#monster fucking march

[newwavesylviaplath]

idk who this nick chavez guy is but im pissed off we never got to see evan peters as a sexy priest

[bitterbutblue]

would this happen

stelle: she has mcdonalds march where'd you get mcdonalds

march: mcdonalds

stelle: bitch give me a fry

march: is that how u ask

stelle: bitch PLEASE give me a fry

[bittersweetblasphemy]

had a fucking bizarre dream last night that led to me fucking the Grinch. woke up. thought to myself, "wow that was a fucking bizarre dream." went back to sleep. immediately had a second, completely different dream that ended with me also fucking the Grinch. even had a moment just as we were going to bone like "wow just like my dream."

these fever dreams are getting... something.

[thinkaboutmonsterpussy]

Would feminizing the minotaur stop her from killing me? Probably not but it couldn't hurt to try.

[solstrix]

Monster High March, Day 1: Your Monstersona

I’m not usually one for month challenges, but @wydownaspiider‘s prompt list was just Too Good.  Quality will vary day to day, and I make no promise of finishing the month, as a fair warning.

They’d be a history nerd like I am, though I think it would be funny if they were just recently turned and hadn’t actually lived through those eras they’re obsessed with...  And all vampires who Were find them kinda silly for that.  Also instead of turning into a small bat I’d want them to turn into a weird bat-beast, thank you.

[stray-crow]

Rating: Explicit Additional Tags: Dragons, Fantasy, Romance, Fluff and Smut, Voice Kink, light on the breeding kink but it's there, Infodumping during sex Series: Part 1 of beasties story Summary:

Junlong was satisfied with having a mundane way of life as the lone guardian of his family’s book hoard. Yet in the twenty-second year of maintaining his monotonous routine, the most enthusiastic dragon he had ever met disrupted everything he had ever known, simply because Bryn Dreki wanted to find another dragon.

[aonorunic]

The Claiming - An Original Work for Monster March

Summary: Sheen knows her time is short, knows that if she wants to save her home she must undergo a sacred rite to obtain the power she needs. As a druid, Sheen also knows exactly what that rite entails. She can only hope that a spirit powerful enough to help her answers her call.

Characters: Sheen (Druid)/Forest Spirit

Rating: Explicit

Contains: Sex Magic, Druids, Monster Fucking

AO3

Notes: The only entry I think I’ll be able to finish for Monster March. I’ve had Sheen in my head for awhile, and am really glad I finally got to write a bit for her backstory. I know I usually do more fandom stuff, but I hope you guys enjoy this slice of original work.

Sheen felt no fear as she crossed that familiar threshold between dirt and moss. The trees had always acted as a barrier between the world she was born into and the one to which she felt drawn. For as long as she could remember the mothers of the village told stories of things that lurked in the forest, ready to snatch disobedient children into the dark boughs never to be seen again. Yet as those old swaying limbs wrapped around her, Sheen felt more a homecoming than a capture.

Her bare feet picked a trail she had walked a thousand times, eyes and ears alert. Here she was both predator and prey. As comfortable as she was, she knew better than to let her guard down; especially today of all days when she would walk further into the forest than she had ever gone before.

A sharp breath sucked between her teeth when her foot met the chill of a stream. Winter was past, the blossoms of spring dotting the land, but the last of its chill held on, its stranglehold loosened one finger at a time. Sheen took a moment to bend down, cupping the water between her hands and taking a slow sip, allowing that chill to travel through her. The stream moved too quickly for her to see her reflection, nothing more than a blur of her dusk kissed skin and loose ravenwing hair tucked behind her pointed ears. The sharp edges of her elven features were indistinct in the water, the gaze of her grey eyes hidden. She stood, shaking off her momentary pause and pulling the bear pelt closer around her shoulders. There was a task needing done. She had come this far, studied all these years. She would not be denied now.

Further and further into the forest she went, pausing only once more as the ancient trees blocked out all sunlight. This was the barrier she had made for herself, the line she knew she could not cross before she was ready to trade with powers far older than she could comprehend. Today she would do so, else the forest truly would consume her.

Sheen took a deep breath, reaching out to place a hand upon the trunk of a tree. The bark felt familiar beneath her fingers, the knots and tangles mapped out in her mind from the years of reaching this point. But she had always turned back. Not today. 

All it took was a single step.

She paused as she crossed the invisible line she had created for herself, but nothing happened. No terrifying creature came to eat her, no force of nature knocked her off her feet. The steps after felt easier, despite that each took her closer to what may very well be her doom.

And then she reached it, the clearing her mother had once told her of before she had disappeared from Sheen’s life. Even without her mother’s tale Sheen would know she had come to the right place. Branches wove together overhead, reaching the impossibly long distance to their fellows upon the other side of the clearing to create a canopy that blanketed out the sky. Thick moss coated the trunks of every tree, the heavy scent of both decay and growth clouding around her. Grass, thick and soft beneath her feet, grew in a spiral pattern until it shortened and disappeared in the center of the clearing, leaving only a bare patch of dirt. 

Sheen’s eyes swept over the open space, her instincts screaming at her to run. Here she was only prey. With one final deep breath she steeled her nerves, allowing the bear pelt to drop from her shoulders. The rest of her clothes followed, Sheen taking the time to fold them into a neat pile. Perhaps the action was fruitless, nothing more than a stalling tactic, but they were the last moments that were solely hers. 

Completely bare, Sheen faced her goal, the wind stilling with the first step she took beyond the perceived safety of the trees. Their eyes were upon her. She had felt them since the moment she had stepped into the woods, as if they had sensed her intention for coming today, but now there was no cover in which to hide. 

She would not be cowed. She refused. Sheen took each slow step, forcing her limbs not to shiver, to not show the predator her fear, until she stood center within the barren circle. With the same deliberate movements, Sheen knelt and stared straight ahead.

The woods whispered around her, a half second off beat. The crickets chirped in time with one another, a hesitation to the notes that crawled across her skin. Wind strained through the branches, as if scared to carry out its duties. 

A power unlike anything she had felt before crept closer with each step. All the inconsistencies, the reverence of the forest bending toward it, heralded its coming. Sheen struggled for breath as this new darkness came upon her, drawing upon the calm she had felt when first stepping into the forest.

Within that breath power draped around her, wooden fingers settling on her shoulder. Sheen forced herself to gaze forward, knowing if she were to satiate her curiosity it would spell her end. She thought perhaps one of the great animal spirits would answer her, or perhaps one of the more fickle plant sprites. But this was neither. Sheen knew what had answered her beyond any doubt. There was only one being who could command the whole forest like this.

The spirit of the forest themself had come to claim her.

“Long has it been since a druid last sat in this circle and dared to seek our approval.” The voice was the roll of thunder, the trickle of the brook, rolling hills and blooming flower, all rolled into one. Sheen’s fingers curled into fists pressed flat against her legs. Nails bit into skin, the pain a focus to distract from the trembles that wished to run free throughout her bones. 

“She is a hunter,” another voice answered from the edge of the clearing. Sheen caught yellow eyes glaring at her from amongst the trees. Bear, her mind whispered. Given the placement of those eyes the great spirit was easily twice the size of any bear she had come across before.

“An invader,” another voice whispered, hooked thorns raking over Sheen. The trees around her twisted with the words, a trick of the wind to anyone else, but she recognized the truth of the dryad that had joined them.

“Well,” the first voice breathed against her ear, the low rumble stealing the breath from Sheen’s lungs, “what makes you worthy, little druid?”

Sheen took a deep breath, eyes falling closed. This was her trail, everything she had worked for since she first set foot within these woods. She need only claim it. 

Eyes opening, fists unclenched, Sheen stared forward. The fingers against her shoulder remained, the spirit’s patience as unbending as the oak. 

“I have spent my life under your boughs. Though I may be young as a seedling compared to you, these woods have been home and teacher for that short time. I have learned to hunt, yes, from the great bears and wolves sheltered within. I have learned to grow from each tree and flower encountered upon my path. I refute the title of invader. Were you to see me as such you would have chased me away long before now.”

Sheen paused, listening to the growls of grumbles of the woods around her. Always her place was within the forest. For the first time she felt trepidation, the fear it would all turn against her. 

There was a breeze, nothing more, but the chattering died down in its wake. The spirit behind her leaned closer, wood ghosting against her back. Sheen knew they were the cause, an order she could scarcely perceive nor be concerned with. No, she had received her own order to follow, that simple movement beckoning her onward.

“I offer no less than the life you have watched play out before you.”

She bowed her head, allowing the silence to wash over her. Nothing stirred, the forest deathly quiet in answer to her offer.

The moon wheeled above them, Sheen watching the light travel across the clearing. The forest was old, they would move at their own pace and there was nothing Sheen could do to speed the process.

When the spirit finally spoke again their voice sounded of roots ripping from the soft dirt. “And what would you do with my power were it granted to you?”

There it was, the reason Sheen had decided she could not put off her request any longer. “I would be your intermediary,” she answered. No longer did she wish to tremble before the power surrounding her. She could feel it now, the acceptance she first felt when she had first stepped into the woods as a starry eyed child. 

“We need no intermediary!” Bear growled, his voice shaking the trees around him.

“You would dare speak for us?” Dryad hissed, shaking her boughs in rage.

“You claimed me long ago,” Sheen answered their outburst, her words directed to the forest spirit. “Did I misinterpret? Was this not meant to be my home? If it is, let me help you save it now. None of you can leave, but I can. And with your power I can find the source of the darkness creeping at the edges of our home.”

Hiss and growl faded away. Every being seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the forest spirit’s answer. Sheen doubted that anyone had the audacity to ask the spirit a question before. Perhaps in doing so Sheen had betrayed too much of her mortality. 

Or perhaps she had proven she was exactly what they needed.

“You are correct,” the spirit finally answered. “I did welcome you and your starry eyed wonder those seasons ago. Even then I felt the love already building within you for our home.”

Our home.

She had not known how desperately she had wanted to hear that acknowledged.

“A claiming could destroy you,” the spirit warned, offering one last chance for her to turn away. 

Sheen could not help the smirk that tugged at her lips. The forest was not that generous. They would not have offered her the chance to turn away had they not already known her answer. She kept her reverent pose, unmoved in her determination.

The world faded away at the spirit’s pleased grumble. Sheen knew they were still there, would watch this claiming, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was the force of nature around her.

Wooden fingers creaked, closing around Sheen’s sides. She was urged forward onto her hands and knees, breath catching as the spirit spread her legs. She finally let herself tremble as the hands that were more branch than anything else slid down her sides. Heat rushed into her cheeks as need and desire filled her, Sheen embarrassed by just how quickly she reacted. 

The spirit thrust into her without preamble. Sheen gasped at the intrusion, body rigid as her fingers curled into the dirt beneath her. She had learned long ago that nature was not kind and had not expected any preamble to this claiming. 

The spirit slowly pulled from her, Sheen more prepared when they thrust back into her again. She forced herself to keep her breath steady, body slowly adjusting with each movement. 

Even in this the forest would not be hurried, and Sheen was glad for it. Her body began to crave, that desire rising to the forefront once more as she grew used to the feel of her stretching around them. She rocked in rhythm with the spirit, the branches of their body closing around her. And despite all that, the appendage within her was large and hot. The warmth of it chased away the chill in the night air, leaving Sheen drowning in the claiming. 

All too soon Sheen felt waves crashing over her, a riptide current threatening to pull her under. Too soon, she knew, much too soon. She could feel power swelling, could feel the brush of it against her skin, but it had yet to settle. 

Too soon. 

The riptide pulled her under, Sheen gasping and shaking as pleasure rushed through her body. She could feel the disappointment even as she struggled back through a haze of contentment. She would not fail here at the end. 

She would not be satiated by failure.

Sheen was left empty, fingers crawling at the dirt as she fought off the clouds that wished to claim her mind. She could hear the forest around her, knew she was prey once more if she did not act fast. If she could not move then everything she loved would be swallowed in darkness. 

No!

There was a pain in her throat, leaving Sheen uncertain if the word had ripped its way from her throat or simply screamed its echo in her mind. Either way it did not matter. 

Dirt clung to her, rocks scrapped against her, power pressed her down. Sheen struggled against it all, managing to prop one arm under herself. 

Just as she felt the void screaming up to meet her, Sheen did something no mortal had ever done before.

She flipped herself over, back smacking against the packed earth of the ritual circle, and stared up at the spirit of the forest.

