuckin’. Slut. You are. Don’t look at me like that. You are. Been cruisin’ for a bruisin’ this whole time — just didn’t know you were after a pussy beating instead of a real one.”

Your eyes roll back. Your hips roll more languidly, only jerking when Joel gives a particularly brutal tug at your waist. You let out a pathetic moan into his neck. You nip at the skin there, tongue laving over the scars and blemishes he’s collected over the years. He reaches down and grabs a handful of your ass, groaning. “Too pretty to be actin’ a fool, baby.”

You dig your teeth into his neck, hard enough to leave cavernous bite marks in your wake. Your tongue digs through the craters your teeth left behind, saliva pulling from your lips to his skin. He smacks your ass hard enough for your hips to jerk, and you almost glare at him as you separate from your throat. Instead, your eyes squeeze shut.

“Don’t wanna look at me, do ya peach? Mmmm, well thas’ okay.” He fists his hand in the roots of your hair and tugs your head to the side. You hear Joel groping at the nightstand in the dark, and then the flashlight ticks on.

Your eyes blink open to yourself reflected in desilvered glass. Mirror rot surrounds your luminescent face, but most of all, you can see your hips and how they rock shallowly into Joel’s leg. “Watch yourself fuckin’ yourself stupid on my leg,” he croons in your ear. When you go still, his thumbs press hard into your skin. You stare at him. “You already fucked yourself stupid or somethin’? ‘S a simple instruction, sweet cheeks.”

“That’s dumb, Joel–” you sneer, going to look away.

He jerks your head back to where he had it and rocks his leg into your clit. You watch your face contort around a ragged moan. Pleasure thrashes through your system. “C’mon, you’re a dirty girl. Watch how pathetic you look while you get yourself off. Pretend I’m your pillow if you have to, but it ain’t gonna change how I’m the one gettin’ you off like this.”

Your thighs clamp around his. He smirks at you in the mirror. Your knee grazes his bulge, and a breathy moan loosens from his lips. “Two way street, Miller,” you say. But you’re weak — and so, so wet.

You give your hips a languid roll, watching yourself in the mirror. You’re a mess, mouth parted, eyes lidded, skin slick with sweat. Your hips shudder and start against him as you start to properly buck yourself against the meat of his thigh. With the shelves of your teeth, you try to smother the depraved noises coming out of you. Joel rolls his eyes.

“Gonna wake the fuckin’ dead with all that whining of yours.” Mid-moan, Joel shoves two fingers into your mouth and pries your jaw open. His fingers are bulky and ridged with callouses against your tongue. His thumb presses a dent into your jaw. “‘S okay, baby. I like ‘em loud.”

“I like you shutting the fuck up,” you say around a mouthful of his knuckles. You can’t help it. You bite at his fingers, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely hard enough to sting. He hisses and presses down on your tongue. You make a sputtering noise.

“You were sayin’?” he asks, tensing his thigh. You whimper against his fingertips. He tightens his grip on your hair, and in the mirror, you see yourself bared raw for him to see in all ways but the physical. You rut into his leg with increasing need.

“Mmmph, Joel–” you say around his fingers. 

“Oh, now you’re moaning my name? What was it I said? Cruisin’ for a bruisin’, peach.”

Wetness leaks down the insides of your thighs. Your swollen clit hitches on a wrinkle in his jeans. You’re shaking, thighs trembling where they’re wrapped around him. Your fingers grapple for purchase and find some anchored in his hair, tugging wildly. You eye yourself in that damn mirror, the way your chest is slotted against his, how your hips pitch into his over and over again in your pursuit of release.

“Ask for it, baby.” Joel grinds his leg up into your cunt. “You wanna come on me, you gotta ask for it.”

You shake your head wildly. You aren’t a beggar — especially not for Joel Miller. You’d rather throw yourself back into quicksand. Jump in front of a clicker. Step on an alligator.

Joel pouts mockingly at you. “Stubborn for a slut who’s willin’ to spread it open all hours ‘a the day.” You rub your knee into his bulge, tenting his jeans, in hopes that it’ll be a suitable distraction. He groans, knee jerking. His thigh rams against you, and your back arches. You see your brows pucker in your reflection, your hips undulating against him.

“F-fuck,” you whine out, bouncing against him.

“You wanna come, don’t you, peach?” You nod frantically. “Wanna soak me, huh?” At that, you grit your teeth and snarl at him. You do you do you do. But you don’t want to admit it.

You squirm on his leg, desperately rocking into him. You dig your feet into the creaking mattress, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt. Tremors wrack your body as you work yourself on him. Your cunt flutters, and you almost taste your orgasm.

Joel tosses you off of him.

“You son of a–” you shriek, thrashing and out of breath. Your clit throbs and your hole twitches at the stolen promise of release. You bounce on the mattress, sprawled on your back and twitching.

“I told ya,” he says. “Gotta ask for it.”

“I’m not asking you for shit, asshole–”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll change your tune when I stuff your right full.” He grabs you by the back of your shirt and coaxes you into spinning around. He yanks you onto all fours, forehead meeting the mattress.

You back your hips up as he reaches around your shorts for the button. The zipper squeals as it comes down and he shuffles them down your legs. He nudges your knees apart. You can feel his bulge, insistent and pressed against the back of your thigh. He grips the inside of your thigh, fingers sliding through the slick that’s there.

“Shit, baby,” he groans. “No wonder you were humpin’ me. Just needing someone to take away that ache, don’t you? Jus’ a horny girl wanting to go cock dumb.” His fingers graze over your clit, barely even a brush, and you let out a mangled sound into the comforter. “See? So desperate and sensitive. You’re cute when you’re not a pain in the ass.”

“That makes one of us,” you say.

Joel snorts. “She’s got jokes.” He rubs a circle into your clit, and then another, and all you can do is rock your hips into his hand. Impatient, you brace yourself on your elbow so you can reach behind him and fumble with his belt buckle. Joel laughs under his breath, working at the zipper while you undo the buckle. It chimes as his belt falls loose and his pants slump on his hips. You work the button open. 

You wriggle your hand into his briefs and pull him out, giving him a series of quick pumps. Joel grunts. “Just like that, peach. Fuck, yeah, you know what you’re doin’.”

He teases the tips of his fingers at your entrance. Razor sharp want slices up the insides of your warm thighs as you clench and drip more of your wetness along his hand. “I’ll throw you a bone,” Joel says. Then, with no warning, he slips a finger into your warmth and curls it just right. You claw against the sheets, whimpering.

“Nasty thing.” He hooks his finger and you fully mewl. Heat rushes into your cheeks. “Barely gotta do anythin’ to get you writhing and wanting.”

Warm tears brim at your eyes from the heady, deadly mix of arousal and hatred. Your cunt tightens around his finger, and without warning, he pushes another one in, twisting and hooking them brutally inside of you.

Your fingers fist in the sheets, temple pressed into the mattress. You can see the cocksure look on his face in the mirror, the way his forearm flexes with each thrust into you. “Fuck me already,” you spit. You know it’ll hurt if he fucks you without really preparing you. You want it to hurt. You want it to ache like the tread of his boot stamped on your chest. You want it to sting and simmer like the cuts that the wetlands left in a collage across your arms and legs. You want him to split you open and leave you flayed by your own pleasure.

“Alright, alright,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. He gives your clit a light slap that makes you squeal. You almost black out when you see him bring his slick-stained fingers to his mouth and suck. “Yeah, taste as sweet as a peach, dontcha sugar? Such a tasty little cunt for such a smart-mouthed brat.”

You could cry with how bad you want hi— no, his cock. 

“Gonna hurt, baby. But you want it to, don’t you? Wanna feel me all up in here.” He roams his free hand across your stomach, then back around to your ass where he tugs you back. There’s the smack of flesh as your hips meet each other, the whimper between your netted teeth as he nestles his cock between your slippery folds. You nod, head slinging forward. “Don’t gotta tell me. I know ya do. Girl like you, always such a smartass. Yeah, you want it rough.” His voice is gruff, lust-addled. “Act stupid all you want, peach. I got you all figured out.”

He slots his head against your hole and you let out a strangled noise into the mattress. Your vision swims as he pushes into you, thumbs dug into your ass cheeks so he can watch how you take him. You mewl, back arching into and away from him at the same time. Your body can’t decide where to go. If it wants to be further, or as close as possible to him. Joal groans as he sinks into you.

“Tight as a fuckin’ hose pipe, peach,” he says. He reaches around to give your flick your clit — a move that makes your entire body spasm. 

“So about as small as your dick, then?” It’s bullshit — you know it, and he knows it. He’s not even fully inside of you, but the difference is startling. He’s stuffing you to the brim, leaving you to scrabble and claw against the sheets.

He slams into you, a blatant disregard of your comfort. You feel his balls smack against your clit, and hear the same thigh you’d been humping slot against your own. A ragged cry rips from your throat. “Joel,” you whimper, hips trying to writhe against the bed. “Joel, fuck—”

“Feels pretty big now, don’t it?” You whine, petulant, but it breaks off into a moan as he pulls back and then punches back into you.

All you can do is take it, take it, take it as he bashes your swollen cunt with his fat cock. You gasp raggedly, each snap of his hip bringing pleasure-pain tears to your eyes. Joel’s nails dig into the meat of your ass and yank you back on him. The sting is renewed, then, as he props his leg up on the bed and pounds into you. You whimper, helpless to his whims.

Between one thrust and the next, the bite in your cunt turns into a thrum of pleasure. A persistent swarm of heat and your own slick leaking down his cock. “Like I said,” Joel grunts as he fucks you. “A nasty fuckin’ slut with a sloppy ‘lil cunt.”

You whine, squeezing around him. Your head spins. “Fuck,” he spits.

“Joel, please, please, ple–”

“Quit beggin’, it ain’t ladylike.” You prop yourself up on your elbow and reach behind him, tugging his wrist away from your ass so you can slip his hand between your thighs. His pistoning into you falters. “What’d I say?” Joel grunts. His knees adjust over the backs of your calves to hold you down.

“Keep touching me,” you whine. “Please, you asked me to ask for it, so I’m fucking asking for it.”

“Told you to ask permission, not cry at me like a kicked puppy,” he says. “I call the shots here. Like it or not.” He goes to yank his hand away from your clit, but you yank at his knuckle.

Joel scowls, and so fast you might get vertigo, his other arm’s bicep locks around your neck and heaves you back against his chest. You sputter, drool pooling in your mouth. Your hands briefly tug at his arm, but fall limp when he says, “Oh, shut the fuck up, I ain’t gonna kill ya. Gotta keep you on your toes, peach.”

You arguably shouldn’t. But you trust him. Enough to keep you alive, at least.

With another thrust into the warm vise of your cunt, your body’s running hotter than an engine and twice as fast. He squeezes tight enough that your air is in short supply, and with it, everything is amplified. Pleasure crinkles through your body like crumpled aluminum foil, serrated and clinging to you. The crook of his elbow is warm, and you can’t help your head lolling back to give him a look that’s purely salacious. He tips his head down at you and smirks.

“Yeah, that’s my hungry little cockwhore,” he says. With his free hand, he tugs your hair. You seize around him, struggling for what to hang onto. You let out a rasping, strangled moan. With your head tipped back, you can see the tilt to his lips as he moans, feel his scruff scraping at your forehead. “Takin’ it like you were made for it. Shit.”

Joel moans as you clamp down around him again.

Tears might be sliding down your cheeks – you don’t know. You’re too trapped in this, in this moment, in the feeling of his cock slamming into your throbbing, aching cunt. “Mmph,” you whine low in your throat as he fucks up into you. He’s damn near bruising your cervix. Each thrust makes your cunt flitter around him. 

“You look good like this,” Joel grunts against your ear, using the leverage of his propped-up leg to bounce you on his cock. “All quiet ‘n sweet ‘n whorish. Goddamn, never thought a slut could feel this fuckin’ tight.”

Your eyes slip shut, vision spotting behind your eyelids. He keeps forcing himself into you. Making room. Making a mark that you’ll never forget he carved into you.

Your body is limp as he gets himself off, his hand moving from your hair. He gropes at your tits, flicking your nipple in a way that draws a sloping moan out of you. He slides it down your side, each callous bumping against your skin until he reaches your clit. You nod wildly, and he chuckles into the shell of your ear. “You think you’ve earned it? All you’ve been doing is whinin’ like a little bitch, baby.” He taps his fingers against your clit, once, twice, mounting the tautness of the tension drawn tight like elastic through your body. You gasp down air as he ever so slightly loosens his grip around your neck. He keeps thrusting into you, jerking tiny moans out of you as he does.

Your legs tremble. Your brain feels like mush. You wring his cock with each strain of your pussy. “I don’t want you,” you gasp out between thrusts. “I want you for what you can — fuck — give me. So I guess… that makes… us even. Doesn’t it?” Joel’s finger stills where it hovers over your clit, and you almost don’t notice the falter in his hips with how subtle it is.

“Yeah,” Joel pants. “Guess it does, peach.”

He presses his thumb down on your clit and the whole world makes sense.

You cry out as your juices soak his cock, dripping down his balls and thighs. “Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant in between moans. He’s holding you up now by the underside of one of your arms, his fingers toying with your nipples. Each touch sends laser hot electricity between your legs.

He slams up into you again and you shriek. “Fuck, you’re a mess,” Joel says. “All stuffed full ‘a me… yeah, that’s how you’re s’posed to be. Sprayin’ your pussy juices all over me while I ram my cock into this drippy little hole.”

You whine, clit twitching against his finger. Tears burn at the edges of your eyes like fire on parchment. “I wanna come,” you whisper, voice tinged with need. “Please, Joel. I–”

“Who do you want to make you come?” he asks as he rolls his hips up into you. An undulating pace that makes you want to scream.

The curdling pleasure in your stomach brims, stews, steeps. You’re drowning in it, in the fire lashing through your body. Fire that he lit and stoked and now, only he can put out. “You, Joel!” you cry out. “You! I want you to make me come, please, I need it, I want t-”

“I got you, peach,” he says. He mashes the pad of his thumb against your swollen nub, rubbing circles, circles, circles. You scream this time, head slumping against him. “Throbbin’ for it,” he growls out. “All swollen and whinin’ like you’re in heat. You needed this. Needed me.”

“I needed you,” you nod, exhaling. You think you’d agree to anything he said right now. “Fuck,” you wail. Your hands anchor themselves on his forearm.

“Don’t fight it, baby, don’t fight it,” he coos. Your nails scratch angry red tracks down his burly arms. “Come on me, see if it gives you an attitude adjustment.”

To your chagrin, that does it.

Your orgasm shatters you. You’re fragile as it tears through your body, tying knots around your racing heart and making your legs quiver. You feel yourself gush around Joel’s cock, gasping for air as your lungs empty. Your cunt flutters around him as pleasured tears spill from the corners of your eyes. Everything’s hot and melting, your arousal dripping out of you in droves. Joel rubs at your clit through it, coaxing in your ear, “That’s it, theeeeere it is. Shit, baby, I’m comin’— squeezin’ me so damn good—”

Joel twitches inside of you, and you whine at his absence when he pulls out just in time. With a throaty, reverberating groan, he sprays the small of your back with his cum. You gasp as it splashes against you, your chest heaving against his hand. 

You sit in the silence, high off of the come down, panting in delirium. 

Joel clears his throat. “You alright, peach?”

“You don’t have to pretend to like me now that we’ve had sex, Joel,” you say. “I get it. We fucked. We got it out of our systems. Hooray. Do you want me to pop some confetti poppers?”

“I was being courteous, goddamn,” he grunts as he stands up. You watch as he tugs his jeans back up. “Clearly ain’t nobody ever treated you gentlemanly before.”

“Says the man who got off on choking me out.”

He shoots back, “The feeling was mutual, if I remember five minutes ago correctly. I ain’t that old.” He buckles his belt up. As he redresses, you toss your own shorts off to the side. He’s already been in your whole pussy — you’d rather not sleep in the denim shorts.

When you’re done, you give him a look.

He pinches his nose bridge and sighs through his teeth. “We oughta hit the hay. Long day ahead. And you should be too exhausted by now to be wakin’ me up again.”

You clench your fists at your side. “Fine.”

You reach for his flashlight and turn it off.

Reunion Tower is the first building you see.

Dallas. Home sweet home, for better or worse.

The skyline slowly eases up and out of the treeline as you and Joel meander up the car-cluttered I-20. Remnants from a life that’s long gone, all but skeletons with the organs of another time.

You and Joel have scarcely talked. Mostly, it’s just him pointing out directions. But he does other things. He helps you through wreckage or rubble instead of leaving you to muscle through on your own. He gives you part of his rations. He tosses you a magazine he finds in a store. He keeps watch.

You had meant what you said. You fucked. That was that. He was still the man your father told ghost stories about. The thoughtless killer. The unforgiving bullet to a skull. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of peoples’ deliverance to the afterlife. The man who’d betrayed your father all those years ago, a story of which you only know the vague specifics of.

Maybe you’ll ask him while he’s on bedrest from that bullet wound. (Or maybe you’ll just ask him. He’s not the sort of man to stay down for long.)

Regardless, as you two cross the exit a couple blocks from your dad’s base, you ask him, “Do you think he sent people after me?”

“Maybe,” Joel says. “Probably went up to Oklahoma instead. Louisiana ain’t famous for bein’ easy hikin’ material. Shocker that them Cockroaches brought you all the way out there.”

You nod and kick a rock with the toe of your shoe. “You think your group’s doing good on their own?”

“Who fuckin’ knows,” Joel says. “Left Tommy in charge of the place, I’ll be lucky if it ain’t burned down by now.”

“Well, you’ve got a whole new world ahead of you. Free of debts and all. Maybe my dad will finally get off your ass. Could skip town, if you wanted.”

Joel’s feet drag on the concrete. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he scratches the back of his neck. “There were never any debts, peach,” he says.

Your brows furrow as you stop in your tracks. “The fuck do y—”

“Got you of my own volition,” he says. “Your dad and I might be on shit terms, but that don’t mean I don’t care about him. I…” He pauses. “I know what it’s like to lose people.”

“Everyone does,” you say.

“Yeah,” Joel nods. He turns to make eye contact with you. “Everyone does. But I don’t exactly wanna go about losin’ you,” he says.

“That’s a bold claim, Miller,” you say.

“You’re good company. Even if you’re a shitass.” He pats you on the shoulder. His hand slides down your arm to your hand, and he gives it a squeeze before letting it drop. “Now c’mon. Let’s get you home.”

[cimmanonrowl]

Eat Your Young pt.2

Part One | Masterlist

Coming down from the high that Aaron introduced you to feels impossible at this point. Following your very first encounter after his arrival, there isn't a day that he didn't make you feel desired and pleasured. And what better way to have him sated than letting him fuck you senseless out of pure unadulterated jealousy?

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Contents: age gap, oral fixation, oral (f) receiving, masturbation, cum play, overstimulation, squirting, breeding kink, daddy & sir kink, unprotected, rough sex, angry sex, jealous!aaron, size difference, belly bulging, dirty talk, powerplay: boss/employee dynamic, pure filth, pussy-eater, bearded aaron.

You weren’t sure what was waiting ahead when you accepted the job. 

For one, it was a blessing, given your old employers were moving out of state and you couldn’t go with them. They wanted to bring you, of course. They wanted you to come with them but you had to decline as you have plans of your own after you finish your studies. It was a hard decision to make. You were with the family for almost three years, they helped you through University so you don’t drown in student loans and debt, and the kids loved you as much as you loved them. Even without telling you, you could tell their parents felt bad you’re losing your only financial support at the moment.

That was when Jessica was sent to you like an angel in disguise.

She was an acquaintance; a close friend to your employers, so in a way you knew the woman and some bits of her life. You knew that she was taking care of her nephew, although occasionally; a young kid named Jack. You knew that she loved looking after him but her new promotion at work demanded more and more of her time, so she and her brother-in-law had to look for extra help. Apparently, Jack’s father was a very busy man, as you were told.

And that was when you became part of the Hotchners.

For them, you were heaven-sent.

“I’m fine, Jess…” you mumbled over the phone as you read the street sign quietly. You were almost there, almost, heaving a little as you dragged your suitcase behind you. “Of course, I’m nervous… you know how it is. I’m not very good with…”

“Kids?” you heard her breathy laughter at the other line, more teasing than incredulous.

You chuckled in return, shaking your head. “Fathers, actually. It’s different talking to women and knowing how exactly they want things to be done. Fathers aren’t like that. They expect— they just expect you to figure out everything.”

“Aaron isn’t like that,” she assured you, her voice kind. “You’ll see. He knows how he likes things and will tell you so. He’s a good man.”

Your heart hammered against your chest. He knows how he likes things. And he will tell you so. That’s supposed to be an assurance, right? So, why on Earth were you blushing?

Must be because of those damn pictures, a voice in your head whispered. Last night– maybe it was the nerves, or your plain curiosity after hearing many stories about the man that you let yourself get swayed by temptation. You were not one to research about your employers. A brief personal background was always provided by the agency to ensure that employees like you will be in safe hands, and it has always been enough. But last night, for some reason, you felt the need to know him.

In the past week you were negotiating with Jessica, you never met Mr. Hotchner. You thought it was weird and so reckless of him. He’s a federal agent. You expected him to be paranoid, careful at a fault. Why wouldn’t he insist on meeting firsthand the stranger who will take care of his son? The one he’ll let inside his home? It seemed like he didn’t care at all. All you knew was he was out on a case and wouldn’t be home at least for a couple more days. You don’t even know what this man looks like.

You met his son three days ago, though, and you already love the kid. Jack was a little shy at first, soft-spoken, but cheeky as he was polite. You wondered since then if he got that from his father. But you thought it was unlikely when you started digging information from the internet.

“So serious…” you whispered as you plucked the cherry from the stem, chewing slowly as you continued scrolling through the available pictures of him on the web. 

There were YouTube links that also popped out when you typed in his name. You knew he’s some kind of bigshot fed but it still shocked you when you realized Mr. Hotchner had to stand in front of the camera and make public announcements on the news. It was impossible not to notice that face. But the least you could say is he looks good. Then you had to stop yourself there and divert your attention to the flaws you could pinpoint.

He looks strict and scary. In every video you opened, there was a tight frown on his face. It looks like he barely smiles or doesn’t know how to, and that he’s always constipated. What a poor man. You could already imagine your days in their household getting shouted at for being clumsy.

“You’re here! Dad, she’s here! Dad! She’s here!” the familiar voice of a young boy cut through your thoughts. 

You stood still outside the closed gate of your new residence, peering over where a kid was running toward your direction, and an older man distractedly dribbling a basketball in a mini court. He was topless and sweaty. His arms strong, his muscles taut. And even from a distance, you could tell that he was watching you, too.

Then your eyes met and he smiled, warm and so kind.

At that moment you knew that this wouldn’t be bad after all.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. It’s late— later than you realized and Aaron still wasn’t home after a long day in the office. You’ve learned not to worry too much as you’ve grown accustomed to his late nights. He always comes home to you and Jack. But every night, there was a part of you that couldn’t fully relax until you heard the sound of his key in the door.

The clock just struck half past 10 o’clock. Most of the lights were already dimmed and the house was filled with silence. Jack had just gone to bed. These past few days, you realized how things changed. It took you almost an hour to convince him to get off his iPad and stop the game he was playing with his friends, and another hour before he fell asleep reading you his book of choice for this week. Which explains why you’re still up at this hour.

The soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen was the only sound that accompanied you as you moved through the living room, gathering up Jack’s scattered Lego blocks and soldier figurines. It was all over the place. You told him countless times to clean up his mess before eating dinner, but he just shrugged you off and told you he’d clean it up later. Hours passed by and he seemed to forget about his promise as he was already engrossed with the weird game he was playing on his iPad. 

Jack was growing fast. And as much as the thought put an ache in your heart, you knew this was also inevitable.

But the thing is, you have no idea how you should deal with these changes. You didn’t dare scold him, no– considering your growing relationship with his father. You didn’t want him to think that you were crossing the line of acting like his mother, or a replacement for her. So, you thought it was better you wait for Aaron to come home and bring up this issue instead.

Another deep sigh escaped your lips as you bent down to pick up another handful of Lego blocks. You’re ready to go to bed, already clad in your satin nightgown, a pale pink that clings to your curves; feeling soft and smooth against your skin. The thin straps would occasionally slip off your shoulders as you reach for more toys, and the hem would brush against your thighs as you move.

“Didn’t think you’d still be up…”

You froze at the voice, still bent over, before straightening up and turning toward the entryway just as Aaron stepped inside. 

His presence filled the space immediately. He’s still in his work clothes— a dark suit that looks a little rumpled from the long day, his tie loosened and his shirt collar open. His hair was slightly disheveled, and you noticed the tiredness in his eyes that he tried to hide as he closed the door behind.

For a moment, his eyes lingered on you, taking in the way the satin nightgown hugged your body, the fabric clinging to the curve of your hips, the way the hem fluttered around your thighs. There was a brief flicker of something in his gaze, appreciative, and scandalously lustful. You saw the slight tug at the corner of his lips behind his thick beard.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he greeted.

Your heart did that familiar, annoying little skip when he languidly crossed the room and caged you in his arms. He sighed deeply, kissed your forehead then your lips, before resting his cheeks at the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Rough day, Mr. Hotchner?” you wanted to tease him, but with his hot breath fanning over your neck, the coarse hair of his beard against your skin, your words came out breathless.

You heard him groan, his voice low and a little rough when he said, “You have no idea, baby. Why are you still up, anyway? Did Jack gave you a hard time?”

“He’s just growing, Aaron. That’s how it is.”

“So he did?” he concluded, “I’ll talk to him, baby. There’s just too much going on at work.”

You hummed and nodded, running your fingers through his hair, understanding and supporting him without needing any details. You’ve never pressed him for specifics about his work and you know that Aaron was carrying enough weight on his shoulders without you adding to it. But even so, there was something in his tone and the exhaustion in his face that made you hug him tighter.

“You’re home now,” you said softly, massaging his scalp, “You should sit down for a bit. I can make you something to eat if you’re hungry.”

Just then, you felt his teeth dug gently on the skin of your neck. “How about I eat you instead?”

“Aaron…” you couldn’t help but giggle, ignoring the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“Hmm?” 

“Not here.”

He let out a soft grunt. “You smell heavenly, baby. I want to fuck you.”

His voice was raspy, gruff from all the grueling hours he spent in the office. You squirmed and chuckled quietly as you felt his lips trailing wet kisses on your neck, the soft curve of your shoulders, and even your jaw. His thick beard tickling you with every little movement.

You let out a sigh, clamping your thighs as you felt the heat dampening your cotton underwear. “Not here, Aaron. I’ll finish- I’ll clean up this mess first.”

He didn’t seem to hear you. The rough pad of his calloused palm roamed and caressed every inch of your clothed body. His hands moved to the curve of your ass, the swell of your breast, kneading your tits roughly on his hands while rolling your now sensitive nipples in between his thick fingers.

“I missed you so much, angel…” he said in a whisper, “I can’t get enough of your little pussy. You make me so hard, feel that?”

He guided your hand to the obvious bulge in his pants. Although that idea thrilled you, your fingers trembled in embarrassment and anticipation. You glanced up at him with wide, innocent eyes, your breath caught in your throat, while he hissed as you softly cupped and pressed your palm on his restrained cock, moving your hand experimentally in circles.

“Fuck,” he grunted your name, you even saw a muscle twitch on his tight jaw. “Saw you innocently bent over when I stepped into that door. It’s almost like you’re begging someone to ruin your tight cunt, is that right, angel?”

His hand found the dampness in between your legs, already pressing his thumb on your aching clit, yet it was the crudeness of his words that made you whimper. “S-sir…”

“Use your big words, sweet girl.”

“Not s-someone, sir…” you admitted. “Just you. W-want you to use me.”

A satisfied smile played on his lips.

“I know, baby. Want me to fuck you with my big cock, don’t you? Always fucking ready to spread your legs for me, is that right?”

You nodded dumbly, blinking up at him. 

“Are you a whore?”

“N-no...” you said unsurely, “No, daddy. Not a w-whore.”

The dark look in his eyes brought you back to the memories of earlier in the morning. He gave you a small smile. “You’re daddy’s baby, I know, little girl.”

Like he always does, Aaron woke you up earlier with his face buried between your legs. He was lapping your dripping cunt like a madman, licking and sucking with his expert mouth. Two of his thick fingers were pushed deep inside you, making a lewd squelching sound as he nudged the sweet bundle of nerves inside. Your legs were trembling uncontrollably all you could do was moan and tug on Aaron’s hair. When he looked up to see your face, his beard was wet and a string of saliva was hanging from his lips and to your puffy folds.

You already came twice today. One from his mouth, as promised. And one from his big, leaking cock. He had your legs wide open, his hand pressed on the back of your thighs until you were folded almost in half, and rammed his big cock in and out of your weeping cunt with vigor. His eyes were focused on where you were both connected, watching in awe how you willingly swallow his thick cock in your body. He enjoyed watching the bulge appear in your stomach with every deep thrust.

He called you sweet names as he came inside you, flooding your womb with his warm cum. It took him all the self-control (and a message from Morgan) not to bend you again over the sink as he watched you walk to the bathroom, his release slowly dripping down your legs. And he wished you only knew how he wanted to push it back inside and keep his cock buried in your raw cunt for the rest of the day.

- - - - - - - ⋆ ★

The Saturday sun beamed over the soccer field where kids are darting back and forth in a burst of energy. The sidelines were lined with parents and family members, all chatting and watching the game with varying degrees of attention. You were standing among them, your eyes following Jack as he weaved between the other kids, his face bright with determination. Every now and then, his laughter carries across the field, and you couldn’t help but smile as well.

Aaron was beside you, his arms crossed as he watched Jack with that focused intensity he always seemed to have when it comes to his son. You could tell that as much as they were both competitive, he was worried that some accidents may happen. 

“I’m going to check in with Jack for a minute,” Aaron informed you as he let go of your intertwined hand, nodding toward the bench where Jack was sitting during a break. “Be right back.”

You nodded and watched in silence as Aaron strode across the field toward Jack, the sun catching in his dark hair. You took a deep breath, relaxing a little now that you were alone for a moment. It feels good to be outside, to be with Aaron, but you hate the weird glances some mothers were throwing at you. As if you were doing something illegal.

Just as you were about to take a seat on one of the folding chairs, a familiar man approached you from the side, his expression friendly. You recognized him as one of the other parents and father of one of Jack’s friends at school, though you don’t recall his name right away. He was tall, with sandy blond hair and a warm, easygoing smile.

“Hey there,” he said with a chuckle, gesturing toward the field. “Quite a game, huh?”

You smiled back, letting out a small laugh. “Tell me about it. My bones could never. I’m exhausted just watching them.”

The man laughed, then glanced over at the field before turning his attention back to you. “I’m Tom, by the way,” he said, offering his hand. “I’ve seen you around a few times… and my son told me last night he and Jack partnered for the bake sale activity at school.”

You shook his hand. “I think I recall Jack telling me about that bake sale. Is Jake your son?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” Tom replied, nodding fast and chuckling. “I thought you’d think I’m just making up excuses to come up to a pretty woman and start chatting with her—”

“Pretty woman?” you smiled at the compliment, glancing up at him.

“Well, yeah. Anyway…” Tom grinned shyly, clearly pleased. “Yeah, my son was crazy about beating the other boys or something like that. Tell you honestly, I have no idea what to bring. I’m useless in the kitchen, but I don’t want to be that guy who just shows up with store-bought stuff, you know?”

You laughed softly, nodding in understanding. “I do get it. But it’s a good thing they can choose a partner. If you want, I could help you out. I make a pretty mean batch of cookies.”

Tom’s face lit up with genuine gratitude. “Really? That would be amazing. I mean, only if you have time to accommodate— I don’t want to impose.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” you waved off his concern. “I like baking, plus I can invite Jake to come over so I have another little assistant.”

“Or me?” The man teased. “Just kidding. That would be incredible. You just saved me from embarrassment. The old ladies at school… they’re very, you know.”

The sound of your laughter tangled in the air. But as the laughter fades, you felt a subtle shift in the air. You unconsciously wandered your eyes around and realized Aaron was standing just a few feet away, his eyes trained on you and Tom, his expression intense. His strong arms were crossed, and there was a tightness in his jaw that wasn’t there before.

“Hey,” you greeted, offering Aaron a small smile as he stepped closer. “Everything okay with Jack?”

Aaron nodded, though his eyes briefly flickered over to Tom, taking in the easy conversation you’ve been having. “He’s fine,” Aaron replied, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of something sharper, something controlled. “Just needed a little pep talk.”

Tom, the poor man oblivious to the tension, smiled at Aaron and offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Tom. We were just talking about the kids’ upcoming school bake sale.”

Aaron shook his hand, but there was a slight stiffness to the gesture. “Aaron Hotchner. Jack’s father.”

Tom nodded, then focused back on you. “Thanks again for the offer. If it’s alright, I was thinking— maybe I should grab your number? You know, just so we can coordinate for the bake sale and all that. Would make it easier to figure out what to bring.”

He was just being friendly and practical, that’s what you know. But the suggestion lingered in the air awkwardly. You could feel Aaron tense beside you, the shift in his posture subtle but unmistakable. With hesitation, you glanced at Aaron out of the corner of your eye. His expression has hardened, his jaw clenched just enough to be noticeable, and there was a flash of something dangerous in his eyes—something possessive, territorial even. 

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Aaron stepped in, his voice low and edged with barely restrained anger. “If you need anything, you can go through me.”

Tom blinked, clearly caught off guard. He forced out a chuckle, trying to brush off the tension with a good-natured grin. “I didn’t mean anything by it, man. Just thought it’d be easier—”

“You don’t need her number for that.”

You swallowed hard, feeling everyone’s attention on the growing commotion. Aaron’s eyes were still fixed on Tom, his stance rigid, his body language screaming of a barely controlled fury. This wasn’t just about the number.

Tom raised his hands slightly, clearly trying to defuse the situation. “Hey, no problem,” he said, though there was a hint of confusion in his eyes as he glanced between you and Aaron. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

You forced a tight smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Thanks, Tom. Maybe we can let the kids decide and start there.”

Tom nodded again. “Yeah, sure. I’ll catch you both around.” He gave a quick wave before turning and walking back toward the crowd of parents, his pace a bit quicker than before.

As soon as Tom was out of earshot, the silence between you and Aaron felt heavy. You could feel the heat of Aaron’s anger, his jaw still clenched as he silently watched Tom disappear into the distance.

You glanced up at Aaron, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “What was that about?”

“What?” Aaron finally tore his gaze away from Tom, turning to face you. There was a storm in his eyes, it made your breath catch. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he admitted, his voice rougher than before. Then he mumbled, “Or him having your number. Why would he have your fucking number for? Bake sale and all that, that fucking idiot.”

