#like is it wild that I’m of an age where all my friends are getting married? yes

[micamicster]

You know one nice thing about everybody getting married lately is it gives me an excuse to see and catch up with friends I haven’t spoken to in 3+ years

[joelsdagger]

that’s the way road dogs do it || one

joel miller x f!reader

a/n: this one is a little wild; part two is already shaping up to be even more wild. many smooches to my beloveds: @pedrospatch for all the reassurance and support and for beta’ing this bad boy for me, and to @dinandwhiskey for screaming with me about this idea many many moons ago <33

pairing: ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel x f!reader summary: on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past. warnings: [no-outbreak au], big girthy age gap [reader is in her 20’s, joel is 50’s], alcohol consumption, allusions to cheating [not by joel or reader], no sarah or ellie but joel has a son, joel has tattoos and is a biker, pet names [darlin’, baby, kiddo], sexualization of the term kiddo [from the deepest darkest pits of my soul…idfc], a little bit of humiliation, panty sniffing, a teensy bit of fingering, a little manhandling, pervy!joel [he’s also a little fucked up and really unhinged but so am i so whateva], pussy pronouns, dirty talk [umm it gets weird lol], daddy kink, degradation, semi-public sex, rough unprotected p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, dubcon [joel takes pictures of her that she doesn’t verbally consent to], smidgen of angst [ofc bc it’s me], creampie, body marking/writing [use of a pen], soft!joel, reader wears a skirt, has hair, wears makeup, and has two tattoos that are described within the story word count: 8.6k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

Bad Habits is the bar where you spend every Friday night after work with your friends. It’s always too loud and too bright for your liking. But they serve good booze for a reasonable price and it’s on the way back from your office. Your Friday night usual; stopping at the bar with some friends from work before you bore yourself to sleep by looking over briefings and finalizing notes you need to send over to your boss in time for Monday’s nine am meeting.

You excuse yourself from the booth and head for the bar, plopping yourself on the velvet cushion of a creaky bar stool as you set your purse on the sticky bartop, ordering yourself another drink. Your phone chimes, and you sigh as you pull it out of your purse along with a pen and notepad, knowing it’s an email with a list of requests from your boss. He did tell you he’d send it to you before the end of the night. 

It’s when one of your hands is pressed to your temple, the other scribbling down your boss’ requests on paper when you hear it — a low, gravelly Southern drawl, a voice laced with honey — that you thought you’d never hear again. 

“This seat taken?”

Your pen freezes for a moment; you could pick that voice out of a suspect line-up. It never left you. But you willingly ignore him and decide you’re going to have a little fun of your own with him, so you continue finalizing your thoughts on paper as he situates himself beside you and orders a glass of whiskey while he’s at it. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ sittin’ in a place like this all by herself?” 

“I’m not alone. My friends are over there,” you throw your thumb, pen in hand, over your shoulder, jutting to your booth. “Just needed another drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving the notepad. 

“Why won’t you let me see your face, darlin?” he asks, head tilting to the side, assessing you. 

You snort. “Why. So you can decide whether or not my face is pretty enough to fuck — Mr. Miller?” Your voice drops an octave at the end of the sentence. 

You finally turn your head so you’re face to face with the man beside you, the father of your ex-boyfriend. 

Surprise flashes across his face; his mouth hangs agape briefly before he shuts it tightly. You watch as the Adam’s apple bops slowly in his throat. For once, the father of your shit-eating, cheating ex-boyfriend doesn’t have a comeback. He clears his throat as he attempts to recover. 

“Didn’t realize it was you, darlin’,” he says gruffly, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. 

You chuckle to yourself a little. “Of course you didn’t. The last time we saw each other was what? A year ago? Maybe more?” you quip. 

“You look different,” he says matter-of-factly, eyes glossing over your figure so quick you almost miss it. 

You raise an eyebrow at him; the corner of your mouth kicks up as you tilt the rim of your glass to your lips, hiding your smirk behind a sip.

“Good. I mean — you look good,” he tips his glass on its heel, eyeing it as he toys with it. 

You tilt your head in a shrug, “I needed a change.”

After Joel Miller’s son cheated on you and broke your heart, after you let the hurt linger for a few weeks and told your sob story to your friends who happily listened, you took their advice. 

You need something new, something fresh, babe. 

It really does help.

You’ll feel like a whole new person. 

Trust me, it’ll be good for you. 

You dyed your hair a few times, until you found a shade that felt more you. You got yourself a whole new wardrobe, something a little less fucking prudish and a little more slutty, and despite the cliché of it all, their suggestions did help to leave that shy, agreeable girl in the dust. The breakup was the last push you needed to leave it all behind. 

And now here you are, a little over a year later, sitting beside your ex’s father, whom you once hated to admit to yourself — no, you never really admitted it to yourself, but you found him attractive. Fuck. Who were you kidding? You didn’t just find Joel Miller, the father of your ex-boyfriend, attractive; you found yourself wanting to open your legs for him more than you did for his son, whom you had been dating for eight months. 

His eyes fall to your chest, trailing down the low cut of your top, and fixating on the peaks of your nipples beneath the tight fabric, and your heart stutters. “Quite the change,” a hint of a glint swimming in his hazel eyes. 

You can’t say the same for him.

You take him in now; he looks almost exactly the same, apart from a few more wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. Still, he’s somehow more handsome. 

His tousled salt-and-pepper hair still sits messily on his head, though his beard is lined with more silver than you remember. 

Fuck. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your eyes trail down his body, thick shoulders and thick arms deliciously clad in his black leather jacket, and beneath that, his white t-shirt pulls taut across his broad chest.  

 And oh. 

Joel’s head turns, peering over his shoulder at the sound of glass breaking. Your eyes flick back up and catch a curl of black ink on the tanned skin beneath his collar. That’s new. 

When he turns back, he raises the glass to his lips with a scoff, clouding the inside of it, and the dim light from above the bar catches on the square face of a gold band on his marked pinkie finger. That’s also new. Your eyes don’t miss that his fourth finger still remains devoid of a wedding ring. 

“I have your son to thank for that." You drop your phone, pen, and notepad into your purse, giving him your full attention.

A muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. Flicks his tongue across his bottom lip before he bites it. Is it a show of anger? Disappointment? You’re not quite sure.

But there is one thing that you are sure of: Joel Miller liked having you around. You knew it. You were aware that his eyes lingered whenever he saw you. You caught it from the very first time. When you showed up at his house, in jeans that clung to you like skin, how you bent at the waist to fish your keys out of his sofa cushion, and in your periphery, caught the subtle tilt of his head to get a better look at how the denim hugged your ass just right, feeling his eyes boring into you, your skin sizzling with heat.

If you’re being honest, you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty or shameful for how Joel looked at you. You basked in how he made you feel; you certainly weren’t getting that kind of attention from his son. He had his eyes (and his dick) on someone else. 

You liked how that very last night you spent at Joel Miller’s house — a fortnight before you broke up with his son — you padded down the hallway to the bathroom in an old skirt that you had outgrown (wearing it only because it was the last of clean bottoms before laundry day), and you overheard Joel Miller in his bedroom, fucking his fist and coming with a gruff groan of your name on his lips.  

You just weren’t sure if he knew that you knew.  

His body twists, props a leg up on the footrest of your bar stool. “What happened between you two? He never talked about it,” he inquires. 

You scoff. “He gets that from you, you know, not talking about things. Think he knows it too.” 

Confusion floods his features. 

Your eyes drop to the inside of your glass. “Your divorce. Jason complained all the time about how neither of you talked about it.”

“There was nothin’ to talk about. She left,” he quips. 

“She cheated on you,” you retort. 

“How did–” 

“He knew, and he watched when you didn’t fight it. Think that’s why he did the same to me.” 

“That kid. Always fucking trouble,” he huffs, then takes a short sip. 

 “Hey, you raised him,” you joke. 

“I didn’t raise him to be a piece of shit,” he bites, shakes his head instantly, eyes meeting yours, and there’s something behind them that you can’t quite place yet.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, I just—" You sigh exasperatedly, “I think seeing how you didn’t fight for your marriage, for your wife, messed with him. And as much as I hate him for getting his dick wet in another girl, I think... well, now I know why he did it." Right shoulder tips in a slight shrug. 

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. 

“What?” you ask. 

 “Nothin'—I didn’t expect I’d ever hear you say that.”

 You look at him pointedly. 

 “Gettin’ his dick wet,” he repeats. “I’m not used to hearing you say things like that s’all,” he says with a breathless laugh, shaking his head a little. 

You sigh. “Told you, heartbreak is a hell of a thing.” 

“You didn’t deserve that darlin’, M’sorry,” he soothes. He leans towards you, a heavy hand dropping to your bare thigh, fingers wrapping tightly around it. It takes everything in you not to squeeze your thighs shut at his touch. 

You avert your eyes, scanning the crowd in the bar, your eyes eventually landing on your friends all crammed in the booth before looking back at Joel. “Everything happens for a reason, I guess.” 

His head dips, eyebrows go up in surprise, his expression a slight mixture of shock and guilt. “You really believe that?” 

You flash him a soft smile. You’re not sure that you do, but selfishly, it’s easier than the truth, and whatever it was, you’re not concerned about it anymore. “It’s fine, Mr. Miller, honestly," you clarify. 

His calloused thumb rubs small circles on your thigh; heat radiates there. “How many times, I gotta tell you, it’s Joel,” he insists.

Your eyes roll, “alright. Joel, it’s fine. I’m much happier now.”

“Oh yeah?" His hand releases your thigh; your body feels like it’ll wilt without the heat of his touch. His arms cross over as he leans forward on the bartop. The cuff of his left sleeve raises, revealing ink curling around his wrist. Did he complete his sleeve? You swallow thickly, your eyes lingering. 

"Got yourself a new boyfriend?’” He asks. 

You finally peel your eyes away, arching your brow. “What makes you say that?” 

His boot brushes against your bare ankle as he turns towards you; electricity sparks up your leg and up the base of your spine, awakening a long-dormant need. “Nothin’, just reckon that a pretty thing like yourself has a new stupid college fella.”

You chuckle. “I don’t date, it's not worth my time anymore.” You take a swig of your drink, swallow the tang down, and it mixes with the lick of heat, slowly spreading its way into your veins. You’re trying to tame the surge of energy zipping through your body, but it’s so damn hot beneath the lights lining the bar. And the chatter buzzing around the room, coupled with the weight of Joel’s gaze, isn’t fucking helping. It’s overwhelming, the nerves and arousal taking over, lacing with the alcohol in your system.

“That so?” His voice is a low rumble, dangerous. The corners of his lips twitch; your eyes dart down to them. 

You set your glass down on the dark wood with a clink, and your fingers begin tracing the rim of the glass. “And you?” Your body is warm and humming, something churning deep in your core.

His hazel eyes slowly rake down your body, a hint of hunger in them as they pause at the hem of your skirt, barely covering the place where you need him most; your skin is on fire under the heat of his gaze, and for a moment you have to resist the urge not to pounce on him right there in a bar full of people.

His voice cuts through your reverie as he answers. “Not in the cards for me, darlin’,” his eyes crease before he tips the glass to his lips.

“Guess we got one thing in common,” you sigh and mirror him. 

His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip, and your chest blooms. Black takes up the hazel hues in his eyes, full of lust, and you think back to all the times you’ve had his attention; only now it’s worse because you can act on it. And maybe it’s the liquid courage in your blood. Maybe it’s some stroke of desire for revenge. Maybe it’s just that — desire. Maybe it’s because you know him. Know by all those times you racked up in your brain of longing stares and fleeting tugs of every nerve of your body.

So you think, with the very obvious throbbing in your core, with desire turning molten and pooling between your thighs that you can no longer ignore, that now is your chance; you’ve got nothing holding either of you back this time.

“You want to get out of here?” Your eyes fall down his body and bite your lip as you take in his broad form again. 

He chuckles darkly. “Can’t leave my crew, sweetheart,” he juts his chin towards an area behind you. Your body twists, and laughter threatens to bubble in your chest when you spot them. Three men, all silver-haired and scruffy beards that cover surly faces, all clad in tethered leather jackets, sit in a corner towards the back of the bar. 

You turn back to Joel with a hint of smirk on your lips. “Aren’t you getting a little old to still be biking around? Shouldn't fossils be encased or padded up or something? You know as they age they don't hold up very well,” you tease. 

He bares his teeth with a crooked grin; the corners of his eyes crease. “Careful, kiddo,” voice a low warning, but there’s a hint of playfulness behind it.

You knock back the rest of your drink swiftly, ignoring how it burns the back of your throat. “Well, that’s too bad,” you start. Driven by the alcohol coursing through your burning veins and the painful ache at the apex of your thighs, your left hand grabs his, rested beneath the bar, and guides it under your skirt and towards your dripping sex. He stiffens, inhaling sharply through his nose as he feels the way the wet fabric clings to the lips of your pussy. You bring your lips to the shell of his ear and drop your voice to make it more deep and velvety — more enticing. “She’s already wet.”

You drop his hand and hop off the barstool and onto wobbly legs, your right hand looping your crossbody over your shoulder, and before your leg even brushes past his, his hand snaps out and wraps around your wrist, dwarfing it in his grasp. 

Without another word, he tugs you behind him, past your table of friends, all too loud and too drunk celebrating the end of another work week to notice the two of you sauntering by. He drags you down the dimly lit hall, and you’re biting your bottom lip, containing the smile that threatens to spread across your face as he shoves you into the bathroom. 

Within seconds, he’s on you, pressing into you so your back slams into the tethered wooden door. Your hands find his hair, tangling your fingers in the strands streaked with gray.

And with his mouth flush with yours, the taste of whiskey and cheap cigars is warm on your tastebuds, and you cannot get enough of it. You've dreamt of what he'd taste like for so long, and it's everything you've ever wanted. His tongue is heavy and hot as he pushes it into your mouth, swirling it around and cutting across your gums, leaving no inch of your mouth uncharted. It’s all rushed and sloppy and hungry, and very quickly does it become clear to you that he’s wanted this — wanted you, just as much as you had from the very beginning. 

Somewhere in the heady haze, you manage to remove your left hand from his dark curls, drifting it south behind your back to slide the greasy lock shut behind you, sealing your fate. 

The sound of the lock clicking in place has Joel maneuvering you towards the sink, your heels scraping against the tile as the both of you drift backwards, tongues still intertwined. 

Your hands fumble with his belt, and at the same time, your mouth skates down his neck, tongue darting out and lapping at the inked skin there. You hum at the taste of warm, salty sweat. As you try to drag the leather out from his silver buckle, you move to drop to your knees. You don’t even get halfway before he’s reaching for your wrists, pulling you back up to stand. “‘S much as I’d like that kiddo, I've been waitin’ too long to get inside this cunt,” he says bluntly, and then he’s taking a step forward, trapping you against the cold ceramic. “If m’gonna come, s'gonna be inside o' her.” 

Your stomach flips at his words, and you can’t deny that the use of that word again makes you want to drop to your knees for him twofold. Instead, Joel drops to one of his, grunting as his denim-clad knee hits the cold tile, and it’s what he does next that manages to shatter all essence of confidence you had tonight.

Joel flicks up your skirt with one large hand while the other grips the back of one of your thighs, and one of your hands finds one of his shoulders, fingers already clinging onto him for dear life as you try to anchor yourself. You’re throbbing for him as his hand drifts north to cup your sex through your damp panties; he tears his gaze away to peer up at you. “How many dicks has this pussy taken since my son?” 

His words strike you hard, and your blood runs as cold as ice. Your breath kicks out of your lungs. That was the last thing you expected him to say. Despite the fact Joel’s eyes often lingered and his breath often wavered in your presence, he always managed to compose himself. You never imagined he'd act on those impulses.

“I–I don’t–” you blink a few times, your brain malfunctioning, trying to find the words. 

“How many,” he taunts, his fingers prod at your lace-covered slit, his thumb applying pressure to your clit through your underwear. 

“I– I don’t know. I can’t remember,” you whisper.

Joel sniggers. “I figured. She’s just a little pocket pussy for us, ain’t she?” A shiver runs up your spine, and he watches you, hazel eyes glimmering in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom, gauging your reaction for a tell, a tick, something, that’ll give him a reason to stop. When you don’t, his head dips down between your thighs, and his strong nose presses up against the damp stain on the front of your skimpy black thong, which was doing a rather poor job of covering your cunt. His eyes close slowly, and he inhales. Long and hard, so hard you can feel his nostrils contracting against you as he breathes in your scent. And it’s not your fault a measly whimper spills from your lips when he does so. 

“This all for me now?” He coaxes, his fingers strumming up and down your slit through the lace. Words fail you as you look down and find his eyes already on yours. You nod once for him. 

“Words, darlin’,” his voice dark, thick fingers shifting your panties aside, exposing you to the cold air and spreading your soft folds apart, toying with your wetness. 

Oh fuck, sneaks past your lips in a whisper, and one of your arms snaps out behind you, hand wrapping around the edge of the sink.  

He tilts his head up, and your eyes fixate on his middle finger that reads, clutch, as the tip pokes into your aching hole. "S’this what you wanted? You oughta ask for it, pretty girl.”

“I want you. Fuck– I want you to fuck me, Joel.” You choke out. 

“Attagirl,” he starts, knees cracking as he stands. “Bend over ‘n let me see her up close this time,” he says with a smirk. 

You obey, and turn to drop your purse beside the sink before placing your hands on the wet countertop. But your eyes don’t find your own reflection in the mirror. Instead, they fall on Joel’s movements behind you and gulp down the near-pathetic excitement and nerves sizzling over you. Joel’s too entranced by the sight before him to pick up how your breath hitches in your throat when his calloused hands push your skirt over the curve of your ass and up to your waist. His sly smirk kicks into a low chuckle as he catches sight of your tattoo on your left ass cheek that reads, daddy’s girl.

You go perfectly still, and a firm hand between your shoulders pushes you forward, your upper body now parallel to the dark countertop. Your heartbeat thrums loudly in your ears, but you can still hear the low whistle he sings from behind you. And then–

“Jesus,” he breathes as he pauses and marvels at you, his gaze shifting up and down your form, goosebumps erupting across your skin as the knuckle of his index finger traces down the small of your back, cold metal from the ring on his pinkie grazes the meat of your ass by happenstance. “Pretty little thing, ain’t ya?” 

And it’s almost like he can’t believe he’s here — with you, thirty years his junior, and his son’s ex-girlfriend, in a bar bathroom, about to ruin not only you but every other woman for himself for the rest of his life.

The liquid courage must’ve kicked into overdrive because you don’t know what compels you to do it, but before you can stop yourself, you call out his name–

“Joel.”

His dark eyes flit upwards to meet yours in the mirror. 

“You gonna stand there and stare all night, or you gonna fill her up?” But the tone of your voice doesn’t make it sound at all like a question, and you don’t mean it to be. 

That seems to pull him back. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ Christ, I didn’t think you’d be this filthy.”

His reaction manages to bring back your confidence, and your lips curl in turn. 

Joel doesn’t waste anymore time. You feel the rough drag of denim against the back of your thighs and hear the metallic clang of his belt and the buzz of his zipper as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. When he hooks a thick finger underneath your panties, tugging them to the side and over one cheek, you can’t help but clench, and Joel definitely doesn’t miss it. 

He tuts. “Needy little thing too,” he grips his length, thick and heavy in his hand, and lines up the blunt cockhead with your throbbing hole; it winks at him. “Tiny hole’s begging for me to fuck her, ain’t she? Look at her flirtin’ with me,” Joel gloats. 

And the sane part of you wants to cringe at that, but your cunt betrays you and clenches around terrible emptiness again. Joel doesn’t wait for you to respond; his eyes flicker back down to your hole, pushing the wide head of his cock inside, and that spark from earlier ignites. 

“Oh, Christ,” he exhales, his jaw falling loose and eyes going hooded as he enters your warm, wet cunt. You gasp as your own eyes fall shut at the stretch, your face twisting upwards at the sharp sting. You didn’t get to look at it before, but you can feel him. He’s big. Bigger than anything you’ve ever had, and for a second you’re not quite sure he’ll be able to fit. But Joel being Joel means he’s a stubborn bastard. He makes it fit. He pushes himself in, in, in, and you whine, and he groans as your pussy wraps perfectly around every inch of his thick length, sinking in like a dream.

He bottoms out inside your cunt, his tip kissing your cervix, and you’re gripping the edge of the sink so tight that if it weren’t for Joel fucking you, you’d be worried if your knuckles would break the skin. “Fuck, that’s good,” he breathes, ragged and hard. 

And it is. He feels so good. Stretching your cunt out and carving a place for himself after all this time. All the wanting and pining. Shared glances and stolen moments that you believed to be over the moment you broke up with that bastard of a son have finally led you here with him. 

“Daddy,” pours from your lips involuntarily. Your eyes snap wide open, and you freeze. Joel draws his hips back, cock pulling out from your gaping hole and catching onto it’s head, and before you can scramble your brain for a pathetic excuse of an apology, his lips curl into a snarl, and he slams his hips forward, cock ramming into you full throttle. The force of his thrust so hard, your body jolts forward, and your pelvis collides with the sink.

He doesn’t give you time to recover; Joel sets a fast, unforgiving pace, and with every strong, expert roll of his hips, the edges of your vision begin to blur. And it doesn’t matter how fast he bucks into you; the size of his cock never fails to fill you up to the hilt on every long, punishing stroke. He’s fucking loving it. And so are you. Letting him use you and yanking you back onto his cock by the thin material of your thong, hips snapping back into his like a rubber band. The air quickly fills with delicious wet sounds of your skin slapping against his, your moans and his, and the sharp clink, clink, clink, of metal rattling against you as the movement of your bodies colliding increases. 

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says, voice rough with arousal. “Been dreamin’ of this pussy since the first time I laid eyes on ya,” he pants, eyes never leaving where the two of you are connected.

Desperate whimpers and breathy moans spill from your lips, his left hand bruising on your hip. “Caught a glimpse of that pretty young pussy under your skirt. Couldn’t get it out of my damn head. I thought about you n’ fucked my fist every night to that image of you in your slutty little skirt. Too fuckin’ short to cover anything.” Your cunt drools with slick with every word that spills from him; you can feel it on the tops of your inner thighs. The wet suction of your cunt around his cock getting louder and louder and louder. It’s borderline pornographic. 

His voice cuts through the lewd sounds. “Some nights I heard those sweet sounds you made–fucked my fist then too. Were you fakin’ it, baby? Huh. Were you fakin’ it with him? My son ever fuck you this good?” He rambles, grip smarting your flesh. 

Your stomach jolts. Scratch that. That’s the last thing you expected him to say. If your ex-boyfriend’s father fucking you wasn’t going to send you spiraling, then him bringing up his own son while he fucks you dumb certainly will. 

Your mind is abuzz; your brain has gone completely blank. There’s no way you could form a proper word in response, even if you tried. There isn’t a single thought inside your head. It’s too much. Too many things are happening at once. For one, he’s never been this talkative; you were lucky if you got two sentences out of him a year ago. And now he’s asking you if his son fucks as good as he does. 

You don’t answer. You can’t. And he’s not expecting you to. All you can do is whimper and moan while he fucks you with abandon, the way you should have been fucked all those times by his son.

“You don’t gotta answer. I know he didn’t. That boy didn’t know what was good for him if it hit him til he was blue in the face.” And you moan in agreement, still not able to think of a response while his tip jabs at your most sensitive spot. 

“S’okay, you were made to take my cock,” he grits, his ringed finger digging into your skin by the unrelenting grip on your waist. “Made to take mine, not his. Tell me, my cock bigger than his?” 

“Daddy–” you gasp, your cunt flutters around him, and Joel laughs a little at you, a low mocking sound that fuels the fire roiling low in your belly. 

“Course it is,” he murmurs. “You were made for me. So fuckin’ pretty n’ perfect n’  – fuck – so goddamn tight. Tighter than a fleshlight, baby.” He hisses in between sharp thrusts.

“N-” you choke on your words, fresh tears pricking your eyes by the force of him fucking you so hard. 

He clicks his tongue. “You don’t like that, baby? You tellin’ me if I say it again, she won’t fuckin’ squeeze the hell outta me?”

Your cunt answers for you, giving him exactly what he wants and fluttering around him in response.

“S’okay, you can like it. You oughta. This sloppy cunt’s gonna be my new cocksleeve. Gonna blow my load in ya, pump you so full o’me.” 

You squeeze painfully tight around him again and bite your bottom lip to muffle the obscene, broken moan that escapes you. You can’t help but picture what Joel looks like thrusting himself into the toy. Was he using it that night? When you heard him coming with a groan of your name, was he pretending to paint your cunt instead of the inside of faux flesh? Or did he pull out and imagine covering your face in his cum? Your back arches as you push yourself up by the heels of your palms on the ceramic, your head topples back onto your neck, eyes rolling back into your skull, the walls of your cunt tensing at the thought. 

His fingers unhook themselves from your panties and his hand finds the back of your skull, and with a firm grip, he angles your head, so you are face to face with your own depraved reflection. “Look how fuckin’ sexy you look takin’ me,” he growls.

And you do; your vision refocuses on the wrecked girl in the mirror: hair wild yet pulled back by Joel’s tight fist, lipstick stained around your swollen lips, mascara smudged by wet tears at the corners of your eyes, temples glistening with beads of sweat as you’re split wide open, perfectly filled to the brim by your ex-boyfriend’s father’s cock. 

Joel’s fist tightens on your makeshift ponytail, pulling you back into him, and with your back now pressed flush to his chest, he brings his lips to your ear, his breath hot against your skin, eyes watching each other in the mirror. “You’ve got a velvet cunt, kiddo, s’damn shame my son didn’t know what to do with it.” 

You squeak, your body jostling and rolling with pleasure on every shift forward, the edge of the countertop bruising your hip bones. You’re blissfully unaware of the spit drooling from your lips and dripping all over the sink faucet until Joel points it out.

“Look at you, wanted it so bad you’re fuckin’ droolin’ f’me, naughty girl,” he pants, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. “Wanted me to use you like this, huh?”

“Mmm,” you mewl in response, everything beneath your navel tenses while his cock grazes the opening of your cervix on each harsh thrust.

He tuts. “Aww, poor baby, you were all talk before. But you can’t talk back now, huh? You all cock dumb, s’that it? Daddy, fuckin’ ya stupid?” 

"So – good – Daddy,” you force a choked moan. Your cunt clamps down around him, and it burns, flames running wild, scratching away at your nerves as the fat head of his cock brushes against your g-spot again. As if he can feel it too, the snap of his hips grows more desperate. Faster. Harder. Deeper. 

“Keep doin’ that, doin’ so good for me, kiddo. Just a little more, give it to me, come on daddy’s cock, c’mon,” he rasps. Your stomach twists and your chest tightens, his cock hitting you so deep each time his hips swing, and the weight of his balls slapping wetly against your clit has you hurtling full speed towards your release. 

“Daddy – oh f– fuck,” your voice all broken and hoarse. Your entire body goes painfully tight, thighs quivering, and something deep within you snaps. Your eyes screw shut as the energy thrums through your blood. Your mind is a dizzying blur, white light streaking behind your eyelids, and there’s a low ringing in your ears as your orgasm fully engulfs you. 

"Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, kiddo, there you go, let her soak me,” Joel praises as he fucks you through your high, cunt throbbing while your hips move lazily back and forth on him. 

As your orgasm settles, your body goes limp, and your head begins to dip, but Joel tightens his grip on you, shifting your body like a ragdoll until you’re on your tiptoes, the perfect angle for him as he fucks relentlessly into you. 

And with the blissed-out daze of the afterglow and the roaring music from the otherside of the bathroom door getting louder, you can just barely make out Joel’s low rambles of obscenities — almost like he’s mumbling to himself — and the quick, wet, smack, smack, smack of his hips against the plush of your ass as he pummels your cunt, desperate for release — as if his life depends on coming inside you. 

He grunts and through bleary eyes, you watch him through the mirror. He looks wrecked as he chases after his high. He must feel your eyes on him because then his eyes lock with yours in the mirror, and your cunt squeezes him unconsciously. That sends him overboard. His movements become sloppy, and you feel him twitch inside you. His jaw slackens, his eyes pinching shut while his head lulls back, and a breathless chant of, oh shit, fuck that’s it, fuck, escapes him as he comes undone.

His hands clamp, hips finally stuttering, a deep groan slipping past his lips, and then you feel the heat spreading inside you as thick spurts of his seed spill deep inside your cunt. His body falls forward over yours, his sweaty forehead falls into your shoulders, and you let him stay there as his cock continues to pulse, hips lazily rutting into you and pumping you full of his load. Your spent cunt spasms around his throbbing cock, and your wet and his, gathers at the base of his girth and trickles down his balls. 

His hips finally come to a stop, but he doesn’t pull out. Instead, his hand drops from your hair and begins rummaging through your purse. It only takes him a few seconds to find what he’s looking for. Your pen. You watch through watery lashes as he pops the cap with his thumb and brings the tip to the small of your back; your body flinches at the feeling of the cold tip. 

As the ball of the pen drags and tugs across at your skin, for a brief moment you try to surmise what he’s writing, but it takes him too long, and the intensity of your orgasm finally catches up with you. You drop your head on your hand and wait for him to finish whatever the hell he’s drawing on your skin. 

You feel his body shift behind you again, but it’s not until you hear the familiar sound of a low click that has you snapping your head up to the mirror. 

Joel Miller has his phone in his hands. 

And he’s not just doing anything with it. He’s not scrolling through it. He’s not opening up the contacts app. He’s not typing on it.

You catch a bright white flash in the mirror. He’s taking pictures of you. But not just of you. He’s taking pictures of your wasted cunt still plugged full of his cock. 

And for some reason — you don’t move. You don’t stop him. You don’t turn around and snatch the phone from his grasp and call him a dirty old dog. You stay perfectly still, and you let him do what he wants. Letting him take a series of pictures.

But it’s the last few that have his lips curling into a smirk, and he begins mumbling under his breath, gawking at the mess he made of you. 

With his phone poised in his right hand, his left drops to your left ass cheek, his fingers splay across your flesh, pulling your cheek back, and the shutter sound goes off. "Fuck, she’s so pretty like this.” 

Heat blooms in your chest. No one’s ever made you feel like this. But there’s no room for shame when he makes you feel this warm and beautiful... and so fucking sexy. 

And then it hits you. 

No one’s ever made you feel like this. There’s a sudden pang in your heart, tears stinging in your eyes. You’ve always known it. But you never admitted it because it never mattered. How could it? When you’ve never had someone who made you feel worth their time. How could you know what you were missing out on if you’ve never had it to begin with? 

Your head tips back between your shoulders, forcing the tears back into your skull, and to keep them at bay, you redirect your attention on Joel; watch him as he presses his hips flush to your ass so he’s filled you to the hilt. With your body still trembling, you wince and close your eyes in overstimulation. Your body sags forward on the cold surface, melting into submission.

You hear a series of shutters coupled with Joel’s mutters of, Jesus, look at her, the prettiest little pussy, look at this messy little hole swallowin’ up my cock, while you feel his hand moving along the small of your back, no doubt getting different angles of the place where the two of you become one. 

It feels like hours have passed by when Joel seems to have gotten his fill. One of his hands finds your hip again; you shiver and gasp in unison as he slowly slips himself out with a wet squelch. He pumped you so full of his release that you already feel it beginning to trickle out. You didn’t think there’d be that much of it for a man his age.