Their head was a deer skull, dark pools within empty sockets staring down into her. Antlers twisted upward to frame the stars, taller than Sheen herself. Woods of every tree that grew within the forest twisted together to make their form. Between the branches Sheen could see small flower buds. A curtain of moss fell over their shoulders to create a cloak. For now they stood upon two legs, but Sheen could easily imagine them dropping onto all fours and being no less graceful. Between the growth Sheen spotted the still erect cock that a few moments ago had been within her. It was a dark green with sap dripping from its bulbous head, vines twisted together to form the massive length. Sheen was honestly quite surprised it had even fit within her. 

“Not yet,” Sheen spat between parched lips. She forced her arms up, reaching out inviting to the spirit. “I am not done yet.” 

The power they had already pooled within her tore at her, unchecking and wanting to destroy her. She needed them to settle the storm within her before it ripped her apart.

The forest whispered, their subjects surprised at her audacity, but Sheen heard an undercurrent of emotions she could not quite place, be it pride or pleasure. It was just for her and the spirit to which she had offered everything. 

They bent down over her, once more shutting out the rest of the forest. Sheen’s legs fell to the side, somehow not surprised when the spirit’s large bulk fit perfectly within her offered space. Her arms wrapped around moss covered shoulders, pulling her lover closer. The skull loomed above her, and Sheen once more gave into her mortal instincts. She kissed the lipless face, hand raising up to cup the bone cheek. Amusement ran through her but not from her. Her body clenched around them as their cock entered her once more, the strange emotions, ancient and undefined, of the forest shared with her.

Those same slow thrusts came again, Sheen’s hips rising up to meet them. She gasped as the flow of power stirred once more. The tearing sensation stopped, replaced with the whisper of ancient secrets that wound their way through her soul. Her body burned where they touched her, branches containing the heat of wildfires as they marked her skin. Wooden fingers ghosted down her spine, Sheen’s back arched under the touch, bringing her chest in contact with the spirit’s. They surrounded her, Sheen offering everything to them as the spirit moved within her, amusement licking along her senses. She could almost swear the spirit was laughing at her, but she did not care. In that moment she knew her essence was tangled forever with that of the being that had welcomed her home. 

Sheen gasped as the spirit pulled her to them, body curling as they thrust deeper into her. She was lost in the tangled limbs that encompassed her. They had created a space for her devoid of all predators, where no danger would dare touch her. They thrust into her, once more that tortuously slow pace that had Sheen curling and begging for more. 

It felt different this time, a tease rather than a test. The spirit would undo her yet again, but they went at her pace. They meant to make this journey with her. She could not stop her hands from reaching out, cupping the smoothness of their skull. They moved with her when Sheen urged them closer, bringing their forehead to rest against hers. Her breath mingled with the air surrounding the spirit, the sweet scent of wild flowers steadying her heart. She knew this scent, knew the exact clearing in which they grew. With the spirit's next thrust, Sheen could swear she felt every petal and blade of grass that grew within that clearing.

The spirit nuzzled against her, more curious than affectionate. They measure her gasps, feelings of acceptance and amusement the easiest for Sheen to understand. But her partner's emotions were as ancient as the boughs themselves. Sheen could only begin to wrap her fingers around the enormity of what the spirit shared with her. 

Another thrust, thankfully faster this time, as the spirit slammed itself deep within her. One of Sheen's hands dropped to the ground, fingers clawing at the dirt. She felt , digging deep down into fertile soil, spreading out for miles and miles.

The spirit hummed their pleasure, pleasure derived from her, and in its wake Sheen heard birdsong. Nightingale and sparrow, owl and falcon, robin and jay, all sang within her as they went about their routines. 

Sheen's hips rolled up, meeting the next thrust, wooden limbs scraping the insides of her thighs. The hand still upon the spirit curled around the back of their neck, trees bending toward them as Sheen's senses connected with them. She heard the sigh from Dryad, that whispered hiss full of a strained acceptance. There were words, but all were driven away in the wake of the spirit's claim. 

Limbs came down to cup her backside, lifting Sheen to meet the next thrust powerful enough to knock the air from her lungs. Bear grumbled as Sheen forced air back into her lungs, his strength flowing into her and making Sheen acutely aware of each silent step from the creatures that roamed under bough and bush. 

There was something there, something beyond her ability to explain. The closest her mind could conjure was pride, but she knew the limitations of her language could not fully define what she felt pouring into her from the spirit. With each thrust another aspect of the forest connected to her. Sheen held onto the spirit, her focus and anchor, knowing to lose herself now was to lose everything. 

The thrusts came faster, Sheen's fingers digging into soft moss as she forced herself to hold on. It built upon itself until Sheen could feel herself begin to slip. She ground her teeth, body trembling as the spirit drove her closer and closer back to that edge. It was too much, a cacophony drowning her, power nipping at every nerve in her body. 

Her scream ripped through her, a release of desire and power that left the forest silent in its wake. Warmth engulfed her, the sun shimmering through leaves at the height of summer. It was the completion she had needed, the spirit's power finally settling over her in their acceptance.

Through hazy eyes Sheen managed to stare up into the dark pools of the spirit's gaze. They were patient, waiting the long moments it took Sheen to catch her breath, the air all the sweeter in her lungs after the claiming's success. Eventually Sheen managed to move her shaky legs, allowing them to drop away from the spirit's center. She had not realized just how much she had wrapped herself around them. 

The spirit moved back, their warmth slipping free from Sheen. She trembled as their cock softened and slipped from her, the heat of their seed lingering against her thighs. The spirit offered Sheen a hand, and as she accepted the touch of those branches her mind vaguely wondered at the difference. She could have sworn her hand had been smaller compared to theirs. 

Sheen found herself pulled to her feet, and knew immediately the discrepancy lay with her and not the spirit.  Her head easily came to the spirit's chest now. Leaning upon her partner, Sheen managed to stare down upon her body, seeing the tangled marks that criss crossed her skin, left behind in the wake of the spirit's touch. 

Her head felt much too heavy when she managed to lift it once more. Sheen had to resist the urge to reach up, something that felt rather undignified with the whole of the woods looking upon her, and instead had to settle for staring at her shadow cast long against the grass by the dying moonlight. Elongated antlers topped the shadow, a smaller but no less impressive set to the spirit that stood beside her. 

Breath in. Breath out. Sheen forced herself to simply focus on the air in her lungs as she was presented to the forest. A rumble went through them, an acknowledgement of the connection she now shared with them. She had no idea how long they stood there, the spirit patient as they always were, but Sheen was grateful she managed to keep her footing through it all. 

Only when the echoes of power began to fade away, the marks and antlers shimmering from existence, the spirit now all the taller to her, did they finally let her kneel once more within the circle. 

Moss had grown in the wake of the spirit's spilled seed. Sheen let herself drop, knowing she had nothing to fear. When she woke her journey to protect all she loved would begin anew, her chances all the better with the spirit's blessings at her fingertips. 

As she drifted off, cloaked in the comfort of the forest's strength still singing in her soul, Sheen could swear she felt the touch of gentle branches brushing her hair back. 

[nomaishuttle]

i loathe that server it is long dead byt its literally the source of every fucking problem in my life

[bulletproofscales]

monster fucking march 5 - bulbs, spikes and bumps (namkook)

oh i took my sweet time with this one because it was SO out of my comfort zone!! but i ende dup really liking the dynamic i was able to wrtie. which is kinda what the challenge is about!! tho fr now ill preassur emyself to psot everyday for the rest of march to get to all 10 prompts!! wish me luck :,)

tags: intersex jungkook , jungkook has both genitals , mentions of female genitalia , monster genitals , monster pussy , trans man namjoon , ftm namjoon , post-phalloplasty namjoon , trans dick namjoon , first times , chubby namjoon

3.4k (no wonder it took me forever )

AO3 LINK

“Looking for someone into cock biting-” 

No.

“Is there any sadist dtf my ass that has this weird medical condition-” 

No! 

Jungkook’s hands abandon the keyboard as if it were on fire. 

He can’t do this. But he has to. 

Already in his mid twenties, Jungkook hasn’t gone past the occasional hand job back when he was just starting college. Back when he knew something was off but never had the urge to experiment and find out exactly what. 

Needless to say, it was a very painful first fingering experience, for all the wrong reasons. 

Yes, he’s heard people with vaginas say it can hurt the first time. But he didn’t expect his fingers to barely fit. Scrunching up his face as curling them forward and back only seems to make the squeezing worse. 

Jungkook knew he was intersex, his mother made a very conscious effort to explain it to him. He has both genitals and he’s gone his life mostly in normality. All of his biology was male except for the vulva behind his sack; so he lived his life normally. Intersex people exist and he doesn’t have to go around telling people, he doesn’t owe that to anyone! 

Though… He does panic when in a wild tipsy night by himself he wants to experiment fingering himself, copious amounts of lube as he reaches between his lips; thighs spread open and anticipation pumping his heart. 

And when he pulls out to see his fingers swollen and red. It was a bit of a moodkill. If not, the thing that sent Jungkook into cardiac arrest. 

Yes, he knows the rest of his biology is all relatively normal. That he could easily just have standard sex in any position without having to involve the anomaly on his body. But now, as if being intersex hadn’t been enough of a stigma for him to overcome, now he has to worry about people finding said pussy he shouldn't have in the first place, has weird hard bumps in it!

His mom was a fumbling mess when he interrogated her over the phone. Something about her making a mistake, falling for some succubus-like man thing, and some of his genes passing onto Jungkook! 

So Jungkook’s vagina has bumps, apparently. 

He hasn’t had much sex at all after that. 

Though redacting this message was becoming a harder task than he had anticipated. Not even anonymity and a strong vpn were enough to make the shame he felt wash away. Writing and deleting and re-writing just to delete again in exhaustion.

And he’s becoming desperate. And lonely. 

That's where he finds himself now. In a very deep corner of the internet. An old abandoned website with only a few people in it, describing different genitalia anomalies. As if he was gonna find anyone like him. Jungkook didn’t need to find anyone like him though. He just needed to find someone… willing. 

 He needs a drink. 

It ends up being 5 drinks until Jungkook’s drunken inspiration takes hold of him. Writing an obscene message and posting it shamelessly before he plops on the bed; knocked out by the weird cocktail of anxiety, and alcohol that tired him out.

At least he is relieved he didn’t actually post his number online for a group of strangers. But still inside this obscure forum thing, a little bell shows on his chats. Flinging already, he reaches to click it.

 With horror, Jungkook is reminded of his last night’s endeavor when a notification of a message from the same dark website shows up on his phone. 

“Hello Im JUngkoook, my vagina has liek bumps in it or sumthing! you dont have to be into it!!!!! as long asd youre down with having sex w me in anywway shape or form (i ahve a penis too ;))) !! im just despedrate ok? text me if your interesdted!! !!  :DDD”

icantfeelmydickwhenimwithyou: hi! i dont know if you were serious or not, but if youre from seoul, im a bit desperate and more than ok with… your situation. 

icantfeelmydickwhenimwithyou: we wouldnt have to like fuck on first encounter but if you wanna chat im interested :] 

Well she fell for a succubus. She can’t tell Jungkook shit.

He stares in awe. Jungkook’s parents have given him so many talks throughout all of his teenage internet friendships about the dangers of the internet and all the creeps that lay within. But Jungkook is actively seeking them out now. Not only that, but he wants to meet with one too. Have sex with them! 

Jungkook’s mom would not be proud. 

jkabtthecockbiting: i /am/ from seoul 

jkabtthecockbiting: honestly…if youre ok to fucking right away id skip the chitchat. 

His confidence dissipates when the stranger replies immediately. 

Jungkook wasn’t dumb enough to give him his address. Or too agree to go to “Namjoon’s” as he learnt is his supposed name. So they agreed to a love hotel on the outskirts of Seoul. Not the safest place around, but Jungkook can defend himself! He hits the gym! He boxes! That's what he tries to remind himself at least, as he finds himself outside the sketchy area on a random Thursday night.  

icantfeelmydickwhenimwithyou: cutting straight to the point huh

And maybe this stranger online posing no hesitation to meet him, should've been a red flag. His mother would be very disappointed. But Jungkook needs to feel wanted. And if a creep sadist perv on Reddit is the one to make him feel that way. Then they meet. 