You grimaced at his admission, of how easily he admitted what he felt. You’ve never seen Aaron like this before— so openly protective, so possessive— and it stirred something deep inside you that was too intense to put a name on.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “He was just being friendly, Aaron. It was harmless.”

“Maybe to you,” His voice was still tensed as he retorted. “But I didn’t trust him. And I don’t like the idea of other men thinking they can just… move in like that.”

You bit back a smile, a little amused by his jealousy.

“We were talking about bake sales, not making any plans to run off together,” you nudged his arm with your elbow teasingly.

Aaron took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he stared down at you. “Oh, so you can joke. Do you think this is funny?”

“What? Of course no–”

“Jack will be out on a sleepover,” he leaned closer to your ear just to whisper, “We’ll fucking talk later, hm? Save your explanations ‘cause I’ll fuck you like a whore.”

Your breath staggered as you pressed your lips shut. You knew by then that it was going to be a long, long night.

- - - - - - - ⋆ ★

The door slammed against the wall with a loud bang as you and Aaron stumbled inside, your bodies pressed tightly together. His big, calloused hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers digging into your skin as your mouths crashed together in a rough, desperate kiss.

Everything felt hazy, like you were moving through a dream, but there was nothing gentle about the way you were kissing him, or the way his hands were gripping you. It felt like he couldn’t get close enough. It was frantic, dirty, almost reckless, as if both of you were on the verge of losing control and neither of you cared.

You barely noticed the door swing shut behind you as Aaron pushed you roughly up against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through your body, but the only thing you could focus on was him— his scent, his warmth, the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his strong body felt pressed up against you.

“Aaron…” you managed to gasp out between kisses, your voice breathless. You could barely think, your mind clouded with desire, but his name slipped from your lips like a plea, a litany. “D-daddy... slow- slow... down...”

His hands were everywhere— on your waist, your hips, sliding down to the curve of your thighs as he gripped you tightly, pressing his bulge against your needy cunt. You gasped into his mouth, the sound swallowed by another fierce kiss as his body pinned you harder against the wall, pressing you there as if you might disappear if he let go.

“I’m s-sorry… D-daddy, please…”

“Please what?” he groaned against your mouth, his lips trailing down to your jaw, then to your neck, the coarse hair on his chin scraping against your skin as he kissed a heated path down your throat. “Now you’re sorry? Bet you fucking liked the attention earlier. Thought you aren’t a whore?”

“No. I’m sorry, daddy. I’m sorry. I’m not—”

His rough hands slid up your sides, gripping the hem of your shirt and yanking it up and over your head with a quick, impatient movement. The cool air hit your skin, but it was immediately replaced by the warmth of his touch as his hands moved over your bare skin, his fingers digging into your flesh like he wanted his mark so deeply ingrained in your skin and your whole being.

“Feels like you’re forgetting who you belong to.”

You shook you head, moaning as you felt his hand travel closer to your heat. “No, no. I belong to you, sir. Only you. I’m so sorry, daddy.”

“Are you?” he barked a taunting laugh. “And why do you belong to me then, little girl? Why does this pussy belong to me?”

“Because… b-because you take care of m-me, daddy.”

“I fucking do, don’t I?” he remarked, tracing soft circles on your clit through the rough fabric of your jeans. “And I’m so fucking good to you. So why are you fucking ungrateful, angel? Batting your eyelashes and giggling with other men like a cheap whore on the streets?”

You felt like crying. Tears welled at the corner of your eyes, your heart hammering painfully against your chest. You messed up and now he’s mad. But you don’t like the words coming out of his mouth. You only want to be daddy’s good girl.

“I’m s-sorry, sir. Won’t happen again, I-I promise.”

“No, baby. I bet you it won’t,” he pulled back for a second, his eyes dark and filled with something primal, his chest rising and falling with the force of his ragged breaths. “I’ll fuck you until your little belly’s round with my cum and you’re pregnant with my child. I’ll knock you up so every man will know whose cock split your tight cunt open. You like that, little girl? You want to be a good whore for daddy?”

You nodded and grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him back down to you, crashing your lips together again as the two of you stumbled further into the room, barely able to focus on anything but each other. Your legs hit the edge of the couch, and before you know it, Aaron was already manspreading in front of you, while you knelt in front of him, your hands laid on your lap.

“Atta girl, look at you,” you keened at the praise, biting on your lower lip as you waited patiently for him to remove his shirt and finish unbuckling his belt.

“Can- can I suck your cock, s-sir?” you said weakly. “Please?”

Aaron hissed as his cock sprang free, slapping the base of his soft stomach. His cock was already hard and leaking, the tip shiny with beads of precum. Your mouth watered at the sight. But still, you waited for his permission, glancing up at him innocently, patiently.

He leaned on the couch and pumped his length slowly, an amused smirk on his lips. “Remove your pants.”

You whimpered and did what he told you. That wasn’t the permission you were waiting for but still you obliged eagerly. Your eyes focused on his hand slowly fisting his hardening cock before glancing up and meeting his eyes. Aaron let out a deep breath as he took in your naked body, your tits, your now swollen lips, and even your thighs that you were subtly rubbing to create some friction.

“Play with your tits, baby,” he said gruffly, “Put on a show for me like a good girl. Go on.”

There was something possessive in his gaze, a wildness that you’d never seen in him before, but it sent a thrill directly through your wet core. You played with your tits, kneaded the soft mound, and pinched your nipples making you whimper pathetically.

Aaron pumped his cock a little faster, his hungry eyes following your movements. “Spread your legs, want to see that pussy of yours.”

It felt humiliating, to scamper on your knees to follow his orders. But still you did. Because the moment you opened your legs for him, Aaron let out a loud growl and gripped his cock tightly on his fist, as if he was trying not to cum just by the sight of your wet cunt. You felt happy with his reaction.

With trembling fingers, you opened your puffy folds to show him how much you desired to be fucked, your clit swollen, your cunt desperately fluttering and clenching on nothing.

“Is that all for me?”

You nodded, your body tingling with pleasure and pride.

“D-daddy…” you sounded meek, all up for the taking. “Want you, p-please. Sir, please? Please?”

You can feel the heat radiating off him, the way his chest rises and falls with each ragged breath as he thumbed the leaking tip of his big and veiny cock. In a swift movement, he grabbed the back of your neck and kissed you harder, deeper, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made you sigh in relief.

“Ride my cock then. Show me how much you want it.”

There was hunger in him that matched your own. The sound of your highpitched whining and Aaron’s deep grunt weaved through the air. You sank down his big cock, your cunt clenching to accommodate his girth. Aaron was so big you don’t think it’s possible to get used to it, the burn of the stretch was there, but it was heady and intoxicating.

“Aaron,” you whispered again, your voice trembling with need as your fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him closer, needing more, needing him. The intensity was overwhelming, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. “D-daddy, help. Help, please.”

“Pathetic,” he growled against your lips. With one sharp thrust, he plunged the rest of his cock into your raw cunt.

“T-thank you, sir…” you mewled at the feeling, grounding your hips in slow circles. “Good- feels g-good…”

His lips trailed back down your neck, your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His beard scratched your skin. Every touch, every kiss, feels like fire, igniting something primal deep inside of you that you hadn’t even realized was there.

“Does it, angel? Who’s making you feel good right now?”

You arched your back, pressing into him. “Y-you, sir. J-just you...”

A harsh slap landed at the side of your thigh. 

“Louder!”

“You, d-daddy! Only y-you. OH MY GOD, AARON!” you screamed, hiding your flushed cheeks at the crook of his neck as Aaron plowed his cock so deep into your frail body. “You’re making me feel g-good. You fuck me so well, daddy! I love your cock, you own me, you ow-”

You heard a low growl reverberate through his heaving chest. He propped his knees at the edge of the couch for better leverage. You felt his cock pulsating deep inside you, his thighs strong beneath your trembling legs. Your vision was blurry with unshed tears and the force of Aaron’s cock ramming inside you. The noise leaving his open lips was dirty, primal, so filthy all you could do was take it.

You let him ruin you.

Let him use you to his heart content.

Like that’s all you’re worth for.

“I’ll fuck my baby inside of you, little girl, ‘s that what you want?” he panted beneath you, his hips staggering a little. “I’ll make you all round and pretty. Everyone will know whose whore you a-are…”

Yes, yes, yes. You couldn’t bring yourself to say. You just whimpered, your voice raw and absolutely fucked out. You just let yourself feel how his cock assaulted your tight, little cunt. There was a familiar coil in your stomach, and then the familiar squelching sound.

“I-I’m s-” you squealed loudly, high-pitched and frantic. “I-I’m coming, ‘m c-coming, daddy, ple-”

Aaron grunted and plunged his cock on a particularly deep thrust, feeling the tip nestle at the sweet bundle of sensitive nerves that made you roll your eyes. You felt Aaron’s cock slide out of your used pussy, a gush of clear release dampening Aaron’s belly and the floor below.

“F-fuck! Look at that…”

“Oh- oh my go-” you bit your lower lip in overstimulation, yet you didn’t do anything to protest when he thrust his thick cock inside again. “Too much… t-too much, sen-sensitive. D-daddy! P-please, no more!”

His cock slid out the second time you squirted. Another gush of release dampened the carpet below. The force was too overwhelming your knees buckled, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You heard Aaron’s pleasured grunt as you clenched even tighter around his cock, your velvety walls hugging his girth like it was molded to be there.

“S-stop, d-daddy! S-stop…”

He scarcely heard you. You could feel every inch of him, the way his body moves against yours, the heat of his skin, the sweat, the strength in his hands as they explore every part of you. He groped you like you were nothing but a fucktoy— one that he will discard the moment he finally got his release.

“See this, little girl?” he grabbed your neck and forced you to look at your belly. You whined at the faint sight of his cock bulging against your skin. “That’s h-how deep I am, you feel that? That’s how well you take me. G-good girl, baby.”

You nodded. “S-so deep, d-daddy. You make me feel s-so good…”

“I’m so close…” you heard him whisper.

You traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the tension beneath his skin as his breath hitched against your neck. With the rest of your energy left, you lifted yourself and met his desperate thrust. The sound was lewd, disgusting– so wet and filthy.

The world outside disappeared—there was no sound, no movement, no thoughts. Just Aaron. Just him and his big, girthy cock, and his desperate thrust. Beyond the heat of his body against yours, the endless ropes of warm cum flooded your fertile womb. You only closed your eyes and let him take you. Take everything he wants from you.

“It’s coming out of your pretty cunt, baby. Look, you’re so full of my cum…” Aaron said in awe a moment later. He got you lying on your back on the couch, your legs wide open, while he knelt in front of you. He prodded your puffy folds with wide, hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re so messy, angel.”

He licked the cum that dripped out of you. Your cunt felt raw and sore. Too used. So you whimpered as a protest. You’re too sensitive. Too sated. Too much. Too much. Too much–

Aaron smiled smugly when he saw the drunk look on your face.

“Give me one more, angel?”

Happy 600-something, everyone! I know this is long overdue but it's better late than later, right? Anyway, hope everyone's well and healthy (I'm sick right now so don't be like me!) Drink a lot of water and eat well. As always, I appreciate every like, replies, reblogs- everything. Thank you so much for the support. I love you all. See you on the next ones! xx

Tag list: @downbad4reid, @roseydoesypoesy, @pastelpinkflowerlife, @justyourusualash, @hotchsmutrecs, @msfreedom, @birdysaturne, @gghostwriter, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @fore45fore, @actualdeemon, @diksy1112, @jethro-mcgee-tony, @hotchnerbau, @iniyalovesall, @222hwilsss, @balariie, @oliviabbb, @ncis0mrs0gibbs, @jasonswhitetuftofhair, @m4pl, @zaddyhotch, @fandom-garbage, @obsessed-oops, @ujws5, @babybluelrh98, @seraphinlover, @reidsflwr, @cattt777, @fishsticksarenice-blog, @velvetinkbym

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i love your writings so much! i need you to write about könig with maid!reader like i need air and water. könig who needs someone to take care of his house while he‘s gone, returning from his deployment only to find reader huddled up in a soft blanket on the couch, the house smelling of freshly baked cinnamon bread and lavender while she sleeps peacefully. he‘s so touch starved and the domesticity makes his heart and cock stir, he‘s never had any woman cook for him since his Oma passed away. poor reader is oblivious to her boss‘s infatuation until she‘s not, he‘s so awkward around her she thinks he just doesn‘t wanna be disturbed, but she doesn‘t know he uses her conditioner to stroke his cock every night, and now he can‘t help but get a raging boner everytime she passes by and he smells her hair :((((

Banner picture credit: @661ave

possession

noun

the state of having, owning, or controlling something.

Word count: 7 k Tags/warnings: 18+ only DARK FIC. Perv!König masturbating to thoughts of you + your stolen panties. Jealous & possessive behaviour. Dubious consent to having unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, size kink, breeding kink, implied age difference. Some fluff if you squint.  A/N: First of all, I'm sorry if you expected something sweet & fluffy anon… This thing just came out of me. Also, @gremlingottoosilly wrote the best thing EVER for this trope so please if you haven’t read it yet go give it a read (dark content there too though so be warned!)

He’s good at repairing things. He prides himself in that.

And he keeps his house neat and clean: that’s not a problem. His papers are in order, his office is in order. His home is in order too, and so is his whole life – love life included because there is none. 

He always ensured he’s not dependent on anyone, he never seeked a mother from a partner. Just for self-reliance's sake, he knows how to do his own laundry and meal prep for weeks. He learned to fold his t-shirts with an orderliness fit for the military when he was ten years old, just so that no one would have the chance to say he needed a wife.

He always vacuums the entire house before deployment, does the dishes, takes out the trash. And he doesn’t hate house chores… but he doesn’t like them either. His house is a sad, lifeless, gloomy place to spend time in. It’s big enough for a family, it has everything he needs to host a night for friends, but he doesn’t have any. 

Family, or friends, that is.

When he hears that his co-worker – the one with a frigid wife and five unruly kids – hired a maid to do the cleaning in the house, he pauses to think. He doesn’t have a chaos in his home, but he’s got enough money to make life a tad easier. Besides, it’s only expected of a man of his position to hire an assistant of some sort, is it not?

It’s just that he didn’t expect housemaids to be this… cute. 

There are quite a few applications, and he’s a sick bastard for choosing the maid solely based on the picture attached to the CV. He told himself it was also because it looked like this lady needed the money the most. He's a generous man, so why not help a woman in need? 

Another thing he didn’t expect is how his house would start to smell so nice and look so cozy. It’s the small details, the tiny little things that make his chest burn. The way she uses softener on his shirts and folds not only his shirts but his boxers, too, or places a scented candle on the table when the weather turns cold. It’s clearly for his delight because it’s not one of those overly sweet apple or caramel things but something fresh, maybe spruce or fir. 

She even bakes for him on the days when he comes back. The fact that a beautiful young woman bakes for him stirs something unwanted and long-forgotten in his chest. The sweet scent of home baked buns makes his cock stir, too. His place has never seen a woman’s touch, no one has ever baked anything here…

And he certainly doesn’t expect to find his maid sleeping on his sofa when he arrives home one evening.

She stirs immediately, and apologizes profusely for making herself at home like this. She starts to stutter and explain how she’s had a busy week and difficulty with sleeping, how she simply dozed off while waiting for the rolls to bake in the oven. 

He stops her in the middle of her flustered excuses: she can take a nap here any time, it’s not like the furniture is going to wear and tear from use anytime soon. He’s barely even home, so it’s good that someone enjoys the sofa, right? She can use his bed too if she wants. More convenient that way, ja?

He realizes he went a little too far when she looks at him like he just offered to fuck her on the kitchen table. Which he has thought about, to be honest, for a good long while now. In fact, he’s thought about it ever since she started in this position a month ago. 

It's her fault for being so unsuspecting and lovely, and she's playing with fire when she takes more dangerous liberties by showering at his house. He finds a women’s conditioner bottle in the bathroom and once, he even catches her doing her laundry here too. There’s a pair of women’s underwear in the pile of clothes she politely informs he’d have to fold himself this time because she’s in a hurry to catch her bus. 

He’s far more intrigued by the innocent, blush pink strings greeting him from amidst his black and dark green clothes than by the fact that his maid is breaking the rules. Other employers would give her a warning or simply say she no longer has to come and work here ever again. Showering at his place, washing her clothes in his washing machine and taking a nap on his sofa border on violating the terms of their agreement, but he couldn’t care less. He would carve a hole in his chest if that would make her happy. 

When he finds out she’s busy because she has to work two jobs, he raises her pay, despite the fact that she’s sometimes late and at times, leaves a little too early. She does her job well enough, so there’s no reason to complain. He would simply like it if they saw each other more... Which is ridiculous, he knows, because the point of having a maid is that she cleans his house when he’s away. 

It just feels so nice to arrive home now that she's here. He’s never looked forward to getting back to his bleak modern mansion, but now he’s pining for his leaves like a young recruit who's got a girl waiting for him back home. 

Even if she’s not there when he gets back, he can savour her lingering scent. He sniffs the dark woolen spread she might’ve slept under just moments ago, he eats whatever freshly baked goodies she has made for him. He sleeps with her underwear tucked under his pillow, and reaches for them before sleep. Or then he grabs them in the morning when he wakes up, already hard. 

It’s nice to have an unhurried fap at home than to relieve his needs in some small grey room of a boring military base. It's far more enjoyable to stroke his cock with her tiny, cute underwear spread over his face. Sometimes he wraps it around his cock and jerks himself off to a quick, groan-filled release, adoring the way his cum stains her blushing strings.

His showers last for about 15 minutes nowadays.

It’s unheard of for a soldier, and he read somewhere that lonely and depressed people take longer showers because the warm water is supposed to make up for the lack of human touch and intimacy, and that may very well be true… But he also wants to take his sweet time stroking himself while using her conditioner as lube. 

Coconut or peach, vanilla or argan oil, he lathers it all over his cock and imagines her hot, wet pussy. His hand is too calloused to give him any illusions of softness, but the mind-numbingly sweet scent takes him immediately back to her. Her eyes, her soft smile. The dreamy sway of her hips, the elegance of her wrists as she moves some item out of the way to sweep or scrub or clean a surface.

He faps with slick urgency, wondering if her eyes would go wide if she saw his cock. He wonders if she’s noisy in bed – is she a screamer, or a moaner? Would she claw at his back or simply cling to him if he fucked her? 

And god, how he would fuck her… 

Slowly at first, draw moans out of that soft mouth until she begs him to fuck her hard. He would drag her shirt up and her bra down until her breasts are exposed, then watch how they bounce as he starts to fuck her with purpose. She begins to tighten around him, looking so fucking desperate as her cunt starts to throb and pull him in. The first moan of surrender is needy and tight when she cums around his shaft…

He never gets any further than that because his cock spills with a violent jerk. He cums, long and hard across the tiles. Loads and loads of hot seed go to waste as he groans loudly, not giving a shit about making so much noise. Feeling hollow and deprived for not being able to shoot his cum inside her and then stay there, snug and safe and warm inside her cunt, he allows himself just one single sob. 

He just wants to know how it would feel to cover her whole body with his as he slowly pumps the last drops into her. Sigh afterwards, breathe together, hold her close... Search for her eyes, check if she's in rapture too. Watch her come down from it while still squeezing him down there. Perhaps she’d give him a pleased giggle and a cute, weary smile.

"Scheisse–"

He leans on the wall, knowing that he's lonely, filthy, sick and obsessed. He lives in a dream world, and the thick conditioner takes ages to wash off. The withdrawal phase is worse every time he indulges in his dark fantasies and then has to live without her for weeks and weeks.  

She's just his maid, a hired employee. She’s just an innocent woman with her whole future ahead of her.

He's just a colonel at a notorious private military company… He's just an old, horny, depraved soldier. Calloused, fucked up, depressed. Girls like her don't want anything to do with a man like him.

…

She asks if he wants his house decorated for Christmas.

She asks it with bright eyes and such a lovely smile that he tells her he doesn't own such junk, but he can pay her if she goes to choose him some and then comes back to decorate his place. Their unusual agreement gets more unusual still as she nods with shining eyes, then goes to the city to choose his Christmas decorations for him. He even lets her use his car, which is unheard of. 

Soon, his windows are filled with lights and there are mistletoes hanging from the ceiling. She puts fancy little elves in the window, places Christmas flowers and candles everywhere she possibly can. He walks around the house with a coffee mug in his hand, suddenly awkward and shy when watching his maid put up the most sophisticated, elegant and adorable Christmas decorations he has ever had or seen.

Is this what a home should look like…? Warm, and light, and pretty, filled with cozy, useless things? 

But it's not the items she got him that make a home, no. Home now equals rich, home-cooked meals, or the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon rolls greeting him at the door. Home is a cute girl, returning his obsessive stare with a small smile and telling him to stay safe before he leaves to kill people. Home is a woman who's the perfect wife material, so fuckable and sweet, who's fussing over the fact that he doesn't even have a Christmas tree.

He gets it before her next visit – meaning, her next shift – and decorates it himself. It looks clumsy and uneven and a bit sparse, but she compliments him on it when she arrives. The looks she gives him are so warm and playful that he starts to have some hope – hell, a full surge of it – and he also starts to miss his hood. He's feeling awkward as it is around her, he doesn't need to be blushing in front of his suddenly flirtatious maid... Men don’t fucking blush when a woman flirts with them; they fuck them until their knees give in.

With no small amount of hidden guilt, he finally confronts her with her underwear, telling her she forgot something and that he found these in his laundry pile. Taking sick satisfaction from seeing how she's the one who's flustered now, he forgives her for washing laundry in his place. He's a merciful man, after all. 

There's still some cum on the lace as he returns her possession to her, and he hopes he's just imagining the shock in her eyes when she takes them back. It's his way of saying that he likes her a lot, but the flirting ends immediately, the playful smiles stop, and he knows he fucked up big time. The warm, lively woman is gone, she suddenly resembles an ice sculpture who's about to flee his apartment at any given moment, and he could hit himself in the head with a big metal bat.

What the fuck was he even thinking? That a woman would appreciate it if he returned her panties covered in old, dried cum?

He's a fucked up pervert, and he has lived in a dream world, and now reality awaits.

He shuts down and shuts up after that, keeps the connection pure, pristine and professional. She's just here to do her job. 

The holidays approach, and he's sulking, knowing that he won't see her again in at least six weeks. He'll have to make do without a maid, and he'll have to numb his whole soul to get through yet another lonely Christmas.

Well, not lonely: this time he spends it with the decorations she got him. They can keep him company during the lonely masturbation sessions. They can watch him live on takeout food and remind him what a horny, sad loser he is.

So his last attempt, his last minor sin is that he gets her a Christmas present. She's about to leave, hurrying to some place where she's loved and cherished, or then about to get fucked because she has her hair and make-up done. The jealousy creeps up his spine like a viper as he watches her get all dolled up. 

She's so very grateful to him for allowing her to get ready here and use his bathroom, and he plays the generous, kind gentleman while gritting his teeth, trying to ignore another demanding erection telling him to dick her down and make her stay down. Make her bake for him and sit on his knee as he squeezes her tits and watches her stare turn dumb. Tell her to douse the lights and light the candles, tell her to undress in front of that stupid Christmas tree, order her to lie down on the mat and spread her pretty legs for him…

She's standing at the door, a cute girl turned into a seductive goddess, while he's about to enter into another lonely brain fog. She grabs her coat and grants him one of those warmer smiles as he walks to her with an envelope in hand.

"I got you something... Merry Christmas."

"Aw… You shouldn't have…"

She accepts his gift delicately with both hands, clearly surprised and pleased. When she opens the gift, she laughs and then covers her mouth with her hand. It's a gift card to Victoria's Secret, and with a relatively large sum on it, too.

"Oh god... Ahah, okay. I like your humour," she laughs again, then gives him a wink and an exceptionally gorgeous smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." 

He's fully aware that he sounds like an ominous, threatening robot. His voice has an effect on women; most flee, some get curious. She's one of the few who don't know what's good for them at all.

He never had a gift with females, and even with his position, experience and age, he still feels like he’s trying to court a breathtaking alien species whose native language he can’t quite understand or speak. The silence stretches on, and her smile slowly fades, making him perfectly aware of the fact that he should say or do something assertive, something charming, instead of just standing here, looming over her. When the playful stare then turns into a helpless, pitying one, the kind his mother used to wear when she discovered he had been bullied again at school, his hands start to go numb. 

Jerk off and kill, those are the only things he ever was good for… 

"Mm... I'm afraid I have nothing for you," she says apologetically. 

Ach so… She’s ashamed for not getting him a present. 

Well, shit. Fuck.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean… I thought about it. You're the kindest employer I've ever had. I really appreciate it... and I love working for you."

"That’s nice to hear." 

"I just didn't know what to get you. I don't know what you like."

He's trying to ignore the pull of his chest, the sick burning in his loins. His cock is stirring just from the way she's looking at him. Inviting, adoring, waiting.

"You already got me Christmas decorations."

"Yeah, but… You paid for them."

"Aber... You baked for me. No one's ever–"

He shuts his mouth before making a complete fool of himself.

"Well, I'm glad you liked my buns," she laughs, then bites her lip, realizing what she just said could be taken in many ways. 

"I truly did."

She guides her stare to the floor and smiles, and the electricity between them… it just can't be only a fabric of his imagination.

"Take care of yourself. Ok?" He says, then swallows a lump in his throat, but it never quite goes down. She’s still waiting for something; the tension between them is petrifying. 

"I will," she says, her voice a bit frail, and far too sweet. "You too. Take care."

She gives her last smile to him; it’s sad and somewhat disappointed as she turns around and reaches for the door.

"Wait," he calls, purely from the hard instinct that tells him to fucking do something about this heavy, sickening tension. She immediately turns with hope in her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I… Ah, glückliches neues Jahr."

"...What does that mean?" 

"It means 'Happy New Year'."

"Oh," she laughs, "I thought it was something naughty…"

Shit.

Shit.

Shit…

"Ich möchte deine Muschi lecken."

She freezes with her hand still on the doorknob. That fucking sentence was so dark it left little or nothing to the imagination... It was thick enough to make it clear that he’s not a kind, generous employer, nor is he a gentleman.

"What's that?" She asks, her pretty voice barely a whisper.

"Something naughty."

Her hand lets go, it falls to the side. She even tilts her head before her voice turns thick and suggestive too. 

"Really…?"

"Yes."

"Well don't be shy. Tell me what it means."

Playful, naughty, dirty. 

She wants to fuck. She wants to fuck.

Is this a filthy dream or is this really happening? 

"I want to lick your pussy."

There's an intake of air, just a soft gasp. Batting of long, dark lashes, just before the stars in her eyes start to shine in full.

"Oh," she breathes. "Is that so?"

"Ja."

It wouldn't be the first time someone offers him cunt just out of spontaneous pity. It wouldn’t be the first time he accepts it. A man like him takes whatever he can get.

Pity is apparently what's happening now, because his maid starts to undress. 

With a victorious shine in her eyes, she drops her coat to the floor, then unbuttons her jeans. Takes away her shirt and bra with shaky hands while maintaining that seductive, downright filthy eye contact. More and more of her skin is exposed as she quickly strips in front of him, finally slipping out of her black, see-through underwear while he's trying not to shake from dark urges and lust.

When she's naked, flush and bare, her fingers start to slide up her thigh. The other hand is pressed against her side as if shy. She’s either offering him a Christmas present in the most elegant way, or then she’s concerned about getting licked and fucked sore. It's like throwing a dog a meaty bone and then putting the hound in a loose chain, just an inch away from the mouthwatering sight and scent. She steals one look at his erection, currently trying to rip its way through his pants. The gross tent is pointed at her, and she knows it: she knows she has him on a leash, but only barely.

"Go ahead then," she whispers.

He falls straight to his knees, and presses his whole face against her softly trimmed hair. When he opens his mouth, she shudders, clearly not ready for someone this starved trying to devour her whole.

She doesn't know she's about to sleep with the devil… If she knew, she would be out the door by now.

It's too late now: he engulfs her, locks her in place by wrapping his arms around her hips. 

Mein.

Mein.

Mein…

He could rub his face in her sweet cunt forever, but that won't do: she said he could lick her, so that’s what he’s going to do. After a few bites and nibs, after inhaling the sweet scent of her and squeezing her long and hard in his embrace, he finally rises and carries her to his den. There’s only loneliness there in his bedroom, just stale sweat and old musk staining the sheets, but she softens on the linens when he goes down on her.

Her pussy is already throbbing and wet when he gives her the first, fat lick. Next up, soft little laps to make her thighs drift apart. Some long, teasing circles on her clit, and she starts to sigh - he’s not an expert, but he knows she won’t find a more enthusiastic cunt licker in this city. Or this whole country… Perhaps the entire world.

And she's not a screamer, she’s a moaner. She also whimpers a lot. He switches between giving fast attention to her clit, then slow tongue fucking to her hole. The scent of pussy fills his room: they only talk to each other through moans and whines and groans. He breathes into her like a panting dog: she whimpers under torture like she actually likes it, and likes him. Like she actually prefers his bed to any other place in this world.

He fucks her with his mouth, sloppy and hungry; he could french kiss her pussy forever like this. He could spend every evening licking her to ruin. 

"Just like that… Just like that… Don't stop…"

He's as hard as can be; he's about to lose his fucking mind. If she doesn't cum soon, he might just die from having to listen to those unhinged cries. 

To help her out – because he's a generous, generous man – he slips a finger inside, earning another spill of filthy moans.

"Oh god ohgod oh fuck–!"

She sounds dumb and helpless as he eats her out like she’s his last meal. His chin is drenched and his cock is hard as the poor girl leaks all over her ass and on his bedding. He adds another finger, starts to fuck her slow and steady. She's more than prepared for his cock, and when he starts to do the alphabet on her clit, she whimpers, whines, and finally, screams. 

The feel-good hormones flood his brain when she cums. He kisses her through it and slows down the torture gradually, gives her some space to pulse and throb and leak against his chin. 

Women need a lot of stimulation; that’s what he has learned. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and he doesn’t want to ruin the explosion by overriding her senses. When he rises from a job well done, he sees how some of her makeup is ruined. 

Yeah. Fuck... A screamer, a moaner, and a crier.

And he's only about to fuck her…

"Das war gut. Good pussy," he mutters and licks his lips, high above his pretty little prize.

"Oh–oh god…"

Poor thing is so flushed, desperate and helpless; she jerks as he taps her clit with his cock, whines when he forces the fat, leaking tip into her folds. 

"Wait–"

"I will fuck you now."

"Sir… Please, could we use a condom? Please…"

She's still calling him sir like she's at work. Like he's her superior, or worse yet, an officer, a colonel she's not supposed to flirt with, let alone spread her weak little legs for. 

"Hm. I don't have any."

"I do," she's panting heavy on the bed, clearly reluctant to get away from his cock, too weak to get up after his thigh-shaking treatment. It would give him a year’s worth of confidence to witness her in this state, if she would only let him finish the job. Right here, right now. Dip it in raw and blow a load inside that sweet, aching cunt. She might just end up with his child... 

But the moment is ruined: he hates condoms, and he hates it that she has them with her. Jealousy starts to eat his mind like there's a can of worms poured inside his brain.

Who does she carry condoms for? Does she get fucked often...? 

How many does she have, one, two, three? A whole pack?

She rises to get the darned piece of plastic, and the thick thunder in his head is making him seriously consider locking her up and throwing away the key. Women shouldn't be running around like that, hungry and desperate for a dick. She should stay at home, his home, and go crazy when he returns from war. The rage is the only thing keeping his cock from growing soft. 

"It's too small," he laments when the condom is finally in place but barely reaches the base of his shaft. It's going to roll off if he fucks her like he intended to… Good, long, deep and hard.

She bites her lip as she stares at the sad little wrapping trying to render his cock harmless. Surely she can see how stupid and useless this is… Either he gets her a morning after pill tomorrow or then he pulls out, but the condom has to fucking go. 

"It's… okay," she swallows. "It's okay. Let's just… If you're clean?"

"I am."

He doesn't tell her he hasn't had a woman in months. Almost over a year.

And he’s clean; he keeps everything…in ordnung.

He rolls the cursed plastic off, and his cock immediately bounces back up: hard, demanding and ready. He throws the condom away, just somewhere, anywhere, as long as it's out of his sight. Wasting no time, he's back at her cunt, and bullies himself in.

"Ah ja… Das ist schön… Sehr schön."

Nothing compares to the feel of a real cunt, hugging him tight. And fuck… He can actually fit fully inside her. He fits like a glove. 

"Oh ja. Das ist... I'm not going to pull out. It's not an option. Ok?"

It's not a warning, it's a simple, honest statement. She looks at him with a fearful, desperate stare as his balls arrive to press against her flesh. Yes... nothing beats a wet pussy and a frightened stare.

"Ok…" 

"It's better this way," he promises, wondering if it would make him a bad person if he disposed of her condoms first thing in the morning. "Ja?"

"Yes," she sighs. "Feels so good…"

The tightness in his chest falls down, all the way to his stomach and forms a bittersweet knot there. Why does she keep looking at him like that…? He's not hurting her, she's not exactly afraid, it's something else that's making her give him those dumb doe eyes.

"You're pretty," he rasps while trying not to start a complete fuckfest in every meaning of the word.

"O‐oh…?"

"Ja… It's illegal to be that pretty. Someone might want to fuck you..."

"Please do," she almost chokes on the words while looking up at him. "Please…"

If this is a dream, it’s the best dream he’s ever had. She's so perfect, far more needy and helpless than he ever imagined. He moves before he drives them both to madness. 

"I'll fuck you, Liebling. As many times as you want. As hard as you want."

He can't remember when was the last time he sounded so soft. Or reassuring... He can't remember the last time a woman was so responsive to his cock. But he fucks her. He fucks his own sorrow into oblivion, too. He pauses only to take a good look at her and remind himself that he’s truly inside the sweetest pussy he’s ever had. 

He even whispers lies to her ear about how she doesn't have to worry: he'll get her a plan B after this. The girl turns a bit wild now that it's somewhat safe to be fucked by an animal. She lets him lick and bite her breasts, and thoroughly abuse her cunt. At some point she grabs his face with both hands and kisses him, hungry and sweet. Squeals into his mouth as his balls slap against her ass, hugs him like a drowning person when he picks up the pace and starts to lose himself in her pussy. The feel of a woman's hands around his middle is a sensation he's forgotten completely. 

"You like that?" He starts to talk nonsense between her sloppy kisses, pleased with his own soft voice, with her, with everything in his life right now. "You like my cock? Hm?"

"Yes… Oh fuck, I'm…"

Fuck, she's about to cum again... He's in heaven, no, he's somewhere near Eden. She suddenly goes still, and sinks her nails in his back, just before a cry cuts through the air. It reminds him of the aftermath of a grenade detonating; her moans pierce the air, and he can’t get enough of it. He wants to swim in those screams.