When his cockhead fully slides out from your hole, you have to fight the urge to whine at the loss of it — of him. But it’s what he does next that stops you from reveling in that; his hand quickly reaches down between your bodies, and two thick fingers catch the cum dripping out of you and push it back inside. You whimper tiredly. 

You stay bent over the sink, and suddenly, for a very brief moment, you feel the heavy weight of his cock slap wetly against your left ass cheek, and for the last time, the camera shutters. 

He quickly pockets his phone, and then he’s pulling your panties over the ache between your thighs, and his hands tentatively pull the skirt back down over your ass, smoothing out the rumpled fabric. You can hear the low rustling behind you — the buzz of his zipper and the clang of his belt buckle, tucking himself back into his pants.

And then Joel Miller surprises you again. He leans forward over you and places a chaste kiss to your clothed shoulder before his hands are on you, gently tugging your body upright and turning you around to face him as he murmurs a low, Let me look at ya. 

His eyes scan over your face, grinning immensely, like he can’t help being proud of himself for ruining you. And you smile bashfully in tandem as you bring a weak hand up to your face. Joel shoos your hand away and rubs his thumb under your eyes, gently wiping away your tears and smeared mascara, then doing the same to the smudged lipstick at the corners of your mouth. 

He’s always been rather soft with you, but it’s a stark contrast in comparison to his earlier behavior; it almost gives you whiplash thinking about it. How he fucked you so full you could feel him in your chest, the stream of profanities he cursed under his breath, moaning the dirtiest things  — comparing himself to his son while inside you, taking filthy pictures as evidence of what the two of you have done together, then cleaning you up like it’s second nature to him. All of it was filthy. He’s filthy. But there was always a softness to him, and there’s no doubt about it in this moment.

You take the opportunity to mirror him and caress away the lipstick that stained his lips from your kiss, you smile and he sighs at the contact. His thumb swiftly pads over your bottom lip, his gaze lands on your lips, a sort of hesitance, perhaps deciding if he wants to kiss you again. Then, his thumb catches on your plush bottom lip. Joel’s lips twitch, his eyes go dark as he drags the flesh of your bottom lip down, eyeing something he knows he almost missed. He scoffs slightly and shakes his head in near-disbelief. You smirk knowing exactly what he’s reacting to. 

His entire face blossoms with cherry red as he does another once over on the black ink inside your mouth. 

“Angel, my ass,” he mutters under his breath before wetting his lips. Already hungry for more. 

He tilts your chin upwards and leans forward to kiss you. It’s softer, slower this time, but of course, he still nips gently at your bottom lip, and at the same time, he slips his free hand down between the two of you once more. It moves beneath the hem of your skirt, fingers shoving your panties to the side, the pulp of his middle finger pushing through your puffy folds and into your dripping hole, until the black ink that reads, brake, is entirely sheathed inside your worn cunt, making sure his come stays where it belongs. You whimper against his lips, bucking into his hand.

“Keep that in there, f’me,” he mutters, his hot breath fanning over your lips. “Want you thinkin’ o’me when it drips outta ya tonight.” 

You whine faintly when Joel removes his hand. He brings it up to his face, and his tongue darts out to glide across the tip of his digit, licking his finger clean of your wet and his, all while keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. 

There’s a long beat of silence between you, and then he drops his hand, pulling away. Your heart falls, already missing the warmth emanating from his touch.

“We oughta get back before people start looking for us,” he murmurs as he steps back. You smile softly and nod. You’re not sure you’ll see him again. And you don’t have the heart to ask him, nor do you have the strength to handle it if he rejects your offer. You have nothing else to give. 

You love how he made you feel, but your chest twinges — one that twists deep. And no matter how much you try to quell that deep-seated fear, it never truly leaves you. A little voice in the back of your mind that repeats on a loop like a broken record, telling you: He’ll break your heart. They all do. But he can’t hurt you if you don’t let him. You resist the urge to turn and run. And instead, you turn to glance back in the mirror, sure to tame your disheveled appearance, giving Joel a chance to leave before you, slipping back into someone from your past.

He makes his way to the door, sliding the lock open; his hand curls around the handle but pauses before pulling it open. He turns to face you. “You okay?” he asks. 

It shocks you. It’s more than his son ever did. Certainly means more to you after he’d ask, Was it good, after coming in you before you even got started. Everything Joel did tonight is more than his son ever did; asking you questions all night and listening attentively while you answered them — whether it was with the hope of fucking you or not — doesn't matter. You fought tooth and nail for a sliver of his son’s attention, but with Joel, he just fucking gave it to you. 

You do your best to ignore that gnawing feeling of fear, clawing its way up your chest by the only way you know how; you press your lips to Joel’s, pushing your tongue into his awaiting mouth, and licking along the rim of his teeth. A strong hand curls around your jaw, fighting for dominance over the kiss, but you don’t let him for long, though. Reluctantly, you pry yourself off him, but not before Joel’s teeth softly graze your earlobe, nipping the flesh there.

You flash him a quick smile, looping the strap of your purse over your shoulder. “Perfect.” 

He smiles softly at that, eyes dancing across your face. “Yeah,” he whispers and moves to the side, letting you step out first and following you out. 

You head straight to the booth where your group of four awaits you, but not before peering over your shoulder and seeing Joel stalk towards his crew. You smile to yourself and tuck a lock of hair behind your ear as you approach your friends. As you shimmy in beside one of them, they ask where you were, and their brows pinch when you mumble, I was feeling a little dizzy. Which isn’t a total lie, but no one presses you for more, and you’re glad they don’t. 

It’s not until your friends start collecting their belongings and announce they want to check out the new bar a few blocks down the street when you feel the weight of tonight’s actions sinking into you. You’re about ready to call it a night; your eyes are heavy, your brain is still fuzzy, and your body still has not recovered from Joel railing you. 

You mull over sitting in the booth until the car you plan to order shows up to take you home. But the thought of waiting around in Joel’s presence makes your chest tighten. You don’t want to find out if he’ll be like the rest of them. Something to scratch an itch, and then wiping you from memory. That urge to flee loops back, and your legs force you to stand.

Collectively, you amble through the bar, still bubbling with energy, and as you make your way to the exit, you can feel the heat of a stare on you. You don’t need to turn to know who it is; his broad form ghosts along the edges of your periphery.

You walk against that pull you feel towards him, ache festering, skin burning, and bones grating with every heavy step, your eyes locked on the door like a missile to a target, not letting your eyes wander over to his booth, trying to keep what’s left of your dignity. Resisting. Resisting. Resisting. 

Lucas steps out first, holding the door open for another group of younger twenty-somethings as they saunter into the bar. While you hang back, you quickly mumble over your shoulder to Nell that you’re thinking of heading home. Worry cuts across her face, and she extends an offer, At least let me drive you home, hun. 

Your answer is cut off by the chime of your phone in your purse. You still and fumble for it and see a message from Mr. Miller. You had forgotten you never deleted his number. 

Holding your phone close to your chest, cautiously away from your friend’s curious eyes, you click on the notification.

He’d sent you two of the pictures he happily took at the top of the hour with a message that reads, Look damn sexy on my cock, kiddo. 

Your mouth falls open in a gasp, and pride swells in your chest as you glance at the first picture: Joel plugging your used cunt full of his length, his graying pubic hairs drenched and the base of his shaft gleaming with a white ring of creamy release. Your eyes flit upwards, and you finally get a chance to read the dark permanent lines he’d written on your skin.

Joel had crossed out the latter half of your tattoo on your ass cheek. It now reads, daddy’s fleshlight, in sloppy penmanship. With his grip porcelain white, the cross on his thumb makes an appearance as his digit digs into your hip at the corner of your tattoo. Your eyes drift further north, and above the globe of your ass, the small of your back reads, mine. 

Your thumb swipes across the screen to the second picture. With his cock poised in his hand, he had pressed the swollen mushroom head, only a hairsbreadth beneath the ink on the plush flesh of your ass — black ink shiny with a pearly film, he had smeared it in your mixed juices. Your cunt clenches at the images — at his absence, missing the warm, thick stretch of him. And suddenly, you feel his cum beginning to dribble out of you and pool into the gusset of your already ruined thong. 

When you don’t answer. The message bubble appears.

A beat, then two, and then—

There’s a place for you here.

You swallow down the twinge, the ache, press your thighs shut around emptiness, and feel another slight trickle escape your lower lips when your pussy releases more of his cum. You lock your phone and look back up at Nell in front of you. You feign nonchalance and wave her off, telling her you can’t go home just yet. Tell her that you received a few more requests from your boss and you, Don’t wanna take work home. 

She asks how you’ll get home, you lie, and swiftly mention that you just saw Mr. Miller across the bar and that he’ll drive you home. Another tiny white lie. Your place is a solid halfway point from the bar to his house. And when she asks if you’re sure you’ll be okay alone, her hand gently squeezing your arm, brows furrowed with worry, bless her heart, your gaze follows that pull like a magnet and lands on Joel. 

He’s already watching you. 

Your eyes lock with his, one hand resting to the side while the other tips the glass he’d been nursing towards you, winking as he takes a short sip of amber liquid. 

And there’s no pang in your chest. No urge to flee. Just the warmth of his gaze that in any second now will radiate through his touch, turning your bones to ash. 

You flash Nell a smile. Yeah…You’ll be fine.

[imaginedisish]

Wild Horses (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Proofreading took way longer than I thought; sorry this didn't go up on time, y'all. Anyway, the song references came from an idea from an anon, but the fic itself isn't a request. Working through requests now (sorry I haven't been doing more). I really like this fic, and I hope you guys do too. There are a couple of songs in this one, but "Wild Horses" by the Stones is def a Logan song. Enjoy!

Summary: Logan takes you out for a friendly drink...that ends up being more than just friendly.

Warnings: 18+ SEXUALLY EXPLICIT CONTENT MINORS DNI! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, porn with very little plot, implied!age gap (Logan is older than everyone, tho?), friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, feelings, f!reader/afab!reader, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,362 back on my BS

You’re sitting in a chair in the hallway, decompressing from the day—which, to be honest, is impossible in a place like this. Kids playing, running, yelling, T.Vs blaring all across the mansion. It’s always so noisy, always so active. And sometimes, that can be too much. 

A cacophony of voices bursts down the hall. One is bassy, louder, angrier than all the others. You smile softly to yourself. Logan. You can hear his footsteps against the hardwood floors as he makes his way towards the front door. He has his keys in his hand, and his leather jacket on his back. 

You perk up, trying not to seem upset that he’s on his way out. Although it’s probably no use; you wear your heart on your sleeve. You care about Logan, and that care extends beyond friendship. You’ve wanted him for months, but you’re not quite sure if he’ll ever feel the same. You’re friends—close friends—but just friends. 

He looks over to you, his frown suddenly turning to a smile. “I’m going out,” he says, nodding to the door. “Wanna come?”

“S-sure,” you stutter, pushing yourself up from your chair. You look down at your denim shorts and tank top. “I don’t know if I should change tho—” “You look perfect,” Logan says, shaking his head and smiling. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you try your best not to overthink Logan’s words. His hand is at your back, warm and undeniably massive, guiding you with him to the door. 

A cough erupts from behind you. “Where are you going, Logan?” You know exactly whose voice that is. 

You and Logan turn around, and there’s Scott. “Out,” is all Logan says, gruff and short. 

“We aren’t done talking, and you still have to run drills with—”

But Logan is tugging your arm and leading you out the door and towards the garage before Scott can get a word in. 

“Logan!” Scott calls from the front door. But Logan doesn’t stop, his hand now clasping around yours. He raises his fist in the air and unleashes just one of his claws: the middle. You giggle as Logan leads you inside the garage.

He walks you to the passenger door of his truck, opening it for you and closing it once you’re safe inside. It doesn’t hit you until he’s walking around the front that he opened the door for you. 

He slips in the driver’s side door and turns the key in the ignition, the truck springing to life. He pulls out of the garage, down the driveway, and through the gate. 

“So, where are we going?” You ask, turning to face Logan. 

His eyes drift between you and the road, a small smile playing on his lips. “Thought maybe we could get a drink,” he says, eyes on you again. There’s something behind his stare—a softness, maybe. It’s intoxicating and dizzying. It’s so distracting that you have to force yourself to acknowledge what he said.

“Sounds good,” you finally answer, smiling back at him. He nods, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift, dangerously close to your bare thigh. 

The ride to the bar is quick and quiet, but not uncomfortable. You feel safe with Logan, cozy, like you could have spent the entire night just driving around with him. The bar looks like a little cabin—definitely Logan’s kind of place. It’s quaint, and perhaps a tad divey. But you don’t mind. You’re with Logan; that’s all that matters.

He slips out of the car, and you follow suit. He’s at your side when you open the door, smirking, holding out his hand to help you out of the truck. You take it, stepping onto the gravel of the parking lot. You think he’ll let go, that he’ll drop your hand to your side, but he doesn’t. 

Logan leads the way into the honeyed, yellow light of the bar. It spills across the porch as he opens the door, the light consuming you as you walk inside. The bar is warm, filled with couples and friends sharing drinks and listening to music. Some people are dancing over by a set of speakers. You smile, instantly recognizing the song blaring from the speakers. 

I met her in a club down in old Soho Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Coca-Cola C-O-L-A, Cola

You sing along, mouthing the words to Logan. A grin spreads across his face, his gaze flitting between your eyes and your lips. “You know this song? You like The Kinks?” He asks, his eyes narrowing as he tugs you over to a stool at the bar. 

“Of course! How old do you think I am?” You ask, moving your shoulders to the song as you sit down. 

He smirks, shaking his head. “Younger than me!” He shouts over the music, sitting down next to you, finally letting go of your hand. You wish he didn’t. You wish he held on. 

“Everyone is younger than you!” You shout back, singing the lyrics and swaying your head from side to side. 

Well, I'm not the world's most physical guy But when she squeezed me tight, she nearly broke my spine Oh, my Lola Lo-Lo-Lo-Lo-Lola

Logan is watching you—watching the way your lips make that O in Lola, the way your hips shake in the chair, the way you throw your head back laughing when you mess up a line. He’s entranced by you. You finally notice him watching, and you giggle, hiding your face in your hands. 

Your eyes widen as his hands come up to yours, tearing them away from your face. “No hiding,” he says softly, so only you can hear him. “It was cut—”

“What’ll you two be having?” The bartender interrupts, arms crossed against his chest, towel thrown over his shoulder. 

“I’ll have a Coors, and she’ll have…” Logan turns to look at you, and you nod towards him. He takes the hint immediately, as if he can read your mind. “The same as me.” You smile as the bartender walks away to get your drinks. 

You part your lips, almost ready to ask Logan what he was going to say before the bartender cut him off, but you’re interrupted again as your beers are placed in front of you. 

“Thanks, bub,” Logan says, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill and slapping it on the counter. The bartender grabs the bill and walks off to help the next patron. 

“So…” you trail off, watching as more people drift to the makeshift dance floor. “Have you been here before?” You ask, making conversation. There’s something about being out with Logan that makes you more nervous than usual. He’s never awkward to be around or hard to talk to. But in here? Out together? Alone? This is different. It’s almost like…

A date. 

“Just a few times,” Logan answers, snapping you back to reality. His long fingers wrap around the neck of his bottle, and he takes a swig. You catch the way he licks the little droplets on his upper lip, his tongue darting out all quick and gentle. You can’t help but wonder what his tongue would feel like against your own lips, and in other places too. Now is certainly one of those moments when you’re thankful Logan isn’t a telepath.  

You trace your fingers over the wet, cool bottle and take a swig, too. It’s ice cold, the alcohol burning at the back of your throat ever so slightly. Lola fades out, and Whole Lotta Love starts up. You nod your head, singing along in between quick sips. 

Logan shakes his head. “This one too?” 

“Oh my god, old man,” you remark sardonically. “Do you think I live under a rock?” 

“Didn’t peg you for a Zeppelin girl,” Logan says, tipping his bottle to you. “I’m impressed.” 

“Well, maybe there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you say, meeting his bottle with yours. The clink is almost suppressed by the bass of the music. You bring the beer back to your lips and watch as Logan sips, too.

“Yeah?” He asks, pulling the bottle away. “What else don’t I know?” He leans in, his shoulder brushing yours. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the music pumping through your body, but you find the courage to lean into him. You can smell him—the pine and musk and tobacco on his flannel, his body. 

Your face is inches from his as you turn towards him, your noses practically touching. “I like dancing,” you hum. You down the last dregs of your beer and set it on the counter, grabbing Logan’s arm as Robert Plant’s voice croons throughout the bar. 

Way down inside

He knocks back the last of his beer, placing it on the counter as you tug him to the outskirts of the dance floor. 

Woman, you need, yeah

“I don’t usually dance,” he says, his hands finding your waist despite his words. He squeezes softly.

Love...

“But I’ll dance with you,” he says against the shell of your ear. And then his hips are rocking into yours, swaying with you to the beat. He’s never been this close, never this intimate with you. His lips ghost yours as the guitar and the drums echo against the wood floors and walls of the bar. 

Shake for me girl

I wanna be your backdoor man

You need more, need him closer. Logan pulls you in—chest to chest—his grip on your waist tightening. His hands slide around your back, slipping under your shirt. Your heart beats out of your chest as his fingers trail up and down your back. His lips find your ear again. 

“You’re pretty when you dance,” he whispers. “Pretty all the time.”

You look up at him as the song fades out. You part your lips to say something, but the next song starts up before you can find the words. You recognize the opening riff immediately, the acoustic guitar strumming gently through the speakers. It’s slow and soft. Logan pulls you back into his arms, closer this time. His palms rest against your lower back, and you let your arms wrap around his neck. 

“Don’t tell me you know this one too,” he husks, his lips at your ear again. 

Graceless lady

You know who I am

You know I can't let you

Slide through my hands

You smile into the crook of his neck. “Of course I do,” you answer. “Wild Horses. The Stones.”

“God, you’re fucking perfect,” he murmurs, pressing his hips harder against yours. You let your head fall to his shoulder as you lean into his chest. You can feel that ache between your legs spreading like wildfire. Friends don’t talk like this. Friends don’t dance like this. 

Because maybe you two aren’t friends. Maybe you never have been. 

“Logan,” you call, lifting your head. 

He’s just centimeters away, his eyes locked on yours. He tightens his hold on your lower back, your foreheads pressing together. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.” 

And then his lips find yours, consuming you, engulfing you like an open flame. He’s warm and soft, better than black treacle and golden honey and maple syrup. It’s slow and languid, his arms wrapping around you tighter, trying to pull you closer. 

Wild horses

Couldn't drag me away

Wild, wild horses

We'll ride them someday

You reluctantly pull away as the song goes on, looking up at Logan—looking for more. 

“We should get out of here,” he says, keeping one hand firmly around your waist as he guides you off the dance floor and towards the door.

He grips you tightly as you head to the truck, practically breaking the passenger door off the hinges as he opens it for you. He closes the door more carefully now that you’re inside. In the blink of an eye, Logan is on the other side, opening the driver’s door and slipping in. He turns the key in the ignition, and quickly makes his way out of the parking lot and onto the road. 

His hand moves across the center console and finds your bare thigh—exactly where you wanted him to be on the way here. His thumb brushes gentle circles into your skin. Something about it is possessive, like he needs to touch you, needs to know that you’re not going anywhere. His foot is practically through the floor as he presses down on the gas, racing back to the mansion. 

A few minutes later, Logan is pulling into the garage, his hand giving your thigh one last squeeze before putting the truck in park. And then you’re both tumbling out of the truck and towards the mansion. 

Logan’s hand finds yours, tugging you along and through the door. The mansion is swallowed in darkness save for the few hall lights scattered here and there. 

He suddenly pins you against the wall, his lips capturing yours. “Could fuck you right here,” he whispers. “But I wanna fuck you properly.” He steals another kiss before letting you go and leading you up the stairs towards his bedroom.

Logan twists the doorknob and guides you inside. Moonlight pushes through his curtains, washing his bed in white light. He turns around to face you, grabbing your waist and pushing you against the door. He’s caging you in, towering over you. 

“Logan,” you whisper, his lips crashing down on yours again. He’s all firm and solid against you. He bites your lower lip, his tongue swiping across to soothe the sting. You can feel his erection straining in his jeans, throbbing. He needs you, and you need him too.

“Want you so fucking bad, pretty girl,” Logan says between kisses. His hands slide down to your ass, squeezing gently before hoisting you up in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you across the room. He settles you in the center of the bed and climbs on top of you. He’s straddling you now, grabbing the bottom of his flannel and pulling it up and over his head. He’s wearing one of those beaters that you love so much underneath—tight against his abs. 

Logan lowers himself down over you, balancing on his forearm while his free hand explores your body. He slips under your tank top, his fingernails tracing every inch of your stomach. Your shirt hikes up as he reaches higher. He finally hits the hem of your bra and looks down at you. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “You sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asks, his fingers dipping tentatively underneath your bra. 

“Y-yes,” you stutter, arching up into his touch. “More than anything.” 

His hand slips around your back in an instant, unclasping your bra before you fall back down to the mattress. He sits up, knees on either side of your waist, straddling you again. 

He grabs the hem of your shirt and practically tears it from your body, your bra falling away with it, leaving your upper half bare before him. His hands find your tits, grabbing, squeezing, palming them. “So fucking beautiful,” he husks, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. He settles back down over you, resting on his forearm as his free hand continues to glide over your breasts, pinching and pawing. 

“Lo,” you whine, rubbing your thighs together, searching for more friction. “N-need…” You trail off, unable to finish a coherent thought.

“I know, princess,” he soothes, swallowing your whines with a kiss. His lips trail to your jaw, your pulse point, and down to your collarbone. He keeps moving down, pressing a kiss between the valley of your breasts and then to your belly button. He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands and settles between them, his fingers tracing the skin just above the waistband of your shorts. 

You sit up on your elbows, staring down at him. He smiles softly, cocking his head as one of his hands unbuttons your shorts and pulls the zipper down. He’s teasing you, leading you on as he thumbs your clit through the denim. A jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine. You can tell by that smirk, that look on his face, that he’s loving this. 

“Please,” you whimper, and Logan obliges, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging them down your legs and throwing them over his shoulder.

He settles back in between your thighs, his palms splayed on either side. His breath is hot against your cunt. “You gonna keep these pretty legs spread for me?” He huffs, and you nod emphatically. You need him now—you can’t wait any longer.

“Lo,” you whine again. “Please, fuc—”

But you’re cut off as he licks a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. He does it again, another slow, long stripe. He’s taking you in, consuming you, committing your taste to memory. He smiles against you as one of his hands climbs up your inner thigh. 

“Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart,” he mumbles against you, the bass of his voice rocking through your body. His fingers finally find your folds, your slit, spreading your slick before gently prodding your entrance. “Pretty little pussy,” Logan murmurs, shoving two fingers deep inside you. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly, his teeth grazing the bud. 

You curse under your breath as he laps at you—starving, reckless. His face is buried deep in your cunt, his hair a mess. His fingers pump in and out, deepening with every thrust. His tongue swirls around your clit, drawing hard, fast circles. You’re already getting close. It’s all too much—the feeling of his fingers deep inside you, hitting that sweet spot every time. 

“I-I—” you stutter, throwing your head back as your walls flutter around Logan’s fingers. 

He chuckles against you. “You what, pretty girl?” He pulls your clit into his mouth again, sucking harder this time. “Use your words. Tell me what you need.”

“F-fuck,” you stammer. “Y-you. Just need you.”

“Yeah?” Logan answers. You can feel him smirking between laps. “Just me?” And then he’s adding a third finger, plunging deep inside. He’s dragging against your walls, scissoring inside you. 

“Y-yes,” you answer, arching your back as he pumps in and out, down to the knuckles with every thrust. “Only you.” Logan mutters a curse against your cunt as he buries himself deeper inside. “Need you too,” he hums, his tongue flicking your clit, drawing rough circles around the bud. “Such a good girl,” he praises. “Can feel you getting closer, sweetheart.” As if on command, your walls clench around him, taking him in deeper.

“Feels so good,” you choke. He’s pushing you over the edge, and you can’t hold back anymore. “L-Lo I’m gonna—” “That’s it, pretty girl. I’ve got you,” he coos between harsh laps, his pace unrelenting. “Let go for me.” 

And then you’re coming undone around him, your walls contracting and fluttering. Pleasure washes over you in warm waves like liquid fire. You’re trembling underneath him, his head still buried between your legs. His thumb brushes over your hip comfortingly as his pumps slow and his fingers slip out. His tongue drags through your folds a few more times, savoring you, before he pulls away and looks up at you. 

“You okay?” He asks, his tongue swiping out to lick your juices from his lips as he sits up on his knees. 

You nod, reaching out to him. “Need you, now,” you beckon. Logan smiles, grabbing the hem of his beater and tugging it over his head. He unbuckles his belt, letting it fall to the floor as he works at his button and zipper. His fingers hook into the waistbands of his jeans and boxers, yanking them down his legs. 

His cock springs up to his stomach, and you can’t help but let your jaw drop at the sight. Your breath catches in your throat at the size of him. You always thought he’d be big, but he’s massive. 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he husks, settling between your legs as he lowers down over you. He balances on his forearm as his hand wraps around his erection, guiding his cock to your entrance. “Gonna take care of you,” he whispers, his tip sliding through your folds. “Gonna make you feel good.” 

And then he’s filling you up, bottoming out with one thrust. Your chest is flush with his, his cock unmoving inside you. You’ve never felt so full, so whole. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing to yours. He pulls out and plunges back in, down to the hilt again. “So fucking perfect.” 

His hand lets go of his cock but stays between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling softly. He starts to set a rhythmic, gentle pace, letting you adjust to the sheer size of him. But you know he can’t hold himself back for much longer. You can feel the way his cock twitches and throbs against your walls as he drags himself in and out. 

You rock your hips against his. “Logan,” you moan. “M-more.”

His lips find yours—two puzzle pieces coming together. “You sure, sweetheart?” He asks, his thumb adding more pressure to your clit. 

You nod. “Y-yes,” you stutter. “I can t-take it.”

He curses under his breath, pulling out and slamming back in. He pounds into you, his cock hitting that spot deep inside, where you need him most. “Wanted you this whole time, pretty girl,” Logan grunts, thrusting in and out carelessly, punishingly. “Thought about you all the time, thought about fucking you just like this.” 

“Th-thought about you too, Lo,” you whimper. 

His cock twitches inside you. “Love it when you call me that, sweetheart,” he groans, his hips snapping against yours, thumb flicking your clit. “Say it again.” “Lo,” you pant as he fucks into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, fingers clinging to his biceps. “Logan,” you moan again, his name the only thing on your mind. 

Your walls flutter around him as he pounds into you with reckless abandon. “That feel good, sweetheart? You like when I take what I want?”

“Fuck, Lo, yes,” you whine. You’re growing closer and closer with each snap of his hips, with every swipe of his thumb against your clit. You know you can’t last much longer, not with his lips on yours, not with his praises floating through the air. 

“Doing so good for me, princess,” he whispers, his voice deep and raspy. “Taking me so well. Can feel you squeezing me.”

You contract around him as he sinks inside you, working you open with every thrust. It’s too much. “L-Lo,” you stammer. “I’m s-so…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering open and closed. 

“I know, princess. I’ve got you,” he hums, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.” His thumb circles your clit, faster, harder, still splitting you open with every pump. “Know you can come again; know you can take it.”

You shatter underneath him as the words leave his lips, falling apart in his arms. “Logan!” You cry out, your orgasm crashing into you, harder this time. His thumb is still on your clit, his cock pumping in and out with no signs of stopping. He isn’t letting up or letting go. Your nails dig into his biceps, searching for support, purchase, something, anything. 

Logan slams into you, chasing his own orgasm as that tension builds inside you again, liquid heat raging through your body. “Lo,” you whine. “It’s s-so much.” The pressure is so intense it almost burns, but it burns deliciously. It’s thick and hazy, dizzying and uncontrollable. 

“Just a little more, pretty girl,” Logan soothes, his pace faltering, growing sloppier with each pump. “Know you have another in you, know you can take it.” 

He flicks your clit, electricity sparking at the base of your spine. You’re so close again, ready to burst. “C-close,” you stammer. 

“Me too, pretty girl,” Logan grunts, cock twitching against your walls. “Wanna fill you up, wanna stay inside.”

You wrap your arms around his back, keeping his chest pressed to yours. “P-please,” you whimper, clenching down around him uncontrollably. His thumb is still stroking your clit, back and forth, drawing rough, tight circles. 

“Come on, princess. Come on my cock again,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. You listen, his name on your lips as you let go underneath him. You’re melting into the sheets, dissolving into nothingness, into air, as your orgasm courses through you. 

Logan lets go too, filling you up, spilling inside you. “So fucking beautiful like this. Always so beautiful,” he praises, his thrusts slowing as he rides out his orgasm. He pulls out, his thumb stroking your clit a few more times, easing you down from your high. 

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, rolling onto his side and tugging you with him. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about doing that…how long I’ve thought about you,” Logan confesses, his fingers drawing abstract shapes across your lower back. “Wanted you for so long, pretty girl.”

Your chests heave together, breathing in time. You can feel him, still half hard against your thigh. “I thought you saw me as just a friend,” you say, smiling at how quickly things have changed in one night. 

Logan shakes his head, smiling back. “Never saw you as just a friend, princess.” He presses another kiss to your lips, savoring the feeling of you against him. “Should’ve taken you out sooner.” He presses his forehead to yours. “But I would’ve waited…waited forever just for you.”

You can see the adoration in his eyes, the love. And you know he means it. You bury your head into his chest. “I love you, Lo,” you whisper. 

“I love you too, princess. Always have.”