He does regret not having asked for some sort of photo or social media. Jungkook may not be desperate enough to fuck a 70 year old man. But he doubts an old man would’ve figured out a way through underground fetish chat rooms, right? Right.

“Jungkook, right?” Oh.

It's cold, he has his arms crossed over himself trying to protect himself from the falling snow while keeping contact with everyone who passes by. 10:30pm outside, that's what they had agreed on. Of course Jungkook not only got there at 9:50, but had booked a room in the hotel for the night. And now has to think about how he will tell Namjoon that he expects him to pay half of it too… Is Jungkook even allowed to request that? This stranger is the one doing a favor for him. 

Even if he hears the steps approaching him, making his head snap up, Jungkook is startled anyways. The stranger must recognize that same jitteriness on himself. 

 Out of everything he’s imagined, this isn’t what he considered Namjoon would look like. Gentle but broad rounded shoulders, only a slimmer bit taller than Jungkook. Padded chin with some patchy stubble and pillowy body showing through the thick layer of clothing. Pear shaped body clinging to his shirt and jeans; despite the flannel and jacket, it still shows. He smiles a bit, plump lips catching Jungkook’s attention more than his body; dimples showing through. 

“I uh… I already booked a room.” He speaks from behind the broad expanse of soft shoulders. Namjoon turned to look over his shoulder, smiling surprised. 

“Y-yeah.” He can’t help but grin, feeling the release of tension of seeing this real life 20-30 something person with him; a real, friendly-looking, human. “Namjoon?” 

“That's me.” Namjoon offers his hand and Jungkook eagerly takes it, satisfied with the warmth emanating from this man. “Oh you’re freezing. Come on, let's go in.” He says it so casually as if they were getting into his home; it's a bit relaxing as he follows Namjoon without letting go of his big warm hand. Like the rest of him.

“Oh! You prepared for everything! Nice.” Even if his reaction is positive, Jungkook can’t help but feel that familiar anxiety slip through. Is he being too eager? Overprepared? He can only smile timidly and nod as Namjoon makes his way to the desk, asking for a reservation to his name for him; and Jungkook lets himself find refuge behind the mass of the other man. Feels nice. 

Namjoon’s smile at him is also very reassuring. “No, no you’re alright.” There's a chuckle attached to the end of his sentence and everything. “I’m not particularly into it. Or I mean, I never tried!” He adds quickly.

Namjoon maneuvers his way through the awkwardness easily. While Jungkook only speaks when they’re in the privacy of the hallway together. 

“So… You're into bumpy holes?” He doesn’t bother being subtle. Though he does feel a bit guilty in the way Namjoon chokes on his own spit; but not guilty enough to hide his giggling. “Sorry, too much?”

“I’m your first I get it.” Jungkook reassures smiling.  

“But uh… I had bottom surgery about a year ago. And it's safe to have sex, but I still need a bit… uh, more, to really feel anything. Until the nerves heal at least.”  Jungkook can only stare a bit wide eyed nodding. 

There's something so… relieving about hearing Namjoon isn’t ‘normal’ either. A smile slowly grows on his face. He’s never been with a trans person. But walking with Namjoon now, it just makes perfect sense that they found each other. 

“Hopefully I’ll be of help then.” His smile must be contagious because Namjoon is grinning back at him, gentler than last time. “Won’t it hurt the stitching?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Oh no no. Most of the stitching is gone, and the scarring made the skin really tough.” He explains before his smile widens more, a little bit of confidence oozing off him. “You did your homework.” 

“You’re not the only one that looked for bottom surgeries!” Jungkook accuses with a finger that pokes at Namjoon’s pillowy bicep. Their giggling rudely echoing through the hallway. 

“This is our room.” Laughter still clings to his voice as he gestures to the room. “I’m kinda scared, never been in one of these.” He confesses. 

“I can still appreciate it!” He whines but the laughter makes it less serious. Jungkook is starting to worry less about their night together, and more about if the other customers will file a complaint about them. Which feels a lot better. The door opens and Jungkook prepares himself to be grossed out. 

“Does it look like I have?”

“That was the anxiety, Namjoon.” Jungkook deadpans earning another wave of giggles. 

They turn to each other in pleasant awe, smiling softly in the brief moment of silence. Jungkook catches Namjoon’s eyes glancing down towards his lips before their eyes meet again.

“Oh!” “This is so much better than I expected.”

“Me too.”

He wouldn’t be able to tell you who leaned first, all Jungkook knows is it is his own back pressing the door shut close; once the eager weight of Namjoon’s body presses flush against his. Softened belly and chest engulfing him in warmth as Jungkook cups his face, feeling big hands cup at his waist and squeeze. Coaxing a moan to vibrate for his lips to be swallowed by Namjoon. 

This is where he would start to feel nervous, jittery over not letting himself get to enjoy too much. Jungkook would have to stop them before it gets too far, before he has to explain himself; make excuses for his body. But he doesn’t have to, not when Namjoon’s hands softly caress the hem of Jungkook’s shirt. Stripping his jacket and shirt alike, leaving him bare. 

Goosebumps break down his back from the feeling of the cold wall against his skin; but Namjoon’s warm hands tug him closer and away from it. Jungkook’s muscular thigh slots between Namjoon’s thicker ones in an attempt to stabilize himself. A bit harshly but it seemed to do the trick for the other; moaning deeply into Jungkook’s lips. 

Jungkook doesn’t feel like covering up, he feels like revealing Namjoon too. 

His own hands strip his jacket off before letting his hands get a feel of his tubby torso, pudgy and soft to the touch. Jungkook’s hands are desperate trying to memorize the curve and thickness of his waist, and Namjoon’s chuckle into the kiss does nothing to help. Confidence making his dick twitch in desperation; which he is sure Namjoon can feel, from the way they’re pressed together. 

“F-fuck… Fuck can I?” He whispers as his hands trace to Jungkook’s belly, settled on the waistband of his pants; where Jungkook’s bulge is beginning to show. He nods urgently, his own hands aggressively tugging down at Namjoon’s sweatpants; everything on his body jiggling softly with the strength of Jungkook’s pulling. Too preoccupied licking his lips at the sight of Namjoon’s semi to worry about himself. 

“Pleasantly surprised.” The flirty giggle clings to his voice as his hand curiously caresses the chubby bottom of Namjoon’s belly, trailing down to wrap around his dick. Both of them looked down at Jungkook’s tattooed hand. 

“You’re hard.” Jungkook whispers with an awed smile and very shameless staring. 

“Surprised?” He retorts with humor and endearment. 

Harsh, he’d told Jungkook. So biting his lips, he squeezes Namjoon’s shaft, letting his nails sink a little into the skin in a way he’d never dare to try on himself. But Namjoon seems to melt into it, his thick thighs shivering in what Jungkook can only assume is a mix of pleasure and pain? He moans like its only pleasure. 

“We don’t have to do anything.” His thumbs rub soothing circles along his squeezed knees. And oh, how could Jungkook pass up an opportunity like this? When is he ever going to find someone like Namjoon again?

“I wanna see too…” His voice sounds significantly deeper than Jungkook remembers it. Making his heart skip a beat as he looks up to Namjoon; whose half lidded eyes do nothing to calm his stammering pulse. Warm hands squeezing gently at his waist; so much softer than Jungkook’s treatment. 

Guiding him towards the bed, their legs still tangling together as Jungkook lets himself fall on the surprisingly soft mattress; Namjoon standing in front of him. He instinctively presses his thighs together in an attempt to hide his vulva. But those same big hands are rubbing at his knees as Namjoon carefully kneels on the bed. The hunger in his eyes dissipated for something softer. 

Jungkook has to really bite into his lip to stop a shaky whine from slipping, so many years of self neglect leaving him needy and so sensitive. But even so, a choked whimper slips past. “Can I?” Namjoon asks, regardless of the desperation in Jungkook’s eyes when he snaps up to look at him again. 

“I want to.” Jungkook confesses vulnerably. “Just, uh… force of habit.” He chuckles a bit at himself, taking the first step as his thighs begin to spread for the dreamy man. The rush of adrenaline makes his breathing already a little heavy. Biting his lip preparing himself for the worst. 

But Namjoon’s expression only melts with lust, exhaling as he doesn’t take his eyes off Jungkook’s crotch. “Oh look at you…” He whispers and it feels like his voice could rattle at his insides. Warm hands still very much secured on his muscular thighs. Jungkook can feel his face burn as he forces himself to look up once Namjoon’s fingers abandon his leg to caress his lips, tentatively. Only the tips of fingers feeling him up. 

“You're so wet…” He mumbles against Jungkook’s lips. Only getting a desperate moan in response. His jaw dropping, looking up at Namjoon with eyes that struggle to stay open. “I can’t finger you but–but we’ll take it slow, yeah?” His thumb presses against his clit, and Jungkook’s eyes roll with a trembling whine. 

“Yes!” All self control leaves him, body trembling, begging for Namjoon to do something more than to caress the shaven lips of his pussy. “Yes Namjoon, please-” The sentence dies in his throat as Namjoon’s fingers press between his lips, rubbing up and down without pressing in just yet. Wet and sloppy noises coming from within him; only more accessible as his dick hardens against his flat tummy. 

Namjoon smiles at the shivering man beneath him, taking the liberty of leaning closer and really making Jungkook’s legs spread. Opening to fit the girth of Namjoon’s hips; calves squishing into the chub a bit. Plump lips take a hold of his, greedily kissing as Jungkook is engulfed by the softness of Namjoon’s torso. 

He has to make an effort to stay lucid enough to respond. Nodding quickly before he can even coordinate to speak, stuttering as his own hips grind against Namjoon’s fingers. Stabbing jabs of pleasure spreading through his navel. “Yes–Yes please!” Shaky hand presses to Namjoon’s cheek just to pull him in for another kiss, to let his weight press him down to the mattress. For the first time in a while, Jungkook allows himself to feel empty, to yearn for the warmth he so desperately craves. Worsening when Namjoon pulls his fingers away.

Something in his stomach tightens in anticipation, for it all to go invariably wrong. But Namjoon aligns himself, taking a curious look at where their crotches meet, sliding on a condom before he starts pressing in. Frowning in concentration, while Jungkook’s heart goes rigid. Gasping quietly at the stretch, he feels his bulbs press onto Namjoon’s dick in a tight fit. Jungkook can only imagine the pressuring squeeze they’re pushing onto Namjoon’s dick; even if he feels more stretched than he ever dared to try. 

Even as his heart raises to Jungkook’s throat he stares at Namjoon wide eyed. Taking in his groans, trying to read if it's the pain or the pleasure overpowering his senses. Though Namjoon’s continuous, even if slow, sliding into him is somewhat of a good sign. Regardless, he asks. 

“G–Good?” The insecurity shows in his voice even throughthe heavy breathing and fucked-out stutter. Namjoon opens his eyes for him with a haze of their own; his voice sounding a little breathless itself when he responds. 

“I won’t.” He whispers leaning to take Jungkook’s lips into another kiss, both of them smiling into eachothers mouths before his hips begin to grind. Their kiss is sloppy enough that it's not able to silence the moan of pleasure out of Namjoon’s throat. Unable to help himself as a rhythm begins to build. As Jungkook begins to lose himself, his insides churning in a pleasure that takes him from within. Feeling through the nubs inside him every inch of Namjoon’s skin, his own bumps, his own imperfections. Filling him to the brim with quickening thrusts. 

“Oh Jungkook… It feels amazing.” He whispers leaning so their noses brush, fully bottomed out he can feel the way Namjoon’s entire body shivers in pleasure. “Y-you?” His smile is giddy even if it's shaky; like he is holding back.

It feels ridiculous for him to even ask! Jungkook is nodding before the words come out again. “So, so good, keep going!” He can’t help but grin excited, nodding in encouragement; seemingly contagious as a wider smile spreads on Namjoon’s own face. 

He is beyond controlling the string of moans that Namjoon coaxed out of his chest with each thrust. Warmth, all he feels is warmth. From the inside out, form the jiggling soft body pressed on top of his, weighting on him like a blanket. Namjoon’s own moans, deep and lustful, making his eyes roll back as his legs hang heavy and useless at either side. Dick rubbed against the bottom of Namjoon’s belly, sinking into it deliciously. 

Jungkook never could’ve imagined, he could ever feel this good. That he could ever cause this much pleasure to someone else. 