He was supposed to make love to her for hours, but it's crystal clear now that this won’t be a long session. He's a selfish asshole for chasing his own peak next by fucking her through her second orgasm like a rabid dog. 

"Oh das ist sehr schön, das ist gut… Ach für–scheisse—"

He sounds a bit too pathetic, and quickly buries his face into her neck to escape her lovely, adoring stare. He fucks himself into a big, fat, blinding explosion, he can barely hear the thundering roar that meets her sweaty neck. 

She's scared silent by his despair, poor little thing. And he just fapped this morning… But the orgasm compares to the first time he came, it's violent, abrupt and rough. Sadly, the descent is too heady, and too quick. Nuzzling deeper into her hair, he tries to listen to her heartbeat but only hears his own beastlike panting.

"Ok… Ok. I guess we both really needed that, huh?"

She's laughing and out of breath as she gathers their pieces and constructs some kind of a new reality out of them. He rumbles in agreement and refuses to pull out – now that he's inside her, he'll never fucking leave.

"Will you stay? For the night…?"

His question is met by complete silence. She just breathes, then buries her fingers in his hair. He feels like melting chocolate; for the first time in his life, he's somewhat relaxed and content. 

"I… I'd really like to but… I can't. I have a party to attend.”

She gives him a quick kiss on the head, then ruffles his hair. She fucking pets him while he’s plunging into some deep recess with the raw, post-nut clarity. 

She just needed a fuck… She just needed some cock. And a gift card, so she can buy nice things for the men she allows to lick her to ruin. Fuck… She's even worse than him.

“I'm sorry..."

"It's ok," he hears himself say. She’s too fucking gentle as she drags her fingertips across his scalp. Her other hand comes to trace his jawline, and her thighs hug his waist so good that he would have no trouble making love to her again. Just start another round with a slow roll of hips. Fuck her until they're both sweaty and crying, fuck her full of his cum and chain her to the bed, for safekeeping as he goes and gets himself a beer in between the sessions.

For some reason, he can't quite bring himself to act on this wish. Not when she just cried from how good he was, not when she's petting him like he's a good dog who's earned his rest.

He gives himself a minute before pulling out, and she leaves his bed in silence, tiptoeing into the bathroom in a hurry. Trust a maid to not want to stain the floor with cum when she just scrubbed everything clean…

She takes a quick shower and fixes her makeup, then picks her clothes from the floor. His heart is hammering in his chest, but his breaths remain even as he watches her get dressed. He even offers her a ride to the party, which she accepts with apologetic gratitude. It’s held at someone's home: a house party is a sight he has only ever seen from outside.

She gives him an uneasy, distant smile and a quick kiss before thanking him for the evening and the ride. Then she half walks, half runs across the pavement and up towards the door to be let in by her already drunken friends. Some man embraces her, and the white rage inside his skull is telling him to grab a gun, rise from the car and start a good old mass shooting. Instead, he guides his stare to the asphalt and drives off.

He goes home and has a beer, the rage and longing giving his insides a good stab every five or ten minutes. He watches some TV, then mulls over whether to sleep on the couch because her scent is still on the sheets.

It starts to rain outside, and reality kicks in. When it rains, it pours… He decides he actually hates Christmas, and he also can't stand the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls. Too tired to dump them in the trash, his feet carry him to the bed, cold and soiled and wrinkled from past love that never was.

The clock is only half past ten, and the doorbell rings just before he takes his shirt off. For the umptieth time this day, his heart starts to race, reminding him that it's not wars that are cruel, but women. 

When he opens the door, she's standing there in the rain. Utterly soaked, dripping wet, sad like a stray cat, lower lip trembling from cold.

"Sir?" she declares, "I'm afraid to fall in love."

There’s a spread of wings inside his chest, catching wind like a soaring eagle. It’s a fell swoop and a heady high at the same time, a burning pain right there over his heart as he looks at her, lonely and sad and so adorably lost. Beautiful and wet, like a trampled little flower after a summer storm. She's perfect, just perfect.

And has she walked all the way back here…? There’s no sign of a taxi, no sounds of a car or a bus, and she looks like she's wetter than a wet dog.

"You’re afraid to fall in love…?"

She nods, then bursts into tears. Her tiny shoulders rise and fall with sobs, the rain makes long, wet strings of her hair. He takes a step and tries to pull her in, but she won't come. Stubborn, incredible little thing…

"Liebling... Me too."

"Really?” she raises her sad stare to meet him while trying to wipe her ruined mascara in the midst of falling rain. “You seem like the kind of man who fears nothing..."

"Oh I fear a lot of things."

"Like what?"

"Like… flying, for example."

"But you fly all the time?"

"Exactly."

She's sniffling and pouting and sobbing, like a princess who always got everything she wanted. He wonders if she's the kind of girl who would've laughed at him in high school, or looked him down her nose. If she would've joined the bullies and been the one to say she’d never sleep with a freak like him…

"Let's get you inside. Hmm? You must be cold."

She won’t come, no matter how hard he tries to coax her to come inside his dry, warm house. The rain falls in mats behind her as the city sleeps, vibrant and vigilant. He thought he already broke his heart to the point it couldn’t get more broken anymore, but the look she gives him as he tries to pull her inside is making it burst and shatter into pieces again.

If she's a princess, she must be a battered, broken one. 

"Come on. I'll give you a bath," he tries to entice her. "And then we’ll tuck you in. That sound gut?"

"Yes," her shoulders drop as she finally accepts his asylum. "Thank you, sir…"

"And don't call me sir unless you want to make me hard."

She breaks into a fragile, shy smile while looking down at the tips of her drenched ballerinas. Then she allows him to drag her in. 

He helps her out of her coat and hangs it to dry while his pretty little kitten gets out of her clothes for the second time this evening. A strong, powerful possessiveness settles in his chest as he guides her to the bathroom and draws her a bath. Then he pulls her shivering, naked body against him so that she wouldn’t feel cold while they wait for the tub to fill with water.

What happens next is soft and gentle, the kind of unhurried exploration he never had time to do because the few females he was with were always in a hurry to get away from him and his needs. 

This pretty thing just eases herself into the bath. A timid but trusting little creature, who allows him to study her body like it’s already a possession for him to play with. She lets him rub her tits and tease her clit, caress her neck and face and waist. She does so with patience, love and hope. He’s been extremely tender and extremely slow with her; perhaps that’s why she doesn’t run away from him. 

"You're too good for me," she whispers when his hand comes to rest on her stomach, just below her tits.

"...What?" 

He barely hears what she’s saying, he can hardly hear her speaking at all because he’s there in the water with her, submerged in the hot, soothing liquid, even if he’s crouching next to the tub in reality.

"Oh please... You're everything a woman could want," she complains softly.

"What do you mean.”

She sighs and looks up to the ceiling, as if begging for help. Then she starts to list things.

"You're… Rich? And powerful, and strong. Kind and considerate. Mysterious... With a great body and a big dick, and still wanting to go down on a woman... It's insane."

He tries to remember how to breathe, but she’s not done yet.

"I'm sorry but… No one's ever eaten me out like that. You must be so experienced."

Her praise eclipses everything, even the thoughts of wanting to kill everyone who's had a taste of her.

So, the boys she's been with don't know how to please her… Stupid arschlochs don't understand what true devotion means. Even a fucker like him knows it's better to make a woman cry out of pleasure than out of fear. Although he always had a talent to do the latter…

And he's not experienced, he's just fucking horny. He just likes to eat pussy. 

But that's not something she has to know. Better to have her keep the illusion that he's a dream catch, a rich cosmopolitan of some sort. What a joke…

"You’re literally perfect," she moans from the bath like the princess that she is. "How are you even single?"

"I'm not… right in the head, I guess."

"Well, neither am I."

He can’t look at her. Not when she’s open and trustful and sweet like this. But her hand comes to rest over his, under the water, under the safety of the surface.

"No one is."

"No. Wirklich, I’m a bit sick. Always was. I jerked off to your…" He leaves the rest of the sentence unsaid, risking a look into her eyes. 

"I know," she smiles. "I don't mind… Actually I think that's hot."

"Liebling…"

"I think I’ve had enough now. Can we go to bed…?"

"Of course."

She giggles when he lifts her from the water, smiles as he dries him with his towel like she's a wet little kitten he rescued from rain. And perhaps he did... She caresses his chin when he carries her to bed, and reaches for him as he accompanies her under the sad, steel-blue sheets. 

He doesn’t need to fuck her, not right now. It’s enough that she’s here: soft, trapped, and tame. His, just his. 

Not another lonely Christmas for him ever again…

And she latches herself onto him like he’s the saviour she’s been waiting for all her life. Poor thing doesn’t know that he may be rich and powerful and strong, but he’s not kind. He’s not considerate, and he’s not perfect. He’s her worst nightmare, he's everything a woman would despise. 

He’s single because no one ever stayed. No one stayed after they saw who he really was... Some even had to flee the country.

But he knows she’ll stay. He’ll make sure that this cute one never leaves. No, this one is not safe from him, even if she tried to escape him to space.

"Are you still afraid?"

He caresses her head, pressed against his chest. She’s unsuspecting and lovely, the perfect woman, hugs him so tight and sighs from simple, lamblike happiness. 

"No," she smiles softly. "Not at all... I know you'll treat me right."

[rafesangelita]

🍪; lover, you should have come over by jeff buckley

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 “sometimes a man must awake to find that really he has no one. so i’ll wait for you, love.”— in which rafe never took your relationship seriously when he had you, so you left the island in hopes of starting new. however, you’re back one year later, and this time you’re both on the same page.

warnings: second chance au, implied age gap, lots of talk about marriage and having kids, angst, time skip, rafe is pretty regretful in this one

a/n: this couldn’t have been a more perfect request! i’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while now. left this one on a little cliffhanger, pls don’t hate me </3 buttttt if requested enough, i’m completely open to making a part two!

wc: 0.6k

rafe knew the night you left him without a word, he was the one entirely at fault. he knew deep down there was only so much you could take before you’d have to realize he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted more than anything else, and that was serious commitment. despite you being slightly younger than him, you valued the more serious, traditional side of things. while rafe was thinking about where he would take you to dinner next, you were wondering if your babies would have his blue eyes.

refusing to be the one to initiate that kind of conversation with him, you held your tongue and enjoyed the time you had with him until your heart couldn’t take it anymore. the final straw for you was when you two were laying together the way you always did post-sex, and rafe revealed to you that marriage would never be in the cards for him. he claimed that he was too much of a possessive person to share you with anyone else, let alone children, and you swore your heart broke in two.

“you don’t want to get married.. like ever?” you gazed up at him with those fucked out eyes of yours, just hoping he wouldn’t say the words that would give you confirmation to let him go. “no. i know a lot of people say this, but it’s true; marriage is just a piece of paper.” that night, you remembered every curve and detail of his face, forever engraving his image in your head as you silently slipped out of tanneyhill and didn’t look back. you cried. oh, god, you cried so much. apart of you felt like going back and erasing all desire of marriage and family and just indulge in what you and rafe had, but in no world would that work.

rafe woke up that morning, feeling a profound sense of emptiness he didn’t expect to feel without you near. he recalled the way you looked at him before he fell asleep, like you were never going to see him again. panic set in, his feet moving before he could think. he called your name out, checking every room and bathroom before the harsh reality hit him like a ton of bricks. he called your phone, throwing his own when an automated message said the line had been deactivated.

rafe was in denial the first week. he was sure you’d turn up somehow, somewhere, and wrap your arms around his shoulders while planting kisses on his neck, but you never came. that didn’t stop him from looking for you any chance he got, hoping, pleading that he’d bump into you somewhere and you’d go home with him. when he caught word that you had left the island altogether, he felt hurt, betrayed. how could someone as sweet and soft, and so precious as yourself just vanish without warning?

he didn’t understand, not being able to wrap his head around the fact that you felt like you had to run from him. you were the only thing he had on this god forsaken island. his family, his friends, no one truly knew him like you did. no one recognized his efforts to be a better man, no one comforted him, loved him. he spent his days focused on work, completely shutting everyone out. he was filled with regret, and it was your absence that made him realize marriage was so much more than a legal document.

it was vowing to never take that person for granted, it was carving your love in a stone of history, it was a sacred promise to never leave one another, a sacred promise that he so badly wished to have another chance at. before he knew it, an entire year had passed and just like you, there was nothing he wanted more than a family of his own. scratch that, he didn’t just want it. he dreamt about it, yearned for it just as much as he yearned for you. what he didn’t know, was that it wouldn’t be long until you showed up at his door.

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT ─── cillian murphy ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I am turned inside out by the ache in your voice, the taste of your tongue." — ‘Afternoon Masala: Poems’, Vandana Khanna

pairing. cillian murphy x actor!reader

summary. you and your co-star, cillian, are having a hard time performing a sex scene for your movie. they do say, however, practice makes perfect.

warnings. swearing, thigh-riding, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex, mentioned/implied age gap, probably inaccurate depictions of actor-life, mirror sex, slight breeding kink, kinda innocent reader(?), AU cillian murphy (not married/no kids), SMUT UNDER THE CUT! 

word count. 4.5k

a/n. this is not in any way meant to disrespect cillians wife😭 i js made this a not married AU to be convenient!

i.

“Cut - cut, cut!” The director repeated, his increasing irritation colouring his voice completely. “Now, I said it earlier, but—“

You scrubbed your face with a sigh, getting up off of Cillian and the desk, who was propping himself up by the elbows. “It’s not passionate enough,” you finished flatly for your director, who nodded earnestly. 

“I promise, this is as tiring for me as it is for you. Remember,” the director continued, the script half curled in his hands and making a thin flapping noise, “it’s the culmination of six months of pining. Six months of taboo, unrelenting, electric tension. Nothing more than stares in class and brief touches- you are supposed to be bordering feral for one another.”

You, and your co-star, Cillian, were currently filming the first sex scene of a movie portraying the forbidden, toxic love affair between a barely 18 teenage student and her much older teacher. Well, not exactly filming- you weren’t getting far with the scene, for the two of you just couldn’t get it right. Or, as the director liked to say, passionate enough. 

The role was already incredibly taxing, even without the added stress of the sex scene: it was 20 hour work days, living on set in a trailer far from home, having to devote at least half of those hours to filming this very sex scene, and had a perfectionist director like yours. 

The problem was that it was long, and the director wanted it done in one take. Brilliant man, he was, and had a love for this project you wished every director had for theirs, but he was adamant on it being done perfectly. He said it was intended to be the “primary and most iconic” scene of the entire film, for it was the crux of the story; the point of no return for the characters. 

“With all due respect, I’ve never imagined such a scenario, much less had experience. Just how can you expect me to portray a student-teacher romance accurately?“

“That’s your job: to imagine and perform.” The director demanded, obviously up to his ears in frustration.

Just before you retorted irately, Cillian cut in smoothly. “I think what she means,” he said, watching the veins in the director’s forehead nearly burst, “is that it’s hard to perform because it’s not common. S’easy to act in love because there’s love all around, yeah? We don’t have much to go off of, visually.”

The director’s gaze rapidly flitted between you and Cillian for a moment, before letting go of his anger and sighing wearily. “You’ve never even thought about a superior that way? Someone older than you?” he pressed, obviously joking and trying to lighten the set’s mood. 

You paused, and tried not to look at Cillian, your blatantly gorgeous forty-something co-star who was chosen for this role firstly, because of his stellar acting and secondly, because of how fucking attractive he was. 

His character was a total fucking creep, and you knew casting Cillian had been a calculated choice; all in the name of making the audience’s guard come down to be smacked in the face by his immorality later. He was meant to be charming, handsome, and terribly, totally, off-limits: the object of completely forbidden desire, the line your character was desperate to cross. 

It seemed the same in real life, too: the young inexperienced actress wanting to ignore those societal niceties and pine wholeheartedly over the middle-aged actor with decades of knowledge under his belt. 

You weren’t, like, in love or anything, but you certainly reveled in his presence: he was patient, kind, and completely understanding of your lack of experience, always guiding you through all the steps an actor takes during filming like when to take off hair and makeup, what best to say to family and friends prying for details- all the things, he said, he wished someone told him when he was first starting out. 

You were afraid you two had unknowingly fallen into a mentor-mentee dynamic, but there were always those spare moments, between hearty fits of laughter and silly conversation that you’d never expected to come from such an intimidating man as Cillian, where his rough hands would brush past your waist, gaze dragging up and down your body, sounding sensual and provocative despite nothing dirty leaving his mouth at all. 

He made your insides pulse, especially when your more intimate scenes came about, and you could only have a lusting woman’s pipedream that he felt the same. 

You still remember the first sequence you’d done with him: in the movie, your characters met after-class to make up for a missed exam, and it was the start of their corrupt attraction. Cillian had been pressed against your back, leaning over you to pressuringly peer at the test, large hand gripping your shoulder. The air felt steamy then, his body warm, low voice making you feel lightheaded as he recited his lines. 

You shivered at the remembrance of the moment, coming back to reality, and you answered the director’s question with a vehement shake of the head. 

The director let out a (strained) laugh, and smacked his palm lightly with the script, shoulders slumping. “Okay. Okay, we’ll - we’ll break for today. Take this extra time to imagine, research, anything- just practice the scene, alright? Practice makes perfect.” 

You and Cillian nodded simultaneously, giving eachother a look that just screamed “he’s ridiculous” before tearing away from each other's stare to return to your trailers. 

Later, you were getting ready to go to bed, peeling your freshly showered hair out of a small towel, when there was a knock at your trailer door. 

“One second,” you called out, pulling on your silk sleep shorts. You vaguely registered how awkward it might be to be seen in your pajamas if the director or one of your fellow actors came about, but you were way too tired to care. 

You did care, however, self-consciously crossing your arms and covering your thinly-clothed chest, when you opened the door and there on the steps stood your co-star, Cillian.

Before speaking, he looked you up and down, icy blue eyes gleaming behind an unfamiliar pair of tortoise shell frames. “You goin’ to bed?” he finally asked, tone husky. 

His gaze lingered on the bare skin of your legs for a few seconds longer and you shifted uncomfortably, crossing your ankles together in a poor attempt to hide yourself. 

“What do you need?” you asked briskly, more sharp than you meant it to be. 

“Sorry,” he corrected himself, shaking his head and finally looking you in the eye. “I meant’a come by earlier… got caught up. I know this, ah, sex scene is tripping us up, so…” he trailed off, lifting up the white script he’d been holding behind his back. “Y’up for some practice?”

You blinked rapidly at the simple, innocent request. Mere rehearsal, not some lecherous late-night escapade you’d been dreaming up in your mind. “Oh… yes, of course,” you nodded numbly, moving out of the way to let him step in. 

Only moments later, when he’d perched onto the edge of your vanity — looking uniquely casual in what you assumed was his version of pajamas: baggy gray sweatpants and a fitted, well-worn black t-shirt — did you realize the connotations of rehearsing your sex scene. 

Sure, it was all pre-determined, every word you’d say and every action you’d perform, but still. Saying- and doing, such suggestive things after-hours? That was beyond your dirtiest fantasies.

However, you shook yourself internally: Cillian had come to rehearse the scene with professional intentions. Honestly, he’d probably done so because he was tired of you messing up the scene. He could do his own part masterfully, and you knew that if it’d been a better, more experienced actress by his side, filming would’ve moved on ages ago. 

You took shaky, tentative steps near him, settling on your bed, watching him flip through the script— when he looked up and frowned. 

“What’re you doing? Come here,” he gestured for you to come closer, almost a command. “We don’t have a desk, so we can use your vanity.”

You nodded, biting your lip and nervously complying with his words. “So, we’ll start from the beginning?” you asked, your voice -- and legs -- suddenly feeling terribly weak.

His eyes were still trained on the paper as he answered. “Not necessarily. The sex part s’really the only thing we’re having trouble with, yeah?” 

You gulped, throat dry. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

With that, he chanced one last look at the script, before diving into the scene. His actions were ones you were extremely familiar with, having attempted this scene everyday for at least a week now. 

His body turned to yours, hands coming up to your jaw, and pressing your back onto the table slightly. He held you tightly, and made you look at him, while delivering his lines softly, memorable Irish accent replaced by his character’s generic American one.

Jiltedly, you did the same, poorly remembering what you needed to say and dragging through it like some amateur. “Fuck, sorry,” you cursed suddenly, tearing away from his touch and sighing. 

He gave you a small, careful smile, immediately breaking out of character and taking a step away from the vanity. “No need t’be nervous. Practice makes perfect, right?” 

You snorted at his quoting of the director. “I just… I don’t know what he means by passionate. I’m trying to be professional about this but - but I’ve seriously never been in some steamy love-affair.”

“Can’t really expect that of you, can we? You’re too young, too much’ve a good girl for that kinda ‘ting.” He said, hand coming up to your shoulder, the one where your silk tanktop’s spaghetti strap had slipped off, rubbing it soothingly. 

You practically melted into a puddle at both the pet name and how the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your sensitive skin. You were so entranced you almost whined when he stopped and pulled up your fallen strap, but instead you wordlessly snatched the script that was dropped onto the table and found one of the lines, inhaling sharply and readying yourself. 

Your hand came up to tug on the sleeve of Cillian’s shirt, as dictated by the script. “Sir, please,” you whispered out in your character’s high pitched voice, “I - I… want you to touch me.”

“This is -- wrong. I’m your teacher, and I…” Cillian responded, swiftly back in character, the back of his palm grazing your cheek. “I gotta break your heart, darling.”

You looked up at Cillian, summoning crocodile tears to fill your gaze. “Please. I need you.” Then, one of your clammy hands ran down Cillian’s chest as you spoke, like it did back on set. “I think of you, at night. I soaked through my shorts the day you scolded me.”

You heard Cillian’s breath hitch- his character, you reminded yourself. “Fucking hell… I think of you in class, sweetheart,” he growled out perfectly. 

So far, so good, you thought. It wasn’t awkward, and was already miles better than the lackluster performances you’d given previously. You continued by leaning into Cillian’s touch, making him sit on the vanity— the part of the scene you’d gotten to this morning, before the director called cut.

This time, however, Cillian’s actions differed from the ones he was supposed to perform: instead of petting the crown of your head, his fingers trailed down your hips, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’ll be good for you, sir,” you recited, face growing hot as his hand inched closer to the curve of your ass. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Cillian’s gaze had darkened now, flitting over your features. He didn’t say his line - or, had at least missed the timing, and you removed your hands from his body worriedly. “Are you alright—“

Before you could finish your sentence, Cillian had grabbed you by the ass, switching your places and setting you down on the edge of the vanity. 

“Cillian!“ you squeaked out, the only thing you could really say as you processed what exactly just happened. Your mind was swimming with confusion — and anticipation — as he stood before you, legs pressing on either side of your knees and trapping you on the vanity. 

“Improv,” he promised quietly in his telltale Irish accent, a sly wink appearing on his sharp features. 

You bit your lip, nodded, and repeated your line. You trusted him to guide you — and the rehearsal — because, as mentioned before, he did these kinds of things often. If he thought you’d act better if you sat on the vanity, you’d sit on the vanity. 

His hand then pet your hair, the other hand coming up to your chin and making you look up at him. “Whatever I want?” he murmured, back on track with the script. 

You bat your lashes at him. “Everything. I’m yours.”

Now, this is where you thought Cillian would stop— because after your line came the kissing and the touching and the heavy petting: all things you thus far hadn’t filmed at all, because you couldn’t even get the dialogue out right. 

Instead, he leaned down and began to press hungry kisses down your neck, making you gasp.

“What are you—“

“Shh,” he demanded softly, “it's all part of the scene, remember?”

You blinked dumbly, mouth opening and closing, unable to register a coherent thought or word. He said it was part of the scene but you’d read that script, and his teeth nipping lightly at your skin was not written anywhere within it.

But, you gulped down your thoughts, and belted out several more of your lines in tandem to his own. With his other hand gripping your thigh so tight you thought it might bruise, you were starting to think that maybe this was one of those lecherous late-night escapades you were dreaming of. 

All you’d been doing was acting, like he’d asked, but still, you could see clear as day how that’d affect him— how easily it could be to succumb. After all, you were just barely restraining yourself from jumping his bones: how could you not, with his gorgeous face just inches away from yours?

Well, acting or not, you’d enjoy every minute of this.

When one of his hands began playing with the waistband of your shorts as he suckled on your pulse, that just right spot on your neck, you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth. 

However, the noise seemed to startle him; jumpshock him back to reality, and your suspicions became completely confirmed when he pulled away from you roughly. 

“Fuck, I’m—“ a pained grimace washed over his features, looking you up and down like he just realized what he’d been doing. “I don’t know what came over me, I— shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have come here tonight.”

You stared at him, body disappointed at the lack of touch, watching him press his pink lips into a conflicted white line. “What - what d’you mean?”

His gaze coursed over your every feature, so intently you thought he was admiring your face. “I can’t— we can’t happen. Y’too young, you’re, you’re too…”

“Then we can stop. If that’s what you want,” you murmured coyly, hand coming up to pick a piece of thread off his thin shirt. “But only if you ask. C’mon, say it: I don’t want you and I want this to stop.”

He groaned, biting his lip. “Don’t do that. I can’t do that.”

“Do what?” You tilted your head to the side. 

“Tease. Because you know I won’t tell you to stop. ‘Cause I won’t be able to fucking control m’self,” he grumbled, before pressing a desperate, deep kiss to your lips, pulling you off the vanity and continuing down your chest.

“Then don’t. Take me for everything I have,” you whined, following his every move and manhandling touch. 

He breathed heavily between kisses. “Saying those kinds’a words with that pretty voice of yours… fuck, you’re doing things to me.” 

Your hands were trailing all over his body, and then you tugged his shirt off, desperate to feel him. He had similar thoughts, fingers dipping into your silk shorts and petting your hot mound. 

“Need you,” you panted, and, at your words, he suddenly tore off your silk shorts and panties in one clean go, making you shiver.

He then sat down on your vanity chair and roughly grabbed you by the hips to place yourself onto one of his thighs. The thick fabric of his sweatpants, taking in your wetness like a sponge, made you wince.

“Go on then,” he demanded darkly, “get y’self off on my fucking thigh. Show me how bad you need me.”

You bit your lip, face burning with shame at the order. But there was an aching need in your gut, and the way he crossed his arms, watching and waiting for you to get the hell on with it, had you clenching around his thigh.

Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, and you began slowly rutting against him, the soft fabric of his pants doing poor work for pleasuring your core. You pressed your face into his shoulder, screwed up at the lack of friction. 

“Can’t do it,” you whined, “Please.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You said you needed me. You’ve got me,” he gestured to his thigh, “so get to work.” Then, he suddenly flexed, making an unwarranted mewl leave your mouth.

You wanted nothing more than his fucking cock, but here you were, pathetically pleasuring yourself on his thigh until he allowed otherwise. You nodded resignedly, and dug your fingernails into his shoulders, starting to set a steady pace of grinding down on him, slowly building up the heat within your insides. 

You were moaning now, vigorously dragging your hips against him harder, needier, feeling the pressure in your cunt grow hotter and more rampant. 

“Y’hear that?” He asked, one of his fingers tilting your chin back up to face him. “D’you even realize how fucking delicious you sound, all needy f’me?”

You nodded, but weren’t really paying attention: you were closer than ever, just moments away from falling off the edge— when Cillian stopped you. 

“Stop,” he spoke, voice filled with sheer lust, and you whimpered at the abrupt loss of momentum. Then, he got up, holding you against him by the waist, looking down at his sweatpants. “You made such a mess… soaked all over m’pants.”

You didn’t — no, couldn’t respond to his musings, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to return friction to your needy pussy, biting down on your lip to muffle your breathy pants. 

He noticed this, however, smirking and quickly pressing you stomach down onto the vanity. You caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time since your shower, and you flushed with shame: your eyes were heavy-lidded and dilated, lips pink and slick with drool, your brows in a perpetual knit.

You looked fucking filthy, and when you felt Cillian press his thick head to your entrance, something you hadn’t noticed he’d pulled out, too enraptured in your dirty expression, you shut your eyes. 

You were suddenly so much more aware of the situation: you’d fucked yourself silly on your co-stars thigh, the co-star who was twice your age. He now knew you weren’t a talented aspiring actress, no, you were just a desperate little thing begging to be fucked. 

“Hey, hey,” He tutted in mock-disappointment, “open your eyes, and fucking watch yourself. It’ll be good for our scene.”

You whimpered helplessly, obeying him and fluttering your eyes open, as he pushed his cock past your dripping folds inch by inch. 

“Oh my god,” you cried out when he finally pressed all the way in. You felt so full, stretched to the brim with his hardened cock, so deep his balls touched your sticky clit.

“So fucking wet,” he commented, chuckling darkly behind you. You were totally slick, helping him enter you faster, but his cock was still a foreign intrusion to your inexperienced cunt: you were young, and had never been the type to “get around” — at least not with the intentions of getting fucked so much you could take any length of dick easily. 

You clenched around him, a groan leaving his mouth at the increased pressure around his cock, and he snapped into you, making you bounce forward as your lips parted with a sweet moan. 

You’d been focussed on his face, in the mirror, but Cillian’s hand suddenly tangled through your hair, grabbing a fistful of it and lifting your head to face yourself. “I told you to fucking watch yourself,” he spat, gripping your hair tightly. “you’re the reason we can’t wrap up, so do your job and fuckin’ practice.”

With that, Cillian started pounding into you, digging the rough pads of his fingers into your hip, and you would’ve protested such a fast progression — having been given barely any time to get used to his long cock — but your expression was even worse than before, if that was even possible. 

Your mouth was open, tongue out and panting like a fucking dog, your lustfully sticky spit spilling down your chin to your chest, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head with each hearty thrust Cillian delivered you. The sounds you were making weren’t helping your embarrassment either, all unintelligible mewls and needy whines for his cock. 

“You’ve wanted me for so long, haven’t you? I always knew what a filthy desperate girl you were, pressing up against me during shooting… those naughty hands on my thighs,” he snickered. 

“Needed you in me so bad,” you whimpered, nodding enthusiastically, barely able to register what you were doing now with the pleasure washing over you and clouding your senses. Your back was arching into him, sucking in his cock and never wanting him to leave despite the mind-breaking ecstasy that was coming from his pounding. 

“Just look at your dirty fuckin’ face… so pathetic.” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek; sweet and lovely, a stark juxtaposition to his unrelenting rutting and degrading words. 

You whined at his words, but you knew they were true: you’d never seen yourself get fucked, always too busy with, well, getting fucked, but seeing yourself in the mirror like this had you unexpectedly hotter than before. There was just something about it, your face unabashedly contorting around the pleasure, Cillian’s hands snaking up your body as he rammed into you in the background. 

Kind of like your own personal porno, you thought offhandedly, and you wondered how it’d affect you if you filmed yourself. Hopefully, with Cillian. 

His other hand then came up to your folds, spreading them apart so he could see himself disappear into your hole. “Fuck, your cunt’s so perfect,” he growled, his head falling back, losing himself in the pleasure. 

The orgasm building in your gut wasn’t like the one when you’d been grinding down on his thick thigh, no, it came faster, making you sweat and your knees shake. You wanted more, and you gasped out “faster,” and “harder,” to Cillian, needing him in the stick spongy spot deep in your cunt. 

“Please,” you begged without any expectation of a real answer or action, “please, Cillian, please.”

He did go faster, though, to your apparent shock, both hands coming to your thighs to steady himself. “So needy,” he grumbled, pushing himself deeper and more swiftly into you, feeling how deliciously your fleshy walls tightened around his new pace. 

With that, your high came just as quick, hitting you like a fucking freight train and making you scream out his name. Your orgasm wrecked you, made your vision go white and your thoughts stutter to a complete halt, and you vaguely made out Cillian’s proud hum, whispering “Good girl,” in your ear. 

When you came to, your head was hanging low, your eyes blown out, lips puffy. Cillian was still thrusting into your worn-out pussy, but it was more jilted, shaky and needy. 

“Come in me,” you pleaded suddenly, gripping the vanity to keep your trembling legs up, “fill me up, please, make your come spill out of me.”

“Good god, girl,” he groaned, pounding one last thrust into you before letting go, his cock pulsing around your wet core. He was pressed up to you so deep you could feel him shoot his load right into your cervix, and you grinned weakly, a sweet image of you: knocked up with his kid, your cunt so young and fertile you’d get pregnant from just about anything from him, entering your mind. 

After a moment, he slipped his softening cock out of your filthy cunt and picked you up by the waist to set you down on the vanity and keep you from falling onto the floor. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking up at him through your lashes. You then bit your lip, feeling his thick load of creamy come ooze out of your used hole onto your vanity. 

He noticed too, letting out a satisfied groan, spreading your legs lightly, before collecting himself on his finger and pushing his come back into your cunt. “Such a good girl,” he reiterated, going back to being sweet and petting your hair, doting on your weak form, looking deep into your eyes. 

You swooned at his delicate actions. “Is this a good time to say I like you?” 

He laughed, all adoringly. “It’s as good a time as any. I like you, too, if it’s any consolation.” 

“But you, y’know… you said I was too young,” you reminded him, frowning slightly. 

He sighed, gaze drifting away nervously for a moment before coming back to you. “That I did, but, well… if you wanna take this old man for a ride before I keel over,” he shrugged.

You couldn’t help the laugh that belted out of you, his words so ridiculous and completely not based in reality. “Oh, sure,” you said, shaking your head, lips still in an amused tilt, “you’re mine, old man.”

Before he could speak, probably say another stupid joke, your hands wrapped around his neck and you pulled him toward you, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips. 

“I like you like you, okay?” You whispered, sounding incredibly juvenile but twice as heartfelt, your tone wavering and self-conscious. You were bearing your heart on your sleeve here, okay, acknowledging feelings you thought should never come to light. 

His hands came up to your face, gently holding you. “Good thing I like you like you, too.”

ii.

“Cut!” The director called, and you swore you felt your heart drop to the floor. Fuck, you thought, mind racing, what went wrong this time? Was it the kissing, or the hands in the hair?

However, the director came up to you and Cillian and let out an uncharacteristic shriek of delight. “Perfection,” he said simply, bordering on catatonic with how content he was. 

Your shoulders slumped with relief, and you leaned into Cillian, who was subtly dancing his fingers across your thigh. “It’s finished?” you asked, breathless with excitement.

The director nodded. “That was electric, needy, tense, delicious, passionate, so, so passionate,” he continued with a gasp, hands clasping together tightly.  “You are two of the most amazing actors I have ever worked with— you are incredibly talented, so convincing I’d have thought you did sleep together.” 

You preened at his praise, but not without looking up at Cillian, meeting his gaze and barely keeping your expression happy and neutral and not at all warm at the thought of the other night's events. 