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04

[catsoupki]

花的名字 / flower territory (bakugou x reader)

Summary: a flower has its cycles, it buds, it flourishes, blooms, and it dies, yet you’re still a constant in his life, he’s a sunflower that doesn’t look away

Warnings: improper capitalisation i’m afraid :( very very fluffy ! inspired by this wonderful post and this AMAZING one, both written by @cashmoneyyysstuff lmk if u want this taken down! (editing rn and i feel like flower territory is not the best title but im just so EMOTIONAL over it …. attachment issues fr)

wc: 700

the way katsuki crushes on you has stayed the same, since he was four he has made sure that everyone, including you, always knew that you were his.

he offers you roughed up flowers from the sandbox, covered in dust and dirt, shoved into your hands are the bundle of wild chrysanthemums and crumbled weeds, and in exchange are the paper rings you made before going to the park, because even when you were four, you already knew bakugou in the way you knew the names of the stuffed animals in your room; a sense of pride nestles inside, somewhere between your little childishly innocent heart and your soft fluttering stomach when you see your katsuki declare proudly with a smug smirk to all his groupies that he's now a married man, and that doesn't change.

in middle school, aged 12 bakugou isn't afraid to lean over your desk and stare you down and demand your time during recess, even though his cheeks used to redden when his female classmates would tease him for being such a romantic for you, he's learnt that it's either he toughens up and take this, or he has to deal with the other boys from his class chatting you up, and seeing their little cheeks tint with pink when they're spared even an ounce of (undeserved) attention from you is much more painful than having his own apples go fuzzy from your gaze.

katsuki changes a lot in U.A. but not in this. maybe the other class 1A kids don't have enough reference to notice, but izuku sure as hell can tell that the slight glisten and shine in his childhood best friend's eyes when he looks at you have only ever grown in brightness as you mature and age. as your body takes shape and your voice deepens, his affection for you simply gets magnified from a sheer adoration for your ability to keep up with him on the monkey bars and to withstand his loudness, either that be from the epicentres of his palms or the ever growing intensity of his voice when deku gets in his way, his respect for you grows and grows and festers and festers the more you win in the sports festival, the more you train, the more muscular you get, and the more internships you are offered.

as his own brashness gets dimmed down while the months go on, deku is no longer the only one who is able to notice the soft spot he has for you. jirou and shoji can only ignore the way bakugou whispers 'that's my girl' to you during class drills so many times, ochako and mina can only turn a blind eye to the way bakugou always cooks for you during the late nights where you collapse from exhaustion before eating so many times, by the end of the second year, even shouto knew to always find bakugou when you got hurt during missions and to just leave you two to your own devices for the rest of the evening.

the smirks might have grown less and less smug throughout the years and maybe more genuine, but the childlike wonder when katsuki looks at you stays always the same, it stays constant from when you were four all the way to when you're walking down the altar, it stays the same, from stepped-on flowers to bouquets of roses, from 'that's my girl' to 'that's my wife', you've always been his, the switch from craft paper to the 24 carat diamond ring on both your fingers never changed that; his face, to deku, looks identical; whenever dynamight is on a talk show and is asked to watch a clip of you fighting, the soft creases next to his eyes have always been there, bakugou's lips just twitch upwards when it's you;

what can he say? your katsuki has always been a prodigy, he knew since he was a kid, since the second his grabby little hands and tiny rolling eyes were laid on you, he has since decided that you were the only one worthy of his greatness, no matter how shitty his temper was at age 15, he looks at you like how sunflowers look at the sun, and that will never change.

[ortegahaze]

anyone but you

[part one] | part two | part three | part four |

pairing: Tara Carpenter x gn!reader

synopsis: Tara and you, despite having mutual friends, have never met—until a Blackmore University fraternity party brings your paths together. The night is amazing, but the next morning is a disaster, and both of you hope never to see each other again. What you didn’t anticipate is that your best friends are getting married, and now you'll be forced to spend time together at their destination wedding.

warnings: no ghostface au, mentions of alcohol, fluff in the beginning, angst, bad writing, language, slight change in characters' age, mentions of a dead parent, “enemies” to lovers!

a/n: yes yes, totally inspired by the movie anyone but you, if you haven’t watched it, there will be spoilers. not sure if i liked this first chapter that much, next ones will be better, i promise🤞🏼

word count: 5,8k

—

Tara Carpenter loved to party, but mostly because she would always attend the fraternity houses’ parties with her friends who also attended Blackmore University. Unfortunately for her, it seemed that all her usual companions decided to skip the party tonight without bothering to tell her until the last minute.

There she was, dressed up as a pirate, frowning at her phone where her friends’ messages popped up, saying they wouldn’t be going. That was it—the start of a terrible Friday night. She considered going back home, feeling like a sad loser. But she knew exactly what awaited her there: Sam and Danny probably making out on the couch—or worse. Huffing, she shoved her phone into her back pocket, mustering the courage to enter the Omega Kappa Beta party by herself.

The music was loud, but good. Everyone was enjoying it with red cups held high. She made her way to the trashed kitchen, searching for something strong to help her loosen up and forget that her best friends had abandoned her for the night.

After three cups, she was already stumbling. The loud bass thumped through her chest, her head spinning just enough to make her a bit queasy. Needing a break, she headed for the pool area, which seemed quieter and less chaotic.

She slumped down onto one of the chairs, letting the cool night air hit her face. Maybe this night wasn’t a total disaster, but it sure wasn’t the wild, fun night she had imagined. She closed her eyes, the alcohol swirling in her system, trying to relax.

“Tara?” A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Opening her eyes and looking up, she saw a guy standing beside her. He had a kind of frat-boy look—probably one of the OKB members. Despite being a sophomore law student, Tara had never bothered to learn the names of these guys.

“Yeah?” she mumbled, squinting against the pool lights.

“You good?” the guy asked, concern creasing his forehead.

“Yeah, just… letting the alcohol wear off.” She slurred slightly, trying to sound more sober than she felt. The guy didn’t seem convinced but smiled anyway, offering his hand.

“I’m Frankie,” he said.

She hesitated before shaking his hand, her mind sluggish but wary. “Tara,” she replied.

He motioned toward the house. “You want some water? I can grab some for you in the kitchen.”

She nodded, standing up to follow him. “Yeah, that’d be nice,” she mumbled. Something felt off, but she pushed the thought away, blaming the alcohol for making her overly cautious.

As they walked back toward the house, she noticed fewer people by the pool. It was quieter, the conversations distant. That’s when Frankie spoke up again. “You know what? I have a minibar in my room. We can grab water there, and you can use the bathroom too if you need it.”

Tara’s stomach dropped. The convenient offer set off alarm bells in her head, her instincts kicking in despite the fog of alcohol. Why was he suddenly suggesting his room?

Before she could respond, someone stepped up next to Frankie, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, babe. I was looking for you! I finished my set for the night. We can go home now,” the stranger said smoothly.

She blinked, processing the situation. What?

Frankie glanced at the newcomer’s hand, visibly confused. “Uh…”

“I can see you’ve already met my girlfriend, Frankie,” the stranger continued with a casual smile. “That’s great, but we’ve gotta go now. She’s been having trouble sleeping lately, so I think it’s time we head out. Thanks for taking care of her while I was working tonight.”

Tara felt the stranger’s arm slip around her shoulder. The warmth and casualness of the embrace was oddly comforting, even though she had no idea who this person was. Still, she went along with the act, instincts telling her to trust this stranger over Frankie.

“Yeah, thanks, Frankie,” Tara echoed awkwardly. “We… uh… have to get going.”

Intertwining her fingers with the stranger’s, Tara took the first step, guiding them away from Frankie. Her heart raced—not from fear, but from the strangeness of the whole situation. She wasn’t used to needing to be rescued, especially not by someone who appeared out of nowhere.

When they were far enough from Frankie and back in the kitchen, Tara dropped the stranger’s hand. “Thank you… That was really nice of you.”

“Happy to help,” you replied, rummaging through the fridge. “Frankie’s not the type to handle rejection well, if you know what I mean… and by the look on your face, you were about to reject him.”

Tara flushed, embarrassment creeping up her neck. She wasn’t used to being seen as vulnerable. She hated feeling like she couldn’t handle herself. “Yeah, I was,” she admitted, brushing off her embarrassment with a small smile. “Thanks again.”

The stranger turned around, holding a bottle of water. “No problem. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You extended a hand.

She shook it, noticing how your grip was firm yet gentle. “I’m Tara,” she replied, her voice a little quieter this time. She found herself holding onto your hand for a bit too long before quickly letting go, feeling the touch linger longer than it should have. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “Uh, is there a bathroom around here?”

You pointed down the hallway. “Yeah, just down there.”

“Thanks,” Tara muttered, handing over the water and heading to the bathroom. Leaving you confused as you stand there with her water. Waiting.

She shut the door behind her and sat on the toilet seat, immediately pulling out her phone while peeing. Her fingers trembled slightly, the adrenaline of the night still buzzing through her as she quickly dialed Mindy. When Mindy picked up, Tara didn’t even wait for a greeting.

“Mindy, I just met this person, and I don’t know… It was something. They saved me from what could’ve been a really messy situation. But like… now what? I don’t even know them, but there was this… connection? Ugh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it.” Tara paused, shaking her head at her own words. “I gotta go. I’ll call you back.”

Tara finished washing her hands and looked at herself in the mirror, her brown eyes staring back. She took a deep breath, brushing her fingers lightly over her fringe, as if steadying herself. "Okay," she whispered, gathering her resolve.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she navigated back toward the kitchen, dodging a couple passionately making out near the door, grimacing slightly as she passed them. Her eyes scanned the room until they locked onto yours, and she couldn’t help but smile awkwardly when you handed her the bottle of water.

“Your water,” you said, grinning.

“Thanks.” She took it, and for a moment, the two of you held each other’s gaze, a silent understanding passing between you. You started to say something, but she beat you to it, breaking the silence with a small, resigned smile.

“Well, I think I should call it a night,” she said with a soft sigh. “I’ve had my share of excitement.”

Your smile faltered just a bit, but you quickly recovered, masking any disappointment. As she moved to leave, you hesitated, your mind racing. You turned, watching her head toward the entrance, and something compelled you to act.

“Hey…” you called, stepping quickly after her. She paused, turning with a curious look.

“So, are you gonna ask me out now?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes as she interrupted whatever you’d been about to say. Her comment took you by surprise, but you broke into a smile, catching onto the playful challenge in her tone.

“Yeah,” you replied, mirroring her smile. “Yeah, I am.” You both shared a quick laugh, then walked toward the door together, side by side.

As you walked out into the night, Tara looked up at you, her curiosity piqued. “You know… I go to a lot of these parties. How come I’ve never seen you around?”

Stuffing your hands into your pockets, you chuckled. “I’m not a student anymore. Graduated last year, but a friend of mine who still goes here got me to DJ tonight.” You let out a wry laugh. “Of course, he didn’t even bother showing up.”

She smirked. “Oh, sounds familiar. My friends did the same to me tonight.”

The streets were mostly empty, with the city’s usual hum softened at this late hour. Streetlights cast long shadows that flickered as you walked, and a few blocks away from the chaos of the party, Tara seemed more grounded, though her steps were still a bit unsteady from the alcohol.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence as you walked alongside her. “What about you? What do you study?”

Tara hugged herself, more from a sense of vulnerability than the chill in the air. She glanced over at you, her expression guarded but curious. “I study law.” she replied, then added reluctantly. Her voice had an almost clipped quality, and you noticed the way she quickly redirected the conversation. “And you? What’s your story?”

Noticing her attempt to shift the topic, you chuckled. “I started out in computer science. That’s what my parents wanted, and it sounded like a solid career, so I went with it for a while. Did a couple of semesters.”

“Computer science?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Didn’t peg you for the type to spend your days coding.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, giving her a wry smile. “Eventually, I couldn’t stand it. I switched over to music production—that’s what I’d always wanted to do anyway.”

She nodded, seemingly intrigued despite herself. “I bet your parents weren’t thrilled with the change, huh?”

You shrugged, eyes on the sidewalk ahead. “Not at first. But eventually, they came around. And if worse comes to worst, I can always fall back on tech if I need to.”

Tara’s interest was clearly piqued as she glanced at you thoughtfully. “So, you just sit in a studio with those fancy soundboards?”

You laughed. “Something like that. Mostly, though, it’s me with my laptop, some recording equipment, and way too much caffeine. But I love it—taking random sounds and turning them into something people can connect to.”

She seemed to admire your passion, though she tried to keep her expression casual. “Sounds like you actually went after what you wanted,” she mused, almost to herself.

You smiled at her comment, feeling the quiet camaraderie that had formed between you. “So… you want to keep hanging out for a bit? My place isn’t far from here. I’d offer coffee, but it’s a bit late for that. I make a killer grilled cheese, though.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, both surprised and amused. “Inviting a girl you just met over for grilled cheese? That’s bold.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, grinning. “I like to think so. But no pressure. If you’d rather call it a night, I get it.”

She paused, considering the offer. The sincerity in your expression was unmistakable, and after the strange night she’d had, she found herself craving something simple, something real. With a nod, she finally agreed, letting a genuine smile slip through.

“Alright,” she replied, matching your smile with a smirk. “Let’s see if you’ve got any real culinary skills.”

The two of you continued down the quiet streets, the city’s glow casting a soft light as you walked together. The conversation flowed easily, shifting from one topic to the next as you shared bits and pieces of yourselves.

The conversation moved from childhood stories to other random facts—Tara mentioned she used to collect keychains, and you told her about the time you accidentally broke into the wrong apartment while trying to help a neighbor. The night air carried your laughter, mingling with the rustling leaves and the distant hum of traffic.

—

The two of you stood near the kitchen counter, your movements methodical as you crafted the grilled cheese the way you always did—spreading butter on the bread and layering two slices of cheese. After adding butter to the skillet, you waited for it to melt before placing the sandwich on it, flipping it with the spatula as it browned.

Tara’s eyes wandered around your warehouse-turned-apartment, taking in the cozy but modest space. Music equipment cluttered one corner, while old vinyl records filled the shelves along the walls. She leaned against the counter, her gaze shifting between you and the space, but lingering mostly on you.

“So,” she asked with a playful smirk, “do you invite strangers over for late-night sandwiches often?”

Without looking up from the stove, you chuckled. “Only the ones who look like they’d appreciate my culinary skills. You seemed like the type.”

She rolled her eyes, but a cute smile played on her lips, you could even see her dimples clearly.

As you flipped the sandwich again, the smell filled the small kitchen, and Tara found herself relaxing, slowly letting her guard down in this oddly comforting moment. It had been a long time since she’d experienced a night that felt spontaneous, even a little reckless.

When the sandwich was done, you cut it in half and handed it to her on a plate. “Wait to cool down—” Almost immediately, she bit into it, only to wince and fan her mouth.

“Oh, fuck, that’s hot!” she exclaimed, laughing through the pain between painful chews.

You stifled a laugh. “I literally just took it off the stove. What did you expect?”

“Oh, my God.”

“If you’re gonna be a lawyer, you gotta understand negligence and breach and…” She furrowed her eyebrows and turned her head to look up at you. “McDonald’s versus that lady’s…” You locked eyes with her, noticing her judgmental look. “Habeas corpus.”

Tara chuckled, swallowing carefully. “You absolutely just butchered those terms,” she said, narrowing her eyes and shooting you a mock glare. “Maybe I should represent you in a case against yourself.”

You were both facing each other, holding eye contact as you playfully teased her. “How do you know? You’re not a lawyer yet.” She gave you a disbelieving look. “It’s not too late to choose a more noble profession!”

“Oh, like you?” She nodded toward the computer desk you’d left on from working earlier. You took a bite of the sandwich and followed her gaze.

“You know what? You’re right. Stick with it. I’m gonna need a lawyer to read my contracts at some point.” She chuckled softly. Looking back at her, you smiled.

The two of you stood there, the playful banter bringing warmth to the room that neither of you had expected. She chewed more carefully now, and as she finished the bite, her gaze softened.

“I don’t even know if I want to be a lawyer,” Tara blurted, almost as if she hadn't meant to. She stared at the half-eaten sandwich in her hands, looking embarrassed. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

You paused, unsure how to respond, but instead of words, you gently reached out and wiped a bit of cheese from the corner of her mouth with your thumb. The gesture was intimate, more so than you’d intended, and for a moment, the room seemed to grow quieter.

She sighed, her voice dropping. “My mom’s a lawyer. I thought maybe if I followed in her footsteps, things would make sense. But… I feel like it isn’t really me.”

There was a small silence, but instead of pressing, you just gave her a supportive nod. “You don’t have to figure it all out now.”

She smiled gratefully and took another bite, the tension lifting again as you both relaxed into the conversation. The two of you laughed, easing the awkwardness. You took another bite, an unconscious smile lingering on your face. With Tara around, you almost felt like a different person. She brushed the back of her hand where yours had touched, glancing back at you.

“I’m sorry… My life is a disaster right now.”

“Might be turning a corner,” you shrugged, showing compassion for her struggle, making eye contact again. “You just met me!”

Tara grinned. “Yeah, or I could end up in a suitcase.” You chuckled. “I mean… you’ve got some, uh, serial killer vibes going on here. Why do you have a giant wrench?” She pointed to the large wrench sitting on the vinyl rack. You looked at it and smiled.

“Okay, harsh,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “It wouldn’t be a suitcase. It would be a carry-on, thank you very much. You’re about zero feet tall,” you teased, referencing her small stature. She shot you a light glare, making you smile. You glanced back at the wrench. “And my mom gave me that.” At this, Tara raised her eyebrows, paying closer attention. “It’s a reminder that no matter how broken something is, there’s always a way to fix it.”

She nodded at your words, pressing her lips together and closing her eyes briefly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m talking to you about my mom right now.” You squinted and shook your head, letting out a small chuckle.

Vulnerability hit you for a moment. You weren’t one to share much about your late mother with friends, let alone 'strangers' like Tara, but something about her made you feel at ease—like you could talk about the topic that usually tightened your chest.

Tara’s gaze softened. “No worries. That’s actually kind of sweet,” she smiled gently. “Now, tell me about that!” She pointed to an ATM machine in the corner, raising an eyebrow.

You smiled and nodded at the machine, which was in perfect condition, the screen still on. “That… is a long story!” You put your sandwich back on the plate and noticed her frowning at you. “Everybody survived!”

“Great!” She laughed, and you followed, the sound echoing through the small apartment. As the laughter died down, Tara took a deep breath, savoring the moment. She felt unexpectedly comfortable there—with you, in your quirky apartment, and with the smell of burnt cheese still lingering in the air.

In your mind, maybe that was the moment you started to hear romantic background music. You bickered and laughed together, even sharing a few silly dance moves in the kitchen after getting some water.

Tara eventually curled up on the sofa as you cleaned up the counter, chatting and laughing loudly from across the room. She teased you about your random quirks, and you responded with good-natured jabs, both of you secretly enjoying the strange, comforting ease. It didn’t take long for you to join her on the couch.

Letting the night unfold, an unexpected bond formed over random topics. Tara eventually settled on your lap, your hands resting on the skin of her waist beneath her silky shirt, facing you. The laughter slowly faded into quieter moments, one of you wrapped around the other. Lingering glances and more meaningful conversations pulled you closer until you both drifted off as dawn approached, feeling more at home than you had in a long time.

Soft morning light filtered through the large living room windows, casting a warm glow across the loft. Tara stirred and blinked awake, feeling a warm weight around her shoulders and waist. She found herself nestled against you, your arm draped over her, your breathing steady and calm.

But the quiet, comfortable intimacy triggered a rush of anxiety in her. Nudging her to move before things got too complicated. She knew she should say something, but no words came, and a sense of urgency pushed her to leave before things got more tangled.

Carefully, she slipped out from under your arm, holding her breath to keep from waking you. With deliberate silence, she stood up to put her shoes on, but one slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, betraying her. She winced and glanced back quickly, not seeing you stir from where she stood.

Your eyes blinked open as you took in the empty space beside you. You craned your neck toward the noise that had woken you, and your expression shifted from confusion to quiet disappointment as you watched her getting ready to leave without so much as a backward glance or goodbye. You held back the urge to say something, but the silence in the room felt suddenly heavy, filled with words left unsaid.

She walked down the stairs to the door, and as it clicked shut behind her, Tara hesitated for the briefest second, almost turning back. But then the weight of the moment became too much to bear. Meanwhile, you leaned back on the couch, staring at the empty space for a long moment, letting the silence settle over you like a heavy blanket.

Eventually, you got up, grabbing fresh clothes to wear before heading back to the living room. You tried to shake Tara from your mind, still feeling the ache of her sudden departure. But as you looked at the wrench, you almost stopped in your tracks. You walked over to it, picking it up in your hands and recalling how you had shared a part of your story that only your close friends knew. You thought Tara would stick around, at least for a while.

You didn’t have much more quiet time for introspection before you heard the door open. You turned your head so fast at the sound that you felt a slight disappointment upon realizing it was only your best friend.

His voice echoed up the stairs. “Yo, let's go, Y/N/N! Come on, cupcake! We’re gonna be late!”

“S'up, C?” You sat down in your computer desk chair, still not fully giving him your attention.

Chad stepped inside with his usual boisterous energy, walking around and dropping his bike helmet on the kitchen counter. He glanced at the skillet on the stove, noticing the remnants of last night's grilled cheese.

“Whoa. Did you cook? Wait… did you bring home a girl to stay over?” you didn’t respond, your eyes fixed on the large wrench in your hands, turning it over absentmindedly. Chad moved closer, munching on a leftover piece of grilled cheese as he gave you a puzzled look.

“Dude, what are you doing with that? Why do you have the giant wrench?” He took it from your hands, examining it. After a few seconds, he pieced it together. “Wait—You told her about your mom, bro? You never talk about your mom with anyone.” His tone softened.

You looked toward the door that he left open, a pained smile crossing your face as you didn’t disagree with his assumptions. “Yeah, I did. Not sure what I was thinking.”

Chad let out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “Fuck. You’ve got it bad, don’t you? You’re in love!” He put the tool back in its place and turned back to you. “About freaking time, too. You’re totally in love!” He squealed the last part, unable to contain his excitement.

Trying to brush it off, you shook your head, a hint of bitterness coloring your tone. “Fuck that. Not that it matters. I couldn’t get her out of here fast enough.” You looked at him with a straight face, attempting to mask the sting of your words. “This girl’s a disaster… she’s a nothing.”

—

Minutes before slipping out of the house, Tara walked along the quiet sidewalk, pulling her phone from her pocket as she dialed Mindy. The line barely rang before Mindy picked up, her voice tinged with early morning sleepiness.

“Tara? What’s going on?”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Sorry to wake you. I just… I don’t know. Remember the person I met last night? They’re… so fucking great, Mindy. We kind of walked around the city, talked, and, I don’t know, we spent the night together and fell asleep talking. It felt… different. Like I didn’t have to keep my guard up.”

“Oh, it was like that, huh?” Mindy’s voice perked up, her interest piqued. “So, what happened after all that?”

A silence stretched between them as Tara paused on the sidewalk. She hesitated, her expression clouded with uncertainty. “I… I left before they woke up.”

Mindy groaned on the other end of the line. “What??? You’re kidding. Why would you just bail? If they’re as great as you’re saying…”

“I don’t know why! Why did I?” Tara blurted, stopping mid-step and glancing back in the direction she’d come from. “What the fuck am I doing? Should I go back?”

“Seems like you already know the answer,” Mindy said gently. “Just go! Find out what this is.”

“Okay, I love you. Bye!” Tara managed a small smile. “I'm so sorry I woke you up. This whole thing is so new to me. Bye!” Her footsteps quickened as she retraced her steps to the building.

“I love you, T. You’ve got this.” Mindy smiled before hanging up, hurrying her steps.

As Tara approached the door, she noticed it was open. Furrowing her eyebrows, she stopped in her tracks when she heard Chad’s familiar voice from inside. His back was facing her, so she didn’t know who the guy was. She certainly wasn’t prepared to hear your sharper tone following in disagreement about you being in love.

“I couldn’t get her out of here fast enough.” “This girl’s a disaster… She’s a nothing.”

The words landed with a crushing weight, stealing her breath and pinning her to the spot. She felt her chest tighten, a surge of hurt and anger rising within her as she turned on her heel and walked away, quickening her pace as if the farther she got, the less it would hurt. She’d let herself be vulnerable, just for a moment, and this was what it had gotten her.

She didn’t stop until she rounded the corner, the city coming to life around her—a stark reminder of the distance she intended to keep. She had allowed herself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe things could be different. But she wouldn’t make that mistake again.

—

Six months had passed since that fateful night, and neither you nor Tara had crossed each other’s paths again. The silence between you both was deafening, leaving nothing but the bitter ache of unfinished business. You had carried on, pretending that the encounter hadn’t left a mark, but you couldn’t shake the lingering memory of Tara slipping away without a word. Each time you tried to forget, the night resurfaced—like a song stuck on repeat. Every quiet moment felt like a reminder that you’d let something slip through your fingers, even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself.

Tara, on the other hand, had moved on—at least, that’s what she told herself. She had rekindled her relationship with Wes, her first love, and now she was engaged to him once again. There was comfort in the familiar, in the steady future she thought they were meant to have. Yet, sometimes, late at night, when she was alone, Tara’s mind wandered back to that night with you. She hated herself for it. She’d tell herself it had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment, but that didn’t stop the quiet tug in her chest—a reminder of vulnerability, of something she couldn’t fully ignore. And so, she buried it deeper, clinging to Wes and the life they were building.

Still, neither of you had expected to meet again—until tonight.

The bar was alive with energy, the thrum of chatter and laughter filling the space. Mindy and Anika had orchestrated the night, inviting everyone out for a casual reunion. You and Chad arrived a little late, fresh from a lively Korean dinner, your usual laid-back attitude masking the subtle undercurrent of tension that had become all too familiar since that night. As you made your way through the bar, exchanging handshakes and hugs, your attention briefly flitted to the crowd. Anika grinned, subtly pointing out a group of attractive girls seated near the bar.

You raised an eyebrow and nudged Chad. “Looks like there’s potential,” you joked, but the moment was fleeting.

Across the room, Tara had just stepped through the door, her heart skipping a beat when she spotted her best friend waving her over. She smiled, though it faltered when her eyes scanned the faces in the crowd. Something about tonight felt off—familiar in a way she couldn’t quite place.

Mindy greeted her enthusiastically. “Tara! Get over here!” she called. Tara made her way over, her steps slowing slightly as her gaze settled on Chad… and then it clicked. You were there. Her pulse quickened.

Chad wrapped her in a hug before Mindy nudged him aside, beaming as she gestured between you and Tara. “Y/N, come say hi!” she called, oblivious to the growing tension. “Tara, meet one of my dearest childhood friends,” Anika added with a smile, making it clear that you and she shared a long history.

The second your eyes met Tara’s, the world seemed to stop. For a fleeting moment, neither of you moved, both taken aback by the unexpected confrontation. Tara’s chest tightened. How had you ended up here? She didn’t need this. Not tonight.

Your face hardened, instinctively putting up a wall. “Hey,” you said, your voice flat.

She crossed her arms, her tone equally sharp. “Yeah.”

Mindy’s brows shot up. “Wait, do you two… know each other?”

You answered too quickly. “We’ve met.”

“Barely.” Tara’s reply came just as fast. Her eyes narrowed, the distance between you two palpable.

Anika blinked in surprise. “That’s so random.”

Tara, visibly uncomfortable, nodded toward the bar. “I’m going to get a drink,” she muttered, ready to escape.

You couldn’t resist the smirk forming on your lips. “If you’re looking to sneak out, the exit’s that way. I know that’s kinda your thing.”

The law student spun back to face you, her smile cold. “Well, I am a disaster, right?” Her words were laced with venom, a bitter jab that struck deeper than either of you cared to admit.

The group fell into an uneasy silence, but it didn’t last long. Chad, Anika, and Mindy exchanged wary glances before Mindy spoke up, attempting to diffuse the situation. “Okay! Let’s… let’s move on from this.”

Anika quickly chimed in, “Yeah, let’s head back to the table,” motioning for Chad to follow, though their eyes never left the tension between you and Tara.

You faced each other, the weight of everything left unsaid hanging in the air. The banter between you both was sharp, but beneath it, something more vulnerable flickered. There had once been something here, something deeper than either of you wanted to admit, and even now, in the harshness of your words, that connection lingered—bitter but undeniable.

You leaned in, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So, you a lawyer yet?”

Tara’s arms crossed defensively, her eyes narrowing, trying to shield herself from whatever it was you made her feel. “Why? Do you need a defense attorney?”

“I’m just curious how you passed that class on ethics,” you shot back, your tone cutting but with a hint of something softer beneath the surface. “You know, with all the bailing you do on people.”

Her jaw tightened, but something in her eyes flickered—something that said she understood exactly what you meant. It stung, more than either of you would let on.

Meanwhile, at the table, Chad plopped down, looking confused as ever. Mindy snorted, leaning back in her seat, her eyes darting between you and Tara. “I think that’s the alleged jerk who T got with when she was on her break from Wes.”

Anika’s eyes widened as the pieces clicked together. “No way. So T’s the party girl who ghosted them?”

Chad, still lost in thought, nodded slowly. “I thought she looked familiar when I saw her that day… but, you know, I don’t really see faces. I just see souls.”

Anika chuckled softly, shaking her head. “At least they made her realize Wes was the one, right?”

Back at the war field where you and Tara stood, the tension reached a boiling point. Tara’s jaw clenched as she held her left hand up, displaying the ring—a symbol of the life she was trying so hard to convince herself she wanted. “I’m engaged now,” she said sharply, the words coming out more like a challenge than a statement.

Your expression barely flickered, but deep down, something twisted inside—a pang of something you refused to name. “Good for you,” you replied, forcing a dry smile. “Where are you registered? I’ll buy you a broomstick.”

She scoffed, but her smile was tight, forced. “I’ll send you an invite. You still live at 28 Fuckboy Lane?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, shaking your head. “You do remember. See, it did mean something to you.”

For a moment, something dark and raw flickered in Tara’s eyes, and she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a low whisper filled with venom and regret. “You’ll always be my rock bottom. The night I spent with a bitch.”

Across the bar, Chad squinted, trying to make sense of the distant conversation. “Did she just call Y/N a bitch?”

Anika leaned closer to Mindy, whispering, “Do you think they’re going to physically fight?”

Mindy smirked, her gaze flicking between the two of you. “Or fuck. That’s a fine line.”

Back at the standoff, Tara’s words softened, though the bitterness still lingered. “Let’s just get through tonight for them, okay?”

You gave her a slow nod, your face unreadable but your heart tight. “Fine. I’m getting a drink, and I’ll toast to never seeing you again.” Your words were sharp, but the way you leaned closer, the tension buzzing between you, said otherwise.

Tara met your eyes, her lips curling into a slight, almost playful smile. “Cheers to that, bro.”

You were nearly nose-to-nose, the heat of your proximity almost suffocating when Mindy, Anika, and Chad appeared at your sides, gently pulling you both out of the intensity of the moment.

Mindy spoke first, her voice cutting through the tension with excitement. “Hey, guys, listen up. We actually have some big news.”

Anika’s eyes sparkled as she squeezed Mindy’s hand. “Hey, so the reason we brought you all together—we’re getting married. In Australia. And you’re all coming with us!” The couple squealed frantically.

Both you and Tara blinked in shock, the animosity between you momentarily forgotten, replaced by a different kind of weight. Australia. A wedding. A trip where you would all be together—where you would have to see each other, to deal with everything that still lay between you. There was no running from it now. You were bound by your friends, by the promises of a wedding that would force you both to face what had been left unresolved.

The room seemed to close in, and though the words hung unsaid, you both knew that this was only the beginning of a confrontation you couldn’t escape. For better or worse, you were going to have to deal with each other—whether you liked it or not.

[kikyoupdates]

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟷

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

story masterlist | next

“...you can do what now?”

“Hire someone to date you,” your friend, Ava, repeats. She chuckles and waves you off dismissively. “Come on, [Name]. It’s the modern age. People are always coming up with new things these days. I’m willing to bet there’s an app or website out there for practically anything.”

You blink in disbelief. Granted, there is all kinds of crazy shit going on in the world, and you’ve heard of companionship services before—like escorts or sugar baby arrangements—but to hear that something like this is trending nowadays is still undeniably a shock. 

“Here, look,” Ava gestures, pulling out her phone. “I was curious, so I downloaded the app the other day just to check out.” 

“Uh, don’t you already have a boyfriend?”

“He knows I was just browsing. I showed him too, and we scrolled through some stuff together. A lot of the profiles on here are wild,” she laughs. “It’s crazy what people advertise they’re willing to do. Get a load of this guy. He says he’s down to meet your family and make a total ass out of himself just so that he lowers your parents’ standards and the next real boyfriend you get will look way better by comparison.”

“Fucking hell,” you mutter. “I can’t tell if this is actually real, or just some new meme template.” 