It's pointless to try to warn Namjoon about his orgasm. Legs squeezing into the sides of his chubby belly as he spurts against the very bottom roll. “D–Don’t– Don’t stop!” Is all he manages to say. Hands cupping Namjoon’s thick neck howling in pleasure as he continues. Shamelessly enjoying after so many years of deprivation. 

He never wants it to end. 

“F-fuck –fuck don’t say that, Jungkook. I’m – I’m going to-” Namjoon’s own speech is cut off with a shivered moan, his entire body trembling and spasming as he grinds his hips into Jungkook’s bumped heat. 

And for a moment everything stills, looking at one another with widened eyes. Like it's the first time in a while either of them have been able to feel this amount of pleasure. 

The first, but definitely not the last. 

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

damn, The Will of the Many got me. I need more friends who read because an ending like THAT will not go quietly from my brain, and I need to talk about it. 😭

[sick-as-a-dog]

probably half the system (mainly the alters who have been here the longest) have attacked/tried to kill my stepfather (including a literal toddler apparently stabbing him????)

[ozzgin]

Hello, I like the Yandere monster x reader you wrote, and I'm just wondering if you could write about the aftermath of:

The monsters finally told the human they're down to fuck, the human have an orgy with the roommates, the monsters thinks the human is returning the feelings, but to the human it was just a fun one night stand-

Content: gender neutral reader, NSFW, referring to Monster Roommates Story

Imagine if Reader was an oblivious dumbass who thought the gangbang was some sort of cultural exchange and something monsters just do on the regular. Maybe they're casual like that.

The next morning, your monster mates leave their rooms with a delirious grin plastered on their faces, still in a daze after finally having their way with you.

Is it too early to ask for another round?

You're sipping on your coffee, scrolling through your phone.

"Listen, (Y/N), do you have plans for the evening?" one of the beastly creatures finally speaks up. The others follow behind, already hard from the anticipation.

"Actually, I think I have a date", you respond, distracted. "Might spend the night somewhere else."

The blood instantly drains from their genitals, and they stare at you, mouth agape. Oh, hell no. One of the monstrous roommates marches towards the door, dramatically clawing at the lock and blocking the exit.

You follow their movements, utterly confused, until you feel a tentacle wrapping around your waist.

You must've forgotten who you belong to. No matter, they will have to remind you. As many times as it takes.

Would it be polite to at least cancel your date for the night? Probably, but after the first few appendages hungrily making their way inside you, you're not exactly thinking straight anymore.

[More Monsters]

[rainy-day-gracie]

- wedding night (1) -

A Venus & Mars mini series

pairing: general marcus acacius x virgin!wife!reader

content warning(s); dual pov, arranged marriage, implied age gap but nothing specific, period typical misogyny (Ancient Rome), mentions of violence/warfare, mention (1) of sexual violence (not against reader), mentions of pregnancy, attempted bedding ceremony, reader has hair that can be pinned back, steamy kisses, crazy amounts of sexual tension, discussions of consent because consent is sexy mandatory, virgin!reader, SOFTTTTT marcus acacius, romantic and intimate as hell, grievous historical inaccuracy because it's fucking fanfiction, canon divergent because duh

a/n: this has been living in my head for weeks now, along with every new photo we get of general marcus acacius because of course. this can be read as a prequel to bloodlust, or read entirely on its own. the reader insert is written as the same character in each fic.

this will be part 1 of the wedding night, and part 2 will include smut :)

---

You considered bolting as the sun rose on the morning of your wedding day. Stealing one of the nobleman's horses, putting as many miles as you could between yourself and the General's country house.

But, from what you've heard about the General, there would not be a corner of the earth that he would not find you in.

Your palms were clammy with sweat as the handmaidens pinned your hair back into a style of a bride. You wondered how they couldn't possibly hear the quick, panicky beating of your heart as each moment brought you closer to what you considered a life sentence.

General Marcus Acacius is venerated like a god in Rome, and anywhere else. Men boast about his wartime accomplishments as if they were their own, and ladies whisper about his scarred face like they would a demon within the walls.

So many rumors swirling around the Emperor's most esteemed general.

His hands were permanently stained red with blood, he burns the heads of his enemies in sacrifice to the gods, he kills men with icy calculation, takes women with fiery passion.

You could only imagine what kind of monster was waiting for you at the altar.

---

Marcus was in no good spirits on the day of his wedding, the marriage forced on him almost as much as it was forced on his...

Gods above, his bride.

The idea of having a bride was almost as foreign as you yourself were, since never once had Marcus even considered marrying anyone. With all the bloodshed and near-death experiences, he never exactly considered himself a man that was meant to be a husband. Or a father, for that matter.

Marcus tried not to shudder at the end of the aisle as the chorus began singing, sounding all to close to a death march.

At the sound of the choir, you entered into the wedding hall, for all gods and men to see.

His bride.

The world seemed to be brighter, the flowers bloomed more beautiful, and Marcus' vision turned clearer as you stepped into his sight.

For a moment, he forgot all about the blood of men on his hands. The shame that burdened him was cast off. Maybe he wasn't completely condemned to the Underworld.

The very possibility of you being his bringing him more relief than any wine or fine lady. The possibility of you being in his life was... redeeming. Redefining. Remaking.

One look, and he made a vow, but not to you. To himself.

If any harm were to come to you, he would unleash the fury of the gods upon them. He would protect you to the end of his days. Honor you, and serve you, however you may wish.

---

Fear coated your every nerve as you beheld your soon-to-be husband.

Nothing could have prepared you for just how mighty General Acacius was. Tan, broad, and mighty, dressed in fine white robes similar to yours. His bare hands were strong, made for swinging axes, throwing punches, and taking what he wanted. At the altar, he seemed to be near brooding, speaking his vows quietly, his voice like a roll of thunder.

You managed to keep your voice steady while you spoke your vows, but there was nothing you could do to keep your hands from shaking as the priest brought out the rings.

The general reached for your hand, and you were unable to keep from trembling.

His touch was warm on your skin, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as he slid the gold wedding band onto your finger. You found the nerve to meet his brown eyes, finding something utterly unreadable as he held your gaze. Could it be... fondness?

Gods, he was beautiful.

His touch steadied you, though you still exchanged rings with a thundering heart.

"In the sight of Gods and men, you are now Husband and Wife. You may kiss your bride, General."

The priest's words echoed in your head.

Husband and Wife.

The general leaned forward, an unspoken question in his warm eyes.

Swallowing, you gave a near imperceptible nod.

For such a harsh man, such a dominating man, his kiss was utterly... soft. Tender. Almost coaxing.

After a moment, he pulled away first, and you could've sworn he lingered, cherishing the air between you... before turned to the cheering wedding party.

In an instant, he changed, switching from the gentle kiss of a lover to a commanding force, a man that drinks in praise like fine wine.

A mighty man, indeed.

---

Marcus tried his best to not feel too wounded that his new wife was completely terrified of him.

He felt the thundering pulse in your hand as he slid that ring on, and he wondered if you saw the wedding band as a chain, a set of shackles. It's all too true for other women in Rome.

You barely spoke to him during the wedding feast, only giving small nods and forced smiles in between sips of wine. He had a good feeling you were resisting the urge to swallow it down in one gulp.

Marcus couldn’t help but study you— at first innocently, taking in the curve of your lips, the shine of your eyes, the polite smile you gave when someone offered congratulations.

Damn his dirty mind. As the night went on, and the celebrations continued beyond what he would’ve liked, he tried, and failed, not to eye your body as a means of distraction from the rowdy feast.

It started with your neck. He traced the slope of it with his eyes, marking every freckle and curve. He prayed to all the gods that you would want him to leave his marks on you.

Downward, he peeked slightly at your breasts whilst cursing himself. Of course, they appeared perfect beneath your wedding stola, and he wondered what manner of sounds you would make when he took them into his hands, into his mouth.

And then… Gods, those hips—

“Time for the bedding ceremony!” Emperor Geta jeered, pulling you from your seat with a firm jerk of your elbow. His eyes were greedy, scheming. “Let us see what is underneath that—“

Your face flushed with either embarrassment or fear or both. And that was all Marcus needed to see.

“There will be no bedding ceremony.”

Marcus lowered his voice to a deep warning, the kind that has sent men running for their lives.

Geta scoffed, still holding to your elbow. “It’s a wedding, Acacius, it’s your wedding. Don’t you want to show off the prize of your latest conquest? Distribute the winnings? Strip down that—“

Marcus stood, towering several inches over Geta’s slimy face. “I said… there will be no bedding ceremony.”

Geta kept his hands on you, and Marcus’s vision tinged with red hot fury.

His voice was a rumble, a threat in itself. “It’s my wedding, is it not? And I say there will be no bedding ceremony.”

People were watching now, the feast gone silent at this standoff.

Marcus knew how to pick his battles, cut his losses. But when staring down Geta, the most powerful man in the empire, he realized that for you, he would pick every single one if it meant he kept you safe.

The moments that passed were crackling, the tension between the two men sucking all the air from the celebratory hall.

Geta saw something in Marcus’s unyielding gaze, something that told him he would not win this fight, and decided the bedding ceremony wasn’t worth the scrutiny.

As the Emperor walked away, Marcus took your hand, and led you to your marriage bed.

—

You couldn’t find the words.

The general nearly trembled in rage on the walk to the bedchambers, but still, he maintained that odd gentleness, holding your hand as if it were the most delicate thing in the world.

Servants opened the grand doors as you entered, showing a large room with a massive four poster bed and elegant tapestries lining the walls—

Then the doors shut. And you were left alone with the legendary, bloodletting general.

And you still couldn’t find the damn words.

You knew what came next. The husband will take what is now his.

In this case, you expected your husband to take you in the same way he took lands for the empire— violently, mercilessly, with the intention of forging new legacy, through a son of Rome.

“Before you ask, my General, I wish to assure you that I am untouched,” you blurted, quoting what your mother taught you to say before you were to be… intimate. “I am pure, though I can only hope to be worthy—“

“Darling wife,” the general said quietly, so different from the commanding force from the feast. He held your hands in his, leaning down and kissing your knuckles in reverence.

You went silent, shocked at the soft fondness in his tone.

He peered at you with curiosity, and almost amusement. “The only thing I wish from you is for you to call me by my name, not title. No general, no lord, but my name. I hear it so little nowadays that I will look forward to hearing it from your lips.”

“As you wish… Marcus,” you breathed, eyes locked on his.

Marcus let out a little sigh, like he was relieved. “It’s much prettier when you say it.”

You drop your head in bashfulness, more confused by the moment. The way he spoke so kindly, so fondly.

“You know what is meant to happen tonight?” Marcus asked, almost hesitantly. You nod, undeniable fear curling in your stomach. “I need you to understand something, my darling, so listen very carefully.”

He pulled you toward the bed, sitting you both down on the silken sheets. His eyes on yours were discerning, and intent, like he was searching for something within your stare.

“I will never, ever, force myself upon you. Not in this life, or the next, or the next. I know what you might’ve heard about me, and much of it is true, but never would I take a woman without her permission. You belong to yourself, and if you never should like me in your bed, I will honor that to the end of my days."

You blinked at him in confusion. "So, you do not... you do not want me?"

Marcus exhaled sharply, looking down at your intwined hands. "That... that does not matter."

"Why not? A husband has the right to take what is his--"

"No man has any right to take a woman's body for himself, husband or not. What... what do you think is to happen tonight?"

Heat rises to your face, embarrassed at the question. By the look on his face, he was embarrassed, too.

"I don't... I don't know how it works, but some of the other wives at court say that the consummation of marriage is one of the more... painful duties of a wife. What you are meant to do to me... it's painful," you murmured, and quickly begin stammering. "B-but is it a great honor to serve you, my--"

"May I kiss you, darling?"

Some candles had been left burning, illuminating him in a warm glow. Marcus's eyes were soft, a rich, chocolate brown in the light of your bedroom, and something about them made your core flutter like one of the candles.

"Yes... yes, please."

Marcus smiled softly, and moved his hands to the sides of your neck. They were scarred, and calloused... and so warm.

His lips met yours almost hesitantly, like he was holding himself back. They were tender, tasting of sweet wine. Fingers curled lightly into your pinned hair, pulling you closer as his chest pressed against yours.

You moved your mouth with his, suddenly feeling the need for... more. You didn't know what, but you just knew you needed it.

His tongue slipped against yours, and the groan that left his throat left your pussy throbbing.