As the director went off rambling about the utter masterpiece the movie was to be, Cillian trailed behind you off the set, murmuring lowly in your ear, “I guess practice does make perfect.”

[luvyeni]

( SPOOKTOBER ) great protector ! 🦇 一 최범규 ՞

𝓟 airings. familiar!beomgyu x witch!reader wc. 0.6k

🕸️◞ WARNINGS. jealous possessive gyu, unprotected sex , riding

「 ♱ authors note 」 day 3!! i missed writing for txt , so i had to do one for them ...

when you were a kid; the only thing you looked forward to was getting your familiar when you turned 13 , everyone in your family of witches got theirs when they turned of age — and you were excited to get yours.

that was until you got yours; in the shape of beomgyu. not only could he transform into a cat — an annoying cat who scratched at your ankles when he didn't get his way , he also took the shape of a human form so that he could annoy you in your day to day life.

“being my familiar means you protect me from harm, not random guys i come across.” you sat on your bed , covered in your spell books; he meowed you rolled your eyes. “don't act innocent now , you know what you did.” you blinked for a half a second and there he was in human form sitting on your bed. “he was dangerous , im telling you.” he said. “he asked for my number.”

“i could just tell.” he said. “you said that about yeonjun.” you stared at him stoically. “he just has that face.” he said , you scoffed. “and what kind of face do you have?” he smirked. “a sexy one.” rolling your eyes. “there has to be a spell to get a new familiar.” his eyes widened. “why would you say that!” he cried out. “take that back.” you smirked. “why should i?” you asked. “you've been such a bad familiar , why shouldn't i just get rid of you?”

you knew beomgyu hated when you did that; you always threatened to get rid of him , even though you knew you wouldn't , as annoying as he was , he still was a good protector. “get a better one.” that was the last thing you said , before the creature lunged for you , pinning your hands above your head. “beomgyu.” you said , eyes widened.

“i told you i hate when you say that.” he whispered in your ear. “no one else can take care of you like me, you know that.” you tried to fight against him , but he just pinned you down , holding your wrist tighter. “only me.” you felt his harden length on your thigh. “you seriously hard right now?” you pushed your thigh against his cock , he hissed. “of course i am , you walk around his barely clothed and expect me not to be.”

“so you're a perv?” you teased. “you forget i can hear what you're thinking?” you moaned as he bit down on your neck. “you're thinking about how it will feel with my cock deep inside you.” he grinding against you. “you bouncing on my cock , i see im not the only pervert in this apartment.”

you never thought you'd see the day you were bouncing on the cock of your familiar , but here you were, sat on his lap with his cock inside you. “you're mine , no one else's.” he groaned , he held your waist , your boobs bouncing in his face. “fuck gyu.” you moaned , tugging at his hair , he mouth engulfing one of your boobs. “keep suckin like that.”

‘you feel so good.’ the boy was inside your head. ‘i -fuck- i don't let those other guys near you because you're mine.’ you moaned out his name. “gyu I'm gonna cum.” he groaned. ‘they won't fuck you like i can , protect you like i can’ he began to fuck up into you. “gyu im cumming!” you screaming out. “cum for me.”

he let out a whimpered like moan as you clenched around him; “fuck i'm gonna cum.” the creature felt himself about to burst. “fuck fuck fuck.” he held you down , cumming deep inside you. “don't say that again.” he said , finally letting your waist go , bruising already forming. “you're mine.”

“my witch , only mines.”

©LUVYENI

[visionsofcarnality]

can we get headcanons for gilf!Joel maybe? his slicked back hair in tlou ep3 stirred something in me 🥵🥵🥵

i like the way you think…

Silver Fox ! Joel Miller Headcanons NSFW!!

Traditional old man in every sense of the word, he doesn’t make cheesy comments when you grab a door handle but he does give you a scolding little glare that totally doesn’t light a fire in your panties.

Self conscious about his somewhat saggy skin around his chest, middle, and extremities even after you’ve assured him until you’re blue in the face. You do help him though. Watching how attracted you are to his body even aged as it is definitely strokes his ego.

Has an online refillable prescription for Viagra that gets delivered to his apartment, and when he takes it he becomes an absolute fiend.

Usually without the Viagra he still is able to throughly satisfy you with ages of foreplay and a nice thorough fucking, leaving you both satisfied after one climactic round.

But when he takes Viagra-

You better clear your schedule and invest in a massage gun for your legs afterwards because you are going to be SORE.

I’m talking several positions, screaming until your throat hurts, your pussy feeling raw and used, daylong marathon sex.

Joel doesn’t seem to soften even a fraction until your body is wailing in protest and you can’t feel your thighs anymore.

You don’t think he could possibly have any more left in him until he’s once again emptying his heavy, full balls into your cunt; adding to the previous loads from the past six rounds he’s already shot into your body.

When he’s not fucking you stupid with the assistance of his little blue pills, he’s treating you like the princess you’d expect he would.

Don’t even think about carrying your own groceries, what are you, crazy?

Speaking of groceries…

If you aren’t living together yet best believe he’s on your doorstep every Sunday at 11AM with a truck full of groceries, dropping them off after church let’s out and he’s free to go to the store.

He makes you sit and continue sipping your coffee/tea while he puts them away, simultaneously checking the sell-by dates of everything in your fridge and pantry like a man obsessed.

Like a true old fashioned southern boy, he won’t tell you he’s in love with you. But he will point out the amount of things expired in your house.

“Come on, now. You’re gonna get sick, this is ridiculous-“ As if he hasn’t brought you your favorite brand of cereal and all your preferred snacks. Even all those “Shitty, organic, cardboard crap” things you love.

Never had a good plate of grits? He’s making them meticulously for you the morning after a hookup. “Eat, you need it. That stuff’ll keep you goin’ all day.”

Is all too supportive of your flimsy little sundresses. The gauzy fabric floating around your legs like a visualization of your perfume, nearly beckoning him closer. Even when you’re looking like a good little church girl in your soft, flowy dresses… all he can think about is how easy it would be to bend you over and have his way with you.

Which he does the second he brings you home from his cousin’s cookout in the suburbs.

Did I mention that he got a vasectomy after his divorce? Still, seeing you with his now adult daughter makes him daydream about getting you pregnant.

Which he finds insane… He doesn’t want any more kids, he physically can’t have any more kids… But the only thing he can think about right now is burying his cum in your pussy and keeping you pampered in his house with your belly full of his babies.

That vasectomy won’t stop him from trying his damndest, though. Especially after Sarah (who he had young) has her first baby and he watches you hold the six month old infant for the first time.

This man is a GENTLEMAN in the most old fashioned sense of the word.

Like, I cannot stress that enough.

If you’re an independent person, prepare to be thoroughly pampered.

His old fashioned chivalrous ways may be frustrating sometimes but it really does come from a place of just wanting to show his love.

Like when he insists on driving you everywhere whenever you go places together, or when he always finds a way to move you to the side of his body furthest away from the sidewalk when you walk, or when he automatically picks up your purse when you meet so that he can carry it for you.

But you forget all about those minor annoyances when he bends you over your kitchen table and pounds you into next week, muttering nonsense about how you’re too young for him or how you’re such a dirty girl for wanting him and his old man cock.

You moan his name when he grips both your hips in a tight but loving hold, all too willing to forgive him for his incessant door opening when you’re all dumbed down on his cock, the cock which is now way too hard and blood filled because he definitely popped one of your favorite blue pills a while ago.

But much like the gentleman he is, after he fucks you into a blissed-out stupor, he carries you to the bed and wipes your spent pussy clean, cuddling you into the mattress and running his hands through your hair while you both come down from your highs.

When he does get insecure about the age difference between you, all you can do is kiss his leathery, stubbled cheek and wrap your arms around him… Convincing him with your actions instead of words that his age is only a factor in your attraction to him… And that you love him for what makes him him.

this post got way too long but NONNIE I HOPE I DID YOU JUSTICE!!

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

So, the DfE have released their non-statutory guidance for schools on "gender questioning children". I know much has been made of the idea of outing trans children to their parents, but I think the guidance actually has far more concerning sections. And by concerning I mean "deeply transphobic and fucked up".

I know some people are happy it's non statutory, but let's be explicit, this document is transphobic, it's dogwhistle politics, and it's existence will directly harm trans people.

Ironically, the DfE's own lawyers have advised that this guidance is likely illegal and contravenes the equality act.

I think the idea that there are lots of students who are fully transitioned in school but not out at all at home is a bit of a strawman from both sides. In my experience (and I've mentioned this on tumblr before), a school would not normally encourage this if a student was genuinely at risk at home if outed, because even if all the teachers knew not to out the students, you can't control the behaviour of other students/parents etc. I think it's a bit of a right wing scare tactic "Schools are transitioning your kids without your consent". It's a fascist dog whistle.

In my experience as a teacher, the vast majority of trans kids I've taught were transitioning socially at home and school. Some did only use their chosen name/pronouns in school, but parents were aware.

But this straw man has been used to build a document which is deeply transphobic and wide reaching and will defacto exclude some trans kids from school, or from school sports, or from attending a school where they feel comfortable.

Trans kids exist. Kids can know they are trans from a young age, and there is no harm to anyone from allowing social transition at a young age. Some kids transition back to their assigned gender at birth. That doesn't mean anyone was harmed. But this guidance explicitly presents the idea of transition as both harmful to the person transitioning and those around them. Which is fucked up.

The new guidance has some really concerning bits in it which will seriously negatively impact all trans students. Here are some quotes below, with my comments in italics. Please note I'm quoting directly from a document that uses transphobic language:

-Primary school aged children should not have different pronouns to their sex-based pronouns used about them. (This is fucked, I cannot stress how fucked this is. These kids exist and simply pretending they don't is awful in the extreme. The idea that children can't socially transition at primary school is really messed up. )

-schools and colleges should only agree to a change of pronouns if they are confident that the benefit to the individual child outweighs the impact on the school community. It is expected that there will be very few occasions in which a school or college will be able to agree to a change of pronouns. On these rare occasions, no teacher or pupil should be compelled to use these preferred pronouns. (How does a child using pronouns of choice impact the school community? It doesn't? In my experience, teens are much more accepting of trans classmates than some adults. Also giving teachers explicit permission to misgender kids is fucking dangerous).

-schools and colleges should exhaust all other options, such as using firstnames, to avoid requiring other individuals having to use preferred pronouns. (My initial response to this was "why the fuck" but a trans friend commented that the purpose is to make trans people's lives as difficult and as miserable as possible, and they're going after the most vulnerable trans people- trans kids)

-If a child does not want to use the toilet designated for their biological sex, and the school or college has considered all the relevant factors outlined above, they may wish to consider whether they can provide or offer the use of an alternative toilet facility. (this is weird because I'm pretty sure it contravenes the equality act, I'm pretty sure there is a legal duty on schools, and certainly colleges where over 18s attend to provide gender neutral toilet facilities if required. Also, not having an appropriate toilet defacto excludes children from school).

-Schools may have different uniform requirements for girls and boys. Some specify which uniform items are for girls and which are for boys, and similarly some schools have hairstyle rules which differ by sex. A child who is gender questioning should, in general, be held to the same uniform standards as other children of their sex at their school and schools may set clear rules to this effect. (So some schools could, for example, force a trans boy or non binary student to wear a skirt. Which is unfair and messed up. To be honest, I think sex segregated uniforms belong in the dark ages anyway, but this is just ridiculous.).

-There is no general duty to allow a child to ‘social transition’. (Firstly, there legally is. Secondly, why would a school not want to? This just gives licence to transphobic heads to say "oh, no, we won't allow you to transition", which is illegal, but the whole thing is just such a fucking mess. And again, why? Why would you not allow a child to transition socially? Unless you want to pretend that trans children don't exist?)

If you want to read the full guidance, it's available here, but trigger warnings etc do apply: https://consult.education.gov.uk/equalities-political-impartiality-anti-bullying-team/gender-questioning-children-proposed-guidance/supporting_documents/Gender%20Questioning%20Children%20%20nonstatutory%20guidance.pdf

Yes, the guidance is non-statutory, so in theory schools could ignore it, but in reality, OFSTED etc can use non-statutory guidance as a stick to beat schools with. At this stage, I think we all know the OFSTED don't give a fuck about anyone's mental health or wellbeing.

Interestingly, even the DfE's own lawyers have admitted the advice could open schools up to a legal challenge. This SchoolsWeek article on the topic is super interesting: https://schoolsweek.co.uk/trans-guidance-dfe-lawyers-said-schools-face-high-risk-of-being-sued/

Anyway, whilst the fact it's non statutory is something, this is not the victory some people are making it out to be, and the fact a document encouraging misgendering children has been published at all is fucked. This document could very much be used to prevent children from transitioning, and will likely prevent some children who have transitioned from attending school.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 7: It's Not A Date

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy.

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), sexism, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: This chapter is just a little bit smaller than the others and it's a little bit of a filler, but I promise that it is preparing for the coming angst!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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“I can’t believe you let him around those children. What were you thinking?” Annie asks wielding a curling iron like a sword. "He's a terrible influence!"

It was t-minus one hour and thirty minutes before the party started and Annie was doing your hair and makeup for the mission. Butcher decided that Ben and you would infiltrate and see if you could find anything suspicious inside, while Butcher, Frenchie, and Mm watched the streets outside the building.

Your chair was turned away from the scuffed vanity in Hughie's bedroom at the apartment the team shared. Why he had that you weren't sure, but you figured it must be for Annie. Her makeup bag, hair spray, gel, cream, curler, flat iron, and other paraphernalia was littering the soft butter colored top. There were more things sitting there than you knew the names of.

Annie had always been better at things like that than you. She'd done your hair and makeup for every high school dance and date you went on, so you'd agreed to let her do your hair and makeup for the mission. Not to mention you trusted her not to make you look too over the top or absolutely ridiculous.

As soon as she had gotten you into Hughie's bedroom she had practically pounced on you, demanding to know everything about the past few days that you had spent living in the apartment with Ben. You'd foolishly told her that you'd had to babysit the Wilson's children last night and she was horrified that you let them anywhere near him.

Granted you also would have had the same reaction if someone had told you that they had let Soldier Boy around little children.

But he wasn't terrible to them. You think to yourself. He was actually kind of sweet. It was the first time that you'd ever associate that word with Ben, but you believed that it was true. You remember how he sat with Marty at the kitchen table and allowed her to make a friendship bracelet for him. A bracelet, that he hadn't thrown away, despite what he'd told you after she gave it to him. You'd found it on the sink in the bathroom this morning when you got up, given a place of honor in the ceramic jewelry dish you used for your bracelets.

After Ben had gone out on his "date" you'd cleaned up, made your last cup of noodle, and then went to bed hoping to forget exactly what Ben was doing. The problem was that you were disappointed and you had no idea why. You'd tossed and turned thinking about Ben and the time you'd spent together watching the kids, until finally falling into an unsatisfying slumber.

Ben had sauntered through the front door at 3 am smelling like perfume and sweat, his hair tousled and standing up like someone had ran their fingers through it, while you were drinking a calming herbal tea from your favorite mug at the kitchen table in a post-nightmare haze. You'd had them your whole life following the accident that took the lives of your parents and was thankful that one hadn't hit when Ben was home. You didn't want to explain to him why you had woken up screaming and gasping for air just as you’d done since you were twelve years old.

When you'd first moved in to the apartment and you'd had the nightmare, Mike had banged against your front door, shouting for you to answer. He'd thought that someone was trying to kill you in the middle of the night, but you'd explained to him that you had nightmares and that you were okay.

The next time it happened, Mike's mother had left a large basket of herbal tea and homemade muffins outside the door of your apartment. Even though the muffins were almost inedible, it was incredibly sweet. You might not have wanted to date Mike, but he and his mother were some of the sweetest people you'd ever met.

When he saw you up, Ben had made a comment about you waiting up for him and stated that he was ready to go again if that's what you wanted, but you'd only waved your hand and rolled your eyes while taking another sip from the mug. You weren’t in the mood, not when you could still feel the chill of sweat against your skin and hear the sound of metal on concrete from the dream. He had sat at the table across from you and asked why you were still awake, you'd lied and told him that you couldn't sleep. You knew that he knew you were lying, but he only shrugged and went to take a shower while you finished your tea and fled to your bedroom to avoid him coming out in a towel again.

"He wouldn't leave. What was I supposed to do? Make him walk the plank?" You respond as Annie inserts the warm curling iron into your hair.

"He's just so-" She tugs your hair back as she curls it.

"It wasn't as bad as you think.” You consider thinking about how he let Martha make him a friendship bracelet and how he had held Joshua and made Joshua laugh. "He was actually kind of nice to Marty and to Josh.”

"Nice? Are you crazy! The guy's got a nuclear reactor in his chest and an uncontrollable temper. Why do you think it would be okay for him to be around children?”

"He didn't get angry or lose control. And I can't believe you're chastising me about this, the other day you were all for Ben and me sleeping together!"

"That wouldn't involve children." She takes another piece of your hair, gently wrapping it around the curling iron.

"Yeah, but it would still be him close to another human being-"

“He seems to be perfectly in control when he has sex. Or else there would be a string of destroyed apartments all over manhattan.”

"I can't believe you." You huff.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Have you guys kissed again?" She asks.

"I shouldn't have told you that." You grumble under your breath. "And can you keep your voice down? Ben can hear you."

He was in his old bedroom getting ready for the mission. The bedroom was exactly next to Annie and Hughie's bedroom, and you were sure that he was listening to Annie and you talk.

Because he can't keep his big nose out of anything. You think. Or rather can't keep his perfectly structured nose out of other people's business.

"I'm sure he has better things to do than listen to the two of us talk." Annie responds, but she begins to blast the ABBA gold album from her Bluetooth speaker, filling the room with the sound of 'Our Last Summer' "Come on-"

"Come on what?" You open one of your eyes to glare at her. "I told you it wasn't going to happen again."

"Why not?"

"You know why not. Ben is- Ben. And I don't want to waste my time with someone who's not interested in having a relationship." You shut your eye again to avoid her gaze.

"It's not a waste of time if he looks like that-" She trails off, inserting the curling iron one more time.

"I will agree that Ben is good-looking, but that's all he is. He doesn't care about other people, he only cares about himself and what feels good." You say it, but for the first time since you'd met Ben you weren't sure if it was true. Not after he spent his entire day yesterday helping you with the kids and not after he had bought you that bookshelf.

He cared enough to get that for you. A little voice whispers. But why? You wonder again. Why would he care about something as little as a bookshelf?

"You're making that face again." Annie says. "Did something happen?"

"No. I mean- he-" You sigh to yourself. "He keeps confusing me."

"How?"

"Well the other day he bought me a bookshelf."

"What? Why?"

"Because he said that stack of books in my bedroom was annoying him." You roll your eyes behind your eyelids.

"Why was he in your bedroom?" Annie's smirk is audible and you feel your cheeks heat.

"Shut up. He needed some clothes and I had some from the last time Darren stayed with me-"

Annie audibly groans when you mention your brother's name. They didn't get along. She thought that he was manipulative and that he used you. But you didn't see it. He was your brother, your blood, the only family you had left beside your grandmother and Annie.

"Please tell me he's not coming by soon. If he does I will be busy doing anything else."

"I don't know why the two of you can't just get along-" You sigh.

"Because he's the worst." Annie states loudly, dropping the curling iron and bringing the mascara brush up to your eyes.

"Can we please not have this conversation again?"

"Fine. Close." Annie holds up the mascara brush to your eyes. "Did you at least join one of those online dating apps or try to go on a date?"

"It’s been 3 days since we last talked about this-“ You feel the gentle stroke of the brush against your eyelashes.

“So?”

“No I haven’t.”

"Y/n-"

"I know, I know. I mean Jake did try to ask me out the other day but-"

"He WHAT?" Annie squeals, awkwardness about your brother forgotten. "Next time lead with that! Did you go out with him? Did you guys talk all night long?" Annie is hoping from foot to foot now, practically dancing to the music still blasting from the speaker on the dresser.

"I said no." You open your eyes to look at your friend.

"WHAT! Why?" She looks like you kicked a puppy. "He's so perfect for you! He likes plants and he's funny and he's got a great sense of humor, plus he's gorgeous and he's interested in you-"

"First he wanted to do something today and I knew Butcher had plans for me. Second, I didn't know he was asking me out, Ben told me he was." You close your eyes again so Annie can continue to do your makeup.

"Wait, Ben was there when he asked you out?" 

"We went to IKEA to get a couch for the apartment and Jake showed up and asked me out." You explain.

"You took Ben to IKEA?"

"He'd never gone there before, can you believe that?" It made you smile as you remembered how surprised he had been when you went inside. You’d had fun with him, walking around, testing out the couches, it almost felt… normal. And you kind of got the impression that Ben had a good time too. It was kind of cute when he did everyday things, when you saw him in normal settings and he was just a little bit awkward because he still couldn't figure out how to act in another time period.

"Yes I can, he's a million years old. Let's circle back to you saying no to the PERFECT man."

"He's not a million." You defend Ben. "And Jake's not perfect." You frown to yourself, thinking about the fact that Jake wasn't a supe. It wasn't something that you had cared about before, but ever since Ben brought up the idea of you "snapping Jake in half" it scared you.

Because what if I did? What if I hurt him? You didn’t know how Ben had sex so often with people who weren't supes. Maybe he just doesn't care if he does. Or maybe he’s done it so much that he’s able to control himself.

"What do you mean? I thought you liked him?"

"I mean I do. He's kind and he understands me and he loves plants as much as I do, but-" You shrug, feeling Annie begin to apply eyeliner. "I don't want to make things complicated. I mean we work together, he’s my boss. What if it doesn’t work out? Then I’d have to quit and I like my job.”

“I mean that’s kind of hot-“

“Hot in what? A sexual harassment kind of way?”

“No. It’s not harassment if it’s two consenting adults.”

“I’m still not sure that it’s a good idea.” You mutter more to yourself. But this time your mind didn’t go to Jake and you having a relationship even though he was your boss, instead it goes right to Ben. You can't help but slip into the fantasy of dating Ben, of you and him trying something new-

You shake off the image. He doesn’t want a relationship, doesn’t think that’s important. The thought is almost like a mantra, trying to convince yourself to push past Ben’s charm and good looks, but this time it makes you consider something else. Maybe he doesn’t think it’s important now, but maybe he used to think it was before Countess.

You’d heard the stories, seen the newspaper articles and clips of film of Ben and her together, remembered what Hughie said that Ben had wanted a family with her that Ben had told her that he loved her. That meant at some point in Ben’s life he had loved someone else, cared for them, wanted to be more than just fuck buddies.

Maybe he's just afraid to fall again, because he's not sure someone else will be there to catch him. Maybe Ben doesn't want to admit that he cares for anyone else because he's afraid that they'll push him away or stab him in the back the way that Countess did. And maybe he hides it all underneath the macho attitude.

Ben is strong. He told me that he didn't need anyone else. You press your lips together in a tight line. But I think he does.

You hated that she’d hurt him. You hated that she’d pushed him away, told him she never loved him, and stabbed him in the back. You couldn’t imagine doing that to someone, telling them that you loved them, and manipulating them with the promise of love. It almost made you nauseous to consider it. It made you want to travel back in time to the moment she stabbed him in the back and shove a bouquet of sunflowers up where the sun don't shine.

You pause on the thought. You weren't a terribly violent person, but if someone ever hurt your friends your anger was legendary, practically divine. You'd never thought that you'd want to do something for Ben, but you were realizing more and more that Ben was becoming your friend. You weren't sure how you felt about that.

“Alright what if he wasn’t your boss.” Annie gently brushes eyeshadow over your eyelids. “Then would you go out with him?”

“But he is my boss.”

“Use your imagination.”

The song has ended and there’s an awkward pause between the end of it and the slow beginning of the next one.

“I mean yes?” You shrug. “I can see myself with him. He’s the kind of person I’d want to date. He cares about other people, he remembers what kind of coffee I like, he actually contributes to the conversation, he makes me laugh, he actually gets my jokes, he’s nice to sit with, he doesn’t get under my skin-“ As you list each of those things you couldn't stop your mind from comparing Jake to Ben. You didn't know when Ben became the level by which you judged other men, but it had happened sometime in the past few days and you didn't know what it meant.

But Ben did remember what kind of coffee I like and he does contribute to conversations, well, he contributes with a disgusting comment… The thought trails off when you remember the small conversations that you'd had with Ben that weren't sexual in nature, when the two of you watched the movie on the couch and talked briefly about your parents, when Ben asked you how your day was the other day back at the apartment, and when the two of you talked on the couch while the children slept between the two of you. In those moments you had seen another side of Ben, the side that he seemed to hide away from everyone else, but not from you, not all the time.

Plus Ben is kind of funny sometimes, disgusting but funny. Doesn’t understand my jokes. And yes he gets under my skin but sometimes it’s kind of exciting and nice to have that happen. With Jake sometimes he’s just too happy or too eager to agree with me.

"Hmm." Annie considers. "How did Ben react when Jake asked you out?”

You don’t answer immediately. “Normal.”

"You hesitated"

"No I didn’t."

"Yes you did! He reacted didn’t he?!” Annie pokes you with her finger

"No he didn’t.” You lie.

“He did! Holy shit he was jealous wasn’t he?”

"No he wasn’t.” You swat her hand away. "He was just opinioned."

He sure looked jealous. You think to yourself remembering the way he glared at Jake from the other side of the room. The memory of the way his eyes darkened when he told you exactly why he wasn't jealous and exactly what he would do to you to make you forget all about Jake sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

"Yeah. Opinionated over why you shouldn't go out with Jake because Ben wants you all to himself." Annie crows.

"Shut-"

"But it doesn't matter. Because Ben's going to have a heart attack when he sees you wearing this." Annie steps back from you. "My work here is done. Try to make it to the mission without ripping each other's clothes off."

"We are not going to-"

Annie spins your chair back to the mirror and your next words dry up.

Your hair is perfectly curled back from your face, the lipstick is a dark shade of crimson that makes your lips look fuller and more plump, the eye make up is dark and dusky making the color of your eyes pop against the darkness in a mysterious alluring way that seems almost hypnotic, and your face is shaded and contoured so well that you look dangerous and sexy.

"I'll take the silence as a 'Thank you Annie! You're so beautiful and talented and you're the best friend I've ever had!'" She laughs, standing back behind you with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I mean all of that is true, but-" You stand up from the chair to get a better look. "You've really outdone yourself."

"Well thank you. Had to. It's your first date with Ben." She makes goo-goo eyes and you try to punch her in the shoulder, but she dodges it.

"Shut up. It's not." You look down at the dress that Butcher picked out for you to wear. "I love you, but I hate Butcher."

The dress was a red scrap of fabric that clung to your curves, but left very little to the imagination. It was completely backless with an exaggerated wrinkle that fell just over the top of your ass. The front was sinched at the back of your neck secured only by a small piece of fabric that you were afraid would break at any moment and fell open in a "v" that stopped just under the swell of your breasts. There was a large prominent slit that cut up the left side of the floor length gown that stopped just shy of the top of your thigh. Annie had cinched a black choker around your neck to match the black pair of stilettos you wore

Personally, you though that the stilettos were overkill, you had no idea how the hell you were going to run after the supe if you saw him, let alone fight him.

"You look so hot." Annie says pleased. "You really should wear that all the time babe. I'd take you out to dinner just to show you off."

"You're the worst." You groan.

"I love you too honey." She winks. "Now come on. Butcher and the others are waiting for us." She turns off the speaker and walks out the door of the bedroom, but you linger there, looking at yourself in the mirror one more time.

You'd never worn anything remotely like this before, but even you had to admit, you looked good.

“Come on Poppet. You can’t hide in there forever.” Butcher chuckles from the living room.

He’s having too much fun with this. You huff to yourself finally leaving the bedroom to make your grand entrance, grabbing the black bejeweled clutch as you do.

Butcher, Frenchie, Annie, and Hughie are waiting outside the door while Kimiko sits on the couch scribbling away.

Hughie's mouth drops open,  Butcher gives an approving shrug, and Frenchie lets out a breath.

"You look beautiful." Frenchie takes your hand and gives you an appreciative twirl.

"Shut up." Your cheeks redden.

Hughie is still looking speechless at you. "I told you." Annie states elbowing him with a proud smile.

“You look-“ Hughie stutters.

“Good enough to eat.” Ben finishes, appearing in the hallway to your right. His hand traces the curve of your hip, thumb ghosting over your bare back.

“Just because I’m dressed like a hooker, doesn’t mean my brain’s not working.”  You slap his hand away ignoring the warm feeling that remains where he touched you. You could feel your heart beat begin to pick up in your chest.

“Baby I love your brain-“ Ben smiles, eyes tracing your figure. “But I’ll be damned if I don’t love your body more.”

You felt your cheeks turn the same shade as your dress with his compliment before you can stop them. It was difficult to pretend that you didn't feel any attraction for him, not when he looked so good.

He had trimmed his beard and brushed back his dark hair, so you could see his emerald colored eyes gleaming. He was wearing a black suit with a white button up shirt, but chose not to wear a black tie, instead unbuttoning the top few buttons to give just a hint of his muscular chest beneath.

Why does he have to look so good all the damn time?

“Shut up.” You grumble turning back to Butcher. “So are you happy? I dressed up, my IQ dropped a billion points.”

“Ecstatic poppet.” Butcher grins taking a sip from the cup of tea in his hand. “Now remember anything happens, you detain the supe, no killing."

“He’s talking to you.” You elbow Ben.

Ben shrugs. “I won't apologize for doing my job."

You sigh again and walk towards where Kimiko is writing in one of her workbooks on the couch. 

"You look hot." She signs at you.

It had been difficult to learn the sign language she used, but you liked to think that you had a handle on it so you could understand simple conversations. When things got too confusing she would use her phone.

"I know. I was mad at Butcher at first for picking this dress, but I kind of like it." You sign back. "Don’t tell Butcher I said that."

She crosses her fingers over her heart. "Soldier Boy is looking at you."

"He’s always looking at me. I'm glad I can't read minds. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking."

Kimiko snorts, raising her hand to sign "I think the look on his face says it all."

You half turn and look at where Ben is again, he’s not talking to Butcher like you thought he was, he’s staring at you, pupils dilated, eyes darkening in a way that makes your heart feel like it's beating so hard it'll explode out of your ribcage.

No. No. Keep it together. Heart of a warrior.

"You two have fun!" Annie smirks widely, taking a picture of Ben and you like you're going to prom and you know she's going to send the photo to taunt you with it later.

“Shall we?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Ladies first.” Ben smirks.

 You roll your eyes at him as you walk to the front door of the apartment. “Don’t pretend to be a gentleman Gramps. We both know you just want to look at my ass.”

“I’ll never get tired of looking Doll, especially not when you’re wearing something like that.”

A/N: I know this chapter is a little bit of a filler, but I wanted to give Annie and the reader some time together, aka. Annie telling the reader to do the one thing that we ALL know she should do. 😂

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

@n-o-p-e-never @nesnejwritings @am0rem @tpwkcalli @momggn

@fitxgrld @whimsicalcherry

[bvnnywrites]

Still Waters Run Deep

Chapter 2: Überprüfen

PAIRING: Eldritch!König x Reader

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the very long wait. My body gave out on stress and I passed out the side of the road this Monday on my way home. Also, I was manic and I had an episode yesterday so yayeet. Also, I read all your comments in the last chapter and asvbhbvdvdhdhfhv I LOVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. THANK YOU SO MUCH RAHHHHHH. Anyways, enjoy the chapter! UwU

WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON, DARK, SMUT, NSFW, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Fingering, Stomach Bulge, Age Gap, Unprotected Sex, Cockwarming, Implied Discharge, Power Imbalance, Abuse of Authority, No Beta Reader, Dom! König, Size Kink, Size Difference, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Older!König, Eldritch!König, Monster!König, Masturbation, Dark Romance, Blood and Gore, Violence, Monsterfucking

THE ONLY INTERESTING THING TO DO AT KORTAC, if he wasn’t out and about in the field, was apparently dwelling in the thought of committing fraternization – and König chided himself that he was better than this.

But there’s nothing to worry about. Of course, he isn’t losing sleep overthinking the eager look on your face to get in his good graces—his approval and validation. No. he isn’t staying up late, seeing your adorable pouty lips and sweet-looking eyes glancing up at him because you’re too small whether you stood or sat. Especially, the softness of your flesh when he held your chin to make you look at him, or the warmth of your body when he soothed you from seeing those disgusting pictures.

König definitely does not want to know every detail of your life—what your flesh taste like pressed against his tongue, what it feels like as the tentacles on his face roam your body and leaving slick in its trail, what you like or hate, what blood type you have, how soft your hair is when he’s gripping it in his fingers while he’s shoving his cock deep in your little cunt, what your favorite position in bed is, what it feels like to have your pussy milking him desperately as he breeds you again and again until you’re pregnant with his children.

No.

No.

Who the hell was he kidding?

He’s is a fucking pervert—the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

What he’s doing is fucking disgusting and he can’t believe that he’s thinking this way about you. God, König knows he’s a thousand shades of fucked up, but he did not expect to be like this. The colonel never expected he’d go this fucking low. He doesn’t want to be like he’s father—a disgusting fucker who was selfish and sick in the head—but he can’t help but fall straight down the rabbit hole and into the maws of the abyss of his own wicked desires.

König is a fucking disgusting creep because you’re so sweet, calm and understanding when he threw the first few layers of ugliness from his soul, dumping it on your lap, and you so graciously comforted him. He is disgusting because you’re literally twenty-three years younger than him, old enough to be his daughter, and yet your eagerness to obtain his approval has him losing his shit. You have him losing his morals. The softness of your skin has him wanting more, his teeth clenched with poorly contained desire, and yet he demands more – to be closer, to reach into the depths of your soul and twist it until you’re as fucked up as he is—craving him the way he craves you. You have him understanding why his father did what he did because now he thinks that maybe the sick fuck couldn’t control himself in the presence of his ‘Aphrodite’.

And you… you were König’s ‘Aphrodite’—the embodiment of his desires, both good and bad.

He is a fucking pervert because you were eager to help him in this manhunt for the so-called beast. Eager and desperate to advance in the ranks of the military – that’s all you were probably hoping, but instead of following the logical side, König had let himself be swayed by the waves of his depravity.

König was always proud of his self-control – his more human nature that he had inherited from his beloved mother. He never thought the day would come where these sickening thoughts would run in his mind. He was a monster, yes, but nature does have a way of being more predominant than nurture. At least, in this case. It didn’t even matter that his mother – who despised and loved him at the same time – had engrained the Lord’s teachings into his head or the holy scriptures that she would beat into his flesh.

All those teachings went to waste because at the end of the day, he was his father’s son.

He could see the disappointing and disgusted look on his mother’s face right now.