“Of course it’s real! I think you’re underestimating how lonely people these days are. There’s definitely a lot of money to be made in this industry. Just look at how much people are willing to blow on their favorite streamer, even though they’ve never met them a day in their life. Dating’s gotten a lot more complicated lately, so I guess some people just want to skip past the troublesome parts and experience what it’s like to be with someone.” 

You furrow your brows. The whole thing sounds incredibly sad when you think of it that way. People would rather pay for a fabricated relationship than put in the time and effort towards building something real? Loneliness is starting to sound like an actual epidemic nowadays. 

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t judge people without understanding where they’re coming from,” you acknowledge. “It’s not like I know what they’ve been through. Times are changing and all. It sounds like this is actually starting to become pretty mainstream.” 

Ava nods chipperly. “Yep! I mean, I love my boyfriend, so I’m definitely not the target audience, but maybe it’s what some people need to gain a little boost of confidence and get back into the dating scene. I doubt everyone uses it in a romantic sense too. There are people out there that just want a bit of company every now and then. Isn’t it nice that they have someone to spend time with this way?” 

“Yeah… I guess that’s true.” 

Honestly, you’re still struggling to fully wrap your head around this. You understand the premise well enough, but you can’t really get past the part about accepting payment just to provide someone with a fabricated experience. Then again, you suppose that’s the case for most things nowadays. People are willing to spend the brunt of their earnings on in-game purchases for video games and other things that aren’t tangible in the real world, because even though they aren’t necessarily organic, it still provides them with some satisfaction. 

Long story short, it’s not up to you to decide what does or doesn’t make someone else happy, and you suppose as long as it’s executed in a professional manner, there’s nothing wrong with meeting new people this way. 

“Hey, I’ve got a great idea,” Ava suddenly perks up. “You should join this app! You’re super pretty, smart, and nice. I bet you’d have loads of guys lining up to hire you as their girlfriend!”

“Me?” You blink repeatedly, shuffling backwards the closer she leans in. “I mean, I just don’t think I’m the right person for the job. If it makes people happy, then I support it, but deep down, I worry I’d feel like I’m exploiting someone’s feelings just for a few extra bucks. Morally speaking, I’m not so sure I like the idea…” 

“It’s not exploitation,” she insists. “People know what they’re signing up for. At the end of the day, it’s a buyer-seller relationship. Someone pays for the service being advertised, and they receive it. As long as you’re not ambiguous about what you’re willing to do for the amount that you’re charging, people know what to expect. Of course, I’m sure there might be the occasional asshole here and there, but if they do anything inappropriate or violate the terms, you can report them through the app and they’ll be banned from using it.” 

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that. Some extra money would be nice. You’re a university student with all sorts of loans, so it’s not like you’ve got excess cash lying around. And it’s also true that you’ve been looking to apply for a new job lately, since your old manager was a total ass and you ended up quitting. 

Still. A girlfriend-for-hire? Someone like you? It’s just really difficult to imagine. 

“I actually think it’d be a good experience,” Ava goes on. “You’ve never really put yourself out there before. I know everyone dates at their own pace and stuff, but you shouldn’t have to be afraid. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet some cool people and want to date them for real. And even if you don’t end up going for them, you still make some money, so either way, you’ve got nothing to lose.”

You chuckle weakly. “Yeah, I just don’t know. I feel like I’m better suited for traditional jobs. But thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m glad you think people would actually be willing to pay to date me.” 

“Girl, you seriously need to believe in yourself more,” Ava sighs. “I’m telling you, you’re a catch. But at the end of the day, it’s your call. You shouldn’t force yourself into anything if you feel uncomfortable.”

You smile and nod in agreement, and sensing your discomfort, Ava decides to change the topic.

But for some reason, you feel a twinge in your chest, and it’s hard to keep your mind from wandering.

Later that same day, you’re lounging on the couch, mouth agape, having just downloaded the app on your own phone. 

“What the hell am I doing…?” 

You tell yourself that it’s just simple curiosity. Yeah. That’s all it is. Ava piqued your interest earlier, and now you just want to scroll through in more detail to get a better sense of what kind of people use this platform. 

The app is called ‘Partner For Hire’. The name isn’t particularly inspired, you have to admit, but you suppose it communicates its point rather effectively and leaves no room for ambiguity. Ultimately, this is a transactional relationship, and it’s probably for the best that clients know what to expect. 

You can use the app as either a buyer or seller. Meaning that you can create your profile and advertise your services, or simply list yourself as a prospective client and what your hobbies and interests are. In that sense, it’s kind of similar to most dating apps, since you have to take a flattering photo to go along with whatever blurb you’re providing. Of course, just because you try to solicit someone’s services doesn’t mean there’s any guarantee they’ll accept. This is an app where you can run everything yourself, and of course the company takes a cut of your profits, rather than an agency that matches you with a client regardless of whether you want to accept the job or not. 

There’s definitely a lot of flexibility, and you can easily choose who you want to pretend to date. If someone is interested in hiring you, they submit a request to be able to contact you, and once you accept, you can message them directly and establish the terms of the dating contract, such as the length and what particular services will be provided. 

You scroll through the list of boyfriends/girlfriends being advertised on the app, and honestly, it seems like there’s a decent amount of money to be made. Of course, a lot of that comes with building a good reputation and improving your ratings and visibility so more people will want to hire you, but it actually seems like a decent amount of people are able to make a living off this sort of thing. 

You bite down on your lower lip. Should you really go ahead and just do it? Like Ava said, there’s probably not much to lose. All the transactions are managed on the app, so you can easily report people who try to skip out on paying. Clients have to link their banking and personal info, so they’d be taking on a big risk by trying to scam people. You’re sure it might happen from time to time, but based on the reviews you’ve read, the company is really good at enforcing their policies and making sure everyone gets paid.

The money seems good, and it would definitely help take some pressure off your student loans, but ultimately, the biggest thing you’re struggling with is your moral compass.

People are willing to spend money for this kind of thing, and that’s entirely their choice to make, so it’s not like you’re extorting them or anything. Still… you wonder if it’s actually okay to profit off of someone else’s loneliness. You’ve never worked the kind of job that requires you to cater directly to another person’s emotions, and it kind of freaks you out.

But maybe Ava is right. There are all sorts of people in this world. Maybe some of them are just curious to try the app out. Maybe others just want to get their families off their back by pretending like they’re dating someone for a little while. There’s no way to discern everyone’s motivations, so perhaps there’s really no point in thinking about it at all. 

Most importantly, this could be a good thing for you. Life has been stagnant recently, and it’s true that you usually hesitate to put yourself out there. You’ll never learn what you do or don’t like if you keep on avoiding everything. This could be a chance to learn a lot about other people, but also, to learn more about yourself. 

Yeah. It’s time to stop overthinking for a change and just try something new. 

Thus, feeling unusually determined, you spend the rest of the day setting up your profile (finding nice selfies was the longest part of the whole ordeal), and with a resolved huff, you post it and officially go live on the app. 

You’re not really sure what you were expecting, but needless to say, there isn’t any immediate feedback. It probably takes a while for people to stumble across your profile, and even then, there’s no guarantee they’ll want to go out with you. 

I guess I was getting worked up for no reason. Certain people might find success with this kind of thing, but it’s probably not as easy as it looks. 

You scratch your cheek, suddenly sheepish over how needlessly excited you got earlier. You’re not used to stepping out of your comfort zone, so you must have gotten a bit carried away. 

For the rest of the evening, you set your phone aside and come back to reality. You get some homework done, make dinner, and by the time you’re ready for bed, you’ve pretty much forgotten about the whole thing altogether. 

That is, until you check and see that you’ve missed a notification.

“Huh? Someone viewed my profile and wants to message me?”

You’re undeniably taken aback. Not just because it’s happening a lot sooner than you expected, but also because it means that contrary to what you first thought, people are interested in you. 

Having minimal experience when it comes to dating and romance in general, you have to admit, the thought of being viewed as desirable is immensely flattering. 

Curious to see who wants to hire your services, you click on the user’s profile.

His name is Isaac, and he’s twenty-one years old, set to complete his undergraduate studies at the end of the year. He goes to a different university than yours, thankfully, because you can’t help but feel like it would be incredibly awkward to bump into him on campus after pretending to be his girlfriend. He’s studying to become a doctor, which means he’s still got a lot of school ahead of him, but you’ve always had a lot of admiration for people who are willing to commit to their goals and work hard. 

Also, even though you don’t want to sound shallow or anything… he’s really, really attractive. 

You frown. Granted, there’s more to a person than their appearance, but based on how he comes across in his profile and what his future career is, he doesn’t strike you as the type of person who would struggle to date someone.

But again, you can never know what’s going on in a stranger’s life. And there’s no real way to find out why he decided to join the app.

Apart from speaking to him directly, of course. 

[𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬?]

>>[𝐘𝐄𝐒]

After a momentary delay, the screen loads into a messaging interface, allowing you to see what Isaac sent you and respond to him directly.  

You stare at the messages without blinking, just taking it all in. So, there really are people like him out there, who use these apps for reasons other than seeking companionship. It sounds like he’s not too interested in dating for real, but his parents are putting a lot of pressure on him, so he just wants an escape. Honestly, you can’t blame him for it. Your parents were overbearing for the better portion of your life—even now, as an adult—so you can understand just how suffocating it gets at times.

All of a sudden, you don’t feel too bad about accepting the job. It doesn’t feel like exploitation in the slightest. In fact, you’d be helping someone resolve a frustration situation, while getting paid in the process. It actually sounds like it could be rather fulfilling. 

More importantly, you decided to be more confident and try something new. You refuse to back out now. 

You stare at the messages without blinking, just taking it all in. So, there really are people like him out there, who use these apps for reasons other than seeking companionship. It sounds like he’s not too interested in dating for real, but his parents are putting a lot of pressure on him, so he just wants an escape. Honestly, you can’t blame him for it. Your parents were overbearing for the better portion of your life—even now, as an adult—so you can understand just how suffocating it gets at times. 

All of a sudden, you don’t feel too bad about accepting the job. It doesn’t feel like exploitation in the slightest. In fact, you’d be helping someone resolve a frustration situation, while getting paid in the process. It actually sounds like it could be rather fulfilling. 

More importantly, you decided to be more confident and try something new. You refuse to back out now. 

[𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞]:

You’re admittedly a bit nervous, especially since you want to do a good job and avoid letting him down, but mostly, you’re feeling excited. All of this is uncharted territory for you, after all. Never in a million years would you have imagined taking on a job like this. 

And you really shouldn’t have.

You don’t know it yet, but this will be the cause of many, many regrets. 

Shit. I’m starting to have second thoughts. 

Even now, you still can’t believe you’re really going through with this. After talking to Isaac and ironing out the finer details, you agreed to join him for a family gathering and pose as his girlfriend. You expected for him to have quite a few requests, but luckily, he seems pretty laid back about the whole thing. The better portion of your conversation was spent on getting your stories straight so as not to incur any suspicion, and since you’ve always been a good student and a hard worker, you promptly memorized everything there was to know. 

And now, it’s finally time to put this plan in motion. 

“Hey,” Isaac greets. “[Name], right?”

It’s the evening, since his parents are hosting a dinner party. The event is supposed to be pretty casual, but you still dressed up semi-formal in the hopes of making a good impression. He never explicitly mentioned how strict his parents are, but since they’ve been on his case about getting a girlfriend, it never hurts to go the extra mile. 

"Hi, Isaac,” you smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.” 

“You, too,” he nods. He’s considerably taller than you, and every bit as handsome as his picture suggested. Unless his personality is god-awful (which you probably would’ve picked up on after messaging him for so long), you’ve got a good feeling that most girls would be interested in him.

Still, everyone is different. He might have really high standards, or maybe he wants to focus on his studies, or perhaps it’s just a case of having never met the right person. Whatever the reason may be, his parents shouldn’t be pressuring him to date someone, and if you have the means to help him out, you’ll happily do it. 

“You look really nice,” Isaac says. He tilts his head to the side. “I hope you didn’t feel like you had to dress up to impress anyone. The most important part is that they believe I’m seeing someone so that they finally ease up a bit.” 

“Oh, I just did this for my own peace of mind,” you reassure. “I made sure to memorize everything you told me in advance, so I’m confident I can convince them that we’re the real deal. Even though this is technically my first day on the job… I promise not to let you down.” 

You blush, feeling rather flustered. The idea of being someone’s hired girlfriend is still a lot to wrap your head around, and you certainly don’t want to make empty promises, but you have every intention of giving it your best shot. Isaac is in a stressful situation, and you’re resolved to do whatever you can to fix it. 

“Can’t wait to get this over with,” Isaac sighs. He opens the passenger door and gestures for you to step inside the car. “Don’t worry. I know you might be feeling a bit uneasy, but I promise I’m not a serial killer or anything like that. I won’t hold it against you if you have 911 ready on speed dial until we get to my parents’ house.” 

“I trust you,” you insist. “I’ve heard good things about this app, and it sounds like they take safety seriously. They’ve got your information in their system, after all. Plus, I can tell that you’re a nice guy. It’s just a gut feeling.”

“I appreciate it,” he smiles. “Anyways… I guess I’ve stalled for long enough. You can probably tell that I really don’t feel like going. But the sooner I get them off my back, the better.” 

“I’ll be the best girlfriend you can ask for,” you beam. 

It’s a promise to him, but also to yourself. You are committed to taking this new job seriously, and for the rest of the evening, you will do whatever it takes to blend into the role that’s been thrust upon you. There’s no reason to get worked up. At the end of the day, all of this is pretend. It won’t be anywhere near as complicated as a real relationship.

Right?

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[rinhaler]

toji fucking his step daughter because his wife won’t give him any attention and she’s the second best thing :3

-🌹

daddy toji my beloved :3

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, praise (good girl), biting, age gap, stepcest, cheating, daddy kink, creampie, bimbofication, virginity loss, fingering, masturbation.

words: 2k

Toji doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, whenever he sees you floating around the house. You’re confident, that he knows. Short skirts and tiny t-shirts are usually your go to attire, whether you’re at home or going out with your friends, you often dress scantily.

He tried scolding you about it, but you didn’t listen. And his wife, well, maybe if she supported him more he wouldn’t be thinking such oh so inappropriate things about his cute little step daughter.

“Where is she?” you ask, rudely, snapping Toji from his thoughts as you lean across the breakfast bar. He has to force himself to not look down your top, your cleavage on full display. Though his eyes do slip downward when he realises you aren’t even looking at him, too engrossed with your phone. “Said she’d give me money t’get my nails done.” you tell him, and he now knows you’re referring to your mother.

“She’s back to school shopping with Megumi.” he tells you, breaking his stare from your low cut crop top and looking into your eyes. Have you always been so skanky?

You’re a grown woman. He can’t believe you’re still leaching off of your mother. Nails can’t be that expensive. You should get a job and pay for them yourself. What makes you so special that you just get whatever you want just because you asked?

“Oh, well, you’ll have to gimme it.” you smile at him briefly before texting your friends again. You don’t even notice when he scoffs, shaking his head in disappointment.

What’s annoying him more is the fact that you’re reminding him so much of your fucking mother. Before she grew up, before they grew old, she was exactly like you. Vapid and gorgeous. She had him wrapped around her little finger back in the day, and he’s sure you are the same with every boy you come into contact with.

He feels his cock strain against his slacks as he thinks about all of hot and wild sex they used to have back then. Honestly, these days, he doesn’t remember the last time he got his dick wet. Now he’s just a miserable, pent up dad in a regular marriage. That’s life though, right? That’s just what happens as you get older.

Your wife loses interest and you develop a porn addiction.

“I’m not pay—”

You silence him as you pull your old school pink flip phone to your ear and hold up a finger in front of him, smiling when you hear your friends voice. “Yeah I’ll be there in thirty! Daddy’s givin’ me the money.” you beam at him, your shoulders bouncing as you talk excitedly.

Toji shakes his head again, reaching into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

He’s wrapped around your finger, like mother like fuckin’ daughter.

“I’m not fucking Satoru!” you tell your friend, rolling your eyes. Your step father freezes, for just a moment, before pulling out some money from his wallet. You look down at his hand and see the pitiful amount, taking his wallet from him and stealing a few extra bank notes while you rest your phone between your ear and shoulder. “Ugh. No one believes me! Do you? Whenever I tell anyone ‘m a virgin they think I’m lying.”

“Hang up the phone.” Toji tells you, but you barely hear him. You look at him for a split second before focusing on the call again.

“No, I didn’t! I sucked him off and that’s all I’ve done.” you huff. “Also my step dad is here so, like, stop talking about it.”

“Kid, hang up the fuckin’ phone.” he tells you, louder.

“Wait a sec,” you tell your friend, moving the phone away from your ear. “What?”

“Hang. Up.”

“Oh my God!” you moan, “I’ll meet you there, Toji wants to talk to me— yeah I’m probably getting in trouble because of you! Hahaaaa okay, byeeee~!” you smile, hanging up and giving your full attention to your step-father. He doesn’t speak, and neither do you. Not for a while, not until the silence makes you too uncomfortable to keep it going. “Is this ‘cuz of the money? You didn’t give me enough.”

“I— no, sweetheart.” he shakes his head. “Were you lyin’ to your friend, just now? About being a virgin?”

“Hm? No, why?”

Toji huffs out a breath, his cheeks filling with air as he thinks things through. He’s shocked, to say the least. He always thought you were putting out like a pro. He knows you’ve been on birth control for years. He’s had to drive you to get your injection a few times. He never thought about it much, just a regular dad chore when your mother wasn’t available.

But you’re a woman, now.

He’s surprised you haven’t been fucking since you were a teenager. But he’s even more surprised that you aren’t sexually active, now. He can’t help but wonder why. What’s stopping you? You dress like a slut, after all. Why aren’t you acting like one?

He reaches over and grabs his wallet and the money from your hand. You want to protest, but he walks by you too quickly for you to object. He hurries up the stairs and slams the door after himself.

“A— Am I grounded?!” you yell, hoping for a response.

Nothing.

You follow up the stairs, running up them as best you can in your high heels, and wait outside of his bedroom door. You knock a few times, and get no response. So you begin to pound on the door.

“Toji! You can’t ground me anymore!”

“You’re not grounded, come here.” he instructs. You open the door and walk into the room. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, belt unbuckled and zipper down. He must be changing into something comfier to wear around the house. “Sit.” he tells you, patting his hand on his lap.

You go to him, immediately, sitting sweetly on his thick thighs as he thinks about what to say.

“Didn’t realise you were such a good girl,” he tells you, kissing your shoulder softly. “You’re like a nice version of your mother.”

“Should divorce her if y’don’t like her, daddy.” you tell him, looking down at your imperfect nails. You giggle when you feel him bounce you on his leg.

“Maybe I should.” he tells you. “But I’ll be lonely.”

“You’ll have me ‘n Megumi!” you remind him. “Well, maybe not me as much, but, y’know.”

“Ah, sweetheart, don’t wanna lose you. Not now, not ever.” he kisses your shoulder again. “How come you’re a virgin, huh? Savin’ it?”

“Mhmm… wanna give it to someone special.” you tell him, looking his direction and batting your pretty, false eyelashes. “Everyone thinks ‘m a slut… but ‘m not! Promise! Makes me embarrassed that I haven’t done it yet, sometimes, though.”

His cock aches as he hears you talk. How dumb yet adorable you sound as you discuss your sex life, or lack there of. He isn’t even a little surprised that people don’t believe you, he wouldn’t have believed it himself if you hadn’t told him. He can see in your pathetically wet eyes, though, that you’re being truthful.

He is overwhelmed by the need to bare his soul to you. To tell you what he wants. What he needs and desires from you most right now. There’s no shame within him as he puts his hand down his pants and wraps his hand around his cock, pulling it free. He holds your body in place with his free hand, his arm possessing enough strength to keep you firmly in place.

You’re just like your mother.

If your mother wasn’t a cold, celibate bitch.

“Daddy wants to be your someone special, darlin’.” he informs you, words warbling as he pleasures himself behind your back.

You can hear it. You can hear the tacky sound of his cock being rubbed again and again. The way his breath and speech is slightly uneven. He sinks his teeth into your bare shoulder and you wince. It’s not too hard, but it was unexpected.

He’s surprised you don’t object when he splits your legs apart so that you’re straddling one of his thighs. His hand roams up your thigh and beneath your skirt, towards your clothed cunt. Though when he gets too close, your legs shut, quickly.

“You’re my daddy, you can’t touch me there!” you remind him. But he knows. He knows he’s your daddy and that’s exactly why you should let him. Admittedly, part of you wants him to. You want to feel someone make contact with your untouched core for the very first time.

Someone that isn’t you.

You’re sure Toji is very experienced. He’s so handsome, even now. You’ve seen pictures of him when he was your age over two decades ago. He’s beautiful, like a film star. You know he was fucking like it was going out of fashion.

Your mother has told you what a stallion he is in bed, you’re close like that. There’s no secrets or shame between you. And honestly, it did make you feel a little jealous. You felt like you were missing out on something. Sex, in general, and Toji.

But you never thought you’d be like this, with him.

“Baby, who’s gonna make you feel more special than your daddy, hah?” he asks. You feel your resolve weakening as he kisses your neck deliciously. You want to scream at him, to tell him where you want him to touch you.

He teases your body until your arching and squirming to follow his touch. And you practically cream around his thigh when he lifts up your top and tweaks your nipple. You’re weightless in his hold as he moves you around like you’re his little doll. He licks and laves over your pulse point while playing with your tits. His free hand moves your panties aside with a goal in mind. Two thick fingers slide effortlessly into your tight, virgin slot. The resistance is there but he ignores it. You ignore it.

And within minutes you’re having your first orgasm on account of another person. You aren’t sure why your mother has stopped having sex with Toji, you’d be begging him for it every chance you got if this brief encounter is anything to go by.

“Fuck me, daddy, please? Please—”

“Thought daddy’s can’t touch their little girls there?” he smirks, already helping you turn around to face him. He kisses you, sloppily, as he lines his thick cock up with your tight hole. “Sh, sh, shhh, baby… good girl, c’mon, take daddy’s cock. Jus’ like that.” he talks you through it as you sob. Little cunt stretching to accommodate his monstrous size.

“T-Too big! Daddy’s too big for me!” you tell him, though he silences you with another kiss.

Truth be told, he doesn’t particularly care if it hurts or not anymore. He doesn’t care if you can’t take him, because you will. He does all of the work for you, lifting you up and down like a toy while he thrusts up into you.

He almost cums from the sight of your eyes turning white and your tongue hanging out as he pummels into your sweet spot. He wonders if you’ll keep telling your friends you’re a virgin. It’ll be a fun little secret, for both of you, he thinks.

He finishes with a string of grunts, fucking his seed deep into you again and again until he’s got nothing left to give.

You feel so icky and sweaty as he starts to calm down from his release. He kisses you, sweetly, thanking you repeatedly. He needed this badly. It’s not even just sex anymore. He’s tired of feeling lonely and he’s tired of being neglected.

You’re not your mother though, are you?

You won’t make him feel like that.

“Don’t tell her, sweetheart.” he tells you, brushing your hair from your face and kissing your cheek. He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding you to look at him as he speaks. “This stays between you ‘n me, alright?”

“Mhmm!” you nod, leaning forward eagerly to kiss his lips. “Always wanted you to be my special person…” you confess.

“Yeah?” he smiles at that, you really are sweet when you want to be.

“Wanna do it again, daddy. Can we?”

“Of course,” he nods, “I’m addicted to this little pussy, now.”

© 2023 rinhaler

[steddielations]

Wayne pov, implied neglect, abandonment

Wayne gets a call from Hawkins Elementary that Eddie hasn’t been to school in two days.

They couldn’t get ahold of Al on the phone, as usual. Wayne hopes his suspicions are wrong, but he already knows what he’s going to find when he shows up to the shabby old house on Philadelphia street with a McDonald’s bag in hand.

His knock on the door goes unanswered, but he sees small fingers and big round eyes peeking through the side window blinds. 

“Hey, Eddie, it’s your Uncle Wayne. Open the door, it’s alright.”

Eddie shuffles away from the window, but there’s still no answer.

“You hungry? I brought those nugget things you like, that’s all. Some kinda toy in here too.”

After a moment, the door slowly opens a sliver. One big button eye peeks through the crack and a pale skinny arm reaches out.

Wayne hands over the food. “Gonna let me come inside?” 

Eddie’s arm snakes back in with the bag like a claw machine. But after another moment, the door swings open fully, revealing Eddie in rumpled clothes at least a couple days worn. The shadows under his eyes tell Wayne all he needs to know.

“Dad’s gone to the store,” Eddie smiles nervously, he didn’t inherit Al’s ability to lie behind it. “He said he’ll be right back.”

Wayne just nods as he comes inside. One look around confirms what he already knew. By the window, there’s a blanket and a scatter of candy wrappers and empty soda cans where Eddie’s been sleeping. Waiting and watching the driveway for Al.

This wouldn’t be the first time Al’s gone off and left Eddie to fend for himself. Wayne’s been helping out as much as he can since Eddie’s poor mama passed. He doesn’t know much about raising kids but he knows Al’s one dumb selfish bastard to be leaving Eddie alone for days since the ripe age of 8.

Wayne ignores the twist in his chest and the stab of anger he feels and doesn’t mention it. He follows Eddie to the coffee table in front of the couch where Eddie digs into the McDonald’s sack.

“School called and said you weren’t there. You feelin’ bad?” He reaches out, gently pushing back Eddie’s wild curls to feel his forehead. He’s surprised Eddie lets him, too busy scarfing down chicken nuggets. “No fever.” Wayne notes, but Eddie’s hair needs a good wash.

Eddie’s narrow shoulders slump a bit. He doesn’t look at Wayne, tearing open his chocolate milk with his teeth. 

“I just— didn’t wanna go today. I hate school. Miss Taylor always gives me a bad behavior grade even when I act the best in class. She calls me Junior. Munson Junior.”

“Thought you liked being called Junior. Like your dad.”

Eddie shrugs, those shadows darkening on him. “Everyone forgets I have my own name too. Sometimes I just wanna be Eddie.”

Already, he’s feeling the weight of his last name. Al taught him to hotwire the second he turned 10 and how to pick locks even before that. Munson tradition, Al wouldn’t listen when Wayne told him that’s bullshit. What seem like cool tricks to Eddie now already make him guilty in everyone’s eyes. Wayne’s been feeling it all his life, thanks to his old man and now Eddie’s got Al to thank for making it even worse.

“That’s good, you just keep reminding them,” Wayne says, being careful with his next words. “When you finish that, why don’t you go pack a bag, alright? You can come stay with me until your dad gets back.”

Eddie goes stiff, chewing slower now. “It— it hasn’t been long. He said he’d be right back.” His eyes drift over to Wayne, checking to see if he buys it. Wayne doesn’t. So Eddie huffs, “I wanna stay here. I hate the trailer park.”

That’s just him repeating Al’s shit talk, so Wayne doesn’t take offense. “Your friend’s been askin’ about you. That little girl next door.”

Eddie perks up at that, “Ronnie?” Wayne nods and thinks that does the trick for a second, but Eddie stubbornly sulks again. “I can’t go. Dad told me to stay here until he gets back.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be here alone. You don’t have to be.”

“I’m not scared to stay by myself,” Eddie insists, sitting up straighter, looking even younger trying to look older. “Dad said I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m 10 now and I can look after myself. He taught me to use the stove and everything. I always do fine on my own.”

“So he’s been leaving a lot, then? You know you can call me to come pick you up,” Wayne tries not to frame it like it’s Eddie’s fault, pointing to where his phone number is pinned on the fridge with a magnet.

Eddie’s lip wobbles despite how he tries to square his jaw.

“There’s nothing wrong.”

“You ain’t—”

“You said to call if I need you and I don’t need you, Wayne! I'm fine!”

Eddie shoves the food away, his eyes wide and shiny when he cuts them back to Wayne. Not glaring with anger, just hurt. 

“It’s not fine,” Wayne tells him, gentle as the first time he held him, just a tiny thing all bundled up in Elizabeth’s knitting. “Your dad’s got his head in his ass again. You can’t stay here on your own, no matter what he said. I ain’t leaving you by yourself.”

“I’m not going.” Eddie’s more pleading now than arguing. “I have to stay here so Dad can find me when he gets back. Don’t you get that? If I’m not here, I won’t see him.”

That’s what it’s really about, Eddie thinking it’s his responsibility to keep up with his Dad. Instead of the other way around.

“If he comes looking for you, he’ll know where to find you.” But Al won’t. It’s never Eddie that he comes back for. Wayne doesn’t tell Eddie that, but now Eddie’s starting to learn that on his own. Al proved it to him time and time again.

“Why do you even care?” Eddie’s angry now. But it’s not really Wayne that he’s mad at. They both know that.

“It’s alright, son, c’mon now.” Wayne reaches for him but Eddie quickly pushes his hand away.

“You aren’t my dad.” Tears escape with the words, and seeing his pain hurts Wayne more than anything he could say, or do. He pushes Wayne again. “So why do you care? Why are you here?”

He doesn’t need an answer, he just needs to let it out.

So Wayne sits there while Eddie shoves his chest and cries harder, “You aren’t my dad. Why do you care?” Wayne curls his hands around Eddie’s smaller ones as the question turns to, “Why aren’t you?” Then it’s a broken little sob of, “Why aren’t you my dad?”

Wayne catches Eddie when he finally tires himself out, and instead of pushing Wayne away, Eddie’s clinging to him. Eddie’s holding on like Wayne’s all he’s got left in the world. Wayne hugs Eddie to his chest, wishing there was more he could do.

Al put a hole in Eddie and he’s digging it deeper everyday, one that Wayne won’t ever quite fit into. He tries to fill it the best he can, giving Eddie the only bedroom in the trailer, going to the talent show because Al never makes good on his promises to be there for Eddie, not letting Eddie stay in this damn house alone waiting for someone who’s never gonna show up. Maybe Wayne’s not that someone, but he can still be here for Eddie. And he’s gonna be.

“C’mon, let’s get you outta here.”

[romana-after-dark]

Dirty Old Man

Dark!Old Man!Logan x fem!reader

Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Summary: Logan is your driver, and one day he gets tired of keeping his hands to himself. Logan's POV.

Warnings: NON CON! DDDNE!!!!! Alcohol consumption, breeding kink but reader is on birth control. slapping. big, girthy, throbbing, rock hard age gap. crying, dirty talk. Absolutely wild slut shaming and misogyny in Logan's head. Seriously yall he's bad here. Theres nothing redeeming about him.

1.5 K words

Minors DNI, DEAD DOVE!!!

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He’d been watching you for longer than you realized.

Logan was used to taking odd jobs, having just enough to get by and when he tires of one place or another, he quits and finds somewhere else. But this right here? Yeah, he was sticking around for a bit.

You were a stupid little thing, silly and bubble head with a great pair of tits and a niave view of the world. He was your driver, taking you all around the streets of New York, anywhere from fancy gala’s to Sex and the City style luncheons -wait no it’s called brunch-, Sex and the City style brunches, to sleepovers with friends. Every time you hoped in the pretentious car, you slid in the back with a hello, and hopped out with a goodbye and a thank you. Today was no different.

A little crisp out for such a small dress, don’t you think?