"Marcus--" you gasped, losing your breath as his lips traveled down to your neck. You could've sworn he moaned in response, sucking at your pulse point, leaving it a delicious shade of red--

"Do you want me to keep going?" He gruffed, trailing light kisses along your throat.

Oh, gods, how you wanted him to. "Yes, but..."

Marcus withdrew instantly at your seemed hesitation, pulling his mouth away but keeping his hands in your hair.

"I'm fearful," you admitted, holding his tunic to keep your hands from shaking with both desire and nerves. "Not of you, but... the rest of it."

Marcus nodded, swallowing. "We could continue kissing, if you like."

You laughed lightly, the nerves mellowing for a moment. "I'm not sure I'm prepared to have you in that way, but I know that I want to. I know that I... I want you."

Marcus's soft eyes shone with fondness, but had a wicked edge to them, like he was plotting something.

"I know I want you as well, darling. I promise, I will make sure you are prepared to have me... perhaps even over-prepared."

Your brows furrowed with confusion. "What do you mean?"

The general smiled. "I'll show you what I mean."

Part 2 here!

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Tiny Bit of Angst I idiot4idiot I First Kiss I 1.8k I SFW

“We're out of Mountain Dew,” Eddie yells into the living room.

“There's another case in the garage, I think,” Steve yells back, “I'll go look.”

Eddie slams the fridge shut. “No, don't get up, I've got it.”

“Quit being sweet on me!”

He's teasing, it's nothing, but Eddie's pulse jumps anyway, horrified that he's being obvious again. “I'm not sweet on you! I'm repaying my life debt!” Not the whole truth but not a lie either. Satisfied that he's dodged a bullet, he jogs to the garage, grabs the 12 pack from the moderately-wealthy-person's-modest-second-garage-fridge and drops it off at the ultra-wealthy-person's-expensive-and-shiny-main-fridge. He brings two back to the living room, gets ready to leap over the back of the couch so they can resume the movie, before he realizes Steve is MIA.

“You taking a shit?” He yells out.

Steve doesn't answer, which he supposes is answer enough. He resumes his roll over the back of the sofa, cracks his can open, chugs, and waits for Steve to return.

The TV is still paused on Kurt Russell’s rugged face. What a man. Eddie idly wonders what Steve would look like with a beard. He could sketch it out and then hide the evidence in one of his old D&D manuals.

Speaking of Steve…

“Yo, did you fall in?!” No response. “Hello?”

Okay, now it's getting weird. A chill runs down his neck.

Steve is fine. There's nothing to worry about. It's just weird he hasn't responded yet; the downstairs bathroom is ten feet away.

He jumps up, just to check for himself that Steve is okay. Which he is, because everything is fine.

The bathroom is empty…

“Okay, this isn't funny, asshole! You know I have trauma!”

No response to that either. What the fuck.

“Steve,” he yells up the stairs next, “seriously, dude, where are you?”

He takes them two at a time, because there's no good reason for Steve not to be yelling back. He pictures him being chewed on by a last remaining Demogorgon and preemptively starts planning his own sacrifice. Because if Steve is dead on Eddie's watch, killed while Eddie had his head in the garage fridge, he doesn't deserve that second chance at life.

“Hello?” He croaks down the hall. All of the doors are ajar, but that's not unusual. They're forever in and out of the various rooms; Steve into Eddie's, Eddie into Steve's, the both of them into his parents' empty room because they have the better bathroom.

Still nothing from Steve. It's getting ridiculous. He's not being eaten by a monster either, too quiet for that, so what the hell is going on?

He marches into Steve's room and finds it empty too. He almost continues on to Steve's en suite but he stops, notices the comforter on Steve's bed is missing, which is weird. A clue, maybe? He glances around, a look underneath, a peek around the side of the bed, but it's nowhere to be found.

He goes to call Steve's name again but then he hears something, like a sniffle.

The closet doors are shut but between them is a chunk of Steve's blanket, a tiny corner sticking out at the bottom.

Eddie tiptoes over and listens.

Yup. Another sniffle.

He parts the doors gently.

Steve throws the blanket over his head before Eddie can see him, only getting a quick peek at his knees before they disappear.

“Uhh, wha’cha doin’ in the closet, Stevie?”

He thought he'd said it soft enough to not scare him but when he immediately bursts into loudy, snotty tears underneath his blanket, Eddie can only assume he's fucked up anyway.

He crouches down. “Hey, I'm sorry, don't freak out, it's just me. C'mon, man, talk to me, what's going on? You're scaring me.”

“I'm fine,” Steve croaks.

“Yeah…clearly.”

The lump that is Steve groans and then falls over, landing on a pile of old shoes, which he doesn't seem to notice or care.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

Okay. Now that Eddie knows Steve is upset about something, he thinks back to what they were doing before they paused the movie. Which was nothing.

“You said you'd seen The Thing before.”

Steve sniffs. “I have. At Mike's fifteenth birthday.”

“Okay. So why are you freaking out about it now?”

“Why the fuck- Uhh. Yeah. The movie. Scared me real bad.”

Eddie frowns at The Lump. So it's not the movie. Something happened when Eddie got up. Think, think, think!

“The life debt thing?”

Steve doesn't respond. He does curl into a smaller ball, which seems like an answer in itself. What it means, he has no idea. Why would that leave Steve a sobbing mess? It's not like he can undo Steve saving his life! Of course he owes Steve everything!

“Please talk to me,” he begs softly. “I'm not good at this. I'm not Robin.”

He gets a scoff. “Robin is also not good at this.”

True. Just because she's a girl doesn't mean she comes equipped to handle emotional outbursts. She's more of a ‘pat, pat, there, there' kinda gal.

“Would you tell her what was wrong?”

“Yes,” Steve admits after a short pause.

“Would you like me to go get her?”

“No,” he says, barely above a whisper. “But you don't have to stay in here with me. You can finish the movie if you want. I'll be okay.”

“Steve,” he pats what he hopes is Steve's shoulder, “I might not be good at this emotional vulnerability shit but even I know you don't leave your friends crying on the floor of their closet.”

Since he's touching Steve, he can feel the short, hitching breaths he's taking, trying so hard not to be heard.

“I'm fine. I'll be fine,” Steve tries to convince him, “I just need a bit to get over myself. Like a week or…six.”

“Over what?”

He sniffles some more. “Nothing.”

“I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong, dude.” To prove his point he shuffles fully into the closet and pulls the doors shut behind him. “There. Our closet breakdown.”

Steve groans, tries giving Eddie a little kick but his feet are trapped inside the comforter, so it feels more like a nudge.

“I'll be over here by this pile of old basketball jerseys when you feel like talking. Number twenty-one? Is that lucky?”

“This is so stupid,” Steve mumbles.

“Hey, you're in charge of this rodeo, just tell me what's wrong and we can mosey on out of here.”

“You sound like Wayne when you say shit like that.”

“Well, he did half raise me. Tell me what's wrong.”

“No.”

“So you don't trust me?” He says just to be an asshole, to get some kind of reaction. “We're not that good of friends I guess.”

That gets him a reaction alright, just not the one he wants. Instead of getting pissed, Steve somehow curls even tighter, near silent sobs emanating from The Lump.

All of this had had a sort of surreal, humorous quality before, finding Steve having a nervous breakdown on the floor like a toddler told to go to bed, but it's getting less cute now.

Eddie gets up and lays the opposite way, head down near Steve's. He wants to bundle Steve up and rock him like a baby, but it doesn't seem like Steve wants that. “If I'm really hurting you…if this is my fault and you want me to go, I'll go, but I don't want to. I want to fix this. What do you want me to do?”

He's quiet. Not actively crying at least. After a long stretch, he mumbles, “Is that what you've been doing this whole time? Trying to fix things? Doing what you think I want because you think you owe me?”

Okay, now they're getting somewhere.

“I do owe you, Stevie, but that's not why… That's not why.”

“Then why?”

He swallows. “Because you deserve more than you get.” There. That's fine. That's platonic and still vulnerable and absolutely true.

“And that's it?”

What the fuck does he say to that? ‘No, actually, I want to treat you like the god damned royalty that you are, not in the fake high school sense, but in the way that knights willingly followed Kings onto the battlefield?’

“What do you mean?” He asks instead, like the coward he is.

“I mean… You close all the curtains in the house when you notice I've got a migraine. You learned to play my favorite songs even though you think they're mediocre. You corral the kids when they get out of hand and start being mean to me. You invite me to family dinner at Wayne and Gail’s. We live together and make breakfast together and spend all of our time together and I guess that's just because we're friends. That's what friends do. We're just friends.” He's worked himself into a fit again.

Eddie can do nothing but stare at the blanket lump and try not to panic. Either Steve has been onto him for months and has finally had enough or…

“Stevie? Why are you crying in the closet?”

“Don't make me say it.”

He chokes on his own sob, months of being good, keeping it tucked away and out of sight, welling up in his chest and in his eyes.

He finds the end of the blanket and pulls until he can crawl underneath too, finding Steve with his head turned away, like he's still trying to hide. Eddie slides both hands onto the sides of his face and turns him away from the floor. He blinks at Eddie, looking every bit like a tragic Prince in a fairytale. Or a baby cow.

“Please,” he begs, voice breaking, “tell me why you're sad.”

Steve studies Eddie, eye roaming over the tear tracks Eddie can't stop, over his trembling lip, the blush that must be painting his cheeks. He's going out on a real limb here, betting it all, but Steve doesn't leave him hanging for long.

“I thought you were sweet on me.”

Eddie coughs out a relieved a laugh. “I am, baby. I'm so sweet on you.”

Steve's face could outshine the fourth of July. “Yeah?”

“Are you kidding? You think I'd crawl back into the closet for just anyone?”

“Oh my god,” he groans, head falling to land on Eddie's shoulder.

“Hey,” he nudges softly, “whaddya say we come out of the closet together?”

“Why do I like you so much?”

“Aww, you sweet on me, Stevie?”

Instead of answering, he throws back the blanket, bringing fresh air, and then Steve basically knocks Eddie into the door, spilling them out onto the floor of his room. He crawls on top of Eddie, pinning him down with all of his jock glory.

"I am so sweet on you."

And then he kisses Eddie. Kisses him like he's been thinking about it just as long as Eddie has, which is a real bitch of a realization. Months they could've been doing this.

He's got two handfuls of jean covered ass when Steve pulls back far enough to whisper, “We have to make up something else to tell Robin. She can't know it happened like this, I'll never live it down.”

"Let me touch your dick and I'll tell her whatever you want. You fought off a bear in the backyard and I was overcome with desire."

"Deal."

[never-forget-viva-la-pluto]

Girl say that shit out loud 🙌

it is crazy how “if this childrens show doesn’t kill their villain at the end it’s irredeemable media” became such a popular opinion here. like people were calling steven universe fascist apologia. and to be clear I don’t even think that would be the case for non childrens media, either. perhaps holding every single story up to the same standard of “does it follow the acceptable narrative path or is it evil propaganda” isn’t the most anti-fascist thing, either. maybe.

[simpjaes]

renaissance man (p. js)

Taking note of the strangers you see day to day isn’t something you’d normally do. The only reason today is different is because the guy who made small talk as he rang you up for your intimate items was the same guy who showed up catering for your family reunion.  or the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.

minors dni!! | pls reblog to show your support!

WORDCOUNT― 14.6k

PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader 

CONTENT― fluffy comfort smut, strangers to lovers like immediately, you buy a monster sized dildo, blatant talking of masturbation and toys, smut, cliche blooming an attachment to someone after (1) fuckening. 

!!ATTENTION!!― read this before? that’s because I run two blogs and like to re-vamp fics i’ve previously written for other groups! [@/ncteez is likely where you’ve read it from. THAT IS ME!!!] 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― it’s kind of fluffy im so sorry i just have feelings for him, average cock size jay!!!![i am not of this belief, i think his cock is fat and huge], he is very much a service top, making out, hand holding, caressing, grinding, finger fucking, titty worship,  unprotected sex, sweet talking as a form of dirty talk, missionary bc i refuse to pretend he wouldn’t want that, back scratches (sexual)

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Never have you been put in the position to make small talk about the sex toys you place on a counter to purchase. Then again, you guess it’s part of the job description that most people ignore or aren’t privy to actually doing. 