But all that washes away when his mind comforts him with the thoughts of you. The way your pretty eyes look up at him through long lashes, the way your voice addresses him has desire pumping in König’s veins. Because somehow, when it comes to you, he feels calm as he feels the need to lash out. He feels the need to bite and claw at you, marking you as his own little wife to love and to fuck. He wants to rip off his mask in front of you and make you braid his hair and weave flowers into it because you called him ‘beautiful’, wants to let one of his tentacles slither around your neck while he bites you and marks you as his. His little and eager to please mate—his beloved wife-to-be.

He can still see your pouty face, as if you’re there right in front of him. Your pretty wide eyes looking up at him—looking at him as if he wasn’t a disgusting monster—like an actual breathing person. Your scent lingers in his nose for the past two days. You smelled delicious – divine, if he’s honest. You reeked of the shower gel that you use,  and that suffocating perfume—or is it a cologne?—that you’re using to make yourself fresh. Several thoughts ran in his head, wanting nothing more than to smother you in his scent. Rubbing his smell all over you, until every single being—doesn’t matter if mortal or not—would know that you’re his.

The thought itself had his cock twitching more than it did before. It’s throbbing hard, leaking precum all over his hand as he pumps it with his fist while the other grips the sheets. Judging from your smaller form against his, you’d definitely be fucking tight, which was why he was gripping it mercilessly. The pictures of pin-up girls had long been discarded. He doesn’t need those when he has your pretty face, adorable ass, and alluring scent engraved in his mind. He’s a fucking perverted old dog… and it was all because of you.

König wants to have you on his knees before him. Relieving him of his stress by wrapping your adorable lips around the head of his dick, soft tongue lapping at the precum he’s making as if you’re a goddess and the gushing liquid was ambrosia—the very thing you needed to live.

He wants to take care of you, cradle you in his arms and pepper your face with kisses and show you how much he can just provide for you—KorTac isn’t cheap in their payments, and he is one of their best mercenaries they have, not counting the huge mess he has made that his superiors are ordering him to clean up. He was too valuable for them to lose, so they’re just asking him to wipe away the evidence and pin the blame on some poor soldier who was there at the wrong place at the right time.

König wants nothing more than to hold you close. He can’t even think about letting you fall in the grasp of another man—whether they be as old as him or young as your age, whichever you prefer—because you are fragile as you are gullible. He can tell by the way your eyes glimmer at him or the kindness that blossoms on your face whenever you cater to the soldiers under your command, acting as if you’re a mother to them. He wants you to be his. His little, beloved wife. Waiting for him in the house he’d buy for you in Hallstatt or maybe he’d catch you walking along the shoreline of the lake while you’re telling stories of yours and his love story to his unborn child that grows in your womb.

By God König wanted you more than anything.

He’s thinking of putting you on your knees, preferably on his bed so it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable in the long run, so you can be comfortable while he shoves his cock down your throat. Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock, little whines and moans vibrating from you and on to his length and muffled from how strong his thrusts are inside your tight, wet, and warm mouth.

 Your face would be messy, mascara running down your cheeks, if you had any, and lip gloss smeared and staining his cock. And König would try to be gentle, so he wouldn’t end up breaking you, but it’d be impossible when you’re so eager to please him. You’d have trouble barking out orders and speaking normally, because he knows he’d wreck your throat by the time he’s done with you.

König is fantasizing about it—having you in such a state, making use of your delicate mouth and moving tongue.

But guilt flashes across his mind. No. No, he couldn’t do that to you. You’re a fragile little thing—not to mention a human. You’re like an adorable little mouse beneath him. Breaking you would break him too—hurting you would hurt him too.

He is a worthless monster, a disgusting being that should be shot dead for just thinking of you—his klein hase—like this. That woman who read his future was right. He was depraved. He’d ruin you…

But God have mercy on him because he couldn’t bring himself to care enough to back the fuck away from you.

Your name falling from his lips like a prayer, chanting your name as if you’d be able to save him from eternal damnation – and maybe you could, in your own human way. A primal and dark urge to have you in his full mercy, waiting for him to claim you. He… He just wants to be accepted by people, to be welcomed by his peers, but none of it matters now because he just wants to be accepted by you. He’s panting and groaning, pumping his dick several times, chasing that climax. He is shamelessly hard, cock angry as it's about to burst.

König feels dirty for this. He felt like a teenage boy who’s jerking off to his crush. And despite that, he’s imagining you sucking on his cock or having your forehead pressed against his, whispering how much you love him and how you can’t wait to be filled with his cock. He imagines your cum-drunk expression, eyes glazed as your head is muddled and filled with nothing but pleasure, and that makes him cum; thick ropes of white shooting out from the tip, while his cock pulsates as he pumps it continuously before gradually slowing to a halt.

He keeps cumming, more than he usually does. The white, thick liquid staining his abdomen, pants, and sheets. He moans, biting his lips in a poor attempt to conceal his pathetic whimpers. His release covering his hand—sticky and disgustingly warm. Bless KorTac for allowing him and other high-ranking superiors to have their own room, because he knows goddamn well that he won’t be able to commit such sinful acts in communal barracks.

Post-nut clarity hits him hard, almost the same way his mother would, and he’s shameful for what he had just done. The two of you barely know each other, only getting information about you out of your files, and yet he was infatuated with you the moment you arrived on KorTac that sunny day. And yet he fell in love completely in just a matter of two days after talking with you.

He wants to resent you for what you made him do. He wants to worship you and mark your body with his marks. He wants to be left alone—preferably in your arms while you stroke his hair and look at him lovingly because no one ever looked at him the same way you do.

“Mein Gott, Shatz. What are you doing to me, liebling?”

König pants, letting his head fall back into the pillow as he sighed. His muscles relaxed, so much that he feels like he’s going to be one with the mattress. He lays there for a bit in his own bodily fluids before he got up to clean himself and get changed, replacing the sheets with cleaner ones.

“Colonel, are you there?”

Your soft voice came to his ears, making him stop in his tracks. Was he delusional to the point that he’s imagining your voice? He’s losing it. He’s definitely losing it because no way in hell did you sought him out at—he glances at his clock and sees that it’s 24:58 on a Wednesday—this late in the night. König ignores the voice, opting to throw himself back into the bed, cuddling his pillows and imagining that it’s you.

“Colonel?” Your voice echoes, followed by a soft knock. “Sir? This is very important, I’m sorry.”

Oh. Oh. No, he’s not actually hearing things. You’re actually outside his door. König wore his mask, covering his ugliness because he didn’t want to scare a pretty little thing like you. It would be too soon for you to see his face. It’d be like putting a frog straight in boiling water instead of heating it up little by little.

He rushed to fix the cloth over his head, zipping and buttoning his pants. König almost tore the bolts of his door just to immediately see you, and when he swung the door open—almost ripping it off the hinges—he saw you standing there with several dossiers in your arms. Your pretty doe-like eyes, the ones he fantasized about as he came literally just seconds ago, looks up at him with a sheepish gaze. You smile apologetically up at him, neck craning to properly look at him. He sees the way your eyes glanced at his shirtless torso before flickering up to look at him.

Were you attracted to him the same way he is to you?

Did your cunt also drip at the thought of him, the same way his cock throbs at the mere thought of you? Did you also touch yourself when you were alone the past two days after you two spoke to one another? Did you also call out his name? Whimpering and panting as you flicked your clit and plunged your tiny fingers in your weeping pussy–

“Sorry to disturb you so late at night, I was ordered to give you these documents. Horangi said that I deliver these to you because it needs your immediate approval, sir.”

You say to him, spouting out your reasons and he can see that you’re doing so in hopes of not angering him because you think you’ve disturbed his sleep. How adorable. König keeps a note to himself to tell Horangi not to let you out this late at night; he doesn’t want you being suspected as the killer. Your cheeks are slightly red, and König finds red pretty on your face. So much so that he wants to just grab your squishy cheeks and pepper it with kisses. Maybe nibble on it affectionately.

“It’s alright. No worries. Come in, Schatz.”

He moves aside, letting you in. And, oh boy, you eagerly entered his chambers as you rushed to the desk in his room. You bend over to place the heavy papers on his table, and he has half a mind to bend you over the desk, tear off your clothes, and fuck you stupid until all you can do is mewl and whine on his cock. The fact that he was imagining you on your knees, choking on his cock or pumping it with your hands while you whispered sweet nothing to him five minutes ago didn’t help the colonel either.

“I’m really sorry. I know you’re probably sleeping–”

“I said it is fine, liebling. No need to lose your head over nothing, ja?”

He finds it endearing that he calms you, that his words weigh that much for you. Usually, he’s used to barking orders, establishing things with force. And yet, when he speaks to you softly, reassuring you, that it’s alright if you waltz into his room—into his heart, even—and take whatever you wanted is a nice change of pace. He’d give more to you on your way out, because he loves you. He wants to marry you. He wants to take you back with him to Austria. You’re beautiful in gear, but König knows you’d be more beautiful in maternity dresses.

But he is sane about you. Completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing wrong with his state of mind regarding you. Everyone loves strongly, ja?

“It’s late at night, and I don’t want you to end up as a corpse in the halls, liebling. Let me escort you to your quarters, ja?” He says softly, walking up to you as he effortlessly moves the paperwork that were practically heavy for you. “It would ease me to sleep, knowing you’re safe and sound in your bed.” König pats your head.

“I… um… are you sure, sir?” You look at him, confused as you tilt your head in confusion. “You must be tired for the day, and I’ve already taken up much of your time.”

He ignored your words of worry as he grabbed his hoodie and wore it, finally giving you an ounce of mercy because as much as he loves the way your eyes are drawn to his torso, he also doesn’t want to give you cardiac arrest just because he was being too much for you.

Now that you’re here in his room, alone with the colonel, your heart hums nervously. You pray that no soldier would see you walk out of his room at this hour. Because you don’t want to burden him with silly rumors when he’s drowning in paperwork, focusing on an investigation, and you don't want to add up to his plate.

“I want to protect you from harm, Schatz. With me around, I doubt the beast would hurt you.”

Lies. No, wait. It’s not all lies, so basically just half-truths. With König around, the thing that lurks in the halls of KorTac would never hurt you, if anything it would worship the ground you walk on. Ask him to give you a town for your dowry, and he would enslave every continent on Earth and lay it by your feet—because the thing in the dark is him, and he loves you, and he wants to give you the world.

“Okay. I mean… if that’s okay with you, sir.”

“König.”

“What?”

“Please, mein liebe. I would appreciate it if we drop the formalities. We are comrades, ja?”

“Alright… as I was saying, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you, König.”

“You’re not a burden. Not to me… not if it’s you, mein liebling.”

Your face scrunched up in confusion with the way he addressed you. It sounds like German, and the way he pronounces it makes you feel important. You don’t know German, and you kick yourself mentally because you wish you knew what he was calling you. For all you know, he’s calling you stupid affectionately. Because it took you weeks before you realize Izzy was calling you ‘stupid’ in the most affectionate way possible, so who’s to say the colonel is any different?

Before you can ask him what the words mean, he walks past you, opening the door for you. You walk out his room, thankful that no one’s there to see the two of you together.

You two walk down the halls, side by side. And poor little you.t you’re practically walking alongside the devil. The halls are empty, devoid of any soul. The trip to your room was quiet, no one is around, obviously. Soldiers were already asleep, and those who didn’t need to follow the curfew were chilling in their room or buried in neck-deep paperwork in their offices.

König wished he wasn’t the monster right now. He wished it was someone else, because he wants an opportunity for him to be a hero. To be a protector. To put up all of his pent-up aggression on someone else while you praise him for his strength and bravery. Maybe shower him with loving kisses, even. He wants something to try and kill him, just so he can show you that he can protect you from anything and anyone who would want to kill you, but then you stop in front of your room, making you turn and smile at him.

He loved your smile, the way your skin stretched and your adorable features twist just to give him a kind gesture

“Well. This is my stop.” You offer him a warm smile, unaware that it’s a currency that König could never afford yet you willingly give it to him for free. “Thank you… for looking out for me, König.”

“You’re a valuable soldier. It would be a shame if the thing lurking the base comes and kills you, Shatz—I want you safe.” He smiles at you beneath the mask, and the way his eyes crinkle is adorable and you know he’s smiling when they do that. “For as long as I’m able to, I’ll protect you, okay?”

His fingers gently held your chin, afraid that he’d break you at the slightest pressure. Your heart thumps in your chest. How could Roze or Izzy ever tell you to avoid him? He was practically a sweetheart. The colonel wanted you safe more than anything, isn’t that enough to warrant an inch of friendship from you?

Your eyes met his, those eyes that remind you of a storm at sea, are filled with nothing but warmth. It makes your breath hitch with how… oddly intimate it feels. You’re sure that if you weren’t a soldier, if the two of you met outside the forces, as civilians, without the medals and badges, you’re sure that he would’ve kissed you right then and there. It felt like your heart was about to explode – it’s too overwhelming.

So, you forced yourself to look away, stepping back and away from his grasps—from his touch. The absence of his touch makes your head clear without realizing it felt hazy in the first place. Such a strange effect that the colonel has on you.

König is displeased that you’ve put more distance between you two, but he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t want to make you worry, despite the adorable look on your face whenever you do look troubled. So, König opts to pat you on the head briefly.

“Sleep tight, Schatz. Don’t forget to lock your door, ja?”

“Alright, co–König. Good night.”

As you shut your doors, the monster outside stood there for a few more minutes before it walked away.

“Did something good happen today, colonel?”

“None of your concern, major.”

Horangi was as sharp as ever, deep voice rumbling in his chest which intimidated most people around him. He was also the only one in the ranks to be able to speak casually with his superior – even though all of KorTac members usually avoid the giant soldier since they don’t really want to risk being discharged because they can’t function properly anymore. Horangi was the closest thing König has to a friend – which is kind of sad since a former gambling addict was the only one who can tolerate his shit and can understand him, even with his hood permanently on.

But Horangi was right.

Something good did happened.

You happened.

“That new lieutenant.” König starts. “If you’re sending her out to deliver files, tell me so I can escort the klein hase to her destination,” the colonel orders him, “I do not wish for her to be hurt.”

He spent the night awake, drinking and shredding it in the gym, trying so hard to put your adorable face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, he hasn’t seen you running around base for the day because he’s too busy cooped up in his office and signing off the papers that you’ve given him hours ago, but the way your facial features would get distorted into something more adorable every single time he closed his eyes was highly concerning.

And he calms himself down in those wee hours the same way he did moments before you knocked on his door—jerking himself off until he felt nothing but self-hatred and the yearning of having your soft body pressed up against his.

“She’s a lieutenant, König.” Horangi snort. “You know I don’t recruit the weak.”

“She’s a woman,” König responds, “I’m not saying she’s weak, but most soldiers in base are men… I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.”

“She can handle herself.”

“And what of the monster on the loose?”

“Why? Do you plan on eating her next?”

“… Perhaps.”

König thinks for a moment. It should be easier if he would have an official legal reason to keep you by his side. Have your desk literally in his office so he can always keep his eyes on you, make sure no one lays a finger on you. König chucks his delirious thoughts to the lack of sleep, his fingers held down the paper while he wrote with his pen, but he wished he was holding you down and fucking into your wet cunt instead. He had those things before – overthinking about the tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but understood that he can’t be with them—it could be his childhood crushes that he could never had thanks to his hideous appearance… and anxiety. It could be fantasizing about a pretty woman that caught his attention one day—imagining a life with them, multiple kids, and maybe a dog or two. König is aware that he has a problem , but not like… this; never dangerous.

The problem was that he knows he can have you.

Perhaps not in a traditional way. No. He can’t court you, that’s against the rules, and König wished nothing more that you were a civilian instead of a soldier. Because of your badge, he couldn’t be with you. He has half a mind to snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate because he knows you would never marry a monster like him, so abducting you was… reasonable. He can shower you with gifts in your captivity, decorating you with all the gold and jewel in the world while he’s fucking his child into you. He can have his men kidnap you, and yes, it is inhumane but you would be happy with him as his wife than a woman playing as a lieutenant. He would soothe your worries, fuck you every single hour with no rest until his cock rearranges your insides and impregnate you until he can convince you that he was the perfect mate for you, and then boom – happily ever after.

He knows that he can have you.

And it drives him crazy because he has never felt a strong urge to want  something so bad in his life. At this point, it’s not even a want. It’s a need. It’s hilarious how the two of you barely knew each other, but König was head over heels for you. He wants you by his side, whether you’re willing or not.

“Have you eaten?” Horangi asked.

“Not yet.” König answered.

That’s how he found himself sitting down at the mess hall, eating this food that was barely stimulating his senses. Horangi didn’t join him, said he had to attend a meeting with his soldiers since a complaint was given to him. It was good, actually. There was rice, three hamburger steak, gravy and mashed potatoes. They gave him a bigger serving simply because he was a giant man, it only made sense to give him enough sustenance to function. The food was delicious, but König didn’t really pay attention much to it.

Now that he has had a taste of you—you giving him kind words and smiling at him—König couldn’t get enough. You were like a drug. He want to pin you down, ravage you in bed, feel your walls clamp and spasm around his cock over and over again while you’re reduced to nothing but mewls with a cum-drunk expression the same way a drug addict heats heroin over a spoon before injecting it into their systems.

He needs you under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed with sweat and marked with his lips and teeth.

He needs you under him, creaming on his cock while he stretches out your cunt deliciously – taking him to the hilt like a good girl, cock forming a bulge on your abdomen. Juices dripping on to the sheets while he suckles on your nipple, his other hand groping your other tit.

He needs you under him–

“Colonel?”

König’s eyes snapped up and locked on to yours, and the concern scribbled on to them has his heart swooning over you once more. Your brows are turned upward with worry and you standing in front of the table he was sitting at, calling out to him has him wanting to put you on his lap and nuzzle against the crook of your neck. He smiles underneath the mask, seeing you again, blessing his eyes with your beauty.

“Ah, liebling. What brings you my way?”

“Roze is on a mission and Izzy is currently in a meeting, and every seat is taken. So, I was wondering if I can sit with you.”

“Of course, mein liebe. Your company is always welcome.”

You can sit on his lap.

You can sit on his face, ride him while he eats you out. Tongue lapping at your sweet juices as you cum on his face. God, he wants to spoil you. Cover you with kisses and embrace you because he loves you.

To König, you’re adorable when you eat. Your cheeks puffing a little like a chipmunk as you chew your food, before gulping some of your water. There’s a bit of mashed potato smeared by the side of your lips, and you don’t seem to notice. Before he can stop himself, his fingers had made contact with your skin, wiping away the stain. He sees you visibly froze, eyes widening so adorably.

“You had mashed potato on your face.” König chuckled, wiping the food off of his gloves with a tissue.

“O-oh…” You stutter, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. I was hungry… I missed breakfast.”

Your cheeks turned red, flustered at his gentle gesture, and König eats that shit up. His mind keeping the moment in his head. His desires spilling over it like ink; tainting a shared innocent memory between you two. He stares at you for a solid minute, engraining your features into his memory—as if he hasn’t memorized your face at this point—and smiles softly beneath the mask. There are scars all over his body, including his face, and the tentacles on his face struggles not to reach out to you and feel your skin against it.

He wants you to know that he would do anything for you. How he’s willing to lay down his life for you. How he’s willing to protect you from anything because you’re all he ever wanted in his whole life. You would appreciate a man with scars, right? After all, it’s a sign of bravery.

König took part in many battles, too many to count with his tentacles and fingers and toes combined; spent his youth training to be the best killer possible. He took part in many conflicts and killed hundreds, maybe thousands even,  while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – maybe, except for talking to people sometimes. It’s not like he’s terrified of them, but rather afraid of making a fool of himself. König always hated talking to people, but being colonel meant he had to communicate to soldiers under his command and his superiors.

He isn’t afraid of anything. But… he is afraid of you finally seeing underneath the mask and thinking that you, in fact, find him revolting to look at.

The colonel takes one look good at you, and figures that maybe it’s worth the internal turmoil if it meant that he would have you by his side. He would agree to get as many ranks as possible if that meant he could provide for you and have you quit your job as a soldier. If that would allow him to come home to every day and night instead of sleeping alone in his room.

“I suppose you enjoy your breakfast, liebling?” König chuckled, and your face just goes even more red.

“It’s delicious,” You answered, smiling sheepishly.

He loves it when you smile. Obsessed with it—the way your eyes twinkle with delight whenever you cast your gaze at him without a hint of disgust.

“Would you like to get coffee someday?” König offered. “I know a café that has really good coffee or if you prefer non-caffeinated drinks, they also have milkshakes and their desserts are pretty good.”

 And you with those pretty doe-eyes of yours say, “Sure! Set the time and date, colonel.”

Other soldiers are looking. They’re glancing at you and him, but you don’t seem to notice the stares or the fact that it had gone slightly quiet. He is a creep, weirdo and all the words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones these past few days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are smiling at him with such unbridled admiration was driving him mad.

“How about this Thursday, ja?” König inquired, wanting to hear your opinion on the matter.

You think for a moment, brows furrowed and König finds it really endearing. Izzy said she’d take you to a café but she wasn’t really sure yet since she says it might be the day Horangi and her go on missions. Roze wouldn’t be back until Sunday, and you’re left alone with nothing on base.

Well… there is König.

“Sure! I’m free this Thursday.” You say to the colonel, brimming with excitement at your newfound friendship.

The monster is pleased. It seems you’ve checked out all the boxes he’s looking for in a mate.

Tags: @itsbellaham,leslie-lemon,tapioca-marzipan,starcrossed02,manjiroxs,mr-sol,euuuuuuun,sleepyoriana,urmom-77,marriedtoeddie,sylviatherosairy,breannab2018,asmicity-writes,slutforelliewilliamss,3-kai-3,notsamaira,kenz-ee

P.S. Idk how to tag or if I did it right^^

[dilf-docs]

Drunk In Love

eddie brock x younger!reader

summary: you don't exactly hate your job as bartender. well, sometimes, like when customers who can't take a no show up. your boyfriend decides to take matters into his hands, or better said, tentacles...

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ofc), a bit of angst, smut, rough sex??, exhibition kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering, jealous!eddie puts on a show, venom's tongue slurping ur clit like a caprisun, reader gets harrased (is this like a norm for my eddie fics??? lmao)

word count: 3,884 words

side note: this lil' baby is based on this request. that being said, my reqs are still open! keep the suggestions up i say 🗣🔥🔥especially those with classic tropes, cause i'm a deep sucker for them jealousy fics fr most when they get possesive lolz this is me placing my input here *smoothly slides card to the front of the table* ENJOY

If you were to ask your 9 year old self what she wanted to be, she'd tell you an actress. Never a bartender, and most certainly, never the girlfriend of an alien symbiote.

Turns out, life has more on storage of what you expected, certainly. Things haven't gone in the way your kid brain had planned, and going back to the bartender thing, it's one of those things that hasn't been the way you wanted it.

And it isn't the job, really. Over the years, you've grown fond of the drinks you know like the palm of your hand and the scene that occurs behind the bar. Besides, it pays the bills, and there's something comforting in witnessing night engulf the sky, just for the sun to rise again as you're back on your apartment. You're an owl, which really is just how Eddie, your boyfriend, likes to call you with affection.

What hasn't changed and still bothers you after all this years is the people.

It's not like you're an introvert, but crowds aren't really your thing, which is quite the contradiction given the job. The problem lies not on your frequent customers or those who come looking for a good time, but on those who don't know how to take "no" as an answer: most recently, this guy, who won't leave no matter how many times you've told and showed him already.

And it's the wost kind: they don't bother for the drinks, rather the person serving them; and he's been at it for hours, not taking the hint from the one-sided conversation he's been having all this time.

"Hey" the customer speaks again, your back facing him. "So, I want something" he makes a little pause, "but it's not on the menu"

You use a little more force than necessary while cleaning the glass you're holding, "tell me what you want and I'll see what I can do"

He chuckles, and when you finally face him, he seems pleased.

"I want you"

"Too bad" you turn around again, "can't help you then".

"Playing hard to get, I see" you'd think after at least two hours being ignored, he would stop, but he only seems to still not get the cue. "It's fine, I like it this way"

You decide not to add anything, focusing on this drinks for table #2, but he keeps adding comments that drip in annoying drops until your glass of patience overflows.

"C'mon, sugar" he nudges playfully, "spare me a glance, would ya'?"

You scoff, resting your arms on the bar. "If I give you a free drink, would you let me do my job?"

Clearly a mistake, as his hands travel to touch your skin, making it prickle like it burns.

"Still don't get it? The only thing I want is you"

Eddie wanted to surprise you. After some time dating you, he thinks he deserves some credit on to how much he truly knows you; you'd argue he knows you even more than you know yourself.

He knows your small quirks, like the small frown in your lips when you feel sad. He also knows by heart your breathy shrugs, the intricacy of your blinking, the flinch you often do because you get easily scared, and also, how much you hate tuesdays, which is why he's here. Whenever he's free, he drops by, trying to make your night shift a little less difficult. You'd never voiced it out, but he sees it in the way your eyes sparkle when you catch him in the crowd, coming your way, or in the efforts he makes to keep you entertained, your lips curving up in a beautiful smile.

"We are going to see y/n!" chirps Venom in his head, and Eddie can't help but feel a little off at his amount of excitement. "Oh, don't be jealous, Eddie. She sees me as a pet! Still, I like her" he says as Eddie gets inside.

The immediate smell of the alcohol stench place hits him, making him nauseous.

"I hate this place!" Venom agrees, "we should all escape!"

"And get y/n in trouble?" He scoffs, speaking over the music. People don't hear him as he walks by, which helps, since it looks like he's speaking to himself. "Sorry, but I won't be the reason she's gonna loose this job"

"Pussy! You're no fun"

Eddie ignores him as he walks towards you. It isn't until he's almost there, that he notices you're not alone.

"Who's that?" Venom asks.

"I have no idea, buddy" he then notices the proximity, his skin immediately on fire. Not like he's a jealous guy, but never say never.

"He's close to her!" Venom shouts. No shit, thinks Eddie. "We should eat him!"

"He isn't touching her" he butts. Yet, pops the grimy thought up. "Besides, is eating people all you ever think about?" he whisper shouts.

"Yes!" Venom doesn't seem not even a bit embarrassed, "especially bad guys. Like that one"

Eddie is reasonable, he thinks. Feelings like jealousy or possesiveness aren't on his book, yet, seeing the man that doesn't leave you alone, something ugly inside of him burns.

"You judge me, but I know you want the same" he's inciting Eddie, who is angrier than ever. But he doesn't cave in, counts to ten, and breathes in and out, even if he has sped up his walking.

I'm rational. I'm rational. I'm rational.

"Liar" Venom whispers. "You want to kill him"

"Not yet" he can't let his feelings get the best of him, "I can't put y/n in danger so you get some brains. If we do a mess like the ones in Mrs. Chen's store, she'll be fired"

He's being the bigger person here. Eddie just wants you to feel proud of who he is (the lethal protector), and not like you're dating a man child. It happened once (Anne being dissapointed in him, which is worse), and he's not willing to let it happen again. So he'll be polite and politely shove him out of your sight.

At least that's what he thinks until the guy touches you.

"The fuck-"

"Now we're talking!" Venom senses the anger radiating from Eddie, and decides to fire him up, "let's get his brains!"

You're so deep in your shit you don't notice when Eddie walks towards you, his perfume invading your nostrils. In a way, it brings a bit of comfort to your situation.

"Excuse me" his gravely voice goes. Fuck, how you love the sound; you can even feel the nerves going down. It's not like you're a helpless damsel in distress, but sometimes, even if you hate it, a man is needed. Eddie is very much needed now.

"Yes?" the man turns around, and he swears he's screaming when he notices the man is still touching you.

"I'd appreciate if you did me a favor, you see, it's very simple" his tone dripping in venom (hehe), "get your hands off her. Now"

It's stupid, really, how your panties twist at the demading tone, waves of possesivenss radiating off him, considering the situation you're in.

"Why? Are you her guard or something?" he challenges.

"Boyfriend" he spats out.

That would've been enough: at least for a normal person. But some have proven to have worms for brains, like him. Because, even when you've expressed your clear discomfort and Eddie is there, the man doesn't seem the slightlest intimidated, not backing off, by not even a centimeter. All this is very stupid really, and it's testing your patience like it never has in almost three decades alive.

"Yeah?" he stoods up to Eddie, and he's even slightly taller. But Eddie and his strong arms don't back off.

"Yeah" he challenges. God, how you hate men.

"Please, don't make a mess" you beg to no one in particular, because Eddie may be a rational man, but today, all in his eyes are a fury you'd never seen before.

"For your own good, I'm giving you a chance to back off" he threats.

"And what are you gonna do?" he bumps against Eddie's smaller yet built frame, "can't do much, can you?"

The music is on, but it's like it's stopped. All the people have started to stare, and you just want earth to swallow you. The initial wave of arousal is starting to wash away, making you wonder if it's all Eddie's macho ways, Venom or both.

"Eddie, don't" you warn, but it's over: the distraction of your voice makes Eddie turn, and the guy's fist slams across his face, all the regret leaving Eddie's face.

"It's on" he says in a distorted voice.

And it's off for you.

Venom takes over Eddie, the black engulfing his body. People around gasp, and a few do recognize the so-called lethal protector of San Francisco.

"I said" now he towers over him, by various centimeters "...back off"

Punches get thrown, and if you thought he'd cower in fear, the guys tries to fight him off. Some people leave amidst the chaos, and others stay to watch it. How can you take control? Not only is he causing a show, but so is Venom, all rational thoughts flying out of the window.

"Eddie!" you plead, "stop it!"

Your voice falls deaf on his ear. Why doesn't he stop? Eddie thinks he should be scared by now, but he's still fighting. Isn't he scary enough? Isn't he strong enough? Why is he still fighting? He can't loose this fight. No, Venom can't loose this fight.

"You'll pay, scum" he growls, "nobody messes with my girl"

Oh, alright. He got you there; that was kinda hot.

When you get back to your senses, the guy is on the floor, his nose bleeding.

"Eddie, that's enough!" but he ignores you, "Venom!" you try again. Nothing, just alien and guy fighting.

"Have you still learned nothing?"

"Wait!" he shouts, terrified. Nothing like the guy from before, who couldn't take a no, "I'll stop!"

"Good" Venom growls threatening. "I hope you've learned your lesson, asshole" now on Eddie's voice.

The guy scurries away, cowering in fear.

"Alright" you clap your hands, "showtime is over"

You've had enough for today. Really, your hate for tuesdays is justified: an asshole who wouldn't leave you alone, and your boyfriend and his alien pet (derogatory; hey, you're mad!) ruining your day by trying to save it.

"Hey" Eddie's soft voice sounds from behind, "are you okay?"

You laugh, bitterly. "Oh, I don't know. Let's see: a guy harrased me and my boyfriend just fucked up my only income"

His face falls, and you feel a bit bad, yet you can't help it: your nerves are on edge, and your boss not only happens to know you but Eddie too, given all his visits. That means, he sees the cameras and goodbye to your ass, no matter how much you tried to stop it.

This job helps you pay college and your bills. You're fucked: these men's mess will drag you along. Your boss is strict, and the bar reputation will go first: it's a bar, not a brawl. You already hear their stern voice, scolding you (worse) for shit you didn't do.

You start walking away, back to your spot behind the bar. You sigh, deeply: maybe it's the last time you'll ever be there.

"Wait, y/n!" Eddie calls back. The music is going strong and the crowd has long gone, but you know there are still eyes on you. All you want is to curl in bed and cry: you're sad, mad, tired and horny. The week's just getting started: it's not fair.

"What?"

He's taken back by your dry tone; you've never been like this with him. He remembers Anne and their break up, his stomach churning in fear. "Have we fucked up?" asks Venom, but Eddie is too afraid to ask.

"I was trying to help" his voice comes out small, helpless. Funny considering who he is: alien-human symbiote and fearless reporter.

"What does help mean to you? Playing superhero?" you spit. "You'll get me in trouble, Eddie. This job is all I have, yet you seemed to care more about putting a show than me"

"It's not like that!" he argues back, "I was trying to protect you!"

"I know!" you shout, some heads turning around. "I know" you repeat, this time lower, "it's just hard to tell when it's about me, and when it was about you" you confess. Eddie feels bad when he sees your teary eyes, "I don't want you to think I'm angry that you helped me: that guy was scary, and I needed help. I'm just... it's a lot, you know? I thank you for saving me, but I can't thank you for letting your ego take the best of you" you let out a shaky breath. "I want you to know that there are consequences, Eddie, and what started as a noble act ended up hurting me too. Almost like you forgot why you did it in the first place. It was about helping me: for me- Not to, I don't know, prove something..."

He understands, knowing his emotions got the best of him.

"I'm sorry" he rests against the bar, "I know I lost control; you're right. I wanted to help you, talking my way out, like I always do. But then he touched you, and I-, I froze. I hated seeing him touching you, and some jealousy got me there too..." he's ashamed to confess but does anyway, "I don't know... I kinda did also feel a bit... bruised" you're confused, an eyebrow quirking. "Alright, fine. You want me to say it? I will! I felt dumb, you know? That a douchebag like that didn't feel intimidated by me: not first, not second. I didn't know if it was me, that I lost my... well, abilities? My charm? I don't know how to explain it, but that guy was getting on my nerves. It's like-"

"Like he's stupid, Eddie. He's a hard headed idiot who kept fighting an alien symbiote for no reason: despite the disadvantage, despite people watching him loose" you reason, "you can't find logic on something without it. I've already made my peace with it"

"Maybe he was drunk" he ponder, "or high..."

"Or just dumb" you breathe. "You know? Let's stop. I want to enjoy my last day here, definitely not talking about the guy who was harrasing me minutes ago, and also, is the reason I'll loose this job"

"Alright, I'll shut up" Eddie gives up, then "I'm sorry, by the way"

You give up too, "it's okay"

"She won't leave us for this?" Venom asks. Eddie tells you and you laugh. "No, but it's your first strike"

There's some silence, the quiet sipping and chatting of the people sitting close to you, the music now a background white noise for the chaos of your mind and feelings.

"I'm still mad, you know" you drop. He looks up at you, his brown eyes colored in a dark shadow of something dangerous.

"I can make it up to you"

You know that voice. Is he thinking...?

"No" you say hastily.

"The worst already happened..." he starts, voice dropping low.

"We live in a world where superheroes and powers exist. There is always, something worst" you reason.

"Not today, baby" he gets close to your ear, his hot breathe tickling your lobe. "What do you say?"

"Eddie" you warn, but the urge to give in is so bad. It's been a while since the last time you and Eddie were intimate: lack of time, exhaustion and other factors playing a part in cock blocking you both.

"Eddie what?" he mocks, "tell me you don't want it, and I'll stop"

What if you leave the bar unattended? What if you succumb? What if one of the stalls has two people inside, even if forbidden?