Fall was coming, even if it grew later and later every year for the leaves to turn yellow and the wind to cool around you. Still, it never stopped dumb girls like you from dressing in the skimpiest little things, just tempting nasty old men like him, testing, teasing, until there was a consequence. You really needed to learn a lesson, didn’t you? One by one, Logan dropped off your slutty little friends, all dressed in an aray of orange and red and black and all the fall colors that were fashionable for bimbo’s like them to pay attention to. This wasn’t all your friend he’d driven to the club, some of them probably went off to get railed by some horny college student who just had to compliment them once or twice and they were sliding their underwear to the side.

You weren’t like them. You were wearing white, as pure as the day you were born, your sweet little head too filled up with thoughts of sunshine and flowers to be someone who’d let a man touch you like that. That’s why Logan wasn’t going to be ‘let’, he was going to take.

Drunk like your father every evening trying to drown out your nagging mother, you babbled on about the evening to him after your last friend left, filling him in on all the innocent fun you had at the club. You weren’t like the others, you didn’t grind on men or kiss your friends for attention or snort coke, you were happy with a several drinks and a good time.

“Back home, bub?” He asks you, looking through the rearview mirror.

“Yes, please, Mr. Smith.” You replied with his alias. He wanted to make you scream Logan, Logan, Logan. A pause. “Where are we?”

Logan had pulled into an empty alley, smirking at the knit of your eyebrows in confusion. “Gotta check the back tire, bub. Seems off.”

You were too drunk and stupid to question him. Naive girl, so trusting. He went to the back right tire, near wear you sat, and bent over pretending to look, knowing you well enough to know you’d open the door and peek out.

“Wha- *hiccup* what is it, Mr. Smiff?” 

He chuckles at you slurring his faux name. 

“You can just call me Logan, kid, I told yuh that.” Logan stands, bracing his arm over the car frame, leaning over you. “Everything, I’m afraid.”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Everything?”

“Yeah baby, looks like we’re gonna have to kill some time.” He makes his move, pushing you onto the leather seats and shoving you down. For a moment, you don’t struggle, just a yelp of surprise but Logan can see the realization of what's happening dawn in your eyes. Then, you slap him.

“Big mistake, kid.” Two slaps, one after the other in quick succession, are delivered to your sweet face, letting you know that however you fight, you’ll be punished. “Won’t help yuh to fight, sweetcheeks, only gonna make it worse.” He watches the tears well up in your eyes, your pretty lip quivering, but you don’t fight. You give in. He chuckles. “Well that was easy.”

Logan spreads your legs, grinding his clothed erection over your white underwear, making you whimper. “P-please don’t… I’m sorry, I-I I don’t-”

“Shhhhh, princess…” Logan wipes a tear from your face, nuzzling his beard against your neck. “Just be good for me, this will all be over soon, okay? But be that sweet girl I know you are.”

A dizzy, tired ‘okay’ and Logan leaned back to undo his pants where his crisp white shirt was tucked in. As expected, you simply stayed laid back and didn’t fight or try to get away. Such a good girl. “Take your panties off for me.”

You shake your head. “Don’t make me…”

All he had to do was narrow his eyes at you and you were scrambling to do as he said, making you complicite. 

“See? I knew you wanted this.”

Sliding into you was heaven, feeling you clench around him in fear, the tension of your body manifesting in squeezing him cock even as you got wet around him. He was your first, he knew that. Inside himself, he knew that, even if you hadn’t said. Because of course you hadn’t? Who would share that with her driver?

“Fuck princess, look at you…” Logan grunted as he began to thrust, watching your tits in that braless dress bounce. “Taking this old man cock so good, aren’t’cha? Yeah, just look at you…” He grabbed your hair harshly, yanking you up so you were bent over. You scream in pain, but quickly quiet yourself with little sobs instead as he forces you to watch him violating you, entering and withdrawing and entering again until he lets go, letting you flop back once more.

Logan’s cock slams inside you, and Logan bets you can feel him inside you, feel him prodigy at your womb, ready to be bred like a good girl like your deserves. 

“Are you on birth control?”

“Y-yes” You cry, covering your face in embarrassment. Are you lying? No, no he can see the little rod in your arm. He grab your tender flesh, and you cry out briefly again as he feels the stupid fucking implant in you, thumbing over it as he growls in frustration. He wanted to get you knocked up, make sure you were the stupid girl who got herself pregnant after he ditched town, but there was nothing he could do about it now. 

He gropes your tits through the dress, slapping at the side to make you yelp before moving on downward. You were awfully wet for someone who was crying. 

“Poor girl… is the mean old man taking your virginity? I know, I know, I’m the worst.” He swirls a finger over your slicked up clit, making your body jolt. “Fuck, such a sensative girl around you. Been years since I fucked someone so sweet and innocent, you’re -fuuuuuck, princess- you’re every dirty old man’s dream, you know that?”

He felt your cunt tighten at that, and he barks a laugh. “Ha! Don’t think I didn’t feel that, sweet cheeks. That make you hot? You like knowing old creeps think of our naked body while fisting their cocks?”

You cover your face. “No!”

“Princess, don’t fucking lie to me. Come on.” Logan touched your body, knowing he could bring you pleasure, wanting to feel your first orgasm gushing on his cock. “Give it to me, come on this old man cock, be the dirty whore I know you wanna be.” 

Your cry into your hands as your body betrays you, orgasming hard enough it pulled his own climax out of him. Even though he knew you wouldn’t get pregnant, Logan loved knowing that he was pumping load after load of his hot seed into your virgin pussy, knowing it would leak out of your for days. Morning after morning you wake up to his cum sliding out of your, reminding you that you’re nothing but a dirty old man's whore.

The whole ride to your penthouse, you laid in the back of the car, never moving from where he left you. When Logan pulled up to the building, he put his arm on the other backrest, looking down at you. “You tell anyone about this,” He let his claws fly out of his fisted hand. You could only flinch, your eyes drooping heavily. “I’ll end you, and whoever you tell. Got it?” Logan waits until you nod. “Good. Now get the fuck out of my car.”

Later…

You lay in bed, staring at your phone though the tears in your eyes. A shower couldn’t wash off the feeling of him in and on you, so you just gave up, stumbling into bed with your most comfortable clothes.

Your screen showed a message your forgot to respond to before getting drunk.

Remy Boo <3: Bon soir, cher. Text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe.

 You couldn’t tell him. Logan said he’d kill you and whoever you told… but if you didn’t respond, Remy would pull up to the penthouse and check on you. You did give him a key, and you owed him a response. He was your boyfriend, after all.

You: I’m home!!!! Had a great night with the girls. Im tired. Ttyl.

*************

Thanks so so so much for reading!!!! I might do a part 2 IDK. I kinda wanna see remy finding out what happened and that it was logan of all people.

If you like dark logan, check out my masterlist!

Our Gentle Sins is my logan series rn! I also wrote a lot of joel miller if thats your thing!!!!

Every single like, reblog, and comment means the world o me!

if you want to be tagged in my dark logan, check out my tag list!

If you want more logan bt not dark, check out @romanarose for my normal stuff.

@del-ightfulling @miraclesabound @oldloganslittleslut @shybluebirdninja @hornystan

[holylulusworld]

TOL - Like a virgin (1) - Bucky Barnes

Summary: You need money. Hansen’s agency offers the right kind of trade.

Pairing: DBF!Bucky Barnes x Virgin!Reader

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, unnamed other reader (Hansen’s girl)

Warnings: money problems, sex for money, selling your virginity, blindfolding, sex with a stranger, groping, oral (fem rec), fingering, teasing, dirty talk, loss of virginity, slow sex, smut, unprotected sex, possessive Bucky, undefined age gap, dad’s best friend trope, Lloyd being Lloyd, language, mentions of past death of a loved one, fluff

A/N: This story is part of my: Traders of love (lust) masterlist

A/N2: It's also a request fill for my 16.666 followers celebration masterlist. Sorry, this took me so long. I'm working on all the requests left for this celebration.

Words: 3,9 k

“Do you know what you get yourself into if you sign this contract?” Lloyd Hansen, the devil with blue eyes asks.

“I need to money and uh…I tried anything else. I worked my ass off and even sold my car. It’s no use,” you exhale deeply to calm your racing heart. “The debts are eating me alive, and the only thing left that I could sell is my…virginity.”

He watches you squirm in your seat, amused, and aroused at the same time. “Aw, you’re a cute little cupcake. I’d love to have a taste of you myself, but I don’t shit where I eat – you know.”

Lloyd cocks a brow when you reread the standard contract he handed to you. “So, you will put me on your website and your customers will buy me?” You blink a few times to not cry. This feels so surreal and wrong. How did you stoop so low that you sold your body to a stranger?

“Kinda,” Lloyd gets up from his chair to show you his iPad. “We don’t sell you off to a random douche. I don’t want a cute muffin like you to end up under a sick bastard. All my clients are gentlemen.”

You nod slowly and try to remember every detail he tells you. “Okay.”

“You can choose ten out of my clients and, if you want to, a wild card.” Lloyd hands you the tablet. “If you choose only ten out of my clients one of them will have the honor to fuck you first.”

You fight the urge to scrunch your nose up. “What’s the wild card?” You look up from the iPad to meet Lloyd’s eyes.

“If you choose ten men and the wild card, you will get more money,” he explains. “The start offering will be one million dollars. You’ll get six hundred thousand dollars, and I’ll arrange everything for your safety.”

You gasp loudly. This amount of money would save you and allow you to live a better life. You don’t care Lloyd will have almost half of the money. He provides the hotel suite and will make sure that you’ll come home safely.

“The men will attend an online auction. They will bid on you. If you get lucky, they will pay more than one million bucks.”

“Wow!” You exclaim. Even if it’s the worst thing you’ll ever do, this arrangement will help move on from your past and pay your debts.

“Now, I’ll tell you about the wild card,” Lloyd sits next to you. “The wild card is special. You cannot choose this man, but you’ll get two hundred and fifty thousand bucks more. No matter who wins the auction. You’ll get eight hundred and fifty thousand bucks.”

“He’s not a creep, right? I don’t want my first time to be with someone hurting me or ignoring my safe word,” you wring your hands.

“The wild cards are my special clients. These men have my trust, sweetness,” Lloyd says. “The inner circle of my organization. It consists of ten men. You will find none of them in my files.”

“I could need the extra money,” you ponder. “You promise that they are not crazy or shit?”

“I’m the craziest guy in this organization,” he flashes you a smile. “And you are not scared of me, right?”

“You’re intimidating,” you shyly admit as you glance at Lloyd. “But you didn’t hurt me or scare me. You were nice.”

“Hah, did ya hear that, sunshine?” Lloyd yells, making you flinch. The door immediately flies open, and his assistant walks inside. “See, she thinks I’m nice.”

“Yeah, because she doesn’t know you like I do,” she puts her hands on her hips and glares at Lloyd. “Sweetie don’t let him talk you into this wild card shit. His buddies are the worst, and he’s the king of shit!”

“Darling don’t be rude,” he gets up to wrap his arms around her waistline. She squirms in his hold, giggling while pushing against his shoulders. “Give your man a kiss.”

“Not until you get rid of that mustache!”

“You love the mustache. It makes your clit all tingly when I go down on you,” he steals a kiss, and gropes her plump ass. “If not for my new client, I’d fuck you right here and now to put a little Lloyd inside of you.”

“You’ll take care of the sweet girl first. You better not pressure her into this shit,” she grunts and pushes Lloyd off her. “I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

She walks back outside and closes the door with a loud thud.

“A hell of a woman,” he hums and adjusts his pants. “I found her—” Lloyd clears his throat. “Never mind. That’s a story to tell later.”

“Can you tell me what the men will expect? I mean, aside from having sex with me.”

Lloyd smirks. “You don’t have to worry about kinky shit. The contract includes vaginal sex  - missionary, or doggy style. Maybe a blow job. Protection is a must. If you want it to be pleasurable for you too, play with your pussy, or think of something nice.”

“I’d imagine Bucky,” you blur out. “I—fuck.” You curse when Lloyd cocks a brow. “He’s my dad’s best friend, and a little older than me. Not a gramps or something.”

“Bucky, huh?” He nods thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting name.”

“It’s a nickname,” you hastily say. “His real name is James Buchanan Barnes.” You swoon now. “He never looked at me twice, but if I want to get off, I always imagine him.”

“As long as you don’t moan his name, I don’t care what you do to get into the mood,” Lloyd says, but there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite put a finger on. “Back to the options. Wild card yes or no?”

You look at the iPad again. What is one more stranger, right? “Yes.”

“Barnes,” Lloyd grins like the devil. “Hey, no swear words, sunshine. I got a nice little deal for you.” He grunts and mutters into the phone. “Would you just listen for a moment? A nice little bird came to me. I think you know her…”

“Y/N!” Your dad’s best friend jogs next to you. “Hey, long time no see.”

“Uh-hi,” you squeak when he wraps you in a hug. “Nice to see you, Bucky.”

“How have you been?” He releases you to lock you up and down. “You look a little stressed. Is everything alright? You know that you can always come to me. I’m like an uncle to you.”

“Uncle,” you wrinkle your nose. “Right.” You shake your head at the naughty thoughts wanting to force their way to the front of your mind. “I’m good. Really. Nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?” He presses on. “If you are scared to tell your dad, tell me. I won’t say a thing.”

“I said that I’m fine,” you snap at him as a woman gets out of his car and calls his name. “How about you go back to your arm candy and leave me alone? We haven’t heard of you for two years.”

You twirl around and storm off. You don’t need anyone to help you. Lloyd offered more money than you’ll need to pay the debts your dad left you when he passed away.

Bucky didn’t even know about it because he just doesn’t care…

“Pumpkin,” Lloyd claps his hands as you walk inside the expensive penthouse suite. “You look stunning.” He grins as you squirm under his gaze.

He walks toward you to hand you the iPad. “The wild card won the auction,” he casually says. “I transferred the town hundred and fifty thousand bucks to your bank account. This is the point of no return. If you want out, say it now.”

“I know,” you released a shuddery breath. “I don’t want to do this, but I need the money. It’s one night with a guy you trust. So…let’s get this over with.”

“On the bed is something the wild card got for you. OH, and he wants you to put the blindfold on. It’s his special request,” Lloyd gently pats your shoulder. “I promise he’s a good guy, and won’t hurt you, pumpkin. Just remember the only two rules. Never ask why they pay you for sex, and, never let them do anything you don’t want to.”

“Thank you—” you close your eyes and take deep breaths. “I can do this. Please leave me alone now. I need to get ready.”

“If he crosses a line,” Lloyd says. “You say Lloyd, and I take the door down.”

“What? I don’t understand.” You furrow your brows.

“Just say Lloyd.” He whispers in your ear.

“Lloyd,” you say, and the lights in the room turn red. An alarm shrills and you need to cover your ears. “Oh…wow.”

“See, I take care of my girls. Do not let him gag you, though,” he warns. “If he tries anything you don’t agree to, yell my name and I’m there in a split-second.”

You nod and give Lloyd a shy smile. “Thank you.”

“I make money with my girls. I don’t want them to get hurt or worse,” he says. “I’m not a saint or a good guy. But no one hurts my girls.”

You watch him leave the room and release another shuddery breath.

He’s right. This is it. The point of no return…

The gift from the wild card is a silky nightie dress in your favorite color. Midnight blue. It has a plunging back and lace-lined cups. It fits you like a second skin.

You close your eyes and count to ten to calm your racing heart as you put the blindfold on. It’s the wild card’s special wish, and you don’t want to piss him off right away.

Maybe the blindfold will make things easier. You can imagine any face, while the stranger is inside of you.

“You look breathtakingly beautiful.” You shudder as his voice is deep and rough. He entered the room without making a noise, and now he’s already so close you feel his breath fan over your neck. “I see you are wearing my gift.”

“Yes…Sir…” You breathlessly reply. His hands ghost over your arms, touching you gently. “Or do you want me to call you something else?”

“Hmm…” He hums. “We will see, doll.” You whimper at the pet name. “Can I call you doll? Is that alright with you?” His lips press against your neck, he nips at the sensitive spot behind your ear. “I need you to answer me.”

“Yeah, that’s alright with me,” you are already enchanted by the stranger. His scent is intoxicating, and his voice goes straight to your core.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, doll,” he wraps one arm around your waistline to bring you close to his body. His chest is bare, and you feel his skin pressed against yours. “I dreamed of doing this with you.”

“You did?” You purr and lean your head against his shoulder. “What do you want to do with me?”

“You’ll see,” he chuckles as you press your butt into his crotch. “You’re eager to get me going, huh? Don’t worry. I’m already so hard for you it hurts.”

He releases you and steps away to admire your wrecked state. You’re a panting mess, and your legs quiver. “Beautiful and so responsive.” He’s back on you to slide the thin straps of the nightie down your shoulders. The stranger nips at your neck, leaving little love bites on his way. “I can’t wait to have you.”

“You have me,” you move your hand behind you, blindly grasping for his hair. He’s a stranger but feels so good against you. “I want you to have me.”

“I know, doll,” he whispers in your ear while shoving the nightie down your shoulders. The fabric drops to the ground and pools around your ankles. “I love how you feel against me. I bet you feel even better around me.”

His hands cup your breasts. One warm and soft, the other cold and a little rougher. He gropes your soft flesh and pinches your nipples. This stranger plays with your body and pulls all the right strings.

You don’t have to imagine someone else. His lips nipping at your earlobe, and his hands, those skilled tools press moans and whimpers out of you. “Sir…”

“It’s alright, doll. Be as vocal as you want to,” he smirks against your skin. “Relax and let me take good care of you.”

“Yes—” you hiss when he meaningly tugs at your nipples. “Ouch.”

“You are a big girl and can take it, baby doll,” he grinds into you to rub his aching cock against your butt. “I bet your pretty cunt is wet for me.”

Your voice fails. He’s moving one hand between your legs and pinches your clit through your soaked panties. “I knew it.” He teasingly pinches your clit, igniting another spark deep within you. “You’re mine now. Only mine. After tonight, you’ll never want another man. Say it!”

His other hand rips your panties off of your body, taking you by surprise. You squeak and giggle as he twirls you around. “You’re all I imagined you’d be,” he cups your face and presses his lips to yours.

You’ve been kissed before – but not like this. His lips are soft and tender, but the kiss gets heated when his hands move to your ass to hoist you up.

You end up in his arms and sling your legs and arms around his body out of instinct.

“Your lips taste like heaven.” He purrs while walking toward the bed. “I bet your sweet pussy tastes like sin.” You end up on the soft mattress, the stranger on top of you.

He kisses you again, slowly, and sensually this time. “I’m gotta have a taste, doll.” You wish you could watch him kiss his way down your body. It feels like his lips and hands caress every inch of your body they can reach. “It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid.”

The stranger moves lower, kissing you right above your belly button. He moans against your skin, making you shiver at the slightest touch.

His hands move over your thighs, spreading them wide so he can settle between your legs.

“Let me have a taste of heaven,” he presses a searing kiss to your pussy. “I’ve got you, doll.”

You shudder feelings his nose brushes your clit. “So pretty down here too,” he murmurs against you. His breath tickles your folds, leaving you wanting more. “Shhh…” He shushes you. “I only want to eat this sweet cunt out.”

He spreads your pussy lips, to look at your clit. “Ah…S-ir.” You stammer. “What are you doing?”

“Did no man ever put his mouth on you?” He looks up at you from between your legs, groaning loudly when you shake your head. “Good. I’m your first for everything then.”

Your mouth falls open. Why would he want to do such a thing? Isn’t this night all about him, not you? “Why?”

“I love eating pussy, doll,” he laughs. “And I want you slippery wet so I can shove my dick right into your tight little hole.”

You grab your tits, squeezing your flesh to do anything but lie there and wait for the stranger to rule your body.

He teases your pearl with the tip of his tongue, eager to please you. A shudder runs through you. You are so lost in his touch that you nearly forget this is about him and that he paid you to touch you.

This is not love-making, but a business transaction. “Please just fuck me…”

“Not yet,” he slaps your pussy lips. “I want you to be a good girl and let me enjoy every moment. “This includes tasting your cunt.”

“Oh-“ It never crossed your mind that a man could be interested in eating you out before getting off. “Be my guest.” You sass and spread your legs wider. “I’m on the menu tonight.”

“That you are,” he kisses the inside of your left thigh, caressing the soft skin with his lips and tongue. “But only for me.” He turns his attention toward your right thigh.  

He wraps his arms around your legs and pulls you closer to his mouth. “Fuck, you smell so good, doll.” You gasp the moment he licks up your sex. It’s a new sensation and you already love it. “Use my face, come on.”

You bite your lower lip. Can you do this? Lloyd said this is all about the man’s fantasy, but he wants to give you pleasure too.

“Fuck,” you nod and start grinding your pussy against his mouth, hoping to get more of this new feeling. “Please.”

“Soon, baby doll,” he purrs and flicks his tongue to play with your little nub. You wiggle on the bed, grinding as he uses his mouth to send sparks of pleasure through your body. You don’t think, just feel.

You whimper and moan hearing him groan against you. He throws your left leg over his shoulder, spreading you wide as he teases your soaked hole with the tip of his index finger. “Oh God, yes. Please just put it inside,” you become impatient. “Fuck…please.”

He laughs but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pushes one finger inside, curling his digit inside of you. “Relax, doll. I’m gonna give you my cock soon enough.”

“Y-es…p-lease,” you can’t think straight. Your body is on fire, and you need release, or you’ll lose your mind. “Please I want you to…”

“Baby,” he purrs while slowly starting to fuck you with his finger. “Soon…I’ve been waiting to have you for so long.”

He adds another finger, now pressing his fingertips against your sweet spot. “Fuck,” you exclaim loudly. “Ah, there…I need… I want…”

“No,” you don’t get to cum. He scissors you open, ignoring that you beg and plead. “Not yet. You’ll cum on my cock only. I want to feel you fall apart for the first time while I’m inside of you.”

“Fuck!”

“Oh baby doll,” he coos when you sniffle, and slam your fists into the mattress. “I don’t want to be cruel, only to make it easier for you to take me.”

“Please, I only want to feel you,” you hold out your hands, sniffling louder. “I need you to do it now before I get scared.”

“Shit,” you feel his fingers slip out of you. He crawls up your body and kisses you slowly. “Baby doll, tell me if you want me to stop. We don’t have to do this.”

“You pai—” He silences you with his lips and makes you forget that you are only here for him to get what he paid for. “I want you.” You don’t know why, but it’s true. All you want is to feel him inside of your body.

“Are you sure?” He asks against your lips. “Baby doll?”

“Yes,” you blindly grasp for him. “Please fuck me. I don’t want to wait any longer.” You don’t tell him that the man you wanted to be your first would never even look at you twice.

“You don’t have to beg me.” He angles his hips to run the tip of his cock up and down your folds. “I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and a high-pitched shriek escapes your throat feeling his length slide slowly into you. He stills his hips, groaning loudly as your walls strain against his intrusion.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby doll.” He buries his face in your neck, murmuring your name as he moves back and forth, always pushing a little deeper. “Open up to me, pretty doll.”

It hurts a little, and you hide your face in his shoulder, whimpering any time he tilts his hips. “I know, baby doll. It will feel good soon. Let me just,” he breathlessly whispers in your ear. “I’m gonna make love to you, Y/N.”

You bite his shoulder when he slides all in with the next thrust. A whimper escapes your lips, and you claw at his back. “Shhh…you are doing so good for me, baby. I’m proud of you, my sweet princess.”

He wraps one arm around you and removes the blindfold with one swift motion. You gasp and dig your nails into his back. “Bucky?” You can’t help but whimper his name. “What?”

“I couldn’t let you do this. I wanted you for so long.” He claims your lips in a soft kiss. “You refused to take my help so I…”

“It’s you,” you cling to Bucky. “Not some stranger…it’s you…” you sniffle. “You’re here…”

“Yeah,” he breathes against your lips. “Do still want to…”

You wrap your legs around his waistline. “Yes…hell yes…” You grunt. “Please don’t stop now. We can’t stop now.”

He nuzzles his face in your neck and digs his knees into the mattress. You melt into his arms, knowing it’s not a stranger, but the man you adored and loved for years.

“We already broke all the rules, Y/N,” he slowly starts rocking his hips. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Bucky curses as you claw on his back. “My doll.”

He’s pushing harder into you with every thrust. It doesn’t matter that you feel like you are in a limbo of pleasured pain, or that you forgot the condom. All you are capable of is to stare up at Bucky as he takes you apart.

Your body belongs to him and opens up to Bucky like a flower finally deciding to bloom. Your core burns with desire for more of him. “Please.”

“I’ve got you, Y/N,” he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, causing you to cry out loudly. Something drops to the ground in the room next door, but you don’t care.

You rock your body in sync with Bucky, urging him on to claim you, and your whole being. Even if you should be mad at him for tricking you, you can’t. Not when he pushes you over the edge, his name on your lips nor when he spills into you, cursing your name.

“Baby,” he worriedly looks down at you. You are panting heavily and are unable to open your eyes. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah…I’m good…” 

Bucky slowly pulls out to lie next to you. He opens his arms and watches you lie on his chest.

“Why did you never come back?” You run your hand over his sweaty chest. “Bucky?”

“Your dad found out that I had a thing for his beloved daughter,” he runs his hand over your head. “I’m sorry. He left me no choice but to stay away from you. I had to keep my distance.”

“You could’ve come to his funeral,” you sniff. “Why did you leave me all alone?”

“I had problems with the law, and I was in the middle of a divorce. You didn’t need a drunk wreck longing for you,” he whispers. “I had to wait until I’m better and then Hansen called, telling me about your problems.”

“That fucker,” you grumble. “I knew he was going to trick me!”

“Don’t worry, baby doll,” Bucky softly says. “I paid all your dues before coming here. I just couldn’t resist you any longer. I had to have you.”

He lifts his head to look you in the eyes. “Can you forgive me, Y/N?”

“I’ll consider forgiving you if you explain everything to me later. Like – how do you know Lloyd Hansen? And what is going on with his assistant?”

“You will get to know everything.” He pecks your lips. “For now, all you need to know is that I love you…always have…”

Tags in reblog.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: another installment of the mini tik tok series! this one was fun and aggressively smutty lol. i’ve been having fun with the tik tok fics and there’s so much more i want to work on this summer (which lol can’t believe it’s august 🙈) enjoy! 🤍

word count: 3.5k

tw: dirty talk, unprotected sex, fingering (f recieving), cum play, semi-tit job, brief oral (m recieving), semi-public sex

summary: mat comes home from golf to find you set up for another tik tok video, much to his surprise and excitement

You tap lazily over to the Find My Friends app, searching for Mat’s little circle on the map. He’s smack in the middle of the green blob that represents the Glen Oaks Club, right next to Bo’s little circle too.

Sharing locations with half the team is wild, but was absolutely a necessity after last year’s summer trip to Italy where half the guys had gotten lost during a vineyard tour, drunkenly singing a bastardized version of ‘New York, New York’ when they’d been found.

Since then, it’s been location sharing city for your little group.

It’s especially useful when Mat’s at the golf course and you want to have an idea of when he’s on his way home. Today, you’re letting him have his time on the course since training camp opens in two days and soon he’ll be in full hockey mode. But you do have a little fun planned, a Tik Tok trend that you’d seen earlier in the summer and have been waiting to test out on Mat. He’s a good sport about joining in your videos - between you and Liana, he’s used to being used as an unwilling participant in your videos and likes making random cameos. And this video is more for his benefit than yours.

It’s a beautiful mid-September day on the Island and the UV is an 8, so you decided to take the setting of your video outside and you’re posted up on a lounge chair with your book and Stanley until Mat comes home.

After polishing off nearly half of your book, you check Mat’s location again and you’re surprised to find that he’s on the move - heading back home. You hadn’t realized so much time had passed.

He’ll be home in ten minutes, according to the app, so you hop off the lounger and get everything set up, adrenaline making your heart skip a beat. You shake out the towel on top of the lounger and straighten it, moving your book and Stanley off to the coffee table. You check the app again and Mat’s down the block, his little circle stopped at the intersection that has a traffic camera, where you’ve both gotten caught more than once.

Once his car turns onto your block, you take the final step and untie the strings of your bikini, stepping out of the bottoms and tossing the scraps of fabric off to the side. You shiver a little, even though it’s not cold at all and sit back down on the lounger, bending your knee and then straightening it out. You scrunch up your face and bend it again - there’s a slight breeze on your bare cunt and you wiggle, unbending your knee again.

“Fuck this is so awkward,” you grumble to yourself, tipping your head back and closing your eyes against the warmth of the sun.

After a few seconds of soaking up the heat, you check your phone again and Mat’s little icon is right on top of your blue dot. He’s home and you grin when you hear his car door slam shut in the driveway. You give an excited little wiggle and open Tik Tok on your phone, thumbing over to start recording.

The back doors are open so you can hear Mat come through the front and kick off his shoes. One hits the wall with a faint thump and you roll your eyes, knowing there’s going to be a little scuff mark on the wall.

Quietly, into the microphone of your phone, you say, “Mat’s home and I’m naked in the backyard. I’m going to call him out to see something and I’m sure he’ll give us all a reaction for the ages.”

From inside, you can hear him call out for you, “Squeaks? Babe, I’m back.”

A giggle bubbles on your chest and makes your voice shake a little when you call back, “I’m outside. Can you come take a look at something for me?”

“I’m not catching another lizard,” he shouts out, footsteps getting closer. “Leave them alone on the deck.”

You roll your eyes to yourself - it was one time, twice tops, but Mat will never let you forget it. “No lizards, just come here,” you call, moving the phone slightly away from your mouth and making sure the back doors are squarely in the frame.

He appears in the doorway a second later, dressed for golf in his shorts and polo, with a brown paper Chipotle bag in his hand. “I picked up lunch and I’ll even sha—“ his sentence stops short when he steps onto the deck and catches sight of you. You grin to yourself and watch as he processes what he’s seeing.

Mat’s eyes are wide and his jaw is slack briefly before a slow smirk stretches his lips. “Squeaks…” he trails off your nickname, his voice suddenly rough.

“Mhm?” You hum, still holding your phone slightly to the side. To your amusement, the front of Mat’s shorts tighten in front of your eyes, the fabric straining over his cock. He so clearly doesn’t know where to look, eyes bouncing from your phone to your face to your tits to your thighs.

To be extra wicked, you sit up and stretch your legs open, feet on either side of the lounger so Mat has the perfect view of your cunt, bare and dripping wet.

His jaw works and he carefully sets the Chipotle bag on the deck table. “I’m not even gonna ask what Tik Tok trend this is, but thank God for it,” he mutters, yanking his polo over his head and sending his hat flying off in the process. His hair is messy around his face, sticking up in all directions and you can’t wait to get your hands in it.

You giggle. “I told you I wanted you to come look at something,” you reply, watching with hungry eyes as he kicks off his shorts, the belt still half buckled, and crosses the grass in a few long strides. He’s standing in front of you in just his boxer-briefs, black and tight over his growing erection.

Mat grips himself roughly over the fabric and you watch the tendons in his wrist flex.

“Yeah,” he huffs a breath out of his nose, “I’m definitely looking at something.” His hand sinks under the fabric of his briefs and you watch his hand move, stretching the fabric obscenely while he pumps his cock once, twice, three times. “And now I’m gonna get my hands on her.”