Never have you been informed of the wide variety of lubricants, additional toy-cleaners, or the bigger and smaller alternatives to your chosen toy. You don’t show discomfort though, because it’s not uncomfortable. Sex is normal, masturbation is more normal, and the man in front of you appears to be normal too.

“There’s twelve different color variants if you prefer something less fleshy.” The man says, standing at the counter with some sort of a permanent pout on his lips. 

“I’m fine, if you could just ring me up now I can get out of your hair.” You respond, glancing at the time on your phone and wondering how you got stuck with the only employee who actually does his job here.

“Are you sure you don’t want any lubricant?” The man adds, gazing at the size of your toy and then looking you up and down as if you clearly wouldn’t be able to handle your chosen toy without help.

The man with no name tag appears to be blissfully unaware of his invasiveness with that question as you tilt your head with a raised brow. Shocked at the very question, it’s actually quite laughable that he’s so monotone with the offensive comment. You imagine he’s done this for so long that he must be a manager trying to get the day over with, going through the steps in a bored mood with little to no regard as to how he must sound to strangers buying their first or twentieth dildo. 

With your assumption that he doesn’t exactly care about the level of wet your vagina is when you use this toy, you respond. “I think I know my body well enough and I already have lube, but thanks.”

He nods, not even sparing you much of a glance before giving you a total and bagging your item.

Now, despite Jay’s lack of interest toward the purchase of toys, he finds it comical that he’s grown numb to the very fact that he knows what everyone in this town’s kinks are after they step out of the shop’s door. Someone’s gotta do this job and keep those secrets…he likes to think he fits the bill perfectly. 

Lively as he may be outside of this shop, each job comes with a personality and this one calls for one of disinterest in your product but interest in the sale. He’s not one to lie to himself though, many times a pretty girl has marched in and bought toys far bigger than any man and he does tend to let his mind wander about it from time to time. When he first started this job, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, he found it hard to navigate a single sale without a flush of tints crossing his cheeks and ears. Now, he’s become a veteran at keeping his dick locked in place if he were to feel some type of way about a purchase and the one purchasing. 

Shy as he was when he started, it’s all lost now as he handles dicks and dongs, pocket pussies and anal plugs, even whips and chains. 

Shy. That’s definitely a word and surprisingly one that can describe him when he’s not on schedule within these walls of alien dicks and lime flavored lube to match the grotesque green color. At his other job, because he works two, he takes the praise of being the charming yet timid man who shows up with pans of food for events. 

The guests seem to love him and many times during weddings and company parties he has been offered phone numbers or asked for one simply because he appears to be that of a friendly face with a kind sense of being. Someone you’d wanna bring home to mom, some might say. 

It’s a stark contrast of jobs, and somehow he’s managed to dodge knowing many of the people coming into his night job to shop for ways to fuck themselves. The rare time it had happened, he was thankful to have another person in the shop to ring them up. Keeping up with two jobs is hard, and keeping up with two personalities is even harder.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hadn't thought of that guy from the sex shop even once until he showed his face at your family reunion. 

He noticed you before you managed to realize it was him though. Stealing looks in your direction as you chat with little cousins and elder aunts and uncles, mostly to double check in his brain if you’re really the girl who showed up and nonchalantly bought the newest dildo in stock. The fleshy colored one with rotating beads and a g-spot stimulator button. You know, the really fucking huge one. 

 Upon meeting his eye again for the first time, he could tell it really is you, simply because of the way you furrow your brow as you recognize him. 

Jay couldn’t help but smirk. He knew that eventually someone at an event would recognize him as their local sex-shop manager, he’s actually shocked it doesn’t happen more often. At least it’s you though, a woman who looks near his age and clearly has a very healthy relationship with her sexuality. So much so that you weren’t shy or nervous in buying the toy from him. Because it’s honestly pretty common to see someone nervous or uncomfortable while buying items far less telling than the one you bought.

His smirk doesn’t go unnoticed by you before you look away from him and focus your attention back to your family and by the time he’s prepared the food and is standing aside to explain what ingredients the dishes have, you’re walking up with your empty plate and an awkward glance. 

He follows you down the line of dishes, seemingly more interested in you than anyone else. You could argue it’s just an attempt to make you feel embarrassed, or perhaps even an attempt to ask you not to snitch on where else he works to make his money. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, a knowing look telling him that you’re already very aware of that ‘somewhere’ you know him from. 

His pursed lips and snide hidden laugh at you is one thing, but the way he whispers to you over a pan of potato casserole is another. 

“I think you know who I am.” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back again with a flicker of a crooked grin. 

You leave it at that, looking him in the eye curiously and for some reason, smiling back at the strange second encounter with a man who appears to have a name tag now.

“Thanks, Jay. See you around.” 

Heading away from the tables of food and toward the table that contains all of your favorite cousins, you are immediately bombarded with a raised brow from one of them. Ah, nosy. 

“What was that about?” One of them leans over to ask, glancing at the man who is still overseeing the table of food and maintaining perfect temperatures. She doesn’t quite catch the way Jay’s eyes flicker back to you, over and over again, repeatedly. 

“Huh? He was just telling me what was in the potatoes.” 

She takes your answer as truth without issue, and the conversation falls away and into something else. College life, job life, family life. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Okay so, you’re trying to hear yourself out here. Are you somehow curious and interested in speaking with Jay? Yeah. Do you know why? Also yes. For one, he just sold you a fucking interesting sex toy last weekend in the most uncomfortable way possible, and now he’s here at your family reunion to remind you of what you do in your apartment when you’re alone. 

His personality seems different this time too. He wasn’t monotone, he was snide with you about knowing who you are. He probably thinks its funny that he ended up at your family reunion over any other event.

So yeah, maybe you find yourself going up to the table for seconds even though you’re no longer hungry. Maybe you definitely wait until no one else is at the table and he appears to be tidying up the space and wiping up spills before speaking to him again. 

“Just how many jobs do you have?” You ask in a sarcastic tone when you reach him, the table between the two of you creating a comfortable distance to poke and prod.

He jumps only slightly at your presence because he didn’t notice you walking up. The brief break he’s taken from stealing glances so he could actually do his jobs appears to be the time you feel the need to finally approach. Still, he’s smiling again, looking at you up and down. 

“Plenty. How much lube do you have left?” He answers before shooting back his own question and getting right to the point. 

You freeze in shock at his question, reminding yourself that his monotone voice from the late dildo purchase is no more and he now comes across as vibrant and charming to you. You check him out for a moment, taking mental notes of what may not or may not be to like about him. You can’t tell if it’s good news or bad news that you’re not finding anything to raise any red flags. 

He’s bold, confidence, charming, clearly has a decent work ethic– 

“I can’t imagine you have much left, that thing was a fucking monster. We have tons in stock if you wanna–” He pauses to cover his mouth, forgetting that he’s supposed to be timid and gentle during his day job. He’s not supposed to be himself.

You find yourself laughing though, leaning over the table and holding out your empty plate. Mostly just to get in closer to him without alerting your family of a new future husband or something. 

“Why are you so interested in my ‘fucking monster”’ dildos anyway?” You narrow your eyes. 

He pauses, easing up at the way you’re just as cheeky and playful as he is, despite being surrounded by your family. It’s mildly inappropriate, but it’s making his shift go by quickly. You’re making his shift enjoyable today, so he continues. 

“I think anyone would be interested, with all things considered.” He checks you out again with a brief pause, knowing the size of that dildo you bought by heart, and fully aware that it probably ripped you in half if you really managed to put that thing anywhere inside of you. “Correction, they should be worried.” 

“You’re different from before,” you comment, both of you now blatantly staring down each other. “I like this version of you more.” 

Something inside of him feels giddy at that. Not to be cliche but he wonders if this is what it’s like to instantly have a crush on someone. Again, he’s not one to lie to himself. You’re pretty and you appear to be confident. Confident enough to take time from your family reunion to have a discussion about your plastic cock intake anyway.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime then.” He puts a hand forward, inviting you to shake it but you simply stare it down instead.  

“Yeah, maybe you will.” You smile, slapping his hand as if you’re low fiving him before swirling around and walking away thinking hard about the fact that…yeah, he might actually see you sooner than he thinks. 

Honestly, maybe within the next day or two because he was kind of right to ask about how much lube you have left, but it’s not like you’d answer that truthfully if at all. You might be running out after just two uses. He was right again about it being a fucking monster, because well, yeah. Maybe you’ll pop in and shop for bulk lube instead of rejecting his up-sale this time. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Unfortunately for you upon the reunion coming to an end, you get into your car and of course it doesn’t start. You drop your head to the steering wheel in a sigh and annoyed grunt.

The last thing you need is your father driving you home because he will lecture you about your car and how it’s got to be some fault of your own for it to not start. And you know, yeah maybe it was your fault. Why were your lights turned on during a sunny Sunday afternoon? Fuck if you know. Why were they left on for the entire nine hours you’ve been here at your parent’s house? You refuse to answer your own question.

And just as you go to accept your defeat, preparing to head back inside and take the walk of shame ten minutes after saying your goodbyes, a savior appears. 

That savior is none other than Jay,  walking up with his stiff button down shirt partially unbuttoned, hair now disheveled as he must have ruffled it up after the day of work. He watched you from his catering van for just a few minutes before finally getting out to offer his expertise. 

“The battery is dead.” He smiles, slapping both palms on your hood and leaning to look at you through the windshield. 

“Smart man, can you un-dead my battery before my dad comes out?”

Jay shakes his head apologetically. 

“I already checked the van for the cables, could be a write up on my part for not checking before leaving. We are supposed to have all sorts of shit to prevent breakdowns on a job. Not today though, apparently.” He scratches the back of his neck as he walks to your opened car door. 

“If you can hang tight for like ten minutes I can swing by after dropping the van off.”

Your eyes plead with him. You’d prefer this, yes. If he’s willing to help, you’re willing to accept.

“You sure I’m not too out of the way for you to do that?”

He shakes his head nonchalantly, waving you off as he leans into your car to pull your keys out of the ignition. He smells like food, obviously he does, but there’s a scent of something else on him that’s far more attractive. The dull scent of cologne that matches him all too well. 

“Don’t try to turn it on anymore if you don’t want your dad coming out.” He laughs. “I’m sure he would help you but if you’d rather I help you, I am more than happy to do it.”

He’s teasing. His little crush pushes him to want to help you, but he’s gonna play it off as casually as possible. 

“I’ll hang out here. My dad would lecture the fuck out of me.”

Jay nods, backing away and heading back to his van to fulfill his offer.

On another note, you’re shocked that your father didn’t hear the commotion, and even more shocked that he didn’t step outside once since the reunion ended. He must have been tired, and you know him, he sleeps like a rock and probably already hit the sack without even cleaning up the yard.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“Oh, it’s dead dead.” Jay looks at you apologetically, peeking his head out from the side of your hood and through your window. 

“Define dead dead.” You comment, taking your keys out of the ignition with a huff. 

“Like, you need a new battery. This one is done for.”

You sigh loudly, knowing that now you’ll have to go ask your parents for a ride home. Knowing that your dad is going to add more to his lectures with each day your car is sitting in this driveway. This is so fucking annoying. At least you work from home though, so it’s not like you’re gonna lose your job over this or anything. 

Jay unhooks the cables and turns off his car, then stands there and watches you for a moment. You look frustrated and annoyed, and it’s very much like him to offer more help. 

Of course it is. 

“Would it be too forward to ask if you need a ride home?” 

You look at him confused, tilting your head and studying his body language much like before. You’re not one to decline someone making your life a little bit easier, and he is interesting to talk to. You nod slowly, then pause.

“You’ve worked all day, don’t waste your off-time helping me out.”

“I’m already wasting my off time on you though, might as well let me drive you home too?”

You stare at him. 

“Okay.”

The awkward silence sets in shortly after you seat yourself in his car. You fill that silence with small sarcastic comments about said car though, and soon it becomes easy to be in the space with him.

“Where did this sticker come from?” You ask, poking your finger into a sticker with its edges rolled from the summer heat, probably.

“Ex girlfriend, I couldn’t get it off without it leaving a residue so I’m just letting the sun do its job and melt it off.”

“Oh, harsh.” You laugh, wanting to prod further. “Why’d you break up?”

Jay pauses, you can tell by the way his foot lets up from the gas momentarily that he wasn’t expecting you to ask that. Then again, he’s said some weird shit to you too, so you figure it’s not an end-all question. 