"I knew you wanted it" he gasps against your skin. His soft lips kiss along your jaw, his hair brushing your face. His smell always makes you intoxicated, and in the reduced space, the dizziness is excruciating. His hand tightens around your waist, and he looks you deep into your eyes when he says:

"I know I fucked up, baby. So let me help: you won't do anything, just me"

He slams your body against the wall of the stall, which is unhygienic and against the bar norms, but really, why do you care?

"Just wanna taste you, baby" he kisses you again, full of your flavor on his lips. Your gloss coats them in a pink sticky layer, "missed you so much"

It’s shameful for him to admit how easy he seems to fall at your feet: how much he is willing to beg for forgiveness. But he can give and not receive, not having a problem with it; it's the least he can do for you, and you deserve it.

Yet you return his kisses with full hunger, your hands digging in his cheeks, pressing on the skin while diving to his neck, nipping on his sensitive spots. His hold becomes stronger, looking at you with a need so primal it dampens your folds.

"I need you to do something with this" he motions the bottom of your uniform, "be a good girl, yeah? And take this off"

Once your tights are bare and the pants are over his shoulders, he gets to see your sticky panties on their full glory.

"Fuck..." he mutters hazily.

He tears the panties down, while his knee gets his way in the middle of your tights, parting them.

You tug at his jacket, pulling him closer to you, making his knee crash against the wall of the stall.

"If you wanna taste so bad" God, you sound so demanding and it's driving him nuts, "don't keep me waiting, pretty boy"

He hovers over you, kissing you hungrily.

"I'm sorry, won't happen again" he kneels down, breathe hot and close to your puffy folds.

"If you want to fix it, then fucking do so" your hands went to his hair as you felt his teeth lightly press into your thights, sucking and tugging when needed.

"Eddie" you whine, feeling his tongue trail, taunting you, his hands circling around your thighs, the mocking flick of his tongue putting you on edge. Your folds drip, reacting to him.

"Let me help this pretty cunt, yeah?" and there's a sudden swipe at your clit by his long tongue.

You claw your nails into his scalp; the tight grip has his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let himself get lost in the taste of your pussy.

Long forgotten is the teasing, as Eddie lets his mouth fall open, pressing his starving mouth against your wet heat. His tongue kisses between your folds, finding your hot needy clit.

"Right there..." you let out a shaky breath, hips slowly bucking into his face.

His teeth graze softly the plushy skin of your pussy, knowing how sensitive you get.

"Eddie" you plead, "more"

He lets out something that sounds like a huh, pleasant vibrations against your core.

"Deeper" you mewl, "now"

"Let me try, Eddie" Venom's voice sounds inside his head, "I want to apologize too" he's about to argue but he adds, "Besides, you promised I was going to eat. I'm hungry"

Even in the dark of the bathroom, you can see black cover the front of Eddie's face, nesting in between your legs. You let out a yelp when his now longer muscle gets again inside your bud, a failed suppressed moan escaping your lips.

Brock sucks your clit into his mouth, lips wrapped around tight walls while his tongue swiped against the tip. He began a repetition of that, and when you let out a weak cry, he knows he's found your weak spot, sucking your labia into his mouth, making you press your back hard onto the wall, pushing until it starts to hurt.

"Eddie" you softly moan his name, fingers tugging at his hair roughly.

He doesn't pull his mouth from the feast, instead, his ministrations grow rougher. He lets go of the support he has on your thigh and wanders to your pussy, his fingers touching your labia. The trail is dangerously close to your entrance, his fingers get coated with the taste of you. Without thinking, he takes them to his mouth, pupils blown wide.

"So sweet" he praises, longue slicky tongue tasting your leak. Your body was filled by pleasure, coming to its peak when Brock presses his long middle finger into your needy cunt.

"That's it" he kisses your now trembling muscles (how long have you been standing?), sending butterflies to your chest. He's really earning that pardon, isn't he? Eddie is really making it hard to keep mad at him, and Venom isn't helping. "Cum for me, darling"

You whine as he pushes a second finger in. "Are you sounding louder in purpose, babe? Do you want them to find us and see what I'm doing to you? How just my mouth and fingers fuck you up? What a whore you are, fucking in a public restroom?"

You let out another loud whimper that barely gets muffled by the music coming from outside, defiant.

"I'm already fired" you pant, "I don't fucking care"

He feels it; he knows you too much: moving upwardward past your pubic bone, easily finding that soft sensitive spot of yours. Your folds clench around his fingers, Eddie knowing you're close. So now he's back to just being him (he's still warm on his chest for all those jealous feelings from before; no more sharing), his plushy lips around your clit while he thrusts into the wet sweet spot.

Your legs tense, and before you know it, you slam against the wall, arching your back as you shake with release, "Fuck!"

Your juices coat all his fingers, and without thinking he tastes again, licking the release in a rather whore-ish way. "Mm, Venom was right: sweet"

You try to catch your breath and come to understand what had just happened: you just fucked in the bathroom of your soon to be ex-job. Jesus.

Eddie gets closer to kiss you again, cupping your face, but his fingers are still wet. Without thinking, you take them into your mouth and lick your own release off him, mirroring his sensual lick movements from before, all while mantaining eye contact.

"You're gonna be the death of me" he confesses without thinking, his eyes swimming between something dark and soft.

You suck on them with your cheeks hollowed in. His breath hitches, "does this mean I'm forgiven?"

You laugh, throwing your name tag on the trash bin next to you.

"Yes" his mouth falls open, and before he says anything, you're cutting him with a kiss, still as hungry as in the beginning, to Eddie's surprise. Of course: your age says it all. "And you're next"

[sourrpatched]

𓉸ྀི l.mk LIKE A VIRGIN

Pairing > Yandere!Lee Mark x Fem!Reader

Genre > Horror (slasher type), Murder Mystery, College frat AU, smut (MDNI), loosely based in late 90s (there may be minor inconsistencies)

Sypnosis > As the fifth year anniversary of what the public coined the 'Vestal Murders' approaches, strange occurrences begin to happen. Leaving the public frightened there may be a copycat killer on the loose, and you worried that he might be there to finish the job.

Warnings > Cursing, drinking, smoking, death, Major character death (but also not really?), SMUT (MDNI), Dry humping, oral sex (f recieving), protected sex (wrap it up yall come on), stalking, Mark is actually crazy just an FYI

Word Count > 13.6k

A/N > This is the first to a series i’m working on for halloween so i hope if u enjoy this you enjoy the others! This is also my first time writing such a long fic and smut so bear with me please.

playlist > Like a Virgin- Madonna, Oblivion- Grimes, Somebody’s watching me- Rockwell

Lucville, October 12th

October was a fun month for most people. There was the official start of fall and of course halloween season. There was no one happier than your friends, you on the other hand were not a fan.

Something about Halloween just gave you the creeps. Which, yes may be its exact purpose, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. Besides, you preferred Spring anyway.

You sat on your desk chair next to your bed, head hanging back as your body laid limp on the seat. Your friend, Yuqi, was sorting through your closet. Well what was left of the clothes in your closet. She had thrown half of your wardrobe onto the floor, searching for the perfect outfit for tonight.

“Do I have to go?” You groaned, “Like really?”

It wasn’t like you to want to go out and party and your friends knew that, which is why tonight was a special occasion.

“Your parents aren’t going to let you stay home alone, considering recent events.”

“I’d say five years ago is hardly recent.”

There was a series of disappearances that led up to Halloween when you were in your early years of high school. It was three different people who happened to live within your town, some even attended the same school as you. It was a small town, yet you wouldn’t have considered yourself close to any of the students, except for one.

Jihoon was one of your older brother, Inhyuk’s longest and closest friends. You remember how they’d always hang out at your house after school playing video games. Jihoon was always so sweet to you, inviting you into their hangouts so you wouldn’t be alone. Even with the four year age gap you couldn’t help but develop a puppy crush on him.

A week had passed since his disappearance, everyone expected that the kids were playing a senior prank and would return shortly, your brother knew differently. He grew more distressed as the days passed. You remember how annoying it was that he wouldn’t allow you to go anywhere without him right by your side.

That protectiveness only got worse when the bodies had been discovered. The TV was playing a re run of IT in honor of Halloween when an emergency news broadcast appeared.

“It appears the bodies of multiple missing persons have been discovered after police received an anonymous report leading to an investigation of Velvet Lake.”

Chills ran down your spine as the names of the kids appeared on screen, Jihoon being one of the three. Your brother had taken it badly, he couldn’t leave his room for months. That’s why as soon as he graduated he took a scholarship across the globe and never came back.

It only made the house emptier. Your father was always traveling abroad on business so he was hardly ever around, and your mother who was a surgeon at S.E.S, the towns local hospital, was working overtime. That left you alone most of the time when you weren’t with your friends.

“I’m not talking about that Virgin killer, i’m talking about those people who were mauled by a bear or something in Melody.”

Melody was the neighboring town to yours closer to the city, and as far as you knew, there wasn’t much wildlife there.

“A bear? How would a bear even be there?”

“How would I know. My dad just said what he saw on today’s paper.” She shrugged pulling a shirt from your closet and bringing it up to your chest.

“It’s not Virgin Killer by the way, it’s Vestal.”

“Same difference. I think this is it by the way.” She motioned her head to the mirror behind you. It was a green and brown tube top with a turtleneck she had chosen for you to wear. It was cropped, exposing your waist down. You’d argue it wasn’t exactly appropriate for the weather but Yuqi never took that into account.

“Perfect.” She smiled and headed back to your closet. “Now we gotta find matching pants.”

“Isn’t it kind of stupid that they’re hosting a party already. Halloween isn’t even til three weeks from now.”

“Y/N you should know already they will throw a party for any reason.” Her voice comes out muffled. You roll your eyes knowing she’s searching the deep depths of your closet.

“What’s the point in that, aren’t parties supposed to be special?”

“Y/N, college parties are an excuse for us to get drunk and have fun. What’s more special than that?”

You trace out the words ‘HELP ME’ on the desk with your finger, whining. “Nothing for me, so do I have to go?”

You’re suddenly hit on the side of your head. You look down at a the floor where a juniper maxi skirt lays on the floor.

“You play this same game every time and end up dragged to the party anyway,” Yuqi bursts, “We’re going. So put those on and stop your bitching.”

You sigh in defeat, grabbing the skirt and beginning to change into the clothes before the sound of the doorbell goes off.

Yuqi lets a breath out. “That’s probably Minnie I’ll go get her. Stay here and don’t try and get away.” She pleads with emphases on ‘ don’t ‘ before leaving your room.

You change into your clothes, staring at yourself in the mirror. The amount of skin showing makes you a bit uncomfortable so you reach for a black leather jacket on the floor from Yuqi’s assault on your closet. You put it on feeling much more content hearing the approaching voices of your friends.

“You should really learn to stop popping up out of nowhere and call before you’re coming over.”

“I paged you guys.” Minnie spoke evidently.

You snicker, “You still carrying yours around?“

She rolls her eyes, “Okay you’re just lucky your mom and dad can afford to get you a cell.”

You shrug.

“It’s getting late, we should get going.” Yuqi says putting her own jacket on. You grab onto her before she can slip out the door.

“And this mess?”

The entire room looked as if it was part of the titanic wreckage. You could hardly see the floor with the piles of clothing covering it. She looks around then at you with an innocent smile. “I’ll help later.”

You take a breath knowing that was a lie, but following your friends out of the house nonetheless.

This better be worth it.

The frat house is about as messy as you would’ve expected. Red solo cups are left on every surface of the house, and you were sure not a single one of them was filled with water. There was a crowd in the living room surrounding a game of foosball between two guys you were sure were on the football team.

At some point your group separated to go meet up with other people. This was exactly why you hated coming to parties. Within a minute of walking through the front door, Yuqi would met up with her drama club friends and Minnie left with some group of stoners. You walked around hoping to find something to drink to pass time.

You walked into the kitchen finding a small trio of familiar faces hovering around the fridge. Two of the three idiots were taunting the youngest while he stood confused. You slowly sneak up and approach them startling them at the sound of your voice.

“You guys some sort of watch dogs for the drinks or?”

“Jesus fuck when did you get here?”

You shrug, gesturing your hands for them to move from the fridge. “Like twenty minutes ago.” You grab a coke out of the fridge and crack it open taking a sip.

“You came alone little fox, or in your usual set?”

You cringed at the nickname used. Johnny, the eldest of the frat, loved to call you that because of how sneaky you were. It wasn’t ever purposely, you just happened to ‘pop up out of nowhere’ sometimes according to others.

“Yuqi and Minnie went to go find their own cliques.”

“And left you to fend for yourself? That’s not good manners.” Yuta was the second eldest although he acted far from it. He and Johnny had been underclass men to your brother when they were in high school so you guys were pretty close.

“Stealing one of Kun’s cokes isn’t well mannered either.” Johnny teased.

“He’ll live.” You say taking another sip.

“You really shouldn’t be wandering around all by yourself y/n, it’s not very safe.” Mark, the youngest chimes in. Mark was in a grade higher than you, you had never been very close with him until a year ago though, seeing as he began to spend time more with your friend group.

He was a quiet type, kept to himself a lot of the time, and was usually the victim of a joke. He was very sweet though. Minnie pointed out that the last frat party you couldn’t attend, he wouldn’t stop asking her about you.

When she told him you were sick he seemed concerned and gave her shit for just leaving you behind. You felt a blush creeping in at the thought of him carrying so much about you.

“Awww why do you care so much about y/n?” Yuta says squeezing the younger’s cheeks. He slaps his hand off of him and Yuta only bursts out laughing.

“He’s right little fox,” Johnny says directed to you. He was always trying to sound wise. “I mean didn’t you notice the way Sungchan has been eyeing you all night?”

You didn’t. Sungchan had hit on you at the last frat party your friends attended in which you respectfully declined. The way the guys were talking though was as if he was some stalker, your skin crawled at the thought.

“You’re just saying that.”

“It’s true. His attention is always on you, even when you’re not paying attention.”

“Let’s face it, she’s never paying attention.” Yuta adds.

“And that’s exactly why you gotta be careful. College men can’t be trusted.”

You scoff, “You do realize you are included in that generalization. College man.”

Yuta pokes Johnny, putting him on the spot. “She got you there.” The eldest only rolls his eyes. Yuta might seem drunk to most people, and maybe he was, but you and your friends knew he was just the playful type.

“I think Johnny is right, especially around this season. You never know what could happen.” Mark’s sentence trails off.

“Oh chills,” Yuta says raising his arm, “You gave me chills Mark. You’re talking about that Virgin taker right?”

Johnny’s eyebrows furrow, “I don’t think that’s the name.”

“Whatever you know what I mean. He slaughtered all those puritans didn’t he?”

“A little insensitive don’t you think?”

“What? You mad he couldn’t take yours too?” He replies with a wink and sip of his beer. You take it back, he was definitely drunk.

This time you let out a giggle, it was always fun being around these idiots. “Vestal. Can’t believe i’ve had to correct two people on that today.” You shake your head.

“Who was the first?” Mark asks curiously.

“Yuqi, speaking of, I should probably start looking for her. I’m ready to bounce.”

“I thought I saw she left out earlier with some girl with short hair?”

“Great. So she left me and Minnie to get laid.” You say sarcastically.

Johnny clicks his tongue. “You must’ve broken a mirror, little fox. Minnie left out with the boys to go get some food. Munchies, you know.”

You groan, sinking your head into your hand. “They drag me here for no reason. Okay i’m leaving now, i’ll see you guys when I do.”

“You walking alone?” Mark‘s voice comes out full of concern.

You shrug. “Seems like it.”

“I can walk you home if you don’t mind?” He suggests.

“Thank you, but really It’s okay.” You’re already heading towards the door, throwing your empty can in the trash when you hear Yuta’s voice.

“Careful Y/N, don’t let the virgin killer get ya.”

You keep your sight forward, flicking him off as you leave.

You walk through your front door, sliding the locks on instantly. Your shoulders drop, the stress leaving your body. Walking home alone was what you did regularly, only this time it felt different. It felt like someone was accompanying you, even if it was only you walking your regular route home.

The fifteen minutes felt longer than usual but that could’ve rang true since you stopped a few times to look around swearing you could feel eyes on you. That’s why as soon as you got home you turned on all of the lights in your home.

Stupid Yuta. He was always saying something to put you on edge.

You turn on the TV and are shocked to find that the news is still on.

“Due to a power outage the following locations have been left with no power over sixty percent of people are left with no clue on when it will be repaired. Schools and Universities have decided to postpone classes for the time being. People are outraged, some believing this upcoming blood moon could be the reasoning for the power outages.”

The list of cities and towns comes up. Melody, Lucville, Graze town , and 0 mile.

Lucville. That couldn’t be right, you had power right now. The phone rings loudly from the kitchen, pulling you from your thoughts. You get up to check, walking to the counter and pulling the phone to your ear.

“Hell–”

“Did you hear??? The campus closed down cause of some weird power thing, it’s not coming back til November.” Yuqi’s voice cuts yours off.

“I did yeah but that doesn’t make any sense,” You object, “my power’s working.”

“Yeah it’s only effecting places like the police stations and schools, some hospitals too. Don’t read too much into it just be happy we have no classes.”

“Yeah I guess you’re right.”

“I gotta go now, my bed calls me. I only called to make sure you got home. Minnie told me you left alone.”

“The bed or the person in it,” You hear her squeak like she’d been caught. “Don’t forget you owe me a clean room.”

“I’ll get to it tomorrow, promise.”

“Whatever.” You hang up.

At that moment you hear a knock at the front door. You check the time. 1:40am. Weird, your mom was held up at work and your father was still out of town. You walk over to the front door checking the peep hole and seeing nothing.

That’s strange.

You unlock the door and open it, looking around the area. It was just an empty street, not a single light was on from any house. You close the door guessing it could’ve been from the TV, when the phone rings again.

You walk over to the kitchen grabbing the phone. “Hello?”

You’re met with silence.

You scoff, “Yuta? If this is your idea of a prank you should really move on. Everyone’s seen Scream by now.” You hang up.

Even though you were very sure it was just Yuta who was prank calling, you can’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine. You reach up over the counter opening the cabinet to grab a glass when the phone rings again.

You jump, the glass dropping from your finger tips and crashing into the ground. You groan, carefully crossing the glass without stepping in it and reaching for the phone.

“Yuta I swear to god the next time I see you, you better have a jockstrap on!” You shout before being cut off.

“Woah y/n are you okay?”

You sigh in relief. “Mark?”

“Yeah, I was calling to make sure you got home safe. Is something wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just got a bit spooked with a call earlier.”

“I’m guessing Yuta?”

“Ding Ding Ding. Guess i’m victim to his little halloween pranks.”

“I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Don’t bother, I can handle him.”

“I’m sure you can,” He chuckles, “Jockstrap?”

“It’s a clear warning in case he does want kids in the future.”

You can hear his smile through the phone, it helps ease your mind. “Assuming he doesn’t already have some running around?”

You let out a chuckle. “You’re right. He’ll be fine without any more.”

The laugh he lets out is contagious. “I gotta clean up a bit here, i’m glad you called though.” You meant it.

“Of course, wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. Who else would keep the guys in check?”

You can’t help the blush that fills your cheeks. “Bye, Mark.”

“I’ll see you later y/n.” The call ends.

You quickly clean up the mess before heading back into your brother’s old room to sleep. It was completely empty save for the TV left on a counter and a loan poster of Madonna on the wall.

You turn off the lights hoping to god you will make tomorrow’s morning shift at the diner.

It was about thirty minutes left of your shift before you were finally free. You rubbed your face to keep yourself awake. It was Monday morning shift and usually they weren’t that busy, but since classes were all canceled for the next week, you noticed a lot more students came to the diner.

You worked at Salty & Sweet Diner for over a year already. It gave you something to do when you weren’t at school so you wouldn’t have to spend all your time at home by yourself. It also gave you money you could use to go out with friends instead of depending on your parents.

“Looking terrible y/n.” The man who is next in line looks up at you with a mocking smile.

“As do you, What can I get for you today YangYang? Same as usual?”

He nodded, “Extra whipped cream don’t forget it.”

You write down his order on a notepad. “And you?”

“Are you on the menu?” Jaehyun jokes.

“Limited time only and you just missed it.”

Jaehyun and YangYang were usually in the frat basement getting high when they weren’t attending classes, so their presence today was surprising.

“The guys should be getting here soon.” Jaehyun comments, “Something about it being your shift so we should come over to annoy you?”

“I thought I mentioned if i see any of you in here i’ll have my manager ban you guys.”

“Nice try, Your manager was busy last night getting high with us.” YangYang points his finger at Minnie, who’s counting the register behind you.

The diner was owned by Minnie’s parents which is how you landed the job in the first place. You were great full most times, but not now. At that moment the door rings signaling another customer coming. You can spot the idiot from miles away.

“Y/N, how are you did you miss me?” He says enthusiastically. You roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t even miss you if you died.”

“Ouch.” He grabs at his chest dramatically. Before you can berate him you’re cut off by the familiar, comforting voice.

“Hey y/n, how’s your shift going?” Mark says, his attention fixed onto you.

“It’s fine. What are you doing here?” You respond shyly.

“The guys wanted to annoy you but I only came to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m okay.” You could feel the awkwardness radiating off of your body.

“That’s good,” He clears his throat. “So, the guys were actually going to host another party this weekend. I was wondering if It’ll be okay if i keep my hopes up to see you.”

You wait a second before responding. “I can’t confirm whether you will be disappointed or not.” He nods at your answer when a voice cuts into your conversation.

“You won’t be. She will be there.” Minnie’s voice rings out.

You look at her, eyes wide. She only gives a tight smile. It’s her signature ‘Don’t even try it’ look.

Yuta speaks this time, “Great, so i’m guessing you will all three be there?”

“You guessed correctly.” She grins, “I’ll let Yuqi know about it. Y/N you can go now.”

“My shift isn’t over?”

“Yeah well I’m sure Hyungseo has no problem covering your shift for you.”

“Who‘s Hyungseo?” Yuta asks teasingly.

“The chef who can’t keep his eyes off of our little Y/N here,” Minnie winks at you. “Go on now Y/n, you can go.”

You give her a look before heading to the back to change out of your apron. Before you’re completely out of sight you can hear the group tease the youngest.

“You’re as red as Minnie’s old wash cloth right now.”

“Hey man knock it off.” Minnie replies.

Mark can only turn away, “I’m heading to the restroom.”

On your way out, a voice stops you in your tracks. Sungchan sits in his seat, a milkshake in front of him.

“Sungchan, i’m off the clock if you needed something I could let Minnie know.”

“Huh?” He turns his head to his drink realizing what it looks like to you, “No actually I just wanted to ask you.” He trails off his sentence. You stand there confused waiting for him to continue. “You’re going to be at Yuta’s party right?”

“I don’t really have a choice.”

His laughter is strained, “Well I was wondering if I see you there, would you want to–“

His voice is cut off by the yelling coming from where your group of friends stand. You see that two of the boys have decided to try and race to see who can finish their milkshake first, glad you clocked out before having to deal with that.

“Yeah i’ll see you there,” You say to Sungchan, leaving him to his drink. “I gotta go, enjoy your food.”

He nods giving you a small smile, “Bye Y/N.”

Once you’re home you can’t wait but head straight to the shower. You set the water to warm before stripping and standing directly under the stream of water. The warmth hits you and you let out a sigh, letting the water run down your body and soak into your hair.

Minutes pass of silence, the only sound being the running water. Your eyes are closed as you begin rinsing the remaining shampoo in your hair. You hear the faintest tap of the door, opening your eyes in an instant.

You turn the facet off stepping out of the shower and grabbing your towel, only now realizing your clothes weren’t there.

I swear I brought clothes?

Your heart drops as you begin to hear muffled voices coming from your house. You stand frozen in front of the bathroom door. You can hear your heart thumping as if it’s directly in your ears.

After moments of contemplating you choose to open the door. You follow the voices that are coming from the living room. The TV is on.

“Parents stand here today at the memorial sight with flowers and candles to honor the upcoming five year anniversary of the Vestal Murderer’s victims. The victims–“

You turn off the TV, deciding to ignore it and head back into your room to change into a pajama set.

October 19th

This party is boring. You had chosen to stick by Minnie’s side after experiencing the weirdest phenomenons for the past week. You had about three other times items had been misplaced in your home. You were slowly growing more agitated than anything, so when Minnie suggested you join them in their smoke session you didn’t decline.

You sat in between Minnie and YangYang, opting out of smoking after a single rotation. You weren’t a smoker so three puffs and one coughing fit later you were done for the night.

Your friends sat in a circle, recounting stories to one another. You couldn’t really focus on anything but keeping your eyes open though.

There’s a knock at the door, pulling your attention from the cup in your hands and towards the sound. Jaehyun gets up to get the door, speaking to the man on the other side with a hushed voice. It’s only when you lean to the side that you notice it’s Mark.

You turn over to Minnie by your side, tapping her shoulder to get her attention.

“I want to go get another drink.” Minnie nods her head, letting YangYang know she’s gonna be right back. You both sit up heading towards the door where Jaehyun looks annoyed.

“Is something wrong?” Minnie asks, inserting herself into their conversation.

“Just Johnny stealing our room for the night. He needs some ‘privacy’ for that girl he brought over.” He says rolling his eyes.

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, it was funny that he was so bothered by something you knew for a fact he was very guilty of.

“You mad you couldn’t book it first?” Minnie jokes.

“Y/N, I thought you left?” Mark questions.

“No, well I was but then Minnie invited me up so,” You let out a breath motioning your hands to the room. “I’m here.”

You can hear laughter from Jaehyun and Minnie who find your current condition hilarious. It only makes you join their cackling. Mark stays watching the three of you very confused.

“Right,” He says slowly. “You guys are leaving now?”

“Just getting a refill.” Minnie brings her cup up showing the emptiness of it.

“You guys getting more drinks? Get me a–“

“Get it yourself.” You knock down Jaehyun before he can finish his sentence. He frowns. “Come on Minnie.” She follows you out the door, leaving the two boys to their own conversation.

You and Minnie stand in the kitchen, well Minnie stands. You’re sat on the counter as she searches the cabinets for more booze. You look over to the living room where you see a mix of unfamiliar and familiar faces engage in a game of Cup Pong.

“Here,” Minnie grabs your attention, handing your cup back to you. You grab it and take a sip, frowning at the taste. “It’s water. God knows you need it.”

You take another sip, setting it down on the counter afterwards. “Thanks.”

“You heard earlier right?” She says, taking a drink out of her own. You cock your head to the side, not picking up what she’s saying. “Siwon was asking what I was doing later tonight and if i wanted to ‘hang’.” She adds quotation marks with her fingers.

If you had the water in your hands you were very sure it would’ve spilled everywhere. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.” Her face full of disgust.

“I too, wish you were.” Yuqi adds from behind you. You jump at her sudden appearance. “When did you get here?”

“Just now. Which reminds me,” She brings herself up onto the counter leaning in to the two of you. “You know that high school kid I told you guys about who joined our club, Minjae?” You both nodded. “He tried putting moves on me.”

Minnie chokes on her drink. Yuqi immediately hitting her back to help her catch her breath. “What the hell is wrong with you.”

“Right now?” You question in disbelief.

“While you two were busy getting stoned.”

Minnie lets out one last cough, “What did you say?”

“Of course not. That’s a kid, I want nothing to do with that.” Yuqi says almost offended that Minnie even had to ask.

“You were a high schooler when you hit on Soyeon.”

“Well yeah, but that’s different. Me and Soyeon were only a year apart. He’s like two years younger.”

Minnie shrugs, “You’re just scared he’s going to get attached if you take his V-Card like you did with Soyeon.”

“Hey,” She hits Minnie’s shoulder, “Next time i’ll let you choke.”

“You remember how you were, puppy eyes always following her around.” Minnie says bringing fists to her cheeks. “You were so cute before you chose to become a heartbreaker.”

Yuqi hits Minnie’s hands off of her. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Ah you’re so mean now.” Minnie whines, “Y/N, when you finally get to bed don’t become like Yuqi.”

“As if that would happen any time soon, guys aren’t exactly all over me. Besides, I want it to be special.” You say bringing your arms to your chest.

Yuqi makes a face at Minnie. The girls sharing a glance you aren’t able to understand.

“What?” You press.

“Don’t worry about guys not being interested in you, worry about the guard dog of yours keeping them from approaching.” Minnie speaks as if it’s an obvious answer.

“What do you mean?”

Before you can press any further a figure approaches your circle. “You guys okay?”

“Never better.” Yuqi smiles, hopping off of the counter.

You face where mark stands. You weren’t able to really take in his appearance earlier but now that he was leaning on the counter, you were able to dissect him as if he were a test subject on a science lab table.

You thought the water was helping sober you up but apparently not enough with the way your brain was making up horrible comparisons.

You couldn’t help the blush on your face as you noticed the outline of muscles on the man’s forearms. He wasn’t even flexing and they were still apparent.

His plain white tee didn’t stop your brain from what your friends would call ‘eye fucking’ the man in front of you. It fit him like a glove, capturing his broad shoulders and his chest the way you wish you could.

“You okay y/n?” He spoke, pulling you out of your trance.

“Uhh, yeah.” You turn to where your friends are smirking at you, reading you easily. “What were we talking about?”

“How it’s pretty late and you should get home soon.”

“And how Mark should probably take you back home.” Minnie adds smoothly.

“Would you be okay with that?” Mark looks over to you.

There’s a brief silence as everyone waits for your answer. You give a tight smile, “Sure.”

“Great, well we have to go.” Yuqi says pulling Minnie with her out of the kitchen, “See you tomorrow Y/N!”

You were lucky the man in front of you was so oblivious to your friend’s actions. You put your arms down to help get you off of the counter the way Yuqi did earlier. A pair of hands find their way around your waist before you can.

“Here let me help you.” Mark pulls you off the counter with no struggle. You can’t help the warmth creeping in your stomach from his grip around you.

“Thanks.” You say, his hands leaving your waist as you stand steady on your own feet. You hope he doesn’t notice the way you can’t look him in the eye. “Let’s go.”

The cool autumn air was enough to sober you up if only by a little. Mark walked silently beside you noticing the way you wrapped your arms around yourself trying to keep warm. You’re too busy thinking about how much longer this walk will be when you feel hands wrapping around your shoulder.

“You were shivering.” He says leaving his jacket on you.

“Thanks.” You mumble, feeling instant relief from the cool air.

You can smell a hint of vanilla on it, his signature cologne. You smile silently to yourself bringing your hands to your mouth to warm them, and to keep him from noticing the faint pink in your cheeks.

“I’m glad I can walk you home, I was a bit worried last time you answered the call sounding panicked.”

You recall the memory. He did sound a bit startled through the phone. “I’m okay, i’m glad you get to walk me home anyway.”

There’s another round of silence. You notice your street in the distance, trying to come up with what to say. He speaks before you’re able to utter a word.

“You look really pretty tonight by the way.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. He realizes how his sentence came off, backtracking his earlier statement. “You always look pretty I mean. I just– You really suit my jacket.”

“I don’t know if I should thank you for the jacket or the compliment.”

“You don’t have to thank me at all, i’m only stating the obvious.”

You look up smiling at him which feels so easy to do whenever he’s around. You notice the beauty marks all over his face and neck, wishing you could analyze them closer.

“That’s my place over there.” You break the silence pointing over to your house. He looks to you, “I’m glad you have arrived safely.”

“I’m glad you could bring me.”

You both are standing face to face for a moment, observing each other and waiting for someone to make the first move. He speaks first.

“I don’t want to hold you in the cold for any longer.”

You reach to take off his jacket, “Oh, here’s your–“

“No need,” he cuts you off. “You pull it off better than I ever have.”

“I beg to differ.” You’re hoping he can take a hint. “But I guess once I wear another clothing item of yours we can see who pulls off your clothes better.”

“Feel free to invite yourself over anytime for access to my wardrobe.”

“Or I can pull this one off you now?” You joke, pulling him closer by his shirt. You’re unsure where your sudden boldness is coming from, perhaps you weren’t completely sober after all.

He leans in closer, staring into your eyes and shifting his gaze to your lips. He was definitely not as dense as you thought. You lean in closer, his fingers grazing your lips.

A sudden noise pulls you guys apart from each other. You look to the ground, embarrassed by how brazen you came off. He reaches into his pocket, grabbing his pager and reading off a message.

“Do you need to go already?”

He lets out heavy sigh as if he was disappointed in the distraction, “Yeah, that was Yuta he wants for me to stay over the night.”

You’re shocked, always having assumed he had stayed with the rest of the frat members. “Oh, I thought you lived there?”

“No, My parents actually got me a place here for my studies so it’s just me.”

“I see, it’s the same for me.” You point again at your home. “Thank you for walking me, please make sure you get back safely.”

“My pleasure, have a nice night Y/N.” He waves his hand as you begin walking towards your home.

“Ditto.” You shout out loud enough for him to hear you as you walk up to your home pulling your key out.

“What did you do!” You let out a gut wrenching scream. The entire floor was painted red, you look down and notice your hands full of blood.

You jump out of your nightmare, sweat lining your body. The house is silent, your alarm clock emitting a red gleam. It reads 4:26am.

You sit in bed rubbing the last of the tiredness in your eyes deciding it’d better to keep yourself awake for a while longer. You get up heading towards your kitchen to grab a glass of water.

As you reach the kitchen you decide to turn the TV on to calm your nerves for the time being. The news is on again. You take a sip out of your water paying half a mind to what is being reported.

“It’s been 48 hours since the disappearance of Jung Sungchan, his parents report he was last seen on October 17.”

Sungchan? He had said he would go to the party when you last saw him just a few days ago. You think back realizing you hadn’t seen him at all tonight. You feel your heart sink, placing your glass down and running to your house phone.

“Hello?” Minnie’s voice comes out hoarse. You can tell you’d just woken her from her sleep but you’re too startled to apologize.

“Sungchan is missing.”

“Huh?”

“He’s gone I just saw on the news they said it’s been days. I’m freaking out I just talked to him on Monday this has to be a joke right?”

“Y/N–“ You can barely hear her over your panicked thoughts.

“This is happening all over again, they’re saying it’s him again.”

You feel your eyes begin to water, “There’s been weird things happening, I hear knocks and my TV turns on all the time for no reason.” “Y/N.”

“Minnie, He was so close before,” You take a breath, “What if I’m next?”

“Y/N!” She yells out causing you to jump. “Relax, you’re okay. Nothing is going to happen.”

You don’t say anything so she continues, “I’m pretty sure I saw Sungchan after you left with Mark okay? Also, those knocks are probably just neighborhood kids. Remember when you said they’d always egg your neighbors around halloween?”

You let out a breath, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“See so there’s nothing to worry about, it’s all in your head cause Yuta kept saying shit. You’re okay and nothing going to happen.”