Your hand falls slightly to the side, still recording on your phone and you have the brief thought that you’re definitely going to have to edit the shit out of this video before Mat’s yanking down his briefs and kneeling at the foot of the lounger, his hands wrapped around the outside of your thighs. He pulls, dragging your body closer to his and you let out a little yelp at the sudden movement.

Your phone goes flying from your hand, landing in the grass next to the chair and you pout at Mat, “my phone! Let me -“

“Nope,” he cuts you off with a little swat to your hip. “We’ll deal with that later. Right now, I have to look at something.”

He leans forward, his cock bobbing up against his stomach and you swallow, arousal dripping down the curve of your ass. You’re very glad you decided to put down a towel.

Mat’s hands are hot on your thighs, trailing up over your sides and splaying out over your ribcage, fingertips brushing the undersides of your breasts. He grins down at you, “looking at these tits, my favorite tits. But I think -“ he cups each one in a hand, flicking his thumbs over your nipples until they’re tight and pebbled, “yeah, they look better like this. Even better with my mouth on them.”

You whine as soon as Mat leans down and wraps his lips around one nipple, tracing a circle around it with his tongue. You can feel his cock - hot, hard, and leaking - on your stomach and you lift your hips subconsciously, trying to relieve some of the ache that’s building between your thighs. His grinds his cock against your stomach lazily and you moan his name, hands flying up to his hair to tug. Mat grunts against your breast the harder you pull and after a particularly hard yank, he bites down. The sting is enough to make you yelp and rake your nails over his scalp.

“That hurt,” you pout and he shakes his head, releasing your tit with a wet pop.

“Did not,” he counters, pupils blown wide and lips slick with saliva.

You grin and tug at his hair a bit more. “Let me bite you and we’ll see who’s right,” you reply breathily, Mat’s hands kneading at your breasts.

He slides his cock against your stomach and you gasp, fresh arousal pooling between your thighs. “Baby, we’ll get to the biting, don’t worry,” he teases, pinching and rolling your nipples until you cry out.

You hum, pulling at his hair to drag his face to yours, desperate for a kiss. Mat obliges, sliding his lips over yours and sucking at your tongue while his hands play with your breasts and his cock grinds against your stomach. It’s hard to catch your breath with all the sensation, the pleasure building steadily in your stomach.

He smells good, a combination of sweat and grass that isn’t masked by his deodorant, and you let your hands drift out of his hair and over his back. The muscles bunch and move as he does, sweat gathering between his shoulder blades.

You nip at his lower lip and Mat smiles against your mouth, pulling back slowly. One of his legs shifts, his knee sliding up and pressing against your cunt. A gasp punches from your lungs, the rub of his leg hair against your clit the friction you’ve been searching for. “Oh my god,” you whine, scratching at his back and rolling your hips against his knee.

“Needy,” Mat clicks his tongue, amused. As if his own hips aren’t moving of their own accord, gliding his cock against your stomach and leaving a trail of precome in its wake.

“You love it,” you murmur, scratching down his back. The longer you grind against Mat’s knee, the closer you come to an orgasm and it’s right there when Mat moves his hands back to your hips and pulls you down, hiking your cunt higher up on his thigh. His hands wrap around your thighs, his thumb subconsciously finding the spot on your upper inner thigh where the tiny ‘mb13’ is tattooed. He looks down and grins at the ink, rubbing it with the pad of his thumb. His cock seems to swell the longer he looks at the tattoo, thick and heavy on your chest.

“Fuck yeah, I do,” he leans in more, pushing his cock over your chest, in between the valley of your breasts. The hot weight of him on your chest makes your breathing shallower and you lose track of your movements, hips stuttering to a stop on his thigh. “You’re distracting me,” he mumbles. “Supposed to be looking at something.”

“What are you looking at now?” You murmur, breathless. Your hips move mindlessly and Mat shifts your legs, pulling them together and straddling them so your thighs are pressed tight and there’s steady pressure on your clit. You whine and wiggle your hips again, pleasure coiling tightly in your stomach.

Mat grins down at you, thrusting his hips forward so the head of his cock bumps against your chin. “Looking at that pretty face of yours,” he replies, hands finding your breasts again and playing with them. “My favorite face, especially when you look all fucked out.”

“Haven’t even fucked me yet,” you whine, darting your tongue out to lick at the tip of Mat’s cock. It jerks, twitching against your chest, and you grin wickedly, licking it again. Your hands find Mat’s thighs, tracing over the thick muscle until you let them slide over his stomach and wrap around the base of his cock.

He groans over you, curling forward when your fingers tighten around him.

“Don’t need to,” his voice is strangled. “You always look like that when I get my dick out.”

You stroke his cock firmly and press your thumb against his leaking tip, craning your neck to lick him again before sucking the tip between your lips. Mat’s chin falls to his chest, a loud grunt vibrating through his body.

“Shh,” you giggle faintly, releasing the head of his cock with a wet pop. “The neighbors are going to hear!” Even as you admonish him, you repeat your actions, gripping him tightly and drooling over his cock.

Mat shifts back, his cock falling out of your grip and slapping against your left breast. There’s sticky precome all over your chest and stomach and Mat drags his fingers through it before shoving them in your mouth. You hum around his fingers, swirling your tongue over them until they’re dripping. He’s further down your legs now, using his other hand to pry your thighs apart slightly, nudging his cock head in between your legs. He taps the leaking head of it against your tattoo, leaving a smear of precome, and then shifts so it’s pressed tightly against your clit. The pressure makes you see stars and you whine loudly, muffled by his fingers.

“Shhh,” he teases, thrusting his hips shallowly. He lets his fingers fall from your lips and you yelp loudly when those same fingers find your clit and pinch it at the same time his cock bumps against it. “Neighbors will hear you.”

“Oh my god, Mat!” Your groan shifts off into a strangled shout when, without warning, Mat’s fingers find your soaked entrance and circle it, fingers spreading you wide so he can thrust the first few inches of his cock into you. The stretch always burns briefly and then he moves, rolling his hips into yours and filling you to the brim, pleasantly full. You chant his name like a prayer, louder and louder every time he batters against your g-spot. Any concern about the neighbors hearing you is out the window with all the rest of your thoughts.

Mat’s got one hand gripping at the top of the lounge chair, his hair flopped over his forehead and sweat trailing down his temple as his hips snap relentlessly. “Look so fucking beautiful taking my cock,” he groans when you clench around him. “Fucking waiting here for me, naked and ready. Goddamn Tik Tok giving you the best ideas.”

Your nails dig it to his asscheeks, dragging him closer, knees bent to open yourself more for him. “Love you, love you, oh my god,” you babble, nearly at the edge. His free hand trails down your body and presses down on your lower stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock from the outside. You shriek at the sensation, rocking your hips and meeting him thrust for thrust.

He snaps his hips again, harder, and you fall, seeing stars as your orgasm rushes through your body. You come hard and wet around his cock, squirting all over his pelvis and lower stomach. Mat’s cock thickens inside of you and he comes a second later, filling you for so long you’re startled that he’s still hard even after his hips have stopped moving and he’s collapsed on top of you. The sweaty weight of his body makes it hard to catch your breath and you can’t help but wiggle underneath him, digging at his thigh with your heel.

“Gimme a sec,” he mutters against your neck, shifting his hips. You gasp, sensitive and overstimulated and still stuffed full of his hard cock.

“How’re you still hard?” You breathe, pushing at his sides, trailing your fingers over his muscles.

Mat finally rolls off of you, wedging your body against his on the lounger meant for one. You cling to him so you don’t fall off. “How is that even a question?” He laughs, trailing a hand over your back and in between your legs. You wiggle against his touch, his cock pressed against your stomach and his fingers rubbing your mixed fluids against your inner thigh. It’s messy and disgusting but you don’t have any desire to move. “I’ve been hard for you from the minute I met you. Squeaks.”

“Perv,” you tease, licking a bead of sweat from his jaw.

His laugh is loud, echoing around the yard. “As if you’re not the one who started this,” he pinches at your inner thigh. “Sitting out here butt ass naked, filming a Tik Tok.”

“Oh my god!” The mention of the social media app sparks in your brain and you remember your phone, in the grass and still recording. You try to scramble over Mat’s lap, but he locks you in place with his arms. “Let go, oh my god. I have to delete that video. It’s hard core porn!!”

“Soft core,” Mat counters, laughing. “It’s just our voices.”

You growl at him, “not helping!” and wriggle in his arms until you’re draped over his side with your ass in the air and your arms stretched out to the grass to reach for your phone. Mat laughs under you, shaking your whole body and making it hard for you to reach your phone. He pats at your ass, a little nonsense rhythm and you kick your foot in the air, knowing it won’t hit him.

“You should send me the video,” he says as soon as you’ve managed to snag your phone. “I like hearing you scream my name.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, blood rushing to your face the longer you stay practically upside down over Mat’s lap. You stop the recording and your thumb hovers over the button to delete the video. A small part of you actually wants to rewatch it and see Mat’s reaction again. The smarter part of you wants to make sure your soft core porn never leaks on the Internet.

Your brain struggles to focus with the way Mat’s kneading at your ass, his voice soothing as he speaks, “download it, it’ll just be for us. Can’t even see anything.”

“Stop trying to be the little devil on my shoulder,” you complain, but your thumb moves away from the delete button and you find yourself canceling the action instead.

Mat laughs again, your favorite sound, and slides his hand in between your legs, playing lazily with your clit. You wiggle and gasp, clenching around nothing. “Put it in a locked folder,” he continues, dragging you slowly to the edge.

You can’t think with lust and arousal fogging your brain and by the time Mat’s fingered you to a second orgasm all thoughts of deleting the video are gone.

“Hey,” Mat says, his chest vibrating under your cheek. You’re slumped over him, legs straddling his hips, completely limp and boneless.

“Hmm?” You hum, wondering briefly if the sting on your ass is from Mat’s hand or the beginnings of a sunburn.

“You have any other Tik Tok videos you want to make?” He teases, playfully gripping your ass. “I like these naked ones best.”

He yelps when you bite down on the muscle of his pec, a little nip, and taps at your cheek with his free hand. “You’re such a gremlin,” he says over your laughter.

You lean your chin on his chest, looking up at him with a wide smile on your face. “Takes one to know one,” you shoot back, kissing his jaw. “Now carry me inside, I want my Chipotle bowl.”

“You mean my Chipotle bowl?” Mat retorts. Still, he sits up and takes you with him, your arms looped around his neck and legs locked around his waist.

“What’s yours is mine,” you giggle, waving a hand in the hair behind his back. “Happy wife, happy life. All that Hallmark-y stuff.”

He stands and you cling tighter, the slip of your sweaty skin against his making your thighs flex around his waist so you don’t fall. “Not a wifey yet, Squeaks,” he teases, locking his hands under your ass and carrying you over to the deck. Your phone’s back on the grass, but you’ll make Mat go get it in a second, along with both of your discarded clothes.

“Less than a year,” you point out, wiggling your left hand in front of his face.

He kisses your finger and in a sappy little move, says, “counting down the seconds until you’re Mrs. Barzal.”

Your entire body turns to mush, so much love for Mat flooding your brain. You press a kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” you mumble.

“Love you too, my little exhibitionist freak,” Mat laughs, drowning out your outraged gasp.

You can’t be too mad at him though, not when he settles you on the deck chair and hands over his Chipotle bowl, retrieving his golf polo and pulling it over your head so you can eat comfortably and not sunburn.

[georgiapeach30513]

I’m Not Supposed to Play with Boys

Summary:  Ransom always gets what he wants.  Even if he has to wait.

Pairings:  Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating:  Explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, (step) dad’s best friend, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, age gap, dirty talk, D/s dynamics, degradation, teasing, edging, female masturbation/humping, fingering, finger in mouth, humiliation, body writing, oral sex (M receiving), daddy kink, voyeurism, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  3.6K

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Your dad looks at the rear view mirror.  Watching your face as the car looms ever closer to the Thrombey estate.  You try to remain neutral in your thoughts as more and more of the animal statues come into view.  Counting each one because the closer they were, the closer you got to the mansion.  And you hope that the person you had been longing to see was there.  

Your dad sighs, and you look at the reflection of his cobalt eyes, “Ransom is going to be here today, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“You’re not my real dad, and I’m not a child.”

“You are visiting from college, and this is my friend’s family home,” his voice gets a bit more of an edge to it, and you roll your eyes.  He was so predictable.  Expected perfection from you.  Because you reflected on him.

“Honey, just listen to your dad,” your mom yawns, pushing her seat back, and closing her eyes.  There wasn’t even that much further to go, and she was already sleepy from who knows what.  Your step-father rolls his eyes as the creepy estate comes into view, but that pretty little Beemer was nowhere insight.  

“Do you think Linda would mind me taking a nap?” Your mom pets on his arm, and you feel like getting sick.  She was more of a friend than a mother.  She had you when she couldn’t even legally drive.  It was like the two of you had grown up together.  And sometimes you wondered if she was still trying to sew her wild oats.

He slowly removes his foot from the accelerator, throwing the car into park, “I’m going to see if they need any help in the kitchen,” you jump out before he could say anything.  He was going to wait outside with the family, while your mother took her ‘nap’.  You were going to wait where you could hopefully see that Beemer drive up.  They didn’t need help in the kitchen.  Everything was already outside.  But you did exactly what Ransom had asked you to.  And now you wait.

——

Ransom spots his best friend’s car, and gets a big grin on his face.  He was told that you were home from Harvard.  He doesn’t waste time saying his hellos, he needs a snack.  From the kitchen.  Into the house he walks, and straight into the kitchen.  He must have been quieter than he had thought.  You hadn’t noticed him.

Your back is to him, and he notices slow little movements forward.  Right at the table.  A soft little whimper is music to his ears.  He opens up a cabinet for a packet of cookies, and you push off the table, “What cha doing?” He looks all the way down your body before meeting your stare with an arrogant grin.

“N-n-nothing,” you answer quickly.  Smoothing down your dress as you look at anything that wasn’t him.  You have never been more embarrassed in your life.

“Looked like you were humping the edge of the table.  Where you fucking my grandpa’s table?” You shake your head no, starting to retreat out of the kitchen.  “Wait.  I’m not finished talking to you.  If I happen to lift that little skirt of yours am I going to see that pretty pussy wet?”

“Um…no,” why was him embarrassing you like that making you more heated?  Why was there a fresh gush of your juices to your core at the sound of his voice?

“Be a good girl, and lift up your skirt.  Come on, I wanna see.  Just wanna know if you’re still a desperate little slut for me,” slowly you lift up your skirt, and indeed the cotton gusset of your panties are darkened with your slick.  “You were saying?” He chuckles, looking back up at you.

“I’m sorry, Ransom.  I…”

“Oh, sweet little princess, what made you so weak in the knees?  What’s got you all needy and grinding on that old table?”

Your eyes drift down to the floor, and your cheeks heat up in flames.  He was going to make you say it, and you couldn’t.  You mustn’t.  “You know who.”

“Yeah, but that crush was a couple of years ago.  You can’t still have a thing for little ole me, right?”

“I — I had sex like you asked.  I’ve got experience now,” your voice is desperate when you try to tell Ransom that you followed his rules for you when you graduated.  You followed his instructions perfectly.  Listened to every word.  “I…”

“And you’re still a needy fucking thing.  What is that you want?  You want to suck my fat cock?”

“Yes!  Please!” Ransom’s mouth turns up into a devilish smirk.  Lifting his hand up, he curls his finger, beckoning you to him.  

You get almost to him, but he backs away, “No, no.  Show me what you were doing just a minute ago.  But hold your skirt up.  I wanna watch.  Show me how you get off when you think of me,” you gulp deeply as you walk back to the edge of the table.  Lifting up your skirt when you settle yourself on the mahogany.  Your lips spread over the wood, and it touches right on your clit, and you start grinding on it.

“There ya go.  I bet that feels good on your desperate little cunt, hmm?  You thinking of my cock splitting you open?”

“Yeah,” whining as you grind down even harder.

“Fucking you so hard that your head is pounding on headboard.”

“Yeah.  Yes!”

“Have you screaming out ‘Fuck me harder, daddy,” your hips race your forward.  Getting so close that you're panting out his name.  Getting just right to edge, when Ransom places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you off the table, “I didn’t say you could come, you greedy little slut.  Now let’s see how wet you are,” he shoves his fingers into your panties, and you moan when he gathers up your slick.

Holding out his hand, he stretches his fingers out, letting you see just how sticky and wet the mess in your panties is.  Smiling at his fingers before he presses them past your lips, “Be a good girl, and clean me off,” closing your mouth around his fingers, you suck yourself off him.  Circling your tongue around his thick digits.  Almost creaming your panties when you hear him moan.

“Now, let's go say hey to your dad.  I’m sure a good handshake covered in your juices is just what he needs.  Stay wet and messy,” he walks out, leaving you alone and uncomfortable with how wet you are.  Nothing left to do but follow him outside.  

——

Ransom smirks at you from across the lawn.  He has been having a steady conversation with your dad, but his eyes are always on you.  He knows how uncomfortably soaked you are, and he finds it hilarious.  It is a game to him to lick his lips, and readjust himself.  Waiting until you were swishing your thighs together when you see his thick girthy cock in his palm.  It was unfair.

Grunting, you stomp back inside.  Needing to get something to drink.  Who knew, maybe even taking a cold shower.  Anything had to be better than what Ransom was doing to you.  And the worst part was he knew!  He knew that he was driving you crazy.

“Did I make you mad, Princess?”

“You’re making me crazy!  I’m soaked, and I’m horny, and you knew.  You knew what you were doing when…”

“You don’t like me teasing you?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head no.  Ransom looks you up and down as he steadily walks closer to you.  Getting right in front of you when he leans to your ear.  Sniffing up the side of your neck.  His breath on you went straight to your core as more slick floods your underwear, “Get on your knees.”

“What?” What was his game?  What did he want from you?

“Get on your knees, and suck my cock, Princess.  It’s hard and waiting on your filthy little mouth.  Get on your knees now,” turning around, you can see the party going on outside.  He wasn’t serious.  The window was right there.  Your dad was right there.  With a view straight inside to you and Ransom.  

“You want my cock?  Well, here it is,” you look down between the two of you and his pretty cock is the only thing separating you.  Beads of precum at the tip making it look all glistening and pretty, and you crave to taste it.  

His thumb rubs over his slit, smearing his leaking juices over his thumb, and he paints the liquid on your lips, “Suck.  My.  Cock,” slowly you sink to your knees, kissing up his protruding vein, “As much as I would like for you to take your time, we do have an audience out there.  You wouldn’t want daddy to see me fucking your pretty little face, would you?”

“Uh-uh,” you whine as he pushes his length into your mouth.  You hollow out your cheeks, and grip the back of his thighs.  Rolling your eyes up to look at him.  His hand pets over your neck a moment before he starts thrusting into you.  You let him take control.  Allowing him to use your mouth as his personal fuck toy.

He holds tightly to your head as he fucks into you.  His eyes moving from your pretty face, stuffed with him, and then out to the guests outside, “Have you seen my daughter?” Your dad yells.  You try to scurry away, but Ransom holds you tighter.  His pelvis propelling into you more.

“No.  I think she had an upset stomach.  Maybe she’s been stuffing her mouth full,” Ransom snorts.  Casually talking to your dad while he drives into you.  He glances back down to you.  Your weight had settled on one of his feet, and while he was fucking your face, you were grinding on his foot like a bitch in heat.

“You think daddy can hear you gagging?  You think he knows that you're drooling for my cock?” You whimper, holding onto him tighter.  Undulating your hips, and soaking his foot with your arousal.  You are dripping wet.  Needy and ready to come.  Sputtering around his member, your drool leaks down your neck.  “You filthy little slut couldn’t wait for me to fuck one of her holes, could she?  You gonna be my little slut?  You gonna call me daddy instead?”

“Mhmm,” he pulls himself out of your mouth, and you gasp for air.  Your lungs sting as oxygen rushes to fill them up.  His cock slaps across your face, and you don't understand.

“Say it.  Call me daddy.  Tell me how bad you want my cock.  Even though I feel that sloppy cunt throbbing on my foot.  I need to hear you say it.”

“Daddy, I want you to fuck my face.  Need you to come in my throat?” Grabbing your head, he crams himself back into your mouth.  Stabbing into you so fast.  So deep he was making your throat bulge out.  And your body hunger for more air.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you.  Almost there.  Gotta hurry.  Can’t let anyone see you being my pretty little slut.  Taking this big fat cock like a good girl.  Uh!  Uh!  Oh!” His head tilts back, and his load shoots into the back of your throat.  You moan at the salty musk that is Ransom.  Your hips fuck down on him harder.  Getting right there…

“I still didn’t tell you to come,” he meanly states, pushing you off him.

“Ransom!  That’s not fair!  I want to come, too.”

“What did you call me?”

“Daddy!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his voice is so patronizing as he lifts your skirt, “Spread your legs.  Let daddy see what a pitiful little pussy this is,” you do as you're told, and he moves your panties aside.  Staring at your pulsing cunt with a smile.  “Pitiful,” he lets a drip of his spit drop onto your pussy, and you moan at the cool sensation.  

“What’s going on?” Your dad’s shadow falls into the kitchen, and over Ransom’s back, and you slap your hands over your skirt, covering yourself up.

“Oh, she fell,” Ransom says quickly.  Nodding to your dad as Ransom offers his hand down to him.  “I think maybe she should lay down somewhere.  She was acting a bit delirious.”

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly not believing a word that either of you had said, “You’ll miss the fireworks.”

“I’ve seen fireworks before.  Ransom is right, dad, I just don’t feel right.  Must be all the excitement today.”

“Go upstairs, third door on the left.  There’s a window that you’ll be able to see all the fireworks,” you give him a nod as you walk up the stairs slowly.  “Is everything okay?” Ransom asks with a smirk.  He caught him spitting into your cunt.  He knows his friend saw you all spread out for him.

“She fell, huh?” He asks.  His eyes darkening as he walks closer.  Looking down at the floor to see a wet spot.  You were messy.

“Yep,” Ransom answers, popping his p.  He holds his hands out shrugging, “I don’t know what to tell you.  Your daughter is clumsy.  She tends to make a mess, too.  Did you know she was a messy little thing?”

“She’s not my real daughter,” he had to add that little bit of information.  Had to let Ransom know when he was looking at you, it was okay.

“Yeah, but you did really marry her mom.  Maybe you should go outside, daddy-o.  Isn’t your wife finally awake?” He shakes his head no, starting to walk back out.  Flinging his head towards the door.  Wanting Ransom to follow.  He had no such plans.  He was going to fuck you during these fireworks.  “Are you that lonely that you need me with you?”

“Are you?” His eyebrow cocks up, “Do you need me with you?”

“Touché.  Listen, I don’t want to be crass, but…”

“She fell, huh?  Is she going to fall again?”

“Yep.  Fall right on my dick.”

——

“You ready to come, Princess?  I got the perfect seat for you to enjoy your fireworks.  Look at this seat daddy prepared for you,” Ransom fists his cock a few times as you walk closer to him.  “There ya go.  You gonna show daddy what you learned in school?  I’m sure Harvard is all boring, but what did those boys teach you in your dorm?”

“I want you to fuck me, though,” tonight was all about you doing all the work.  You wanted nothing more than for Ransom to take advantage of you.  Didn’t care if everyone could hear you screaming.  You wanted him.

“Oh, Princess, this first time I want you to show daddy what those silly college boys taught you.  Sit on my lap.  Let daddy stretch you out,” taking a deep breath, you walk over to Ransom.  Straddling his legs, you grab the base of his cock, and run it through your slit.  

Looking into Ransom’s eyes, you slowly sink down over him, biting at your lip.  None of the boys from school felt like him.  None of them looked like him.  And when you sink balls deep on him, you know that none of them have ever been that deep.  Couldn’t even wish to reach the depths that Ransom did, “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess.  Daddy has such a big cock.  You just sit like that until your pussy doesn’t hurt anymore.  I got her all stretched out, huh?” You nod your head as you bite your lip.  Overwhelmed because you finally feel Ransom.  Finally have him inside of you.  Something you have dreamed about for years.  “You feel me in your belly, honey?”

“Yeah.  But it feels good.”

“Yeah it does.  You gonna let me cum in this tight little pussy?  You are so pretty when you’re a mess,” you slowly start to grind over Ransom.  Getting a better feel of him before you start to bounce on top of him.  Letting your pussy suck him right back in as deep as you could take him.  “Your titties do look pretty bouncing in my face.”

Fireworks boom outside the window, but you only see Ransom.  His mouth chases your tits, just so he can give your buds a nibble.  “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess.  Daddy wouldn’t let you come earlier today, because it makes you that much more needy.  It hasn’t been that long, and I feel your pussy fluttering around me.  My god, I don’t even think I can last.”

BOOM, “Daddy!”

“Tell me what you need, Princess.  Let daddy give it to you.”

BOOM!  POP!  “Daddy!”

“You keep getting louder.  They can’t hear you.  Tell daddy what you want.”

“Daddy!  I wanna come!  Daddy, let me come!”

“Your daddy will make sure you come,” Andy steps up behind you, those thick arms wrapping around your stomach.  One hand spreads your lips further apart, while the other starts making tight circles over your clit.  “Does my sweet girl wanna come?”

“Yes!  Daddy, I wanna come!”

“Woah, woah.  I’m daddy, and this is my princess,” Ransom pouts up at his best friend.  He knew letting Andy watch was a bad idea.  Sick bastard.

“Daddy is gonna help you come,” Andy moans, while you continue to ride Ransom, Andy has got you feeling like you're flying.  Overstimulated, and then he starts to kiss along your neck, while Ransom starts sucking on your tit.  His other hand rolls your nipples between his fingers.  Everything felt good.  Every part of you feels so fucking good.  Your skin is buzzing with euphoria.  “Go on, Princess.  Come.  Daddy’s gonna let you come.”

“Daddy!” You scream as your leg starts trembling.  “Daddy!  Daddy I’m coming!  I’m coming!”  

“Fuck, Andy, she’s got me in a vice grip.  Squeezing me so fucking hard.  There, baby.  Keep riding daddy, yeah!  Fuck yeah!” You moan as Ransom spurts creamy ribbons of his thick cum deep into your core.  Your walls pulse around him, milking every bit of his spend out on him.  “Fuck me!”

“I believe she just did.  Princess, you okay?” You get a dopey smile on your face, whispering yes.  “That was incredible.  How long have you two been fucking?”

“Just this once, Andy.  Now, I let you play with your daughter a bit, but why don’t you let me clean her up.  You’re married.  Don’t need to be fucking your daughter anyways.”

“Quit calling her my daughter!  She’s not my real daughter,” your eyes start to slowly close as you let your high wash over you.  You had him.  He was still in you.  He had filled you up, and it feels so fucking good.

“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck her.  You,” both men stop when you get up, and lay on the bed on your back.  “Princess, why don’t you spread your legs,” your eyes fully close, and you spread your legs.  Putting your gaping cunt on display for both men.  

They stare at your pretty and stretched out channel, and when Ransom's cum starts to leak out, they both gasp.  “My god if that isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s on birth control.  Her mom was scared she was sleeping around too much in college.  Let me guess, that was your doing?”

“Yeah, I don’t do virgins.  They get attached too easily.  Plus, I had her riding daddy’s cock like her life depended on it.  Could you see how deep she took me from your angle?”

“Yes,” Andy rolls his eyes.  “Saw you destroying her pussy.”

“Just wait until I fuck her.  Mmm, my cock is getting hard again.  If you don’t want to see me fuck your daughter in her sleep, I suggest you leave now.  Because I’m going to fuck that slut right into the mattress.  It’s too soon to share her.  You were supposed to just watch.”

Andy Barber never just watches.  He would fuck you too.  He’d make Ransom watch as he pounds into you.  Instead of going to you, Ransom grabs up a pen, “What are you doing?”

“Reminding her,” he says, scribbling ‘obedient’ on one inner thigh.  ‘Good girl’ written on the other.  “Princess, who owns your pussy?”

“You do, daddy.  That’s daddy’s pussy,” Ransom looks back at his friend with a smile.  “It’s all daddy’s.  Whenever daddy wants it.”

“Daddy’s cumdump?”

“Uh huh,” you smile as he writes cumdump on your belly.

“Daddy's pretty little cum princess.”

“Yep,” Andy stomps out of the room, making sure to slam the door.  And you pout up at Ransom.

“He’s just jealous that I’m going to pump you so full of cum, you won’t know what to do with yourself.  My pretty little princess cumslut.”

“Just daddy’s.”

“Unless daddy wants to share?”

“Unless daddy wants to share,” oh Ransom is going to have too much fun with you.  His personal little sex toy.  One he was going to have a lot of fun playing with.  And showing off.  His little fuckdoll that wanted him to do whatever he wanted.  And he would.  “Daddy, I’m sleepy.”

“You want daddy to hold you while you take a nap?” Nodding your head, you make grabby hands up at Ransom, and he crawls into the bed beside you.  “Okay, get some sleep, Princess.  You gotta be rested, so I can fuck you, right?”

“Right.  Shh.”

“I know.  Sleep.  Dream.  And I’ll be right here.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @missusbarnes-rogers​ @peaches1958​ @seitmai​ @smile1318​ @andydrysdalerogers​ @cjand10​ @midnightramyeoncravings​ @maroonsunrise83​ @donutloverxo​ @whiskeytangofoxtrot555​ @bambamwolf87​ @harrysthiccthighss​

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - So Many GREAT Kisses!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

(Please notice I am now using 6 dots in all ellipses because according to Taiwanese BL that's how we queers roll. Who am I to argue?)

Sept 2024 Week 3

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 2 of 12 - A most excellent glow up. And it’s still a great show. And I cannot wait to see the many different faces of War. Bring on the Leverage of One action-packed mess. I'm waiting.  

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) ep 9 of 12 - I’m gonna say this because it drives me crazy. Why are boys in BL, when out and about the countryside, always dressed inappropriately for Thailand? If it’s hot, takeoff your damn jacket. I don’t mean to be crass or crazy or whatever. But don’t wear a jacket when it’s 90° with 90% humidity. In Thailand, jackets are for malls. Meanwhile, I’m an extrovert and that still seemed like an exhausting trip. Although, I suppose they didn’t show all the drive time in the van, when everyone is asleep.

Meanwhile, why are the sides so frustrating in this show? Authentic friends-to-lovers is always a slog. Finally a kiss! And a decent one.

New character? Aw! Hi Yu!!!! Gosh Putter is so cute.

Where were we? Oh yes, Beer is now heartbroken. Always the great fear in F2L that the friendship will be destroyed as a result. And it’s a decent fear. 

On a completely different note, I cannot help but wonder when somebody’s chue len is Beer, if that is because beer was involved in their conception. Like, it’s the name you give your "oops baby" from that drunken night at the club. Don’t mind me. I’m just over here in the corner being crass.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 8 of 12 - That was one of the cutest wake up sequences ever depicted. Utterly adorable. And now he’s blind again? Oh my God this is such a soap opera, I can’t even. Meanwhile, wicked ice prince finally made his move. Gah! Why aren’t we getting more of this couple? I always love the sides best with this production house.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 10 of 12 - I love a hard fraught game of badminton. Even though we actually didn’t see play. YoIng claiming was so cute!!! And their shower kiss was v hot. Yay little show! Also cute use of the punishment trope!