“Was that too forward to ask?” 

“Not at all, just wasn’t expecting it,” He shakes his head with a small smile, nearly reaching his hand from the wheel to pat your leg in reassurance. He holds back, wondering why the fuck that urge felt so normal for him to do. “It’s been like a year, so I’m over it and stuff. She just thought I worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her.”

“Ouch, even harsher.” You smile in reassurance to him, also feeling it normal to want to do that for some reason. “Her loss, I mean, discounted dildos and food? Huge loss.”

He laughs at your comments, briefly looking over at you once he stops at a red light. Your eyes are shining with life, with interest even. At that moment, he feels something between the two of you. Which is quite strange considering this is your first time officially meeting him outside of his working hours. He can’t help the way his face softens though, it happens against his will, honestly, it does. 

“You’re kind of cute,” You blurt, breaking eye contact with him and shifting in your seat. “and fun to hang out with.” 

“Hang out?” He laughs at you, eyes now adjusting back to the road and lowering his speed just to have a bit more time with you. “This is hardly a hang-out, but if you’re interested, I’m more than willing to check my schedule to see when I’m free next.”

You feel confidence raise up in your chest, bubbling to be free in the form of a question likely too bold to actually consider.

“You’re free right now…right?” You comment quietly, glancing at him. 

“Hm?” He asks, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and feeling your eyes on him. He heard you, but he wouldn’t mind hearing you repeat it.

“I said, you’re free right now.” You repeat, this time with more confidence. “Would it be too forward to ask if –”

“Nothing is too forward to ask, I literally sold you a dildo.” 

You pause in shock, all thoughts leaving your head.

“Damn, alright,” You laugh, feeling kind of warm inside at how his forwardness matches your own. “If you’re free right now, we could hang out right now.” 

How lucky for both of you. He’s actually not catering tomorrow and only has to be at work at the good ol’ sex shop in the evening. 

“Alright,” He nods, glancing over to you. “Kind of fucked up we are hanging out after I met your entire family and still haven’t gotten a name from you yet though, wouldn’t you think?” 

Oh fuck, he’s right. 

“I’m sure you heard the kids yelling it all day. Don’t be dramatic.”

He laughs, already in love with the idea of spending more time with you. 

And you hear him echo your name, asking where it is that you’d like to go. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

If your parents were to ask why you’re walking through your apartment building with the caterer following behind you, you’d have no excuse. Then again, as an adult, you don’t think you need one. It’s strange despite how open and casual you are with making friends though, because you never just invite strangers to your place for friendship. At least, not without hanging out a few times first. 

You guess it’s not super awkward because it’s true that he already knows things about you that your family doesn’t. Such as, the things you penetrate yourself with when you’re alone. It’s a major ice breaker, and something that makes the friendship with him come easy even after barely talking to the guy.

The few words you have shared have been easy and fun, so it’s only natural that if your instinct is to want to be around him a little longer, you’d invite him in right? You weren’t really expecting him to accept your answer to his question. 

“Where to then?” 

You thought for a moment when he asked that. You don’t go to clubs or bars anymore, most places would have been closing within the hour, and it’s not like you didn’t eat to peak fullness during the family reunion so having a late dinner with him was out of the question too. You answered him so easily, and he accepted in a way that seemed just as natural to him. 

“We could just hang out at my place, I’ve got plenty of streaming services, a gaming system, and wine.”

“Sounds good.” 

It was so easy to become friends with him, and now with him following you up to your apartment, the typical awkwardness that should come with this type of thing isn’t swarming your mind at all. He’s even making small talk about the building itself after parking in your parking spot. 

“This building is way nicer than mine, you got a door code and everything just to get in.”

“Wasn’t always like this. Being a single woman in a city like this calls for safety measures though.”

A little box in his head checks out. He didn’t even have to ask if you’re single, because he already assumed you were with the way you so easily invited him over. And in all fairness, you’ve been trying to find a reason to slip in your relationship status to him. 

By the time you get to your door with him, he’s polite when he walks in and takes off his shoes. Polite in the way he looks around and studies your space, even polite in the way he walks into the living room and invites himself onto your couch and grabs your remote. 

“I was going to say make yourself comfortable but–”

“Well, would you prefer I sit on your floor?” He shoots back with a sarcastic tone in his voice. “Would you prefer I start digging through your cabinets for snacks? Would you prefer–”

“You’re so much more talkative when I’m not trying to buy something from you.” You comment with a laugh, dipping into the kitchen for two glasses and that cheap bottle of wine. 

“Speaking of, do you actually use that thing and like it? I mean, I see some weird purchases but that specific one is super popular with the fetish groups.”

For the first time, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You should have known that the sex toy would be a point of conversation, considering the first time you ever met was buying it. 

“Yes, I use it. I’m surprised you find it shocking considering it’s literally your job to know what people like in terms of getting off.”

He smiles at that, because you’re damn right he knows. Most of the time he would prefer not to know, but he always did wonder if, on the off chance, he ended up hooking up with a customer he’d have some prior knowledge of how they like it based on toys alone. 

“You know, normally people don’t buy toys on a Monday at nine in the morning.” 

“I buy toys at nine in the morning on a Monday,” You chuckle, carrying the two glasses and wine into the living room and plopping down next to him. “Why does that matter? I’m sure you make your quotas even on the slow days considering how hard you were trying to up-sell me.”

He shrugs as he watches you pour him a glass. 

“It’s easy to up-sell when you know people’s kinks after a few purchases. I do that to everyone just to gauge what they need so if they come back I can make more offers.”

“A true salesman.” You laugh with a pitied voice. “What would you say my kink is?”

He studies you, looking you up and down without shame and thinking hard about your single purchase. 

“Well, considering that specific item is, again, usually looked at by a specific type of person or couple, I’d say–”

“Wrong.” You interrupt before he even tries to make a guess. “I don’t have a kink, I just have a really high sex drive.”

You take a sip at his silence of being beaten to the punch, and then he takes his own thoughtful sip. 

“Okay then, What do you think my kink is?” He asks slyly, cup still against his lips as he sips again. 

“Wha–” You narrow your eyes at him, trying not to stare at him for too long because goddamn is he handsome. “Hell if I know, you probably don’t even have sex after being in a hyper-sexualized space like that for hours on end.”

“Wrong.” He pokes his tongue into his cheek and looks away from you with another casual chuckle.

“Are you telling me you have a pocket pussy or like, a buttplug or something?”

“Three pocket pussies, actually.”

You don’t know why you’re shocked. For some reason his sex toys becoming the focus makes you feel more shy than your own being the focus. 

“I bet you named them.”

“Pocket 1, Pocket 2, and Jessica.”

“Jessica?” You raise a brow despite the sarcastic banter, wondering if maybe that’s based on his ex girlfriend or something. 

He nods in a matter-of-fact tone with a proud smile. 

You feel comfortable around him, never having a friend who openly talks to you about these things without any type of awkwardness. It’s the fact that he’s a man too. Usually they think with their dicks and he seems to have no qualms in admitting that it’s something he may do from time to time too. 

You imagine he needs this type of personality to work such a job though, being casual about sex can be so difficult for your average joe because for some reason, it is embarrassing. It’s hard to talk about even to sex-shop employees. You like to think he’s probably someone who makes others feel comfortable about their sexual habits though, because you feel comfortable. 

“I’m lying by the way.” He cuts through your thoughts, “I only have two.” 

You nod energetically with a laugh. 

“Variety is good.” You continue, not mentioning the array of toys you have stashed away. 

“Yeah, I think experimenting with different things is good. I only really liked the two I kept though, I guess.”

“And yet, you’re shocked about my single dildo purchase without knowing of my other items of interest? I could have just been trying something new too, y’know.”

Another sip of wine, and another glance away from him because you were looking a little too fondly at that little scar on his nose, the birth mark on his neck, the way his lips crease when he swallows his drink and– yeah, you definitely glance away.

“No one buys that as a first time experience.” He comments, tapping the cup against his lips and looking at you.

You’re a little stunned by him, never having met a man so open to speaking like this, with a woman he barely knows no less. 

“Okay, enough about my dildo. I actually have a question about something you might have in stock but I’ve kind of been too embarrassed to ask until now.”

He nods, his personality shifting only slightly into that as the manager of the sex-shop.

“Oh? Embarrassed? Since when?” He jokes at first. “What is it then?”

“Do you guys have like,” you pause, unsure of why you’re even trying to ask. Again, it’s not like masturbation is embarrassing, nor is the purchasing of toys. Asking for a specific item is a bit too intimate to you though, seeing as how you usually just buy those things online. “Okay hear me out.”

“Tentacles? Furry buttplugs with tails attached? Bondage rope? Paddles?”

“No…” You pause at his spewing of different types of toys. “I know you have all of that.”

He pauses, studying the way you make yourself a bit smaller compared to just minutes before.

“Do you guys have sex dolls for women? You know, like, just a doll with a very normal dick?”

Jay fucking snorts. How mundane. 

Unfortunately for you though, Nope. 

“Nah, the owner tries to cater more towards men and fetish stuff. We’ve got fem tantaly dolls and all sorts of blow up dolls but he’s never brought in just like, a torso with a cock, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You shrug. 

“Guess sticking it to the wall is all I can do for now then. But like,” You pause, realizing that you’re actually going into detail at this point, which might be a little uncomfortable for him? Maybe? “It’s really annoying to have it sticking to the floor, and you’re like, riding it and it just pops off and stabs your thigh slipping out mid-orgasm.”

He snorts again, that pretty smile you’ve seen time and time again echoing the most attractive laugh you think you’ve heard in a long time. This time, his smile doesn’t fade as the seconds pass, no. He’s unable to stop laughing at the image of whatever orgasm instilled the frustration in you to even mention that happening. He tries to stifle his laughter with the last sip of his wine before choking it down and pushing his glass at you for more. 

“Noted,” He snorts, nodding his head and almost hiding his face from you. “I’ll tell the boss we need male sex dolls so the women don’t get dick-stabbed where they don’t need it mid orgasm.”

You glare. 

“Wait, no, because it actually hurts.” You frown at him. “I just wish your shop catered a little more to women who just wanna ride a dick without the dangers of riding said dick.” 

“Maybe you should slow down next time so the full force of your–” He pauses, realizing how sexual the image in his head is of you right now. “Um…” He trails off uncomfortably, unintentionally adjusting himself in his jeans by spreading his legs slightly against your couch. 

“Okay, wait. I’m sorry, is this conversation too much right now?” You ask, looking him up and down and giving him a new glass of wine. “You’re blushing.”

He tries to play it off. 

“As if you could make me blush.” He laughs at you, downing half of his glass in one go. “To make up for our lack of product though, and if you don’t tell anyone, I’ll give you a discount on your next purchase just for embarrassing yourself telling me that.”

“Oh, I was supposed to be embarrassed?” You counter, knowing that all you need to do is point out that he got flustered to shut him up. You opt not to because still, the two of you barely know each other. Instead, you opt to laugh along with him, letting your gaze fall back to studying all of those features he has that you didn’t quite notice before.

While you did notice he was handsome before, it’s not like you paid that thought any mind. There are a lot of handsome men out and about after all. It only starts to matter when they allow you to get close enough to appreciate it more. Not to mention, in your experience at various sex shops, most employees of them are mundane and nonchalant. Some are strange old men, or cool old women. Jay though? Jay.

Hmm…how to explain him?

With his messy hair that covers his eyes every time he whips his head toward you in a laugh, with his sharp jawed smile and pretty eyes. The little marks and celestial kisses against his skin that shows you of a life he’s been living. He feels…warm. Like everything about him looks comforting, smells comforting, sounds comforting. And now, even compared to when you met him at the shop, even at the reunion just this afternoon…he’s so much more handsome in this moment. 

Learning his personality, hearing his voice say your name, having him take the time to not only help you but befriend you? 

His shoulders are broad, and he’s just… you don’t even know how to explain to yourself the attraction you have toward him at this moment. Handsome is one thing, and you would have continued calling him that if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing with you on your couch about a ruined orgasm. 

“You know, Jay,” You start, looking into your glass and swirling the liquid inside, then you look up again and make eye contact. “I’m really not usually this forward but like,”

His brain stops for a moment at the serious tone in your voice, his expression softens and you can tell he’s listening. 