You realize how stupid you might’ve sounded now. Minnie was right, nothing was wrong until Yuta put all of that into your head. You’re just overthinking it.

“Thank you.” You let out softly.

She gives a sound of acknowledgment, “You know if you ever feel scared, my house is always open to you.”

“It’s fine I think I was just paranoid but i’m okay now.”

“Well just letting you know. Do you want to stay on the phone?”

“No it’s okay, i’ll let you get back to sleep.”

“Make sure you’re getting some sleep too alright?” She yawns. “God knows we need it for tomorrow.”

“Oh crap.” You had forgotten about the annual fundraiser held at the frat house. It was meant to raise money for the victims families of the Vestal Murders. You and your friends had promised to be there. “It totally slipped my mind.”

“If you can’t go don’t sweat it, you have a lot on your plate anyway.”

“No, i’ll be there.”

“Okay well I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Y/N.”

“Night.”

October 20th

After a day of setting up different games for the fundraiser you were able to sit and relax. Yuqi, who’s sitting beside you passes a bottle of coke to you.

“Thanks.” You reply, taking a sip of the drink and setting it down.

“Can’t believe we had to help set up, i just want to go home.”

You give a wry smile, “Yeah i’m pretty exhausted, had a tough time sleeping.” She’s about to respond when someone calls her from the distance. “I’m going!” She turns to face you, “Go, we’re done here anyway.”

She walks away meeting with YangYang at the steps of the house. You close your eyes lying back against the couch you’re on. You can hear voices around you but don’t try enough to make out what they’re all talking about. Footsteps approach you, you open your eyes to see who it is.

“The games haven’t even began and you’re tired already?”

Mark is standing above you, you take in the fitted black shirt he has on. You admire the turtleneck he has on, it really fits him even though it covered his neck moles you loved to stare at.

“I’m only resting, it’s been a long day.”

He hums, taking a seat beside you. “Then i’ll join you, you can use me as a pillow if you’d like.”

You take his offer, lying your head on his shoulder which is much more comfortable than the couch if you were being honest. You close your eyes and feel his hand start to play with your hair, purring at the feeling.

“Yo, you guys gonna just sit there or you wanna join?” Johnny shouts to you and Mark.

You look up at him, still resting your head on him. His face is so close you pull away and get up. “We’re going.” He follows behind you.

You can see a few of your friends lined up to play apple bobbing. You remember how you played once when you were younger, you freaked out and inhaled the water. Inhyuk had to pull you out to stop you from choking.

“You wanna play?” Yuta says, smirking at the two of you.

“Uh I’m good.” You say, looking up at Mark.

“Come on, show them how you use that mouth of yours.” Minnie winks at you from in line.

You shove into her with your forearm, she laughs it off. “Really I’m okay, Mark?”

“Actually mind if I show you something instead?”

“Ohhh, he’s going to show you what his mouth can do.” Yuta mocks, this time he earns a shove from Mark.

You give her a scornful look, “Sure let’s go.”

He holds your hand pulling you from behind him, leading the way. You guys walk past the crowds of people, making your way through the house. You realize he’s taking you to the basement so you speak up.

“Didn’t know you were a smoker, Lee.”

He chuckles, “Not quite.” You both are still hand in hand when he takes you to a corner room in the basement that you hadn’t noticed before.

“What’s this?”

“You’ll see,” He opens the door revealing a room filled with Halloween candy and a blanket on the floor. You look around noticing the TV in the room with VHS tapes of different movies laid out on the floor. “Do you like it?”

You look up at Mark seeing how he’s awaiting your answer. You pull him in for a hug, squealing in delight.

“This is so sweet.”

“Minnie told me you had been having a rough time, thought this might cheer you up.” He smiles, “Did it work?”

“It did more than work. Mark, thank you.” You look up at him, holding his gaze for a moment. You’re both only an inch from each other, you look at his lips wondering how soft they’d feel on yours.

His voice comes out rough, “We should watch a movie, yeah?” though he makes no effort to step away from you.

You take a look at him, his eyes won’t leave your mouth so you move in closer. “We can always watch later.”

He lets out a chuckle before pulling you in for a kiss. His lips feel so soft on yours, it’s everything and more than you had imagined. It’s rough and possessive, stealing your breath right from your mouth.

He bites onto your lip earning a moan from your lips, you pull away embarrassed by the noise you’d let out. “I’m sorry I don’t know why I did that.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, “Don’t apologize, I love those sounds from you.” He pulls you in again, the kiss becoming even heavier than before.

You can feel his tongue trace the bottom of your lips asking permission to deepen the kiss. You accept, beginning to explore his own mouth. You bite his lip, earning a groan from him, you thought that might be the sexiest noise you’d ever heard before.

He grabs onto your cheek with one hand and your waist with the other. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re so perfect you know that?” You can barely respond before he begins to pull you in once more.

“Mark,” You plead breathlessly, pulling away from him. “I need to tell you something.”

He hums, beginning to kiss down your neck. You squirm at the feeling. “I haven’t– Fuck. I’ve never done this before.”

He slowly pulls away from you, confusion evident on his face. “Oh.” He can tell how embarrassed you feel admitting it so he adds promptly. “We don’t have to do anything. I’m not going to force you to do anything I just thought a movie would be nice.”

You find his distressed state amusing, “I– yeah that’s fine.”

He smiles, about to put a movie in when you hear a knock from the door.

“Y/N, we gotta go. Yuqi’s parents want her home already.” Minnie appears at the door.

You nod remembering the plans you guys had made to hang out after the fundraiser. Fuck, you wished you could stay with Mark for longer, especially considering how much effort he’d put into spending time with you.

“Yeah, okay i’ll be right there.” You say a little breathlessly, hoping she doesn’t notice it. She gives you an all knowing smile as she closes the door, “Be quick.”

You frown at the fact that you have to leave early, Mark quickly comes to your defense. “Hey it’s okay, we can save it for next time.” He puts his hands on your shoulder pulling you for a hug.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave.” You pout.

He laughs, finding you adorable. “I wish you didn’t have to go either, but we have plenty of time together, right?”

You nod, “Right. I’ll see you next time okay?”

“Get home safely y/n.” You head for the door before stopping in your tracks and turning around. Mark looks confused until you pull him in once more for a short and sweet kiss.

“Goodbye Mark.” You say pulling away and leaving out the door.

“Naughty naughty girl, y/n.” Minnie tsks, tapping her finger over your head.

You push her hand away. “Shut up, let’s go.”

She laughs following you close behind.

“I still don’t know why my parents felt the need to be party poopers, they could’ve asked the neighbor to feed that damn dog.” Yuqi complains.

Minnie gasps, “I love Haku!”

“Whatever, Oh there it is!” Yuqi, says pointing down at Phantom Halloween Store.

Your friends race down to get there first, you choose to continue walking instead. There’s a TV store to the right showing a news report.

“There’s been yet another disappearance reported since a body was discovered earlier today. Police have not made a comment on the identity of the individual or what another disappearance could mean for the town of Lucville. The public demands answers. Could it be possible that the Vestal Murderer is back for another halloween or a copy cat killer has taken his place?”

“Y/N!” Yuqi’s voice calls after you from ahead. “You coming?”

You choose to ignore the rest of the report, “Im going!”

“I think this would look great on you.”

“Cat Woman?” Minnie raises her eyebrow.

“You’d look really sexy, that’s what halloweens all about, right y/n!”

“Exactly, come on Minnie, you gonna finally try and get the attention of Yuta?”

She scowls at the both of you, snatching the suit out of Yuqi’s hands. “I’m trying it on, that’s all. No promises.”

“Yesh right, you’ll rock it anyway.” You both tease her as she steps into the dressing room.

“So y/n, what are you dressing as?” Yuqi asks.

“I don’t know i’ll probably just dress as is.”

She looks as if you ate her dog, “It’s halloween. A costume is a must. No ifs or buts!”

“You think rhyming is going to help me change my mind?” You raise an eyebrow at her, minding your business looking through the masks.

“What about Mark,” You stop in your tracks, feigning a cough. “What about him?”

“Don’t you wanna do more than just make out in the basement of a frat house?”

You roll your eyes, “Minnie told you.”

“Yeah well i’m offended you didn’t!” She retorts. “If you want to impress him then you have got to dress up.”

You sigh, halloween costumes weren’t really your thing, but you didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb being the only one not dressed up.

Yuqi smirks knowing she’s got to you. “Who knows,” she shrugs, “Maybe he will end up killing your virginity.”

Your ears go red, “Yuqi!” Her eyes go wide, stepping away from you. “Why are you so loud! Do you know how embarrassing you are?”

“Please spare me okay!” She yelps as you grab onto her shirt.

“Wow y/n I didn’t take you for a bully.” Johnny’s deep voice sounds from behind you both. You let go of Yuqi, allowing for her to fix her shirt.

“You make it a habit of stalking us?”

“Ah yes, cause we came here purely to track your group of friends down.” Yuta remarks sarcastically, “A halloween store, when it’s is less than a week away.”

“We came here to look for some last minute decorations.” Mark comments before you and Yuta can begin your bickering.

“We’re here for costumes, Y/N here has got the perfect one planned.” Yuqi states, her arm sneaking around your shoulder.

“Really? What is it?” Mark looks to you.

“It’s a surprise!” Yuqi squeaks out. You’re thankful for it because you wouldn’t have known what to say at all.

“Good, you should show us at the Halloween party we’re throwing this weekend.” Johnny utters, reaching into his pocket. He pulls an invitation flier to the party, passing it to you. “It’s a costume party so make sure you’re all there.”

“All of you.” Yuta adds, “Speaking of, where’s your third?”

At that moment Minnie walks out of the dressing room. The latex suit wraps around her body hugging her figure, the mask is on too bringing out her natural cat eyes, and in her hand she grips a whip as a signature weapon.

“So do you guys think–“ the words die on her tongue. She freezes looking at the group in front of her, one of them being Yuta.

“You wanna be my dominatrix Minnie?” Yuta jests.

She turns red at his comment and closes the dressing room door, hiding behind it.

“We’ll be there.” You say.

October 30th

It felt like Halloween had came early, there were piles of candies and treats left all over the kitchen counter as well as a punch bowl you were eighty percent sure was spiked. The blood moon stood bright in the night and true its name, painting the dark sky red.

You had just arrived no longer than ten minutes ago and your friends had already happened to disappear out of sight. You made your way to the counter grabbing a red solo cup to serve yourself the blood colored punch.

“You actually want to drink that?” Mark’s voice startles you, causing you to drop the ladle back into the punch.

“Well I guess not.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d get scared.” He says, his hands going up in defense.

“It’s fine, i’ll just take a beer.” You reach for the refrigerator.

“You look beautiful,” He states, “Carrie right?”

You look down at the silk champagne colored dress you have on. “Yeah, did the crown give it away?”

“More so the blood on the costume but the crown too.”

You let out a giggle, “And you, Michael Myers?” You say almost as a question.

“Ding Ding Ding! I had my mask earlier but Yuta insisted on letting him borrow it for the time being, something about prancing the neighborhood kids?”

“Wow, he really is a menace. Is it bad i’m glad i’m not the target of his pranks though?”

He laughs, “I mean it is trick or treat right? The kids shouldn’t be that mad.”

You smile at him, he was always so playful with his words. You felt as if he understood you in ways not any other person could. You couldn’t stop your mind from remembering the kiss you both shared not too long ago.

He opened his mouth but no words came out. You felt a surge of boldness in the moment so you decided to speak for him.

“So Mark Myers, you wanna head back to the basement and finish what we started?”

You never could get used to the way he kissed you. He was always so quiet it was shocking to see this side of him. The one that was almost starving for your lips.

You sat on his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping your hips on him. You pulled away to take a breath, his lips attaching themselves to your throat.

“Fuck– Mark.” You groan, his mouth beginning to sprinkle bruises all over your neck. He kisses behind your ear, causing you to involuntarily grind your hips down.

He gasps at the sudden contact, “You’re driving me crazy.”

You let out a moan, continuing to grind your hips down.

You whine, the fabric in between you both making it hard for you to feel relief.

“Y/N baby,” He stops your movements with his hands on your hips. “ I don’t want to push you to do anything but you’re really making it hard.”

“You’re not pushing anything. I want this, I want you.”

“Fuck– I can’t hold you back.”

“Then don’t.” You say, pulling him in for another deep kiss. He kisses into your mouth, his tongue exploring you. You moan into the kiss beginning to build up the pace of your hips, his bulge growing as you continue to work yourself onto him.

“I feel so close.” You let out eagerly.

“Come on baby, come for me.” He begins to force your hips down, building more friction to your heat.

You can feel your high approaching rapidly, gripping onto his shoulders tight, your nails digging into his skin. He hisses at the feeling, you let out a weak apology.

“It’s okay, just be a good girl and finish, yeah?”

His words are enough to bring you to the edge. You feel your legs shake as your orgasm takes over your entire body. You bite down on his shoulder, trying to keep from screaming at the euphoric sensation.

He helps you ride out your orgasm until your body begins shaking with aftershocks. He lifts your face to look at him, his features soft. “How are you feeling?”

You can’t help but pull him in for another kiss, he’s shocked but returns it. You pull away looking up at him, pupils dilated and your voice coming out shy, “I want more.”

“Are you sure?” He asks slowly.

You nod your head, “Please.”

He hums, lifting you off of him so he can get up to check his counter for protection. You sit on the mattress waiting for him to find it, growing shyer as the seconds pass.

“I’ll go check upstairs for one, I’m sure Yuta’s got some lying around.” He states, “I’ll be back quickly okay?”

You nod your head, he steps out of the room to go look. You lift the blanket to cover your face, realization of the events hitting you. You were glad nobody was in the room so you could have time to blush over how good you felt.

You heard foot steps approach the door, assuming Mark had found Yuta’s pack of condoms. “Come in!”

Mark opens the door, looking tense. “We gotta go, police showed up crashing the party. Everyone has to leave.”

You both make it to your front door, out of breath for semi running the entire trip home. His hand never left yours throughout the trip and it doesn’t leave yours now. You can’t help but fidget with his fingers that you’ve only now noticed are so much bigger than yours.

“I wonder what tipped them off.” You say referring to the way the police had shut down the party.

“Something about a curfew, no parties for the time being.” He shrugs. “Listen y/n.”

Your fingers don’t stop tracing his palm as you await his sentence. “How about we hang out soon like a date?”

“Oh!” Your hands stop, taken aback by his unabashed state.

He continues, linking his hand into your own. “I’m more than just interested in you, and i’d like to show you that.”

You offer a measly smile. “I’d really like that.”

His answer’s coy. “Great, I’ll see you next time then yeah?”

You nod, he releases your hand beginning to walk away. “Bye Mark.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You ran into your home closing the door behind you hoping he didn’t notice your bashfulness as you bid him farewell. You bite your lip to calm yourself down, letting out a squeal of excitement.

A ring coming from the kitchen pulls you out of your cheerful state. You head towards the phone picking it up as it’s on the last ring.

“Yuqi? Minnie? DId you guys get home safe?”

The line is silent until you make out a strangled scream through the phone. You instantly drop it, beginning to panic. You hear muffled wheezing through the phone, choosing to pick it up again.

“Who the fuck is this? Is this the same number as before?” Your voice comes out horror-struck. “What the fuck do you want.”

The voice comes out restrained, “You.”

The line goes dead. You hear a knock on the door, grabbing a knife from the counter top and hugging it to your chest. The knocking gets louder, the doorknob twisting.

“Please just leave me alone!” You cry out.

“Y/N, it’s me. Please just open the door.” Marks voice rings out.

You run towards the door unlocking it and letting him in. He picks the knife out of your hands tossing it to the side and pulling you into his arms. You aren’t sure when you began hysterically crying but his embrace helped soothe you.

“What happened baby, talk to me.” You take in a breath, looking over to the phone.

“They won’t stop calling. I don’t know who it is or what they want from me.” You struggle to speak.

“Hey hey it’s okay.” He holds onto you tighter, “I’m here okay?”

Your sobs dwindle, your breathing becoming more steady.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks.

You shake your head, “I don’t want to be here, not right now.”

He contemplates for a moment, “Would you want to stay at my place for tonight then?”

You nod your head, wiping your tears from your face.

“Please.”

You take in the place, it’s empty besides the couch and TV in the living room and a few plants scattered around. The house smells oddly clean, which wasn’t something you expected from a college man but you weren’t going to complain.

“You can take a seat i’ll get you a water.” He says pointing at the velvet couch in the corner of the living room.

“Thank you.” You smile, taking a seat. It’s pretty comfortable for being a living room couch, you decide you can stick to sleeping there tonight. Leaving early tomorrow so you won’t cause any disturbance.

You look to the wall, a clock hangs on it reading 2:30am. You wonder if Yuqi or Minnie made it home earlier, hoping that none of them ended up in a jail cell tonight.

Mark appears in front of you, a glass of water in his hand. “Here you go,” He offers. You accept the glass taking it out of his hands.

He takes a seat next to you, offering some distance so you can sit comfortably. You chug down half of the water, setting it down beside you onto the floor.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks with a soft tone as if to not scare you.

“It’s everything I said before, I just feel very paranoid these days.” You shake your head, “I keep getting this weird feeling, I feel like someone’s been stalking me.”

His eyes go wide, “Do you know who?”

You let out a sigh, “I haven’t seen anyone, I just feel in my gut like something bad is going to happen if it hasn’t already.” He remains silent allowing you space to explain.

“I never told anyone this, but I keep having like a weird sense of deja vu. I remember so clearly that around this time five years back there was always this same feeling, like I was being followed or watched in every corner.”

You release a shaky breath, “I don’t know why but I think this person whoever he is. I feel like he wants me next.”

Mark breaks his silence, “The Vestal killer?”

“I think so.”

“That can’t be the case right? The police said he must’ve disappeared when he could after the murders right?”

You shrug, “I don’t know if that’s true. All I know is someone has been using me as a pawn in their game for the past weeks.”

“You’re right,” He responds. “Do you want to talk to Yuqi or Minnie maybe? Maybe they might have had the same feeling?”

You nod in agreement, “Yeah okay, can I borrow your phone please?”

“Of course, it’s in my room first door to your left.” You thank him before heading through the hallway into his room.

You pick up the phone beginning to dial in Yuqi’s number, there’s no answer. You try giving another attempt this time to Minnie’s number, she doesn’t pick up. You opt for sending a message to Minnie’s pager, glad you happened to remember to carry yours with you tonight.

911.

You hear Mark’s footsteps approaching, opening the door to check on you.

“None of them picked up, i’m hoping they’re not in jail or something.”

Mark chuckles, “I doubt it, I got a call from Yuta. He ran out with Minnie before the cops showed up.”

“Wow, glad to know they were having fun while shit hit the fan.” You reply sarcastically.

“They wouldn’t be the only ones.” Mark teases, referring to the events that took place between the two of you moments before the party was crashed.

You blush at the memory. “I don’t believe I recall, mind reminding me?”

He offers a coy smile, approaching you slowly. “You sure you don’t remember?” He closes the distance between you two, his arms locking you in between him and the counter.

Like muscle memory, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Not at all, You going to try and jog my memory?”

He contemplates for a moment, “I’ll make sure you don’t forget again.” He says before leaning in for a brutal kiss.

His mouth tastes sweet, youd guess it’s from the halloween candy you noticed on his counter earlier. You grip his arms pulling him closer to lick and taste all over his mouth.

His arms find their way around your waist pulling you even closer to him if that’s possible. You begin to feel the growing bulge against you, disconnecting yourself from the kiss to suck on his neck instead.

He lets out a gasp, feeling your hands find their way down to his bulge and palming it through his pants.

“Fuck– I thought you said you’d never done this before.”

“I haven’t.”

He pulls in closer to your neck, whispering directly into your ear. “Then how is it that you’re already so perfect for me.”

You suck in a breath, your neck sensitive to his touch. He takes advantage of your position, biting down into your neck. It’s not enough to draw blood but enough to get you to release a moan.

He pulls your dress from off of you, your body shivering from the exposed air. “You’re beautiful.” He says, pulling you in for another kiss.

Your body feels on fire, the pleasure is only building up making you want more. You undo his belt, your hand pushing into his pants to grab onto his dick.

He lets out a groan, pulling you up from the counter and onto his bed instead. He pulls away, lying you down on the flat surface. “Tell me now if you don’t want to go any further.”

There’s no way in hell you were going to stop anytime soon. “Let’s finish what we started.”

He took his shirt off, and you took in a breath. His body was toned, his chest and collarbones looked perfect to leave bruises and bites all over.

“Take them off.” He growled. You began to unclasp your bra, your chest falling free. He falls to his knees, tugging your legs closer to him. His head in between your thighs.

You can feel his breath on your cunt, “Fuck baby your pussy is soaking already.”

You gasp, feeling his knuckle begin to trace your slit. “Markie please.” You plead for him to touch.

“Please what baby? Use your words.”

“Please touch me.”

The second the words leave your lips, you feel his mouth on you. You yelp, his mouth connecting straight to your clit, sucking onto it roughly. He eats you out with the same harshness he kisses you with. You can’t complain though, not when his mouth makes you feel like you’ve reached the gates of heaven.

The wet sound of him eating you out only adds to your arousal. You can’t help but squirm, his arms keep you from moving too much though. “Careful baby, i’m trying to feed here.”

His tongue begins fuck into your pussy, pulling a loud moan from you. You cover your mouth to muffle the sounds as much as possible. He pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact.

“Don’t hide your noises, I want to hear how loud you get when I make you cum.” You uncover your mouth as he gets back to work, this time focusing on sucking your clit. Your hips roll feeling your orgasm fast approaching.

“Markie please don’t stop” You beg.

You feel two fingers slide into your pussy, the stretch feels so good. You roll your hips chasing your climax. The stimulation from his fingers penetrating you leave you breathless. You repeat his name over and over like a mantra.

“Markie please I want to cum. Please let me cum.”

With one last thrust of his fingers and a suck on your clit you reach your high, your eyes seeing white. He draws out your orgasm, stopping only when you hiss at the overstimulation.

You let out a breath, looking him in his eyes as he begins to undresses himself. He grabs the condom from the drawer and pulls his cock out of his boxers.

You can’t help but stare right at him, your mouth watering at the sight of his long and thick cock. There was a large vein that ran through it, his tip glowing red. You weren’t experienced but you’d seen films before, and his looked like one straight out of a porno.

He gives it a few pumps before tearing open the packaging and wrapping it around his shaft. “We’re not done yet.”

You feel him lay over you, lining his cock with your entrance. He looks to you before pushing inside, “Are you ready?” You nod. “Yes.”

He pushes himself into you, taking breaks in between to help you catch your breath. “Relax baby, god you’re so fucking tight.”

His dick looked big, but it felt even larger. You felt a slight pain as he slowly pushed himself fully in. “Fuck– Mark you’re so big.”

“It’s okay baby, it’s almost fully inside.” You nod your head, your eyes closing wishing for him to just get on with it.

His dick pushes inside you once again pulling a gasp from you. You swear you can feel it in your stomach.

“That’s it baby.” You open your eye to look down and see his hips connecting to yours, he’s bottomed out. He tests a small thrust and you let out a moan.

“Markie, you can fuck me already.” Your words are enough to snap him back into his lustful self. He starts a slow and steady pace, thrusting into you.

You let out a few noises, tears beginning to line your eyes. He notices, wiping your face with his hand. “Please kiss me.” He leans into you, kissing you gently.

You close your eyes into the kiss, feeling his lips suck your own. You pull away, a moan escaping your lips once he hits your sweet spot. “There– right there.”

He quickens his pace, pistoling his cock attacking your g-spot. Your legs wrapping around his waist, to keep him from pulling any further away from you.

“I’m close–“ You let out, his thrusts getting quicker and stronger.

“Me too.” He groans. His fingers slipping to your sensitive bud, rubbing circles making you scream in pleasure. With the next few thrusts you feel your body convulse, clenching down on him. Your nails scratch down his arms, he hisses at the sting. You reach your second climax of the night, your legs shaking from the aftershocks.

He lets out growl, the feeling of your climax triggering his own. With one last thrust, he’s finishing into the condom. He pulls out of you, you let out a whine at the feeling.

He disposes of the condom, pulling a blanket over the both of you and wrapping his arms around your body.

“I don’t think I can work my legs anymore.” You joke, closing your eyes and catching your breath.

He laughs and pulls you in closer, “That’s okay, you’re all mine now so you have no use for them anyway.”

You let out an awkward laugh. His joke coming out a bit empty. You have no time to comment on it before you feel your eyes begin to shut on their own.

You wake up the next morning bed empty. You remember the events of last night, pulling the covers over your head to hide your embarrassment. The shower is running from what sounds like the room over.

Mark is showering, I should probably go join him.

You smile to yourself and try getting up from the bed, your legs wobbly.

Oh fuck.

You slowly and carefully try walking out of the room, finding the TV on from the living room.

“After days of searching, two bodies have been found early this morning by Velvet lake. No suspects have been identified as of now, though police have said a mask was found at the crime scene.” You inhale sharply at the mask on the TV.

No, it can’t be.

“Halloween festivities have began despite police efforts to ensure proper curfew. The mask found, one of Michael Myers, will be hard to trace back, as the costume happens to be a popular one.”

You stand frozen, hearing the words repeat in your head.

There’s no way it was Mark, he was here the whole time last night.

“This just in, the bodies are presumed to be missing persons Jung Sungchan and Choi Minjae. They were discovered only an hour ago, police reporting it’s possible they could’ve just missed the killer.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Mark woke earlier than you, is it possible he’s showering now to get rid of the evidence. You begin to slowly make your way towards the bedroom to make a phone call.

You dial Minnie, praying to any god that she picks up. There’s no answer. You let out a frustrated sigh, redialing to try and see if it’ll work this time.

Come on Minnie, pick up.

The shower stops. You panic, leaving the phone on the counter and slowly stepping out of the room to leave the house. It’s as you turn the corner that you hear a click from another room.

You turn to the room on the right, finding the door slightly ajar and squeezing through it. You hear another sound of clicking coming from below the steps.

You tiptoe down the steps, finding the room filled with field tools and rope scattered everywhere. It isn’t until you turn the corner that your eyes are filled with horror.

You spot a familiar figure tied to a chair, repeatedly hitting his watch against the seat making a clicking noise. You let out a gasp, his eyes finding your own in pure terror.

Hyungseo? What the fuck was he doing here tied up.

You head over to him pulling the rope from his mouth. “Y/N you have to leave now.”

“What are you talking about.” You whisper, beginning to untie his hands.

“He is insane. You have to leave now it’s not safe.”

“I’m not going to leave you here for yourself.” You dismiss his words. “Come on we’re going.”

His hands are tied with a rope, you lean down to try and undo the knot, not finding success in tugging. “Y/N?” You hear from upstairs. Your eyes go wide at his voice calling you.

You stand, putting a finger over your mouth gesturing for Hyungseo to keep silent. In the corner of your eye you notice the wall of tools again, grabbing a sickle from off of it.

You can hear Mark’s footsteps closely approaching. You cover your mouth and hold in your breath hoping he doesn’t notice you. The door closes from up the stairs. You take in a breath before standing from your hiding place.

“There you are.” His voice comes out from behind you. You jump walking backwards as he steps forward. “Was looking all over for you little fox.”

You can barely let out any words, “What the fuck is this. Why is Hyungseo here.”

He looks genuinely appalled at your question, “What do you mean what is this? It’s all for you.”

“What?” You speak in a whisper.

“I did this for you.” He says stepping closer. “These guys are nothing compared to you, their perverted minds thinking they could ever please you the way you need.”

You hit the wall, sucking in a breath as his hand cups your face. “You’re so pure y/n I had to make sure they wouldn’t get in the way of that.”

His thumb traces your lips, you turn your face away. “That’s not what I want. You’re hurting innocent people.”

“It’s what you need y/n. It’s a shame you can’t see that.”

He pulls away, grabbing onto your wrist that’s holding the sickle. He takes it from your grip throwing it off to the side. “Was that for me? You think i’d let that happen?”

“Leave me alone,” You feel a tear roll down your cheek. “Please.”

“Hey,” He wipes your face. “I’m not going to hurt you baby. I’m protecting you.”

He walks over to where Hyungseo sits, “From him.” He pulls a knife from his pocket, “These fuckers.”

“Don’t hurt him please. Come on let’s talk about this.” You step to the side, closer to the tools on the wall.

“There’s nothing to talk about y/n. He doesn’t deserve to even breathe your air.” He drags the knife against Hyungseo’s throat. You hear the man cry out from fear.

“These men surround themselves around you hoping for a chance to take you for themselves.” He punctures his arm, Hyungseo screaming from the injury.

“Mark stop.” You grab a screwdriver from the wall, hiding it behind your back. “Please just let him go, I’ll stay with you just don’t hurt anyone else.”

He stops, looking into your eye. “I’m not asking for you to stay with me forever, that’d be unfair to you.” He frowns stepping closer to you, “I love you y/n. I’m doing this for your own good.”

You shake your head, “You’re doing this because you’re fucking insane.” He lets out a cold laugh, “If that’s what you think so be it, but I know what you need.”

“You don’t know shit.” You say, grabbing the screwdriver from your pocket and shoving it through his abdomen.

“Fuck–“ He grips his side, you push him away running to where Hyungseo sits, cutting him free from the rope. “You want to play it like this? Really babe.”

“Fuck you, i’m not your babe.” He grabs onto your hair pulling you closer to him with one hand. “I already did.”

You knock your elbow into his wound, escaping from his hold as soon as his hand lets you go. “Hurry.” Hyungseo says from up the stairs, grabbing onto your hand and helping you run up further.

You both run through the hallway, Mark close behind. “You have to go. I’ll call for help.”

“I’m not going to leave you here.”

“Go,” You warn him sternly, “I’ll hold him back.”

“I’ll look for help.” He says before running out of the door. You pick up the phone from his room dialing 911. The phone line is dead.

“You really think i’m that stupid to leave the phone connected?” You jolt from his sudden appearance. “Just leave it alone y/n if we leave now we will catch him in time. His leg is pretty bruised he won’t be able to make it so far.”

“Don’t do this please.”

“I think i’ve told you already, I’m doing this for your own good.”

His hands smoother your face, the blood left on them transferring to your face. “That’s exactly why I got rid of Sungchan, he strayed too close. He knew you were mine and yet he couldn’t hold himself back so I had to take him out.”

“No.” You cry.

“And Jihoon, he was all you ever looked at. You were falling right into his trap, into his temptations.”

“Then what about Minjae, huh?” You yell out, “He never wanted me he wanted Yuqi.”

His smile was deranged, “Honestly he was just fucking annoying.”

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. Your body shaking in fear. “You’re evil.”

“I’m your executioner.” He looks into your eyes. There’s no more of that sweet Mark you knew before. His entire being is unhinged. He hears a sound coming from the front door, becoming distracted for a second.

You take that moment to reach for the lamp on the desk and breaking it on his head, setting yourself free from his hold. He’s stunned for a moment as you run towards the kitchen grabbing a knife from the counter.

“Get away from me!” You scream out, he stands in front of you, his head bleeding from the hit he took. “Put the knife down.”

You shake your head, “I said get away!” He puts his hands up. “Y/n you’re acting crazy, put the knife down.”

“I’m crazy?” You scream, “You’ve killed people.”

He ignores you, stepping closer. “Which is exactly why I know, you don’t have it in you. So just drop the knife.”

You pause for a moment, frozen in fear. He takes that chance to reach for your hand and grab the knife out of it. What he doesn’t realize is that you are quicker than you seem, you dodge his movement stabbing the knife through his back.

He turns slowly, blood dripping from his mouth. “Fuck, you always were smarter than anyone ever took you for.” He drops to the floor, unconscious giving you the time to run out of the house.

You’re running with blood all over your clothes. The knife is still in your hand, piercing through your palms but even the sting isn’t enough to shake off the adrenaline in your body. You can hear voices calling out to you but you can’t stop running.

It isn’t til you feel a pair of hands grabbing onto you that you stop running. “Y/N.” You break out of your thoughts, your brother’s voice stopping you in your tracks.

“Inhyuk,” You let out a shaky breath. “What are you doing here.”

“I came here as soon as I heard, you need to calm down okay? We’re here to help you.”

You look around noticing the police and paramedics parked outside of the house. Some making their way towards you already. You look at your brother finally caving into his hold and sobbing into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Did he mention any other victims?” You shake your head, the officer had been asking you questions for the past fifteen minutes but you could barely answer. You sat on the back of the ambulance, the paramedics checking you to make sure you had no major injuries.

Hyungseo was rushed to the hospital already, they said his injuries could be fatal if not treated quickly. You had a feeling he was going to be okay though.

There was no word on the state of Mark, and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to know. It was hard enough to face the officer right now. “Can you give her a moment, she can always head to the station if she had any more details.” You hear your brother’s voice interject the officer.

“Oh yes, of course.” He steps away from the two of you walking over to where the sheriff stands. You were thankful for Inhyuk’s help, the last thing you needed was to be reminded of the amount of victims Mark had killed all for you.

“Mom just got here, i’m going to go talk to her okay?” You nod, “I’ll be right back.” He says, still very worried about your condition.

“You’re okay. You might experience some soreness and pain but your blood pressure is fine.” The paramedic says while removing the cuff around your arm. “I’ll give you a moment to yourself.”

He walks always leaving you alone. Your breaths become less frantic, you look up from your hands and into the house in front of you. You remember the way you’d fought Mark off, the police wondering how it was that you’d been able to escape with little to no injuries.

You didn’t have it in you to explain everything. Not the way he had told you that you were his motive for killing, or the way you’d had to stab him multiple times before running out successfully.

There’d be a time for when you’d come clean about everything, and you were fine with that. Except for one.

You had felt a rush the moment you stabbed him with the screwdriver. It was different from any adrenaline rush, no this was a rush of excitement. Then the second time, when you saw him drop to the floor, his eyes rolling into his head unconscious, you’d felt it again.

You enjoyed the way his warm blood dripped down your hands, the way he let in a sharp inhale the second you punctured his back. You loved the way it felt to see him half dead on the ground, and that was something you’d be taking to the grave.

[madamechrissy]

Dirty Little Secret

ꕥ Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

ꕥ Warnings- MDNI-explicit sexual content, dirty talk, Toji calls reader 'doll, ma, slut (Toji and Doll just work lol) Age gap- reader is 21, Toji is 39. - This chapter-mostly just fluffy cuteness, some spitting bc it's Toji, along with some pool sex hehe

ꕥ Word Count- this chap- 4.6k

ꕥ Summary- Toji Fushiguro is your dad Shiu's best friend for years. You've known him most your life. You come home for spring break to relax, and who pops up at the fucking doorstep? Toji. He's nasty, annoying, perverted and... Sexy. Hot. Built. And makes you think, maybe your first time shouldn't be with some college boy? But with this buff dude who can tie a cherry stem with his tongue and a scar on his damn lip.