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 3 of 12 - The weight upon the shoulders of our idiot good guy kidnapper continues to pile up. So does the affection. The dude playing Q has sanpaku eyes. Cool. He’s not a particularly good actor though. Rough because everyone around him is giving their very best.

The problem is. I'm noticing. I shouldn't be noticing all the talent trying so hard. That usually means there is something wrong with the story, or there was something wrong on the set.

I don't know what to say at this juncture except I have the sinking suspicion this might not actually be a good show. (Covers head and cowers. Don't hate me.) I'd loved to be proved wrong, but my faith is GMMTV is only about 50% these days. And it probably should be lower.

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 6 of 10 - I was so confused by how we suddenly got on a trip together, that I went back and re-watched the previous installment. And it still isn’t explained. So I have no idea why our leads are on a trip but apparently that’s the next trope to hit. I also have no idea how they're suddenly boyfriends. I’m just generally confused by this episode. It’s like an alt reality. We skipped over all of the stuff where they actually got into a relationship. In general I wasn’t wild about this episode.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 12fin - The most realistic thing about this show is that everybody is everybody else’s ex on any given set. I feel that in my bones. Or do I mean boner?

Frankly, both actors look better after a glow up and I guess pretending to be more their actual ages suits them? Considering what was actually done to invoke youth (a lot of the shine and gloss) aging them was an anti-glow up. A great mattification? Well...... this was a somewhat lackluster finale. (Thank you, thank you, the pun was unplanned. It's a gift.)

I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see Jane suffer? Work HARD to get the kid he abandoned back? I would’ve liked to have seen Ryan a little bit more competent and capable and his job. Maybe dating someone else. But I also do not want any more episodes. This was more than enough. So instead no separation, just boyfriends and a montage of their lives together, getting new and better jobs, moving in together, being supportive and sweet, etc... LOOK: It’s never a good sign when I immediately want to rewrite the show that I just saw.

In conclusion:

A story about a group of interns at a commercial video production company. While I genuinely love OffGun, I’m not convinced this was a good vehicle for them. Is it terrible for me to say, I miss their PickRome days? I don’t think they’ve ever had rolls that suited them better. Still, theirs was the best storyline in this ensemble piece masquerading as a BL, although they still fumbled the ending. Thus, I enjoyed about a 1/3 of it as much as possible, and 2/3 of it less than conceivable. 7/10 and I seriously considered dropping it to a 6/10 so don't push me.

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 1 of 15 - Not gonna lie I was very skeptical. But I like it fine. Better than I expected because it’s been changed just enough. But it does need to stay changed. I don’t know what I’m trying to articulate here but…... I guess we’ll see.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 3 of 5 - It’s cute in a weird disjointed way. I’m enjoying it enough, I guess. I do like how forthright and direct Kla is. 

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Ah. Bully romance. My old frenemy. Of course making this office based means +10 for workplace harassment. Well well well. This will be red flag party town I see. How VERY old school yaoi. It’s all very Cdrama CEO = dudes in suits walking on parquet (minus all the gay sex of course.) The jumping around between times and unfinished scenes is very strange. Is this Starhunter chaos only applied to a timeline?

Imma say this so they hear it at the back. YOU HAVE TO CHANGE THE HAIR. If you do time jumps: change. the. hair. It's the easiest and best clue if you aren't going to apply a filter or other cinematography tricks. JUST CHANGE THE DAMN HAIR STYLE.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 9-10 of 12 - And now we all start using six dots in our……? A new coded way to indicate that one is into BL? I did think we were in a slight mire with ep 9, too much teacher filler. Not enough time spent with our boys. Meanwhile, sports day. Pouty Baby utilizing the power of Ge, in front of all of the classmates who do not realize how hard he is flirting and activating babygirl = one of the greatest things ever to happen on my screen. Essentially this was a version of the claiming trope, only nobody knew it but the two of them. Fucking genius. Yes, I watched it multiple times. Then babygirl is injured, the carrying and the flirting!!!! Gah!

I don’t mean to trivialize the show, but this is me and I can trivialize everything even something as brilliant as this. But that conversation about history at the beginning of ep 10...... Was that about topping and bottoming? Because it sure seemed that way.

And then...... Possibly the best only one bed trope twist ever?

This show is so fucking amazing.

And I am so worried about the end.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 7 of 10 - I love the kinkyness of our baby boy’s fantasy. Where he is the gift and his boyfriend is in uniform. Very nice. Thank you Japan. Never one to let kinky dogs lie. Also, the premise continues: one half thinks that they are already boyfriends and acts like it, and the other half is still trying to become a boyfriend. It’s absurd in that way that only Japanese miscommunication extraordinaire can be absurd. Also could Kyosuke be any more under his boy’s thumb? 

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 1-2 of 10 eps - Shiba is a top lawyer, angular aggressive bespectacled workaholic cat-type (Kitten? Babygirl? Tsundere? Some unholy combination of all 3?) I am reminded I should be more considerate of my potted plants. OMG the teasing and the little tongue sticking out. Haruto is such a flirt. I love this dynamic. What fun! Manic pixie dream boy but MAKE HIM EVIL! Or very high? Or a grifter? I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. But I’m enjoying it. It’s very...... very

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 7 of 12 - Oh! Good kiss. Smart to have the younger character initiate. I also like that he put a stop to it and then went and had a long conversation with a friend about it. Cautious boy. Also shows how in control of the situation Sea is becoming. It works for this BL since he has the stronger personality. I don't care what the characters say, this is about Sea becoming a rock for Neil.

But the secondary couple is actually winning this show. I want so much more of them. 

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 8fin - I’m not sure that blackmailing and entrapment, especially of your ex, necessarily justifies cheating. Plus I never like it when it’s gays against gays. But what did I expect from this show? This whole series was basically Korea’s version of messy gay. If you liked Only Friends you’ll probably enjoy this bullshit. And they were quite pretty. I, however, am monumentally displeased. 4/10 FATALLY FLAWED but still, basically, BL, however…... do we want to support this kind of behavior?

KOREA PLEASE GIVE US A NEW PROPER BL!! WHERE ARE YOU? WE ARE SAD AND LOST WITHOUT YOU.

It's like now they discovered boys can kiss they can't be happy.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL and it's exactly as expected. I do not like it at all. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. DNF 

In case you missed it

I FINISHED Meet You at the Blossom (China). I ate crow, binged the fucker, and live blogged the experience. I enjoyed it a lot and got quite witty (I think) there are also puns (warning). But if you don't wanna slog though it, here are my final thoughts:

This was undeniably a wuxia and most definitely a BL. Evil stunning princely Cheekbones meets and falls in love with the bisexual disaster Dimples of his dreams. There’s a lot of floaty fighting, tangled plot, and overworked emotions. From start to finish it is exactly as it claims to be, including more than the expected amount of sexual claiming (dubious conscent to the point of rape). I’m not wild about the wuxia genre, but I will tell you what I do like: Very pretty men in flowing robes + eye makeup + hair ribbons wafting about stabbing and kissing each other plus ridiculous soap opera machinations. I also like cheekbones and dimples. AND I love a stupid gay sleeve, okay? There was also truly epic levels of stink-eye, and that too is to be lauded. This show left me grinning like crazy. Was it great? Not really, but it was a great experience and I enjoyed it immensely. 8/10

4 Minutes (Gaga) Ended - Spies reported in to say the ending was not-exactly-unhappy and mostly lackluster. I'm torn over whether to watch. My natural disinclination to binge, meets my dissatisfaction with wishy-washy, is going up against my love of high heat and pretty men. Oh the age old struggle between art and lust.

Mitsuya-sensei no keimakutekina ezuke finished and it’s reported to be solid. Age gap treated with respect. I'm curious, so I'll check it out if I can get hold of non-G-drive subs.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Still Coming Sept 2024:

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I love love love this execution of the punishment trope. What's Ai going to do to you, Yu? Ride you to death?

I Saw You in My Dream indeed.

Sigh. This show. (Addicted Heroin)

All praise one of BL's best-in-show glow-ups. Nicely done, Jack.

James, on the other hand. Never needs a glow-up. Still the prettiest. Has been since Oxygen. (Battle of the Writers)

He's playing the role of Saint in this show, thank you very much. Speaking of which, wouldn’t that be just the most gorgeous pairing in the entire universe? Saint and James? I’ll be in my bunk. 

Taiwan giving us a boop! Reminds me of Be Loved In House I Do, right up there with TharnType as chronic boopers.

Why is he SO GOOD in this show?

All Frist Note.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[fbfh]

tristin dugray relationship and intimacy hcs pt 2

wc: 1.1k

pairing: tristin x (implied fem) reader

genre: straight up smut with some mild feelings

warnings: brief mention of exhibitionism, debriefing with madison and louise, aftercare, cuddles, car sex, sex in a variety of places, cockwarming, nudes, brief mention of oral (m recieving)

song rec: mary - alex g (bc this is literally tristin's song. it's so fucking tristin coded.)

a/n: so good news I think my adhd medication is finally working lol

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280

As with all nsfw works all characters are aged up to 18+

WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU MORE TRISTIN SMUT BC I’M FOAMING AT THE FUCKING MOUTH

What’s fun about Tristin

Among many other things

Is his fixation with your hips

Seriously it was one of the first things this horny motherfucker noticed about you

Whenever you wear anything mildly form fitting he can’t take his goddamn eyes off your hips

Once you’re together it’s basically impossible for him to resist touching them

Sometimes it’s a playful squeeze

Or an affectionate rub

Other times it’s full on groping while he shoves his tongue into your mouth and makes you grind against his thigh

He could live like that for days and not get tired

Speaking of

Tristin has fucking stamina for DAYS

“Men can’t have multiple orgasms” tell that to him!!!!!!!!

He just… has a fixation with all of you honestly

Like there’s no part of you that he’s not going to eye the fuck up 

You know the looks he’s always giving Rory???? 

That’s just the tip of the iceberg babe

Or should I say tip of the penis lol

Anyway 

Tristin is vocal as FUCK

Like mans can’t shut up

Even when we’ve reached the previously mentioned dumbfucking point, he’s still going to be whining and grunting and panting nonstop

His moans have you gushing like niagara falls tbh 

There is a zero percent chance he’s not going to give you the most affectionate aftercare every time too

So much praise and kisses and cuddles

Like he’ll genuinely get upset if you try to just bounce afterwards

Or worse

If he wakes up the next morning and you’re not there

Maybe he could handle casual hookups with other girls

But not with you

He will absolutely pull you back into bed and demand kisses and cuddles

I’m not gonna lie

He does have a little bit of an exhibitionist streak

Just a tiny itty bitty one

Mostly just from the urge to prove that you’re his when other guys keep flirting with you

If the circumstances were right and you were down, he would be happy to put on a show for them, show them how good he treats you

If you’re still friends with madison and louise/go to the same college as them they will BEG you for details and live vicariously through you

The line where they saw Tristin and Summer making out in front of Rory’s locker and one of them (I forget which one) was like “if you’re dating Tristin you have the right to make out anywhere and everywhere”

…

Yeah

They will literally grill details out of you

Whatever they can get

And the way they look at him after

The little sighs and head tilts and staring off into space thinking about what you told them, letting their imaginations go wild

It would make you jealous

If you didn’t know how much he likes you

But yeah there’s no one that can take you away from Tristin 

He loves you

And he loves keeping things fresh and spicy and exciting

He absolutley fucks you in his car a lot

Like a lot lot 

There’s at least a few pairs of your panties that you’ve lost somewhere in the fancy leather seats

He’ll also happily fuck you in your car

And every room and surface of your apartment

And your apartment hallway

And in an elevator once 

And public bathrooms

And your bathroom

And pretty much anywhere he thinks yall can get away with

Seriously this boy is such a slut but he’s only a slut for you

You light him on fucking fire and he can’t cope

He needs you biblically,, like in a way that’s concerning to feminism.

You can tell how he feels just from the way he looks at you 

And it’s obvious as shit to everyone else too

Like literally everyone

He eye fucks you a lot lot lot

GOD this boy can seduce you so fast

He moans so loud for you too

Tristin will really give you a good show

He wants to impress you

Wants you to need him

(cough cough praise kink)

He wants to breathe the same air as you

He wants to wrap you up so tight in his arms that it feels like you’re merging into one person

Tristin is the “cuddling isn’t enough I need to climb inside your skin” kinda clingy

Solution is cockwarming

Which you both love a lot

Once he realizes cockwarming is an option????? 

It slowly increases in frequency

There’s a good chance you won’t be able to sleep without it at some point

Seriously he will hold you tight and rub your back and touch your soft skin and tell you all the lovey dovey things he feels about you

Most of it is lovey dovey

But don’t let that fool you 

He is the CEO of both his family company AND dirty thoughts about you

Seriously he’s set off so easily by you

9 times out of 10 he’s probably fantasizing about you

Remembering your touch

How you feel around him

God he can’t wait to get his hands on you again

Let me tell you

Tristin is a motherfucking MENACE when it comes to sexting

He will have you blushing over the phone in ways you didn’t know you could blush

He’s so shameless about it too

If you send him nudes??????

He will literally die

And he’ll happily, happily return the favor

Once he realizes how you react when he sends you nudes?????

He never wants to stop

He literally loves getting you all feral and worked up over him

Don’t let Madison and Louise find out Tristin sends you nudes or else they will steal your phone and make a copy of your fingerprint with sticky tape and face powder just to access them /hj

Speaking of going feral

Tristin’s happy trail?????????

Are we gonna talk about it??????

Are we gonna talk about how you want to fucking bite him and deep throat him until you memorize every vein whenever you see his lil happy trail????

Because you will

You’ll definitely want to

Okay putting myself down now lol

I need his cock immediately

Constantly covered in hickeys and unable to walk and he loves it so much

He loves when you need him and he loves fucking you so good that you’re out of commission the next day

It’s what you deserve

You think he’s a menace now???

God help you when he gets baby fever

[poeticpascal]

I've Got You (Dbf!Joel Miller x Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: When a date set up by your father goes wrong, your secret boyfriend and Dad's best friend races to protect you.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: smut, 18+, MDNI, attempted sexual assault, abusive language, reader's date is a tory prick, soft!dom!Joel, blowjob, unprotected sex, use of pet names.

A/n: So... this is my first time writing smut. I am super proud of this one, so please let me know what you think! Requests are open so for more Joel/Pedro action, you know where to find me x

Dating your Dad’s best friend is hard. And stupid. Really, you have no clue why either of you thought this'd be a good idea. But you were so far down this path now, so entangled in late night meet-ups and whispered phone calls and unspoken thoughts that sounded a lot like ‘I love you’, that it was too late to turn around and steer the sinking ship of this utter mess back to shore.

More than anything, you hate not having any normalcy with him. You can’t fall straight into his arms after a hard day. You can’t cuddle into his side with a bowl of popcorn watching crappy weeknight telly. You can’t go to the store together, holding hands and making him laugh as you insist on buying a flavour of ice cream that you know he’d love. And it sucks.

Because everyone said Joel would never be one to settle down. He’s too wild, too rough to fit into a polished little box like that. And you’d thought the same. Until you fucked him, then fucked him again, and kept going back until you could see the pain in his eyes each time you left. You could practically feel the heaviness settle in his stomach as you left his bed to sneak back home. It hurts him as much as it does you, and if you weren’t so incredibly in love with him, that would’ve been enough to make you run.

Despite how long you’d kept this going now, a good 6 months at least, it never got any easier. Especially when your Dad started talking about dating. He was protective, but more than anything he wanted to see you happy. So when you suddenly became distant, hiding in your room more often and going out on dates much less, he was concerned. Nowhere near as concerned as he’d be if he found out why you were acting that way, you thought, but concerned all the same.

So when he came home one day, beaming and shouting for you to come downstairs, you thought nothing of it. When he explained there was a new apprentice at his work that he thinks you’d like, you weren’t surprised. And when he told you he’d set up a blind date with said boy, you felt sick.

Because you really couldn’t get out of it. You tried.

“Dad, I just don’t feel like dating right now.”

“Oh come on, you used to have a new date every few weeks. I’m just worried about you. Matthew's really nice, and he likes the same shitty music you do-”

“It’s good music.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I just…” he paused, his worry painted on his face, and there's no way you could’ve said no to him. “Honey, I want you to be happy. I don’t know what’s gotten into you recently” - your best friend, you thought - “but I just need to know you’re okay. So give this a go, for me, alright? And if you have an awful time, that’s it, I’ll never set you up again.”

You sighed. He was right; it’s just one night, one date. One box you have to tick to relieve the pressure that comes from having an affair with your next door neighbour, the one more than twice your age, the one your Dad would call a brother. And besides, your Dad would be working an overnight job, so you’d be spending the night at Joel’s anyway. Something to look forward to.

“Okay, yeah. I’ll go. For you.”

He pulled you in for a hug, tight, and you hugged him right back because you really do hate having to keep this from him. He pulled away, smiling - “great! It’s tonight at 7. He’ll pick you up.”

“You already arranged it?!” You near enough shrieked, but he’d already sauntered off to the kitchen, giggling as he went. 

Typical.

So that’s how you ended up here, at 6:55pm, waiting by the front door for Marcus - or Michael, or something like that - to pick you up. Your phone buzzes, Joel’s name flashing on the screen, that alone making you feel that much calmer.

You’d text him as soon as you talked to your Dad, letting him know about the date. He understood, and you loved that about him; he was mature, compassionate, and he was more than secure in the fact that no matter who you talked to, who flirted with you on nights out, who you were set up with… you’d always come back to him. 

Don’t worry about tonight, baby. It’ll go quickly. I’ll leave the door unlocked for when you get back. Text me if you need picking up. J x

You smile at his initial at the end - it’s such a Dad thing to do, but it makes you happy, especially when he adds a little kiss. He only does that for you.

The sudden sound of a car door closing snaps you out of your thoughts, Joel’s text left on read as what you assume to be your date heads up the driveway. You take a deep, nervous breath, smoothing out your dress and heading to the door just in time for his knock.

You open the door, take a good look at your date, and he’s… okay. Not unattractive, per se. Though you’d come to accept a little while ago that being with Joel had soured your perception of pretty much every other guy. His dusty blonde hair is slicked back with gel, his teeth are way too white, and he’s dripped in designer clothing that just screams, “I have a trust fund.”

“Oh, hi! I’m Matthew.” Right. Matthew. “You must be (Y/N).” He leans in to peck your cheek, and all you can think about is how smooth his skin is as it grazes yours. Nothing like Joel’s coarse stubble that you love so much - especially when it leaves red patches on your cheeks, and your neck, and if you’re really lucky -

Matthew leans back a little, confused, and you’re brought out of your daydream. “Sorry, yeah, that’s me. (Y/N).” 

Well, that was awkward.

You just need to get through these next few hours, you think to yourself, smiling at the boy and letting him lead you out of the house and into his car. You can’t help but glance towards Joel’s place across the street; it looks quiet tonight, though his truck is in the driveway, and as soon as you look up you’re sure you catch the living room blinds suddenly draw shut. You smirk.

──────

The date was going… okay. About as okay as a date you don’t want to be on, with someone you have no interest in, and another man constantly on your mind could go. You could see why your Dad liked him; smart enough, well-polished. His father was a partner in the company, you learned - oh, he’s a ‘Daddy’s credit card’ type you’d thought - and by all intents and purposes he was the sort of guy any parent would hope to see their daughter end up with.

It’s never that easy though, is it?

Because he isn’t rough around the edges like Joel. He doesn’t have his stature, or carry himself with the same brute certitude. You can’t imagine him fucking you up against the wall, working himself up until he’s almost animalistic, somehow using you and worshipping you at the same time. And you can’t see him wrapping you up so tightly afterwards, holding you close and whispering how good you were for me, how proud of you I am.

No, only Joel could do that, and that’s how you like it.

The bill comes, Matthew suggests you split it. You don’t mind. He takes out his credit card, flashing it in front of you. “This is my Dad’s. I can use it as much as I want.” He’s smirking like he’s got something to be proud of, and you really had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Instead you just smile, before paying your share and making small talk as you head out the door and towards his car.

“So, I thought we could head back to my place.”

You freeze. Yeah, no, not gonna happen. He’s got this shit-eating grin on his face, one you knew all too well from past college boyfriends - that’s a boy who thinks he’s getting some tonight. You shudder, wrapping your arms around your waist and trying to sound sincere as you reply, “this has been lovely, but I’ve got an appointment early in the morning” - not really a lie, if staying in bed with a man over twice your age getting fucked or cuddled or both counts as an appointment - “so I’d rather just head home.”

You reach for the passenger side door, but it’s locked. You try again, pulling on the handle, but it doesn’t budge. You realise then that he’s stepped closer, too close, crowding your vision as you turn to face him while keeping one hand on the door’s handle. He leans an arm against the roof of the car, right beside your head, staring you down. 

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). I’ve got the house to myself tonight, it’ll just be us. I know that’s what you want, don’t be shy.”

His free hand pinches your chin, his touch aggressive where Joel’s is rough but careful, and he tries to close the already too-small gap between you.

You dodge him quickly, slipping out from under his arm and backing up, away from the car, away from him. Matthew just watches you, incredulous, before laughing to himself and taking a step forward. “Look, baby, I know you want this. What is it, are you scared your daddy’s gonna find out?”

“What? No, I-” you splutter, but he interrupts.

“Get in the car, (Y/N). You don’t have to worry about anyone finding out. I can see the way you look at me, I bet you’re dying to fu-”

A heavy sickness has flooded your stomach, your nerves shot from the sudden escalation of what was supposed to be a quiet, albeit tedious, night. But his words hit you, and before you can even think, you’re shouting back at him. 

“You seriously think I want to fuck you? You can’t even pay your half of the bill with your own money. Fuck that. I’ll make my own way home.”

The smug look on his face is quickly washed away with anger, and you continue to slowly step backwards as Matthew follows you. A lick of fear sets in now as the pale streetlights cast shadows on his darkened expression, and you scold yourself for opening your mouth.

“The fuck did you just say to me? Do you know who my Dad is?” - this really isn’t a good time to roll your eyes - “You think you’re too good for me, you bitch? I’ll show you.”

He stalks you, and your eyes frantically dart back to the restaurant you’d just left, though you’d backtracked far enough to be almost at the door again.

People are dining and laughing, some just sitting and watching the world go by. You’re well within their view, and you turn back to see that Matthew’s gaze has followed your own and he’s connected the dots. He can’t do anything in front of them. He locks eyes with you again, scoffing, heading back to his car and loudly shouting something that sounded a lot like “fuckin’ bitch.” Nice.

He drives away; you’re safe, out of the situation, and as the relief floods you the adrenaline does too and tears prick at your eyes. You sit on a small bench just outside the restaurant, dotted with shrubbery and stains from spilt drinks you assume, and take out your phone.

Your last chat with Joel is already open, and you breathe slowly in an attempt to still your shaking hands as you type quickly,

Please come and get me. He was trying to get me to go back with him. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s gone now but I have no ride home.

The text is marked as ‘read’ almost as soon as you send it, though you receive no reply. You didn’t expect to; Joel wasn’t much of a texter. Like, at all. He was slowly getting used to it, what with it being one of the only ways you could really talk when slipping over to his place was too risky. 

In this particular instance, you already knew he’d have read the text, dropped his phone without a second thought and hurried to his truck while muttering to himself what he’s gonna do to the kid, how he won’t see what’s comin’ to him.

Just how badly Joel might react worries you. He’s protective, incredibly so when it comes to you, and that combined with his white hot temper was surely a recipe for some sort of disaster.

Secretly, though, you loved it. And so as you sat on that little bench, frosty air nipping at your skin, you couldn’t help but revel in the warmth that pooled in your core at the thought of what sort of beast Joel would become tonight.

──────

It only takes him around 10 minutes to reach you, and you know for a fact he must’ve ran a red light or two because normally it’s a 20 minute drive at least into town. You stand, walking over to his truck, but before you can hop in he’s already storming out and wrapping you up in his arms, shielding you, eyes darting across the street.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“Joel, I-”

“(Y/N) where the fuck is he? I’m gonna kill that little bastard. Fucking-”

His body is tense, far more so than usual, and anger pours from him in buckets. You pull away to look up at him, his eyes still searching for the boy long gone, and you sigh. “He’s gone, Joel. He left.”

He finally meets your eyes, a cold frown etched on his face, and he somehow looks even angrier than usual. “Did he touch you?” His hands roam your body, searching for you didn’t know what, but you let him do whatever he needed to relax. To know you were safe.

“No, Joely, he didn’t. I’m fine, I promise.”

It usually softens him right up, your little nickname for him. Joely. The first few times you used it, he’d just scoff or roll his eyes, but the small smirk that crept onto his face each time let you know he loved it. Quite how much he loved it was a different story; you hadn’t got together then, though the both of you wanted it, and as your relationship blossomed you became the only one he ever let call him anything other than Joel.

It doesn’t work this time, though, and he remains stern, finally letting you go and searching your eyes for even a hint of anxiety or fear. “What happened?”

“He tried it on, I said no. He tried again, I backed up and made sure there were people watching,” you nod towards the restaurant, still bustling with life. “And he left.”

Joel nods. “You tell him to fuck off?”

“‘Course i did.” 

It seems as if he finally lets up then, giving you a proper hug, one arm around your neck and the other around your waist. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, hard, and the tension leaves him. “That’s my girl.”

You squeeze him tight, burrowing into his shirt and inhaling the scent of him that you loved so much. With one arm around your shoulders, he guides you back to his truck, opening the door for you and helping you. He does it everytime, but it still makes you blush, and you’re sure his lips smirk slightly as your cheeks turn red. Worth it.

The ride back to home is quiet, only the sound of his radio and passing traffic echoing between you. He keeps a hand on your knee, always protective, and every now and then you rub your palm over it to let him know you appreciate it. To say thank you.

Joel was never good with words, and you’d learned over the last few months just how much he relies on touch to express himself. To show love. You’d picked up on his habits, his little signs, his way of telling you his deepest thoughts without having to speak a word.

And when you reciprocated, when you wrapped your hand around his, or brushed his side at the neighbours’ BBQ, or kissed his shoulder in the kitchen, you knew just what it meant to him.

Your driveway is empty as Joel turns onto your street - your Dad must have set off for work already. You sigh in relief; you didn’t have the energy to explain all this to him, and certainly not the energy to try and sneak into Joel’s without him seeing.

Joel steps out first, taking a quick look around to make sure no nosey neighbours were watching, a precaution you were both used to by now. He grabs the door for you again, holding your hand and helping you out, holding you close to his side as he unlocks the door and you both slip inside.

“What do you want to drink?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He pauses, looking at you, concerned. ”No. You need somethin’ to drink. You need to- to lie down, or somethin’.”

You follow him into the kitchen as he stalks past you, not giving you time to answer and filling a glass with water and ice. “Drink,” he hands it to you.

You take it, thanking him and sipping as he watches. It’s sweet; he cares about you, so much, and when he looks at you like this you can’t help but feel butterflies swirl in your stomach.

“I’m sorry.” It’s almost a whisper, so quiet you wouldn’t have heard if it weren’t so still already in his house.

“Hm?” You look at him, confused.

“I’m sorry he did that to you. S’not - s’not right. I mean, shit, what if you couldn’t get away?” He was spiralling.

“Hey, hey. Joel, it’s okay. I’m okay.” You set down the glass and take him in your arms. He calms, instantly, holding you tightly against him and cupping the back of your head with his hand.

“You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“I know.”

He sighs. “I just wanna protect you, honey.”

“I know.”

He pulls back to look at you, framing your face with his hands and running his thumbs along the edge of your cheekbones.  You lean in, letting his lips capture yours in that sweet but desperate way that only Joel can, and moan into his mouth. He slips his tongue against yours, letting one arm fall to your waist as his hand lingers around the hem of your jeans.

The kiss becomes desperate and you reach for his belt, your arousal becoming unbearable as the memory of him so full of anger and protectiveness spins in your mind like a carousel. He breaks the kiss and you groan, chasing his swollen lips with yours.

“We don’t have to do this.” His southern drawl is slick with need, his eyes closed as he rests his forehead against yours. The moment is so sweet, so intimate, that any thoughts of what had happened today were long gone and your mind was full with sweepings of him.

“I want to.”

He grunts, pushing himself further into you so his nose brushes yours like a cat. So much so, you almost purr into him, and it makes you giggle. You curse yourself as he pulls back, cocking an eyebrow and giving you that stare you’d come to know all too well; you’re a pain in my ass, it says. But the corners of his lips turn upwards, and you step forward so you’re once again pressed right up against him, pressing gentle kisses to his jaw.

“You’ve had a big shock today, sweetheart,” he sighs.

You know he’s given up. You know he needs this as much as you do. But you humour him, and tip his head down so you can kiss his lips again. 

“So make me forget.”

It snaps something within him, and you shriek as Joel sweeps you up in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist in instinct and your head burying itself in his neck. He laughs at the sound you make, something you’d always known to be so rare for him, but that he does far more often now he has you. 

He carries you upstairs, gripping your thighs with his large hands, and the way he holds you so easily just turns you on more. He kicks his bedroom door open, all but throwing you on the bed and watching as you bounced softly on the sheets, undoing his belt that was already half-opened by your shaky hands.

“On your back. Lay your head towards me.”

You did as he said immediately, though your movements were slow, languid. He let you take your time; a part of you thinks he likes to watch you move for him, the way you put on a show, keeping your eyes locked on his and your lips slightly parted and puffy from his kiss. 

You lie on your back, your head dangling off the edge, looking up at him upside down. The hard outline of his cock is just centimetres above you, swollen already, and your desperation to taste it must’ve shown on your face because Joel groans out a soft, strangled “fuck.”

“You need this cock, baby? Need your throat fucked?” You just nod rapidly, desperate for him to do something other than just stand there and watch you, your arousal becoming unbearable. Joel seems to break, too, pulling down his jeans and boxers and gripping his hard length in his hands. 

It’s big at the best of times, but from this angle, his balls level with your eyes and his cock the only thing you can see when you look up at him, it’s painful how bad you need him.

You’d only discovered this position recently, on a night you’d spent at his place while your Dad was away with work, not unlike tonight. Joel had been floored, consumed with pleasure as the stretch of your spine made it so easy for him to slide himself through your mouth and down your throat, the muscles tensing around him and drawing his release much sooner than he’d have liked. 

He slides the head of his cock over your lips, painting them in his precum. You whine, lapping at his taste, desperate but you know better than to lift your hands off the bed. No, you give him control, and he lavishes it.

“Open up, babygirl.”

You comply, parting your lips and moaning as Joel pushes inside, giving you no time to breathe. You try to control yourself, inhaling through your nose and letting your muscles relax before he bottoms out, his groin almost entirely covering your face and your throat full of his thickness. 

It’s filthy, degrading, resigns you to nothing but his to fuck and use as he wants. 

You love it.

“Such a good girl, baby. So good for me, ain’t ya?” You can hardly even nod as your tongue flicks along a particularly swollen vein. He begins to move, pulling out almost entirely before slamming his cock back into your mouth. You moan again, and it hurts, in that delectable way that’ll spend the next few days reminding you of this moment.

Joel’s got one hand on the wooden foot of the bed, keeping himself steady. The other finds its way to your neck, and he stalls as he feels his cock beneath your skin, rapidly pushing in and out. He moans your name, his hips rocking into you harder and harder, chasing a release you knew he wouldn’t let himself have just yet. 

You’re completely at his mercy now, too consumed by his scent and his touch to think, and you hardly register him reaching for your hand and taking it in his own. He starts to mumble, and you only catch a few words - “my good girl. My girl. So- so fuckin’ pretty for me.”

He swells, your tongue working faster against him, his hand squeezing yours and his legs faltering when he suddenly pulls out and stands back with a whimper. Your eyes are glazed over, your sore throat misses him, and your pink swollen lips are trying to say something but you’re not sure what. It feels like his name.

“Come on, pretty girl, come here.” He sits beside you on the edge of the bed, wrapping his big arms around your back and guiding you into his lap. 

His fingers dance over your entrance, collecting the slick that soaked your thighs before pushing a single finger inside, revelling in your arousal. He admires you as you squirm, rolling your hips against his hand, desperate for more and moaning against his lips. 

It’s almost embarrassing how easy you unravel for him, and if it weren’t for your utter infatuation for the man, you’d have hidden your pleasure and at least tried to hold onto some sense of dignity. But you were obsessed, addicted to him, and he knew it. Because god, was he addicted to you, too.

He kisses you, letting another finger slip inside and catching your hiss with his mouth. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, opening his eyes to look at you, his cock twitching against your thigh. 

“Tell me what you need, angel.”

“Y- you, Joel. I need you. Please.” You hardly register yourself saying the words, but they do the trick, as Joel removes his fingers and instead lines the tip of his cock with your soaking wet entrance. 

“Please, please, fuck me. Fuck-” 

He snaps his hips upwards, driving his cock into your cunt and you gasp as he stretches you. You grip at his shoulders, sure to leave marks, but you know he loves it. 

He sets the pace, guiding you to bounce on his cock as his hips snap upwards again and again, fucking you so hard you can almost see stars. 

His head is buried in your neck, kissing and nipping at the delicate skin, and you try to regain some autonomy and roll your hips side to side making him mewl. 

“So - oh, fuck - so good baby, keep doin’ that.” He spurs you on as your breathless moans and the heavy slap of skin on skin fills the room, lewd but addictive.

The pace is brutal, unforgiving as your thighs tremble and you wonder if he’s feeling the burn of his movements. If he does, he doesn’t show it, just ramming into you and moaning your name against your ear. 

His hand falls from your waist and finds its way to your clit, making you gasp as he circles his thumb around the spot. The near pornographic moan that falls from his lips as you roll into his touch is nearly enough to make you cum right there, but you know better than to cum before he tells you to.

Instead he hoists you further up, giving him better control of your hips, and angles his cock so it hits that perfectly raw spot deep inside you that has tears in your eyes.

“I- I’m gonna-” 

“I know, baby. Just hold on for me. I’ve got you.” You cry at his denial, though it’s quickly forgotten as he flips you over onto your back, his head still tucked under the crook of your neck, his cock still buried inside you. He resumes his fast pace, reaching even deeper inside you with your legs locked around his waist, and you moan so loudly you worry someone’s going to hear you.

Joel doesn’t seem to care as he pulls back to look at you, marvelling at how utterly fucked-out you look for him. His pace starts to falter, each thrust more desperate than the last, and he frantically pushes his tongue into your mouth as you moan in unison.

“Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock, that’s it.” You release on command, crying out as waves of pleasure spread like fire through your body, and the uncontrollable spasms of your orgasm make Joel groan as he spills inside you, still rocking into you and carrying both of your highs.

He doesn’t let his cock slip out of you as he wraps an arm under your back and rolls onto his side, holding you close as he brushes the matted hair away from your forehead and replaces it with a soft kiss. You hum, snuggling into him and trying not to gasp at the feeling of his cock inside you while you were still so sensitive. He can see you flinch and smiles, though he just wants you to rest for now.

“You okay, babygirl?” You just hum again, but he taps your chin and you look up. 

“Answer me, angel.”

“I’m good. Tired.”

Joel nods, running his hand through your hair and agreeing, “me too.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, almost dozing off as the heat that radiates from him lulls you gently to seep, when he breaks the silence again. “What’s his name?”

“Hm?” You reply, too fucked-out to really understand what he was saying.

“That little asshole. What’s his name?”

He’s looking down at you, brows knitted together, and you just sigh. “It doesn’t matter, Joel. He doesn’t matter. I promise.”

“But-“

You cut him off with a kiss, and the tension that built in his shoulders is quickly dissipated. “No ‘but’s. Get some sleep.”

“Aright,” he resigns. “I love you.”

It slips out, sudden, and he freezes before he realises the joy that’s spread across your face from his words. It’s the first time either of you have said it, and the way your eyes light up are enough to let him die a happy man. You nuzzle his nose, your hand gently lay on his chest, your eyes falling shut again. “I love you too, Joel.” He wraps you up tighter, grinning, happy. In love.. “And no asking my Dad, either.”

He scoffs, “I wasn’t going to!” You just cock a brow, eyes still shut, and though you can’t see him you know he’s rolling his eyes. “Let me get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” 

He pulls out of you slowly, making you wince at the loss, and sits up on the bed. When you can still feel his weight beside you, you crack an eye open to see him quickly typing something on his phone, and you frown. “Joel?”

He startles and drops his phone, turning to you and kissing the top of your head. “Sorry, baby, I’m going - just gimme a sec to get you a warm cloth.”

As he leaves for the bathroom you snatch his phone, already knowing what he’d done. Your Dad’s name is at the top of the screen, the chat from just moments ago still open:

What’s the name of that kid (Y/N) went out with?

Matthew Wicks, he’s the new apprentice at work. Why?

Just wondered.

You’re weird, man.

Joel creeps out of the bathroom, frozen as he sees you lock his phone. He offers a small, guilty smile, quickly wiped away as you grab his pillow and playfully launch it at his chest. 

“JOEL!”

──────

Thank you so much for reading! As ever, comments and weblogs are so appreciated, and please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in my future fics!

[nana-au]

could you write an inumaki smut where reader asks him to use his cursed speech on her>.< BTW I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH ITS SO GOOOOD

haii anon, ur wish is my command! i hope you like the direction i took with this! it starts out dramatic, but i thought it would be fun to have a backstory. sorry if it made it too long tho ;( thank you so much for the request and the compliment! all luv ♡♡♡

𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃

Toge Inumaki ♡

₊˚ପ⊹ summary: you survive an attack by a curse all thanks to your boyfriend, toge, but for some reason you can’t stop thinking about what else his cursed technique might be able to do. 

₊˚ପ⊹ warnings: graphic violence, minor character death, angst/hurt/comfort, wet dream, f!receiving oral, f!masturbation, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, stomach bulging, hitting your cervix, creampie

₊˚ପ⊹ a/n: toge is aged up to a young adult (around 20-24) with an established relationship to reader. toge communicates with reader via sign language. i’m a little hesitant to tag this as dom! toge but he gets pretty rough in this. also i gave him a long dick... lol. 

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 5.9k+

MDNI

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Somehow, someway, you had gone your entire relationship with Toge having never experienced the other part of his life. The part he so desperately shielded you from, only ever vaguely explaining his line of work. The day that all changed, you couldn’t fathom the way things used to be. How you used to leave your house without a second thought and how you weren’t sick with concern when Toge was called away with work.

You remember it like it was yesterday. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

“You want?” he signed to you, eyes crinkling in a smile. Your cheeks flushed realizing you had stopped in the middle of the street to stare inside an arcade. You couldn’t help it when you saw a claw machine from where you two were walking. Your favorite Sanrio character sat pretty inside the glass and Toge, being your doting boyfriend, made it his mission to win it for you. 

You two worked together to edge it closer and closer to the shallow drop built into the machine, but it sure wasn’t turning out to be an easy task. You patted him on the back, telling him it was okay if he couldn’t get it – that you loved him regardless for trying so hard. But you should have known better than to say that. He wasn’t going to stop until he had that stuffed animal in your arms, no matter how thin his wallet was starting to feel. Under his thick scarf his tongue stuck out in concentration, studying all sides of the machine before letting the arm down again. It latched, and you two stood still holding your breaths. The claw made its way over to the slot, weakly holding onto the tag of the plushie, swinging it side to side. The both of you leaned impossibly close, not believing what was in front of your eyes. The stuffed animal inched over the plastic edge, putting up resistance and shaking the claw. You gasped, eyes wide as you willed the claw to maintain its strength. Just as it made it over the edge, the claw released and the soft body of your new friend hit the bottom of the slot. You didn’t even have a moment to celebrate when the ground shook violently, screams piercing the air. Your head whipped towards the street, watching as people ran down the street frantically shoving each other while trying to get away from something you couldn’t see. It was mere seconds that you went from standing in front of the claw machine to feeling Inumaki’s strong hands pulling you into him. You met his wild eyes and if you weren’t terrified before, seeing the flash of fear in his face was enough to make your entire body shake. Being a regular human you were completely blind and deaf to the curse just a few yards up the street, screeching and gurgling as it tore through the crowd but from the look on his face you knew. You were terrified, and so was he. 

He didn’t find it pertinent to explain in the moment but he had dealt with curses his entire life; he couldn’t feel fear in the face of even the strongest curse at this point, but the knowledge that you were so close to danger had bile burning the walls of his throat. He wasted almost no time dragging you to the back of the arcade and into the ‘employee’s only’ supply closet. If he wasn’t deeply opposed to using his cursed technique on the people he loved he would have commanded you to sit and stay until he came back for you. Instead he signed it, pleading with his eyes for you to listen. You nodded and he squeezed your hand before kissing your forehead. His silent promise he would be back soon. 

When soon came and went you began to get antsy. A couple of patrons and employees hid along with you, all of you huddled together in fear as chaos tore through the commercial district. You didn’t dare consider coming out of hiding without Toge’s say-so, and you didn’t for quite some time. But time kept passing with no sign of him or the curse. Not that you could hear it anyways. You held your breath in anticipation, ears focused for any sign of danger. That was when you heard a voice. First it was a couple of faint whimpers that soon turned into desperate screams. The people hidden with you kept still, not daring to find the source of the sound. At first you ignored it, wanting to obey your boyfriend’s simple command meant to keep you safe – but it became too much for you. From her voice alone you could hear how much pain she was in and that being the only noise you heard in a while, it lulled you into a sense of security. Against your better judgment and against what Toge wanted, you got up, softly opening the door of the stuffy closet you were hidden in before crouching cautiously through the arcade. As you got closer to the street you began to shake again. The streets were almost unrecognizable. The decorations you saw not even an hour ago were strewn across the pavement, along with merchandise from various stores and trampled food from the vendors that lined the strip. You even noted how some buildings' entire structures were missing, leaving jagged craters where the pieces of stone once resided.  You let out a huff, remembering why you came out in the first place, finally stepping out of the doorless entryway. You peered your head, trying to find the woman you were looking for, struggling to see anyone amongst the ruined street. 

It took you a moment, but the sounds of her struggle got louder and louder until you noticed a hand peeking out from some rubble. You got on your knees immediately, clearing the debris around you until her face came into view. 

“Oh thank god!” she cried out, relieved to see another human being. “Help me please! I’m stuck,” at her words you began to realize her figure was pinned beneath a large chunk of stone, just barely propped up by another equally large slab, keeping her torso from being completely flattened.

“It looks really heavy,” you responded, barely above a whisper, your nerves still on high alert. “I’ll try my best,” you promised her, not wanting to show how doomed the situation looked from your perspective. You weighed out the option of sitting with her while you waited for help. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you ended up seriously injuring her, but you didn’t want to just give up without trying. You got to work, bracing yourself before using all of your strength against the slab that currently kept her pinned to the ground. You struggled to get the chunk to even budge, a drop of sweat falling from your hairline. The woman began wailing from the realization that your attempt was futile, panic overwhelming her again.

“You can’t get it? Oh god… I’m gonna die here!” her words tore through the air and you leaned in close, trying to shush her.

“I’m trying my best!” you pleaded with her, “please ma’am,” you begged, still scared to speak too loudly. She couldn’t hear you under the loud noises of her own terror, her screeches echoing in the street. Your throat grew dry, desperately trying to plead with the woman to keep her voice down. “Please we have to be quiet,” you begged, tempted to cover her mouth with your palm to keep her voice down. Fat tears dropped on the pavement, her shrill cries only getting louder. “Pleas-” your final plea was interrupted by a wave of hot fluid covering your face. You barely closed your eyes in time before you were covered in the blood of the woman in front of you. Upon realizing the horror of what happened, you saw the creature in front of you; its muscular form shook from the force of its laugh, admiring what it had done. And what it did was jump on the stone, bringing it down onto her body and forcefully crushing her, causing a spray of her blood and guts to cover you and the surrounding area. Staring up at the ugly, bulging figure in front of you, you realized this is what a curse is. Its skin was an unnatural blue. Its eyes – no, single eye, was swollen; covering half of its face. Could you even consider that a face? 

It was a creature that had to have been dredged up from the pits of hell and you shuddered at the realization your boyfriend saw this and worse on a daily basis. Tears welled up in your eyes. You were proud and grateful and terrified and about twelve other emotions as you considered the fact your boyfriend did everything he could to keep people like you from ever having to see a face that ugly. 

Your vision became unfocused, your entire body frozen in fear as the hideous thing in front of you giggled to itself, blathering complete gibberish while its long arm reached out to you. You would have never assumed yourself to be one to freeze in a near death situation, but you did.

(Looking back you wonder if your body had accepted its fate before your brain did). 

You began to understand that you weren’t going to be one of those innocent people Toge saved. The thought of it tore you from the inside, but it wasn’t enough to get your body to cooperate with your racing mind. You were going to die. Brutally and forcefully – and Toge was going to hate himself forever for it.   

The curse’s hand covered your throat, its meaty hand squeezing your delicate neck before its movement was cut off abruptly by a booming, “EXPLODE!”

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

That night Toge cried as he cleaned the blood and goo from your figure. His sobs were almost devoid of sound and you weren’t in any state to register the tears that fell from his eyes; but he was as he scrubbed the gore from you. You were in complete shock after the events, hardly registering the warm bath water or the rough washcloth he held in his hand, swiping over the skin of your forehead for the hundredth time. Like he was desperately trying to remove the memory of what occurred from your mind.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

A month passed by and arguing became your new norm with Inumaki. Every time his phone rang indicating a new curse needed to be exercised, (and that happened often), you two went to war; with you begging him to get a new job, and him, insisting that was not an option for him. Your conclusion from the event was that you didn’t ever want him in a position as deadly as facing a curse again. While his conclusion from that day was there were so many yous out there that needed his protection. People were unknowingly counting on him to bring their loved ones home safe. He didn’t want anyone to experience what he almost had. It was pertinent that he save as many people as he could from the grief of losing someone so important.

You just didn’t understand why it had to be your boyfriend doing the saving. It was a selfish thought, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel guilty for thinking it.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

More months went by and the hurricane that was once your relationship had calmed again, and things were as normal as both of you could manage after that day. You two shared snacks while you played Mario Party, laughing together as you both tried your hardest to screw the other one over. Usually to the detriment of each other. After the third game you both managed to lose to the NPCs, silence washed over your living room. Neither of you wanted to acknowledge the fact that silences were no longer comfortable in your relationship.

“You ok?” he signed to you, his brows furrowing, indicating he wanted more than a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. 

You take a shaky breath, “I just can’t get it out of my mind..” you begin to trail off and he roughly shakes his head, like he was trying to rid the thought from his own brain. He hated talking about what happened, that being part of the reason silences just didn’t feel the same anymore because you just couldn’t not talk about it. He didn’t expect you to be okay already, but he also wasn’t okay. You two were on opposite sides of the spectrum. You needed the emotional release words brought but he started to suffocate the second those words were out in the air.

You ignore his nonverbal cues to stop, bulldozing through them. “No, Toge, I need to talk about it,” he is still begging you with his eyes to stop but you don’t acknowledge it. “Toge, I’m scared to leave the house!” you don’t realize how loud you are until his usual silence contrasts with your voice. You embrace your negative emotions, only getting louder, “I’m more scared watching you leave!” 

“No. Don’t. I’m fine,” his eyes plead with you. You already know you have no reason to fear his safety, especially when compared to yours but your irrational anxiety doesn’t care.

“I’m scared you will leave one day and never come back,” and after you say that your bottom lip begins to quiver and your tears pool at the bottom of your eyes and he’s quick to pull you into his lap; stroking your hair and planting kisses on your temple. He desperately wants to tell you not to worry about him, but it’s hypocritical because he hasn’t let you so much as walk down the block without him. He can’t find the words to comfort you and he’s stuck with nothing else to do but hold you in his arms and wipe your tears as they fall. He pulls back from your embrace to look into your eyes. His eyebrows are drawn up in concern for you, his eyes locking onto yours. Even as you drown in your sadness you can’t help but smile meekly at your boyfriend. You love how expressive his face is and the fact you don’t even need sign language to know what he is thinking and feeling. His sharp jaw is clenched, mouth twitching as he focuses on trying to read your own features. You think what you love even more about his face being an open book is how handsome it is – and how you never want to go a day without seeing it. You lean in slowly, touching your lips to his softly and he responds by pulling you even closer, his palm flat on your upper back. He deepens it, eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of your plush lips on his. And he’s not the only one thinking about how he never wants to go a day without your beautiful face.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

To say your sex life suffered after that incident would be an understatement. You couldn’t find it in you to even consider something as trivial as sex while you stewed in your emotional turmoil; but as more time passed and the more you recovered the more even the most simple of touches from your boyfriend drove you crazy. His bare knee bumping against yours on the couch as you two played video games together or his hand grazing yours while you two worked together to cook dinner in your kitchen – it all made you mad. You felt like a virgin all over again – it was becoming impossible to ignore the innocent things he did that drove you mad. The mere sight of him stretching, arms raised and mouth in a yawn, revealing the happy trail that sat between his defined v-line – it made you feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankle for the first time. Even watching the way he ran his fingers through his hair, causing the light blonde tufts to stick up and frame his dreamy face in the morning was enough to spike a high grade fever in you.

It really should have been no surprise to you when you fell asleep one night, only to dream of his blonde tufts sticking out from between your thighs. His tongue languidly lapping at your folds, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“F-fuck Toge,” you whimper, his flat muscle pressing deliciously against your clit. Your body shudders from pleasure, thighs threatening to squeeze his head but his strong arms hold them against the bed. His hips rut into the mattress, trying to relieve his aching cock as he sucked your pleasurable little nub, reeling at the cute noises you were making. “God it feels so good,” you sigh, unable to keep your hips still as he continued his attack. You can’t help but grab your tits, squeezing them roughly in your small hands as you run your thumbs over your hardened nipples – tweaking and pulling at them to enhance your pleasure. You forgot Toge was watching you, too caught up in your own little world – so when your hands go back down to grab your sheets you’re shocked to hear his rough voice.

“Keep teasing your nipples,” he begs. Your head lifts from the bed to see the spit and arousal that drips from his chin, his eyes drinking you in. You only have a moment to feel the shock of hearing his voice – realizing you had only ever heard it that day and through your dream state you recognize you don’t have an option not to obey him, hands reaching for your chest again. He goes back to what he was doing, using his flat tongue to lick a stripe from your entrance all the way to your clit before flicking the tip of it lightly against your clit. You’re squeezing your nipples, shaking with amplified lust realizing he’s the reason why you’re hands glued to your chest, working yourself up along with his mouth.  “Answer me, does my tongue feel good?” and not a second passes before you tell him yes, your chest heaving and entrance clenching, never realizing how much you needed his voice while he’s making you feel this good. You’re still tweaking your nipples, body unconsciously waiting for him to tell you to stop and you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to be able to last when he asks you, “Does my good girl want me to tell her to come on my tongue?” your body alights with intoxicating arousal as you’re telling him yes. It comes out needy and more like a beg and his tongue between your folds becomes sloppy listening to you lose yourself to him. His lips form a seal around your nub, sucking harshly before going back to licking it, speeding up his movements. The entire time his eyes have not left yours but you were so lost in pleasure yours had begun to shut… and Inumaki thought that just won’t do. “Eyes on mine,” you barely have time to process his gruff voice before you obey him, opening your eyes to meet his, half lidded with lust. You bite your lower lip and he grunts into your sopping pussy, the vibration enough to make you want to roll your eyes back but they’re glued to his no matter what. 

“I want to grab your hair,” you beg him, hands still working your sensitive nipples, causing you to wince as each pinch reaches deeper and deeper into your core. He pulls away from your lips, taking a moment to kiss the inside of your thigh before giving you permission. 

“Go ahead, grab my hair,” your hand flies down to his head, fisting his blond locks and shoving his face into your pussy. He’s back to moaning into your plush lips at your needy actions, trying desperately to ease the pain from his hard on by massaging his hips against your soft mattress. Before long you’re shaking under his tongue and you were gonna come even without his command but dream Toge knew it was exactly what you needed. His lips detached from your sopping cunt, eyes droopy and chest heaving before he whispered, “Cum for me baby,” and your pleasure reached its peak. Fuck that. It reaches the peakest of peaks. You have never felt an orgasm as strong as you do right now. Your hips shake violently at his command, pleasure tearing its way through you, not leaving a single nerve untouched as you come hard. You’re practically crying, your dreamself not sure about the logistics of his technique, but it settles on you not being able to stop cumming unless he tells you to. 

You wake up in your own sticky mess, your core still alight from the intensity of your dream while you desperately try to catch your breath. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Thankfully you had woken up in bed alone, giving you ample time to clean up and throw the sheets in the wash. You spent your entire day off in a daze, doing your tasks on autopilot while being unable to stop thinking about the dream you had. You weren’t sure how you were going to be able to look Inumaki in the eyes once he got back from whatever mission he was called to while you slept – and you weren’t sure you would even be capable of ignoring the constant pulsing need once you finally saw his face. You would surely picture the one from your dream, eyes clouded with desire and mouth coated with your slick. You used your hand to fan yourself, your thoughts making you hot all over. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

It didn’t take long before you found yourself back in the bed the two of you share. The sheets now fresh and warm as they embraced your naked figure. You found it impossible to ignore the promising call of relief once you finished making the bed – giving in and stripping off your clothes, crawling into his spot. You started slowly, teasing the soft skin of your stomach. Trailing your fingers lightly up and down your taut belly, your muscles stiff with excitement. Your nipples hardened from the cool air and you brought one hand up to rub the peak, remembering the contents of your dream – causing you to sigh listlessly. While your one hand focused on your pebbled nipple your other drifted lower and lower until it reached your soft folds, already damp with your arousal. Your middle digit dipped into your entrance, spreading your slick around and teasing the velvety skin. 

You took your time teasing your pussy, working yourself up and disappearing into your own world. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Inumaki wasn’t sure where you had gone when he came back home later that day, slick with perspiration and muscles aching from a hard day of work. He began stripping off his dirt-caked clothes before making it to the bathroom, taking off the remainder of his clothes and stepping into the shower, letting the hot water run down his body. He scrubbed the dirt and sweat from his skin quickly, eager to get out and find out where you went. It was unusual for you not to be in the living room waiting for him and ever since that incident it made him anxious to not know where you were at all times — but he trusted if you left the house you would have told him. You must be somewhere inside. 

It didn't take long for him to finish rinsing off the residual bubbles from his body before he grabbed his towel, quickly drying off and stepping out of the tub. He massaged the towel through his locks, shaking off the remaining water droplets hanging from his light blond strands before tying the towel around his waist. Without much thought, he decided to check your shared bedroom first. 

He walked down the hall to the door of your shared bedroom, pushing open the cracked door before stopping dead in his tracks – mouth agape at the sight in front of him: Your naked body was splayed out on the plush covers of your bed, eyes closed, and eyebrows drawn up in concentration – fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. His mouth grew dry while he watched you touch yourself – still unaware of his presence. “Toge,” you whimpered out, “Want you to tell me to, mmm-!” your finger curled, grazing against the spongy spot of your pussy, “-tell me to play with my tits again,” you cry out. He almost chokes on air listening to your words, dick tenting in the towel around his waist. His mind races, trying to fathom what you had just said – struggling to focus through the sounds of your wet pussy filling the room.

“Do you really want me to say that?” he said aloud, his throat constricting from the unfamiliar feeling of using his voice around you. He had only ever communicated with you through sign language – far too scared to accidentally hurt you with his cursed technique. But here you were, squirming on the bed while you touched yourself to the thought of him telling you what to do – and it had been so long since he last got to feel your plush walls squeeze around his cock…

Your body jumped in surprise but you didn’t have the chance to do anything other than respond honestly to him, an urgent ‘yes’ quickly leaving your lips. “Toge, I didn’t realize you were home-” you start to explain yourself, embarrassed he caught you as you were wrapped up in your fantasy. You sit up, leaning against your elbows but he stops you by climbing onto the bed  – pinning your body between his two arms. 

He tries to consider everything he should say to you. If he was in any better of a state he would have stopped what was happening to talk about why it was so important for him to keep his mouth shut. It was pertinent he protected you from himself. As a regular human you had no clue what kind of responsibility he held with his cursed technique. He made a promise to himself that he would never talk outside of his missions. He was too scared to ever hurt someone – or to tell them to do something they couldn’t help but obey by the power of his words alone. It was important for you to realize this; it was also important for him to stop the filthy thoughts swirling around his own mind that made his dick twitch from under the towel. Guilt swirled in his stomach as he pictured exactly what he wanted to say to you – to make you do. If he was in any better of a state the guilt wouldn’t have been clouded by the intoxicating feeling of his need, telling him to do whatever it took to have you. 

“Do you really want me to?” he says aloud again, giving you one more chance to think about it before he could no longer hold himself back. Your ‘yes’ was only louder this time, eyes pleading as you shook with anticipation. “Take my towel off,” he says, throat bobbing as he watched you immediately do as you were told. He shuddered at the cool air as it hit his wet tip, precum dripping down the long shaft. He contemplated his next words, debating if he should have you take his cock in your mouth or if he should skip to his favorite part. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, and you had no choice but to obey. It was disgusting how much he was starting to enjoy this, your eyes lidded with want as you did what you were told. You would have done anything he asked even without his cursed technique – he knew this. That’s why while he felt guilty it wasn’t going to stop him from sticking two fingers into your mouth, massaging your tongue. “Suck my fingers, baby,” your mouth closed on his digits, sucking sweetly on his fingers while he continued to wiggle them around. His fingers began reaching deeper into your mouth – almost touching your throat causing you to gag a little. Regardless, you were still sucking on them with all you had and his hips bucked at the thought of his cock replacing his fingers. But with how sensitive he currently was he knew he wasn’t going to last very long – and your mouth wasn’t the place he wanted to cum in. His eyes wandered down to your cunt, lips slick with your arousal from when you had finger fucked yourself earlier – the skin a little red from your needy actions. Without much thought, he began to stroke his long cock with the hand that wasn’t currently in your mouth, his want growing watching you squirm. He took his fingers from your mouth, moving them down to your left nipple and massaging the bud between his two wet digits. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, not sure how much longer he could stand stroking himself to the sight of your naked body without slipping into your wet folds. 

“God yes,” you cried, trying desperately to relieve yourself by grinding against nothing. His hand came down to your hip, using his other to line his cock up to your entrance. He dragged the tip against your folds, spreading your juices around the head of his cock before plunging in. You were incredibly tight even from your warm up, having not taken his length in months. He tried his best to stay still, letting you adjust to the burning stretch but you were so wet and so so so warm, it was hard for him to not bully his way in – he shook from the sheer idea of forcing you to take him as he wanted you to. His eyes were glued to his cock as half of him was buried in your folds, swallowing thickly as he pushed in more and more of himself. You hiccupped, slapping his forearm as a warning that it hurt and he stopped. His eyes met yours and they were just like your dream. Lidded in desire and mouth wet – now from his own spit from constantly licking his lips as he imagined himself tasting you. He hated having to rush things – wanting to do so much more with you but the thought of your pussy twitching on his tongue alone was enough to make him want to bust right then and there. He was swallowing roughly again, concentrating on the task at hand, pushing even deeper inside you. You just about took all of him, but you stopped him yet again and he snapped. Your pussy was sucking him in! Your pretty cunt wanted all of him and who was he to not give her what she wanted? “Take my cock,” he spoke, voice gruff and commanding. He slid the rest of the way in and you didn’t so much as blink, allowing him to fill you up. 

“Too big Toge-” you whined, his tip pushing up against the base of your stomach causing you to squirm. His hand came down to feel himself inside you, pushing gently against the bulge.

“D’you feel how deep I am?”

“Yes-” you gasped, “You’re deep! Soo deep,” and he was impossibly deep. He didn’t acknowledge your words, head thrown back and mouth hung open as he started to move – dragging his length slowly out before bullying it back inside. Your ribbed walls squeezed his dick, encouraging him to continue his slow assault. 

“Rub your clit f’me,” he choked out, wanting you to get yourself to open up more. To let him in just a little deeper. He knew you could. 

You had no choice but to reach for your clit, feeling just below it how his cock was stretching your entrance wide open. You rubbed slow circles on it, gasping at the overwhelming feeling causing your walls to constrict against him. His arms came down to hold your thighs against the bed, wanting to get a good angle of his cock as it disappeared over and over again inside of you. He was in his own world at this point, savoring the way your cunt gripped his cock as you cried out from the stretch. He knew he could manage to go even deeper – if only he had you on your stomach. He pulled out suddenly, flipping you around and pushing your head into the pillows. His strong hands angled your hips upwards towards his own. His right arm slithered up your back before reaching the center, “Arch your back, baby…” you obey him and he’s squeezing your waist, “Good girl. So pretty when you do what you’re told,” he praises you. He’s lining his cock up again, pushing himself in deep without giving you a second to process it. Your soft cries were muffled by the pillows as he had his way with you; pussy being pounded from behind, his balls slapping against your clit as his nails dug into you. “Fuck,” he cursed, dragging out the syllables as the wet sounds of your pussy echoed off the bedroom walls. His thumb began to massage your sides where he held you, forgetting he could use his voice – becoming so pussy drunk he went back to his old way of letting you know he was about to cum. You started to squirm again, prepared to take his hot load while not far off from your own release. You could tell he was getting closer and closer. He began to whimper and his cock couldn’t help its occasional twitch as it pounded over and over again into your cervix. “C-cum with me, please,” he begged, unknowingly forcing you over the edge. He was far too lost to realize what he had done but it didn’t matter at that point as you two reached your peaks together. His cum coated your walls – rope after rope shooting into you, his cock pushing it deeper and deeper as he fucked you through your peak. You had a similarly blinding orgasm from your dream, squirming and bucking your hips, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cried out into the pillow. Your pussy clamped down hard on him, squeezing and releasing as you had no choice but to experience the best climax of your life. He leaned over your figure, brushing your hair off your back as he kissed your neck, your slick and his cum slipping out as his cock began to soften inside of you. You were still whining, unable to stop the intensity at which you were cumming. His hands ran soothing patterns on your back as you completely collapsed into the bed – twitching against the sheets until you finally felt it subsiding. Slowly but surely you came down, your chest heaving as Toge peppered you with kisses. 

“That was okay. Right?” He asked you in sign language – going back to his preferred method of communication with you. You nodded, a smile working itself onto your face as you began to giggle. 

“That was … incredible,” his eyes scrunched up, chuckling along with you, pulling you into his naked chest and holding you tight to him. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

It had been a long road before things had gone back to normal with Inumaki. Even so – not everything was the way it used to be, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You two learned a lot from the aftermath of that day; including just how powerful his words could be.