Chapter 11 - Masterlist - Playlist

Chapter 12

“Dad! Stop, fucking stop please!” You are yanking on your dad now, who’s all tensed up, attacking Toji, he looks to you then, so much sadness in his eyes it breaks your heart, as Toji wipes the back of his hand, wiping blood off his lips.

“It’s alright, doll, let him get it out. I’d be beating up a man that touched my daughter too.”

“She’s not your doll Toji, what the fuck!” Shiu shoves him, but Toji is so big he doesn’t  budge, his hands in the pockets of his sweats, shifting his weight and tilting his head.

“Why don’t ya ask her what she wants? She’s not a kid anymore, she’s a grown woman, who can speak for herself.”

“She is just a kid!”

“Dad…” Your dad sighs, looking at you then, as you take his hand, already bloodied by punching your… almost fiance/baby daddy… Toji, in the face. He looks down at you then, emotions heavy.

“Baby I’m not mad at you.” He says, and you feel your own tears, as you know you have hurt him so much.

“Dad I wanted this, no matter what you think, I love him. I love him so much, more than anything… except this baby I’m going to have. Because I’ll love her or him even more.” Shiu wipes his face then, as neighbors come out, curious about the commotion.

“Fuck… come in.” He walks straight in your childhood home, and you hold Toji’s big hand, giving him a ginger touch to the cheek.

“I’m fine, doll.” He murmurs, and you shut the door, as your dad is standing in the kitchen, clinging to the counter, his head down. Toji lets you go, and you walk to your dad, putting your arms around him then, head against his back, so strong, but so defeated right now.

“Dad…” You expect him to push you away, but he grabs your hands then, by your wrists, letting you hug him. “Dad I love you, I miss you… I don’t want to not have a relationship with you over this.”

“I don’t want it either.” He turns then, hugging you tightly to his chest, brushing your hair back like he did when you were little, and you snuggle to him, crying now. “I’ll never not be here for you, kiddo.”

“Dad…” You peck a kiss on his cheek, and he manages a little smile as he looks down at you now. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for having… feelings, baby. It’s okay, maybe I just… can’t stand the thought of you growing up.” You’re crying more, as Toji silently stands there, leaning on the kitchen table, and Shiu glares then. “Doesn’t mean I understand you, Toji, you fucking initiated it all.”

“I know… I know. I was being a piece of shit, Shiu, but I didn’t expect… fuck, I fell in love harder than I ever have, even with Gumi’s mom. I’ve never been in love like this, like with her.” At Toji’s emotional declaration your tears flow more, hot and sticky as your dad tenses in your hold.

“Why my kid? Why?”

“She’s fucking amazing, she’s made me… less of a piece of shit. She makes me wanna do better. She makes me… so fucking happy. I died without her, I really tried those two months, Shiu, but I couldn’t fucking stand it.”

“I was miserable too.” You admit softly, and your dad looks up at the ceiling, sighing and covering his face.

“I want to murder you and toss you out to sea, I swear I do.” Shiu grumbles, and Toji smirks a bit, brushing his inky black hair back. “It’s not a joke. I think of ways to kill you all the time.”

“I don’t blame you, buddy.”

“Not your buddy.” Shiu looks at you then, swiping your tears then, frowning as he takes you in. “Do you want this? Because if so, I will be here for you.”

“I do want this, dad, having a baby? It wasn’t what I thought of, but now I can’t imagine not having one. I’m nervous… will I be a good mom? Because… mom never… well never cared. But, I had the best dad ever.” Shiu curses softly, hugging you again, so tight.

“Oh baby, you’ll be such a good mom, look how good you always took care of me. Cooking for me when you were what, ten? Alone all the time because I had work, and you’d make sure I had dinner, make sure the house wasn’t a shit show. You already know how to take care of people.”

“Thank you, dad, I needed to hear that.” You pull back and both take shaky breaths, and now Shiu touches your tummy gently, smiling just a bit.

“Fuck, I’ll be a grandpa? I’m too young.” You giggle through your tears, holding his hand there, picturing your dad holding his grandbaby, something you worried would never happen, and you’re so full of happiness then.

“You will be the best! I want you in their life. Please. You’ll be… well, the only grandparent you know.” You look at Toji, who’s had no parents most of his life, and his lips are in a smile, as he watches you two.

“I’ll spoil the kid, don’t you know? Fuck it’ll be a badass kid. It’ll be fighting you in your tummy.”

“Oh god, I know! I’m not looking forward to a baby ninja.” You all laugh, but Shiu scowls back over at Toji again, and you feel the tension. “Dad, should you all speak alone for a few?”

“He may not survive.” Shiu says calmly, earning Toji’s chuckle, but Shiu is dead ass serious, and Toji is a little wary.

“Don’t kill him, please?” Shiu rolls his eyes. “Dad!”

“Fine, only for you I won’t. Can’t promise he’ll have functioning parts-”

“Dad!”

“Oh fine.” You’re crossing your arms, walking up to Toji then, pressing a kiss on his lips, earning your dad’s gagging noises. “Oh god, not in front of me, fuck.”

“Good luck, big man.” You tease, patting his cheek. “I’ll get in that Hello Kitty bikini before it doesn’t fit at all, hang in the pool.” You whisper in his ear, and he grips your waist tight for a moment before you run off, leaving the both of them to their… whatever this was going to be.

You bounce down in your bikini and grab a towel, and hear ‘I am not gonna call you my son in law, the fuck Fushiguro!?”

Oh god.

You walk by to get out to the pool, and Toji can’t stop himself from looking at you, eyes travelling down your body, only for Shiu to hit him in the back of the head. You snort at them. “Be nice, I said!”

“Yeah, if he quits fucking looking at you like that!”

“Dad, he’s my…”

“Your what? Boyfriend?”

“Fiance, if you’ll let me.” Shiu gets up then, his chair screeching on the floors, eyes wide. “I’d ask even if she wasn’t knocked up.”

“Knocked up. Marriage. The fuck, you!? I need a goddamn drink.” Your dad slinks to the fridge, cracking open a beer, and you watch Toji grab for one and earn a smack on the head again as you head to the pool.

It’s going well, you think.

Better than having a dead baby daddy?

You slide into the pool, closing your eyes, as you remember the night you and Toji saw each other… different. You, an adult, and him, an attractive man, that night he had kissed you in this pool, the night he pressed against your heat, the night you’d clung to him in the deep side of the pool. It had been the night that absolutely everything had shifted.

Your entire world shifted that night, when he’d fucking devoured you on your bed, when he’d spit in your mouth, when he’d slapped you, and it was exactly what you wanted, you loved him commanding you. You loved him being freaky, nasty, intense and fucking crazy. You loved feeling like his little doll, starting with that night.

But not just sexually, those moments of vulnerability, those moments where Toji was so caring and sweet, when he took care of you. When he would hold you, or just look at you with those intense green eyes, when he opened up. That night that started a tidal wave that nothing could stop, there was nothing that could keep you from him, nor him from you.

You put a hand on your tummy as you watch your dad and Toji argue, and you just pray they become friends again. Not just for the baby or for the family, but just friends again in general. To have ruined such a close friendship has deeply wounded you, and you don’t know if they’ll recover, but you just hope they can come to some understanding with each other.

Soon they’re walking out, and they are in swim trunks, Toji is sitting at the edge of the pool and your dad joins him, both with beers in their hands, but Toji hands you a bottle of water. You take it with a small smile, walking to them through the pool, nervously flitting your gaze back and forth.

“How’d that go?” You ask, and Toji chuckles, your dad grimaces.

“Got that blessing, doll, just gotta get a ring.”

“What, no way!” Your eyes are wide, and Shiu starts chugging that amber beer, clearing his throat. “You’re gonna let us marry?”

“It’s what’s best for your baby, to have parents together. And… I do think Toji will be a good father. He better fucking be, or I’ll cut him piece by-”

“Dad!”

“Ahem. He’ll take care of you. I do know that.”

“I will take care of her with my life, and the kid.” Toji says, and Shiu awkwardly pats your head as you stand there, in shock.

“If it makes you happy, I will try my best. I want to be a part of your kid’s life, even if it means staring down this fucker and wanting to kill him for all my days.”

“But I can’t call ya dad?”

“No!” You and Shiu both yell at Toji, and he’s just grinning, hopping in the water and hugging you tightly.

“And none of that, either, in front of me, ugh.” Shiu hops in the pool now too, separating you both. You take your dad’s hand then, smiling brightly, and he melts as he always does for his kiddo, even if he really wants to kill Toji, he’s trying. “Dad, thank you for this. I mean it.”

“It’s nothing. This family is important to me, even if he’s in it. Ugh.” Shiu shivers in disgust, and Toji comes to put a hand on Shiu’s shoulder, which he looks like he very well might cut off. “I swear to god…”

“I’ll take care of them, forever. I promise.” Shiu looks at him, eyes narrowed.

“Better get her a nice ring, a real one, no fake shit.”

A ring… holy…

“Of course I will, anything for her.” Toji’s words hit, and you realize the intent now, that soon you all would be… together, completely. “You know that, don’t ya doll?”

“I do know that.” You say softly, wanting to hug him, but you hold back, so your dad doesn’t kill you both, peeking up at him.

“I don’t want you ruining your career, at all, promise me you will not just… be Toji’s fucking housewife.”

You snort at that, and Toji glares at you. “Oh trust me, I so don’t wanna be. I will be a mom, and be able to work, it will just be… a different way of life. But isn’t that what you did, dad? Figured it out. Younger than me.”

“I did, and I don’t regret it, not one bit. Best thing that happened to me.” You cover your face then, a ball of emotions.

“Am I getting pregnant emotions? Fuck.” You whine, and they both laugh softly.

“You probably are. How far along?”

“Three months.”

“Toji… I’ll fucking-”

“Dad!” Now the two grown men are shoving each other in the pool, you slip up the steps to avoid the splashes. “Dad!”

“That was like as soon as you got here!?”

“Shiu, I swear… I didn’t… fuck, you’ve gotten strong.”

“Yeah, you’re getting soft and lazy.”

You watch them for some time, as they’re soaking wet messes, giggling uncontrollably, until you’re a mix of crying and laughing. You have towels ready for them, as they scowl at each other, and Toji is shaking off like some puppy. You help him dry off, and he smiles down at you, cupping your face, you expect Shiu to go insane, but he watches you all carefully.

“You have to marry me, that was the agreement, I survived.” You roll your eyes, as he pulls you to his damp body, you shiver a bit at the contact, as he kisses your forehead sweetly.

“Is this another shitty proposal, old man?” You tease, and he scowls right down at you now.

“Was tryna be sweet, brat.” You stick your tongue out, knowing he would punish you later, and thriving in it, like a damn brat, but he loves it too. “You gonna marry me then?”

“Maybe, I’ll think about it.”

“Fuck you’re mean.”

“Just like her dad.” Shiu pats your shoulder with a smile. “That’s my girl.”

“Fuck this kid is gonna be such a brat either way.” Toji grumbles, and then the three of you do laugh. For the rest of the evening you do explain things to Shiu,leaving out the scandalous parts of course, and Toji explains things as well. Shiu is mostly calm but he also is constantly on the edge of killing Toji.

After grilling out, it damn near feels like it was before, and the night winds down, making your dad yawn. “I’m crashing, I swear I hear one noise I’ll kill you, Toji. One fucking noise.”

Toji smirks then, his scar stretching, jaws defined under the dark stubble that is growing. “You didn’t hear shit last time, buddy-”

“That’s it!”

“Toji, you’re gonna die, fucking idiot!” You step in front of him, holding your arms out, and your dad glares at you now too.

“I should ground you.”

“Ground me!?” You burst out laughing, but he crosses his arms.

“I should still be able to, just wait, till your kid acts up and you can’t even do anything anymore.”

“I’m gonna be a mom, not a kid.” He sighs again, you’ve lost count of Shiu’s sighs since you’ve been back.

“Stay the weekend, okay? I’ll try not to commit homicide.” He looks to Toji, who is shamelessly smirking, and you can tell it takes a lot for him not to lose it. He puts his hand on your tummy again, as if to calm himself down. “Good night, kiddo, get some rest, okay? Growing a life in there.”

“Just the size of a pea for now. But, yes I am.” You smile up at him, then peck a kiss on his cheek. “Good night dad. I’ll cook breakfast in the morning!”

“Don’t cook any for him.” You’re shaking with laughter as Shiu goes to his room, and you gasp as Toji pulls you to his lap, hand on your hip.

“You have a death wish!” You hiss, but he just pulls you closer, bare chested and just in his sweats now, you’re in hello kitty pajamas you have here. He strokes your cheek so gently, eyes looking at you serious.

“You gonna marry me or not?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“You’re a bitch.”

“You’re a dick!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm!” You’re pulled to straddle his lap now, fucking crazy ass Toji, you’re in your dad’s living room and he actually didn’t kill this man, but he’s shameless, as he presses his rough fingers into your hips.

“You better marry me, I swear no dick if not.” Your brows raise, mouth dropping open then.

“What!? Old fashioned ass!”

“Fine, no dick brat.”

“Toji… I wanna marry you, okay? I do.” He exhales then, and you cup his face, as you feel him against your heat. “I can’t think of anything better, than marrying you, then having our baby. Okay?”

“Fuck, you stress me out.” He kisses you now, pulling you tight, his strong hands so tight as if he is afraid to let you go. You cling to him, biting back a cry at how good it feels, with your messy tongues, with your teeth clicking, your noses bumping, as Toji consumes every bit of you. “Gonna need blood pressure meds, fuck.”

“You do, and cholesterol meds, geriatric- Toji!”

“That’s it…” He’s picked you up now, and you’re flailing in his arms, as he takes you outside, and you tremble as he shuts the door, and the lights by the pool are illuminating his face, one screwed up in a scowl. “You’re getting swimming lessons, gonna have to teach our kid y’know.”

“You teach them, fuck that! Toji!” He’s stripped you down, and you thank god your dad’s a heavy sleeper, as he strips naked too, looking like some goddamn action star, but ten times hotter, his cock at full attention. You flush even as you see him all the time, it’s always so much to take in. “Toji… you really wanna die, huh?”

“Shh, brat. C’mon.” He has you in the pool then, and you’re clinging to him, completely naked, pussy throbbing and achy against his waist as he carries you to the deep end, as he presses you against the pool wall, and your breath catches in your throat. “Anyone kiss these pretty titties before, doll?”

You giggle, as he speaks just as he had before, and your nipples are taut and poking out for attention. “No one has, I’m afraid.”

“It’s my lucky fuckin’ day.” Toji takes your breast in one of his hands, squishing it and sucking it into his hot mouth, looking up at you, as the water gently waves cooly around you both. You’re trembling with need, head falling back, clinging to his strong shoulders.

“Fuck… you remember all that?” You whisper, making him laugh softly, kissing your other areola, before sucking it into his mouth, sliding a hand down your tummy, finding you slick between puffy lips. “Mmm!”

“Shh, doll, gonna wake up your dad.” You are done for, fuck you want this man, and right now. You reach down for his cock, and he moans into your mouth, as you all kiss so messy again.

“Difference is, I’m no virgin now. I’ll fuck you right here.” You whisper in his ear now, biting the earlobe, and Toji shivers, as the cool night air hits your exposed skin, then he’s pumping two fingers in your little hole, hitting that spot, you’re blinded at how good it feels. “F-fuck…”

“So slutty, fucking me in your dad’s pool huh?”

Shit.

You’re awful, it’s turning you on, all the memories of before, of sneaking the fuck around, of that insane desire that felt so wrong but so right, of wanting your dad’s best friend, but now Toji was so much more. Now, Toji was everything, as you’re soaking his thick digits, as you’re stroking his cock, as he’s pressing your back against that cold wall, his body heat enwrapping you.

“Asked ya a question, doll.” He orders, and you just stick your tongue out, earning a groan, and now he has your mouth open, spitting a long trail of saliva down your throat. “Fuckin brat, never learned to listen.”

He spits again, and then shuts your mouth, as you swallow it, and it turns you on so much you’re rubbing your pussy against him, beggind and pleading with your little body against his huge one. Toji’s gripping your ass now, as you open up and he’s spitting in your mouth again, then you all kiss with it, drooling spit down your faces, as his cock shoves in.

“Mmm!” You’re crying out as he presses in, so tight in the pool, so different, as he fills you, and you’re pulsing around him already. He is kissing and licking down your throat, biting you in places, sucking every bit of skin he can find.

“You’re too tight like this, fuck.” He whispers, and you’re shaking around him, covered in glistening reddened bites, your eyes glazed over as they meet his.

“Can’t take it, Daddy ?” You taunt, earning him fucking you so good now, rolling his hips as you cling to him, as your head falls back, and you struggle to hold in your screams when his tip keeps annihilating your g spot, your cervix.

“Got something to say, fuckin brat?” He demands then, huffing, and you shatter around him, cumming so good, he smirks as you do. “Greedy lil bitch, slutty lil cunt, she wants to get fucked everywhere.”

“Fuck you Toji.” You manage to speak, earning his bite hard on your neck. “Keep marking me… dad’ll… kill you… mmm!”

“Only daddy here right now is me, doll.”

He shoves in so hard again, as one hand rolls your clit, and you’re digging your nails in his hair as your arms wrap, as he fucks into you in the night, right in that pool, and you feel yourself floating in his arms, so weightless, as you lose more and more of your surroundings, until it’s just him. Just this gruff man who spits in your mouth, who fucks you so good.

“T-Toji…”

“Ah-ah.” He slaps your cheek gently, earning more of your cunt tightening down on him, and he sucks in a breath at it.

“Daddy.” You correct, and now he’s fucking you again, shallow and deep thrusts, pounding your cervix until it hurts so bad. “Daddy!”

“That’s it, little bratty girl. Daddy makes you cum this much, huh?”

“Always. Always!”

“Shh.” He covers your mouth with his big palm now, fucking you hard, water sloshing all around you both. With your legs wrapped around his waist, you could feel the powerful muscles of his thighs flexing as he moved in and out of you. His strokes grew stronger, faster, sending waves of pleasure. “Pretty lil doll, lemme feel ya cum f’me.”

You do just that, your eyes rolling back in your head, as your pussy tightens down around his thick shaft, as he’s groaning in your ear, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. You’re cumming so hard, soaking his hand with your saliva and drowning your loud moans, as his eyes glint in the night, and you feel him thicken inside you.

“Want Daddy till fill ya up, huh doll?” You nod eagerly, then he’s pumping slowly, filling you with his hot cum, whispering in your ear as he does. “F-fuck…” He moans softly, and you whine, as he’s pushing cum deeper. “Love painting these pretty insides, doll.”

“Mmm…” You’re shaking, as he eases back, releasing your mouth, cupping your face like you’re precious, the duality of him will never stop making you ache, making you fall deeper. “Love you, Toji… pervy old man.”

“Love you, slutty brat.” You giggle then, as it echoes, making him cover your lips with a finger. “Wanted to fuck you so bad that night.” He whispers, walking you gently through the pool now, and you’re shivering as the cold hits the more shallow you go. “Fuck I came eating your pussy.”

“You’re so freaky.” He snorts, and soon he’s got your all wrapped up in a towel, and then around his waist, and you breathlessly bring him up to your room, rummaging through your drawers for something warm.

“I brought some extra sweats, put em on.” You look at him, brows together, picturing yourself in his big sweats. “They’ll look so fuckin hot, please.”

“Toji! They’ll swallow me.”

“That’s the point. Lemme get em.” He pulls out two pairs of sweats now, how many sweats does Toji own, it’s a mystery. You slip a little cropped tank on, your nipples stark and apparent, and he can’t help but flick his thumbs over them for a moment, making your sore little cunt throb. “Fuck you’re sexy.”

“Gimme em! I’m so cold.” He laughs softly, bending down, sliding the huge sweats that swallow you, he rolls them up three times at the waist, pulling the draw strings then, and you peek in your mirror, covering your mouth as you take yourself in. “I look like MC Hammer, Toji!”

“Y’know who MC Hammer is!?”

“Of course, the classics you know.” He snorts, hugging you from behind, big hand on your tummy as his other arm wraps under your breasts, wrapping your body entirely, and you snuggle back against him. “We look good together, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“You look good, I look like a bum that you picked up.”

“Do not! Don’t talke mean about yourself. Only I can.”

“Oh yeah?” You nod, as he kisses your head, and he strokes your tummy softly. “I can’t wait to feel it kick in there.”

“That’s so crazy to think of. Oh my gosh. How big will this baby’s head be, hopefully not as big as yours.”

“Nah it’ll be bigger, like your big ass head.”

“Hey!” You shove at him, turning, and he snatches you up, carrying you over to your bed then, throwing your stuffies on the floor, making you smack him with a big Kitty plush, glaring. “You pick them up!”

“Nah, they creep me out, they ain’t sleeping with us.” He’s throwing more and more, and you’re hopping off the bed, throwing them back at his face, until he’s got you pinned under him, and you’re both out of breath, you’re grinning up, and he pauses, sighing and caressing your face.

“What is it, old man?” You ask, pulling another plush and bopping the side of his head. And he just caresses your face with one hand, as he’s pressing his body down on yours.

“You’re just beautiful is all.”

“Toji, what, that’s… are you fucked up from being hit in the head by dad? You mean ‘beautiful slutty brat’ yeah?” You mock his voice, but she shakes his head, serious as he studies you, as you brush his damp hair back.

“Nah, you’re beautiful. Gonna be so beautiful with my baby.” He leans down now, kissing your bare tummy, big hands taking over your waist as he presses sweet kisses. You lean up on your elbows, looking down at your handsome man, so sweet with you in moments, and it touches you, as you see it in your own mind too.

“I can’t wait, Toji.”

Chapter 13

[erenjaegerwifee]

Secret Is Out 2 

Request: Can I request a Jake Sully x Neytiri x Human/Avatar reader poly fic? Part 2 to Secert Is Out.

Reader accidentally walks in on Jake and Neytiri having sex. She gets embarrassed and is about to leave but they ask her to join them. Includes - Jake and reader giving into temptation, Jake calling reader baby or babygirl, Neytiri wanting to just watch as her husband pleasures reader, reader being hesitant at first but with Jak's soothing yet dirty words, she finally gives in.

Paring: Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Avatar!Reader

Warnings: MDNI 18+, NSFW, orals (m & f recieving), p in v, switch Jake, switch reader, sub neytiri, threesome, girl x girl, facials, titty playing, face sitting, kissing, cum eating. 

Word Count: 3k

Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If you have and issue with that feel free to scroll and do not interact with my account or any of my posts.

“Hey babygirl how you holding up in here?” Jake asked you as he walked into your marui pod like he lives there. It has been about 6 months since you decided to stay at the reef and life has been better. You are closer to your daughter that ever before and Jake has been feeling a lot like he was when he was your husband. You aren’t sure how to feel about it but it is very nostalgic, you never thought you’d feel that way again.  

“I’m fine Jake you do not have to come every day to ask how I am doing, Kiri isn’t here” Kiri moved in with your shortly after you decided to stay, it was nice finally being a family. Of course, her siblings are still her siblings and they come around often to your marui pod, you have great relationships with all of them. You only really ever see Neytiri when you all eat together. You and Jake, both said it would benefit the children for them to see us getting along after everything that has happened and she agreed. 

She does not hate you, Neytiri is a kind woman, but not one of many words. You've seen her move closer to you whilst eating gradually and now she opts to sit right next to you which is something you did not expect from her. She is beautiful and strong; you do not go out of your way to put yourself in situations with her you still don’t fully know how she feels about you. 

“I know I don’t have to come here every day, but I just want to make sure you're settling in fine.”  

“Jake, I’ve been here for six months, I settled five months ago... why are you really here?” you look up from your weaving basket to his face. “I don’t know babygirl, it’s nice to have you around again, it’s not like we spent much time together after the divorce, I want to make sure you know I am sorry for how it happened, it wasn’t fair to you. I let you deal with an entire pregnancy and birth of our first child alone.”  

“Our first child? Jake she is our only child. And it is not your fault, I choose to keep that from you, we have had this conversation more than a doesn’t times now Jake, it’s not like you don’t know your daughter. You just didn’t know she was yours.” you said to him.  

“Ok real talk, Neytiri thinks you should be more involved in the children's lives. You don’t do much besides sit in here all day, go out enjoy the beach, you always loved the beaches on earth when we would drive down what’s different?” Jake said  

“Jake you aren’t seriously asking me that are you? What's different now is we aren’t together anyone. I want to keep those happy married memories to myself, I stayed to be closer to my daughter, to the children, not to enjoy the fucking scenery” You huffed.  

“Ok maybe that came out wrong, how about you think about it and later in the week we call all go have a nice fun beach day without doing chores, we can have a cook out, like the old times and just relax.” Jake pitched his idea to get you move involved and it just kind of made you mad. Why would you want to do out there and be around him and his new wife and their perfect kids. Not that your daughter isn’t the most special being on this moon. It's the principle.  

“I’ll think about it okay?” You sighed and went back to weaving while Jake took his leave. You knew being here would be hard but you didn’t think it would be this hard. You don’t want to watch the love of your life who is now your ex-husband fall all over another woman. How is that even remoting fair to you? Doesn’t help that she is probably the most gorgeous woman in this entire clan.  

--- 

The next few days went on normally, Jake still stopped by to remind you about beach day. You went shelf searching with Kiri and Tuk, you ate meals as a family every day. You even rode an ilu for the third time since you’ve been at the reef with Neteyam and Lo’ak.  

All in all, it was a good week so you decided to agree to the beach day with Jake, mentally preparing yourself to be unfazed by his love for his new woman. You walk slowly over to this marui pod, it was only a couple doors away from yours. The kids had gone out the metkayina children to explore the reef and would be back by dinner so you had time to speak to Jake and Neytiri about making plans. 

 You expecting them both to be at home because of the giggling you heard before you got there, good sign the marui flap was open so you thought nothing of it when you walked in. However, your eyes were meet with quite the scene, jake was sitting in the corner of the marui pod leaning back against the wall looking down at his wife between his legs as she jerks off his cock. His hands are in her hair holding it up slightly but not a full ponytail. Her tongue darts out to lick the pre cum off his tip and you hear him gasp in sync with yours.  

You feel like you brain lagged when you saw them you didn’t know what to do but you couldn’t stop looking, “What the fuck!” you yell and covered your eyes. You heard them scramble but you don’t move your hands so you aren’t sure what they look like right now. “Y/n! What are you doing here?” Jake asked.  

You peaked through your fingers to see Neytiri sitting on her calves still between Jake’s legs, topless. Jake has his hand cover his dick like you’ve never seen it. You drop your hands and dart your eyes between then. “I came to tell you I want to do the beach day thing...clearly, I came at a bad time. You could have shut the flap no one wants to see this” your eyes kept getting drawn from Jake’s poorly covered cock to Neytiri’s perky tits, you tried to look away but you just couldn’t. “Sorry, we weren’t expecting you to come by, not that we mind...” Neytiri spoke up, sounds like that sentence had a double meaning.  

Only then you clocked the way she looked at you, like she wanted to eat you. Neytiri stood up slowly, her tail swayed as she walked up to you. You couldn’t move a muscle like you were frozen in time, she appeared as if she didn’t care whether or not someone saw her half naked form when she stepped outside directly in front of you. She walked circles around you curling your tail around her hand running her fingers down your back. “What are you doing?” you ask her softly. 

“I am observing you. Ever since I have known you, I have respected you. I can smell you, normal people would walk away from a private moment, not disrupt it. So, what are you doing?” her voice was smooth, calm, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking.  

“Unintentionally disrupting.” Your eyes follow her now as she takes your hand and pull you into the pod, this time closing the flap. She pauses her movements next to you and looks at Jake. You mimic her action looking at him as well. The only two women he has ever loved standing in front of his naked form, he isn’t sure what to do but he knows he wants to do it. “I see the way you look at her, she is not just your ex now ma Jake, she is the mother of one of your children, maybe after this a couple more” Neytiri spoke to him. 

She took your hand guiding you to walk closer to him and you make no move to fight her. “He was yours first, show me how you please him I want to learn.” you look at jake and his eyes darted to his now wife then back to you, he sees your hesitance to join them, but he doesn’t want anything more. You drop to your knees and you feel Neytiri’s hand above your neck untying your top. When it falls to the floor in front of you, you see Jake dart his eyes down to your tits and back up to your face.  

Maybe it was the human genes but your tits were on the bigger side. His eyes dart back down and he licked his lips trapping it between his teeth. “Are you sure about this?” your question is directed to Jake; he is the one you need to know wants you before you put yourself more into this position. Neytiri joined you between Jakes legs and he looked at you both before letting out a breath, “yes babygirl, I want you, remember how much fun we used to have, how much you watched to fuck around every corner, under every tree? I know you want this just as much as we do. I know everything has been tough but let me make it up to you. Your hands swatted his away from his cock and you took it in your hands, you stroked it a couple times before finally saying something.  

“He likes it when you roll your tongue around the tip, pay attention to it, makes him feel good, like this” your tongue darts out and you kitten lick his tip taking the pearls of pre-cum into your mouth.  

You close your lips around him circling your tongue listening to the way he moaned at the feeling of you on him again. Neytiri pulled your hair up into a ponytail and held it on top of your head as you sucked on Jake’s cock. Her other hand moves up and down his thigh as she moved her head under your running her tongue over the length of his cock.  

Jake thought he was gonna lose his mind, he never had two women together before, let alone two women he loves sucking on his cock. You pull your head off looking up at him when you speak again, “He likes it when you suck on his balls too”  

Neytiri wasted no time going down lower to run her tongue on his balls. You crawled up to his face letting hair fall down your back lining your cunt up with the tip of his cock. You were directly over him now but made no move to sink down on him. You let your cunt making his cock wet feeling the way every shift in his position hit your clit.  

“You want me?” You whispered to Jake as you looked him in the eye, “want me to sit down on your cock baby?” your mouth went down to kiss along his neck loving the way he submitted to you so easily. “Y-yea, yea please” he whimpered, making Jake turn into a puddle under you has never been difficult. “Awe, you already know what to do, I don’t have to remind you” you smile into his skin before you pulled back sitting up on your knees.  

You hand come down behind you and pull Neytiri up from Jake’s cock by her hair, her hand flies up to yours as she squeals but quickly pat down and follow your movements. “Lay down” you say to Jake and he waste no time scooting down on his back and watches as you tell Neytiri to sit on his face. Jake thinks he is about to explode and he hasn’t even got his cock in one of you yet.  

He had forgot how good it felt to let go and let you take the lead, Neytiri is a strong woman, but in bed she was a sub through and through. Jake was always in charge of her, not of you. “All your weight sweetheart, he won’t break” you pushed her down by her shoulder and watch as her body slumped forward as his tongue on her clit.  

She looks so pretty when she moans like that, so beautiful, you almost got lost in just watching her get off on his face. One of Jake’s big arms wraps around Neytiri’s thigh and the other comes to look for your hip. You finally allow yourself to sink down on his big cock. It’s been so long since you felt it, the sting of the stretch is amazing. You sit for a second before starting to bounce slowly on his gradually increasing your pace.  

Every time Jake moans into Neytiri she doubles over until you and both only inches away from each other. One of your hands comes to your neck and she pulls you in for a heated kiss. Her tongue rolls around yours making a mess out of both of you. Neytiri comes easily on his cock, rolling her hips until she slides down his chest until she is seated on his abdomen. Her hands come to your waist holding you as you bounce up and down on Jake’s cock. 

Neytiri kisses down your neck to your tits and sucks on the nipple greedily. Your moans become louder and your pace becomes messy as you let go on Jake’s cock. He feels the way you gush wetting his cock inside you. He had to take a second to look away so he doesn’t cum inside you so quickly, he knows he is in for more. When you slow down and stop your pace Neytiri hops off Jake and before you can she speaks, “Ma Jake, please her, I want to watch you please her, like you used to” you look at her still breathing heavily before your eyes switch to Jake.  

“Yes ma’am” he says before he pulls you off his dick and flips you over on all fours. “She likes this position; she used to bend over and take it anywhere you know?” he said to his wife as his hand brushing the skin of your back. Hearing him tell her those things makes you skin hot, your neck feels like it was on fire, you were blushing. Your skin turns purple and she sees it smiling at the sight of you getting flustered.  

You push your ass back into him letting him know you wanted him to stick it in like you always had. Jake chuckled behind you remembering all the different ways and places he fucked you and make you take his cum. His cock slips into you once again, not as painfully as the first time but you still feel the stretch. His cock immediately started hitting you g-spot making you mewl into the air. 

Your head doesn’t take long to drop and Neytiri brushed your hair over your shoulder so she can see your face from neck to you. Her toys with her clit watching the way your brow furrowed and your nose scrunches feeling Jake thrust into you so deeply. “F-fuck Jake” his thrust speed up at your words. He always loved hearing you say his name, loved the way you feel apart on his cock.  

“Feels good babygirl? Taking me so fucking well” he says through gritted teeth. His pace speeds up turning your whimpers in full blown screams, you can’t help it he feels so good inside you, he always knew just how to make you cum. Jake watches the way your ass bounces against his body and he almost loses it. The jiggly of your ass sends him way back to when he first buried his cock on it, to the first time he buried his face in it.  

He would never want you to feel like this is all he loves about you but by Eywa Jake has always loved your ass. The way it moves when you walk, the way it looks when he used to slap it when you would walk by, when you would press it up against him when you slept. Makes him think about fucking you all the time. His hand comes down hard on your ass making you mewl loudly as he rubs the area.  

“Look baby, she’s gonna cum on my cock” he smiles as he feels your walls clamp down on him hard, he always knew how to manipulate your body the way he wanted. You don’t really process the way Neytiri smiles at this, the way she was so pleased Jake did exactly what she thought he would do for you, make you feel good.  

He slows his pace and pulls out of you letting you fall to the side. You lay and watch the way Neytiri smiles and leaps into Jake’s arms as they indulge themselves in a heated kiss. It was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen him do, and Jake used to do incredibly hot things. He pulls away from her when he sees you sit up on your knees like Neytiri and move closer to them. He pulls you into a heated kiss and he has both his arms wrapped around you both.  

Your hand moves down to stroke his cock that was still hard when you felt Neytiri’s hand too. “You didn’t cum” you whisper against his lips.  

“Oh, I’m about too babygirl” he smiles before he lets you both go standing up on his feet in front of you. Both you and Neytiri look up at him with wide eyes as he begins stroking his cock over your faces. “Tongues out” he demands as he speeds up his pace and cums on your tongues and cheeks, some even landing on your chest. He looked down lovingly at you both as you share sweet kisses tasting his cum on your skin.  

Best thing he ever did was invite you to beach day.  

🪸I hope you all enjoyed reading! This was a fun request to make and I definitely enjoyed it!

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