“I know masturbation and stuff is normal, and like, you see and talk about these things all the time but I never really talk about it to other people, they always get weird about it.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I can’t say this is the most normal hang out I've ever had. Usually we talk about our favorite movies or books or something.”

You wave him off. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We could talk about our favorite movies but I find myself, um–” You stop for a second. 

“Is talking about it making you realize that it’s uncomfortable?” 

“No, the opposite actually.” You laugh, now actually feeling embarrassed. “I keep thinking about you mentioning the other things you’ve bought and experimented with.”

“Oh? You’re curious?” He laughs, now feeling a bit shy himself because he’s pretty sure that’s you asking him to put images in your head. “I mean I could go into detail but it actually might be too-telling right now.”

You nod, unsure of why you even suggested.

“Maybe next time?” You change the subject with a smile, one that does seem slightly disappointed. 

“There’s a next time?” He smiles, setting his glass down on your table and shifting toward you.

“I don’t see why not? I’m having fun, plus you offered me a discount.”

He nods, looking around the room and checking the time. 

“I should probably head out then? We’ve both had a long day.” 

You nod back to him, feeling a bit sad. 

“When are you free next?” You ask, grabbing your phone in a way that seems a bit too excited. “Can you give me your number?”

He obliges, exchanging phone numbers and promising to contact you with his next free day or night to hang out. Just as he goes to leave though, for some reason both of you feel as though the satisfaction of this hang out wasn’t reaching full potential. 

“Hey, um,” He stops before he puts his shoes back on. “Would it be too forward to say I’m not tired and wouldn’t mind–”

“Staying for a bit longer?” You finish his sentence for him, patting the couch as if that was also on your mind.

He doesn’t even respond, and instead makes his way back onto the couch where the cushion is still warm, unable to help the fluttering feeling in his chest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It's almost two in the morning by the time he offers to leave again, and yet, he stays at your clear disappointment of the offer. Another hour later, the two of you are sitting contently and pretending to watch some shitty tv show in comfortable silence. 

“We should say something.” He blurts, mid episode.

“What do you mean?”

He turns toward you. 

“We should talk about this.” He motions at the space between the two of you. 

You’re silent while you try to build up the confidence to meet him half-way again. 

“You can correct me if you’re not interested but I actually really would like it if you kissed me or something.” He adds as you continue to process what he seems to be getting at.

You’re taken aback by his forwardness for some reason, and instantly you knew he didn’t communicate this earlier for your own sake. Thankfully, you’ve tried to make it easy for him to read you and he ate it up like his favorite meal. The content feeling between the two of you was buzzing up to this point. Very loudly in your brain where you were thinking of how to kiss him before the night is up. Even as just a “thank you” if he were to turn away from it. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, tilting your head and seeing him scoot closer. “Kiss you, or something?”

He nods his head, looking at you without much issue and searching for a reaction. 

“Are you interested in me like that, in any way?” He asks, looking for confirmation.

“Oh, most definitely.”

The smile that spreads across his face is one that you can argue will be unforgettable. It’s an expression you hope to bring to every person in your life, one that seems to express nothing but relief, excitement, and maybe even a hint of bashfulness.

“You thought I'd invite you inside without being interested?” You smile at him, feeling a little bit fuzzy in the head at the admittance. 

“I thought you were just being nice, or like, just interested in friendship,” He rambles on, stopping himself short to give more context to that statement. “I mean, it would be fine if this was all for friendship and I'm happy with that too but I can admit to coming into your apartment with maybe, uh, a small crush.” 

“I can admit to inviting you in with a small crush, maybe.” 

“Maybe.”

“Are we being too forward?” You ask, emphasizing the repetitive way that word seems to appear. “Even though you’re in my apartment at an ungodly hour and both of us are giving any and every excuse to keep you here?”

He smiles this time in a way that appears to be self-soothing, and you can imagine you are too. It’s always nerve-wracking to walk on eggshells with another person, the threat of wondering if you'll fall alone or fall with them into a new version of partnership. 

You don’t think about the lack of knowing him past a purchase, a quick conversation at a family reunion, or the past several hours he’s huddled up with you on this couch. You simply don’t think it’s strange at this point. After all, you’ve met people online and invited them over without much more than a name, age, and quick conversation about what they want sexually. How is this worse? How is this strange? 

“You’re right. Maybe we should stop being so polite when the reality of it is that I’ve been imagining what you’ve done with that toy since the day you bought it.” 

Okay, maybe that was too forward but all is lost now as your image of him changes drastically within the mere seconds it took him to say that, not in a bad way either. Again, of course he’s comfortable admitting it, the dude stares at dicks and holes all day. But now he’s staring at you, and talking directly to you.

Your silence makes him shift a bit, shaking his head apologetically. 

“Found the boundary, got it.” He shames himself with a timid voice, looking away from you and back to the tv with a hint of embarrassment. “I’m not lying though.” He adds after a few more minutes of your silence.

“Not much of a boundary if I admit that I was blatantly asking you earlier what you’ve done to experiment with your toys.”

“Aha! So I was right in thinking you were straight up asking for mind-porn of me?!” He feels instantly comfortable again, turning his entire body toward you as he folds up one of his legs to sit on with a little bounce. 

“Maybe, but what do you mean you’ve been imagining since I bought it? You barely made eye contact with me that day.”

“Oh, I was checking you out the whole time you shopped. Imagine my face when I knew exactly what toy you were reaching for.”

You shove him by the shoulder with a laugh, realizing that this is the first bodily contact you’ve ever had with him, but he actually leans into your shove rather than out of it. Meaning, he barely budges. 

“If I looked you in the eye at the register, you would have thought I was some pervert.” 

“You are a pervert. You said it had, what? Twelve other colors?” 

He shrugs with a pained smile at how cringe he must have sounded to you. 

“You seemed more like a sparkly pink girl rather than a normal flesh tone girl. Then again, this was before I knew you were looking for a literal male sex doll for super normal pretend-sex.”

You shove him again, your laugh coming out more forced now at the way he jokes with you. Once again, he doesn’t budge. In fact, he’s leaning in closer. 

“Now hold on, you didn’t mention anything about one having glitter in it.” You joke, wiggling your brows. 

“You trying to fuck a man or a magic unicorn?” He laughs yet again, all of it coming out more forced as the two of you drag out information just to hear the dirty words in a voice you’re only just realizing you like far too much. 

“A man.” You dead-pan, this time not laughing, looking him dead in the eye and trying to pretend you don’t notice how close the two of you have gotten. “Why else would I go for more human skin tones?”

“Fuck if I know, I haven’t met a single man who has vibration settings or rolling beads though.” 

You snort. 

“Shame…but also, why do you think I’m on the hunt for the most mundane sex toy a woman can buy now? The rolling beads almost had me passing out.” 

“Was it too much?” He asks seriously, hoping to god it was. 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I can imagine you want something to feel real after that.”

For some reason, his words hit you straight in the gut. Your stomach drops as your attraction heightens, and suddenly you’re just staring at him as you respond. 

“I can imagine so, yeah.” 

He stares back, almost no space between the two of you as the banter only brought you both mentally and physically as close as possible without becoming twisted together. 

“When was the last time you felt something real?” He asks against his better judgment, wondering if you’re on the same page with him. Wondering if all this banter was leading to somewhere or nowhere. Because he could have sworn admitting to wanting you to kiss him, and you’ve yet to do so. 

“A month and a half.” You respond dryly, suddenly needing something to drink. 

He glances down at your neck when you swallow around your words, then stares at your lips before breathing in a sigh. One that was supposed to relieve the tension in this moment, but only building it more because he knows you see him do it. He knows you see him wet his bottom lip too.

“Are you going to kiss me, or are you planning to wait another month and a half to get what you want?” He continues on his streak of boldness as if to distract you from noticing the sexual tension, feeling his heart skip beats at the intensity of the moment. 

“It’s not like we have anything better to do.” You start, leaning in and still looking straight into his eyes.

“Are you suggesting that I’m boring?” He narrows his eyes as he feels your breath against his lips, still sweet from the wine that did close to nothing in terms of altering the brain. The two of you are totally planted into reality, if anything, a little drunk on the other. 

“Not at all.” You adjust your words from earlier, there, hovering just over his lips. “I’m just saying that nothing is more interesting than kissing you right now.”

Oh, the fluttering in his belly is so fucking intense right now. No eighteen inch alien tentacle dildo on a shelf could scare him as much as you do at this moment. Intimidatingly outspoken and aware of your wants and needs. His eyelashes flutter just like his stomach does, closing them slowly until he can feel your lips on his. 

Your stomach, on the other hand, has been doing flips since the first instance he admitted to wanting to stay. All of the tension, all of the comfortable silence, all of the glances, the smiles, the laughing, all of it was leading up to this. The moment your lips hit his, they feel much like you imagined they would. 

Soft, plush, warm. The thin lipped grins he’s given you all day now laying flat against your own lips, no longer grinning, now just wanting. And he’s gentle, so fucking gentle with it. Never has a man asked you to kiss him. Usually they close the gap to try and swoon you. It appears you’re both being swooned by each other at the moment though, and his soft kiss only pulls back momentarily before he leans forward, closer.

The third touch, save for you shoving him, his lips on yours, and now…his hand on your cheek. Caressing so gently as he deepens the kiss with ease. The heat rises up and through your skin at the simple touch. You think he must feel it with the way he chuckles into the kiss and starts peppering them against your lips over and over again. A split second between each lay of his lips, and then another solid kiss. One where you finally start moving yours too.

It’s slow and languid in the way he kisses you like this, barely even darting his tongue out but focusing more on your cheek against his palm. He can feel your jaw move as you kiss and can’t help but love what’s happening, and when you’re the one to lick against his lower lip, he falls in so easily. 

That little movement from you, that little feeling of your tongue experimentally prodding his lips open releases the last bit of tension holding him back. He pulls back to look at you and you’re not backing down even slightly. 

“Does this feel more real for you?” He asks in a snide way, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb of the glistening saliva before tilting his head with a smile. 

You very nearly roll your eyes at him for that. And by very nearly, you do roll your eyes at him and can’t help but smile yet again. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, palm still against your cheek, tips of his fingers toying with the baby hairs on your hair-line. “because I can imagine that the toy couldn’t ki-”

You shoot forward to kiss him again, only just realizing how awkward the positioning is considering neither of you were probably expecting more than a first kiss. 

He laughs into it, knowing you were silencing him of something that could arguably be the most cringe-worthy thing he can say after kissing you. His laughs start to stifle though, as you press forward and somehow manage to have his back against the seat of the couch and you planting yourself on top of him. 

“Can you shut up about the toy now? I thought we got past that,” You argue as you pull back, your cheek already missing the feeling of his palm against it. “You can’t just act like this and then say some dumb shit like that.”

You’re joking, he knows it. If anything, you’re complimenting him right now and he eats it the fuck up as he stares up at you. 

“Was I wrong though?” 

You take a moment to look at him, realizing that this is the man who you just kissed. With his hair a mess and fanned out on the cushions, strands falling in front of his eyes, but mostly swept back and exposing the entirety of his forehead to you. 

You reach forward and brush a strand from his eyes. 

“Actually, say whatever you want.” You correct yourself and manage to ignore his question.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” He half-chuckles as he brings his hands up to sit against your waist, hoping you don’t pull out of the intimate position the two of you are in. 

“I don’t know, I was just looking at you and thought it would be stupid for me to try to argue with you right now.”

“Why’s that?” He prods for more compliments, feeling himself twitch at the way you look hovering over him. 

“Are you trying to argue right now?” You tilt your head, adjusting yourself now to sit directly on his thighs and lay forward, both hands cushioning your chin on his chest as you straddle him. 

“Would it be so wrong to admit that you’re fun when you argue with me?” 

You can feel him breathe under you, nearly rocking you further and further into whatever headspace Jay seems to put you in. It’s too comfortable, and it almost feels as though you’ve been with him for years now. You barely know him, yet you’re lying on him as if you got married two years ago. Insane how this works. How the heart works, or the brain, or whatever drives the arousal you’re feeling right now. 

“Will you argue if I ask to show you my room?” You start, lifting back up and away from his chest, now scooting forward a bit. You don’t dare sit on it yet, but you very much would like to if he were to suggest not moving at all from this couch. “My bed.”

He stutters and quickly quiets his excited words, replacing his voice with a nod and a sharp inhale.

“Hah! Telling me to argue and instantly buckling the second I mention my bed.” You laugh, pulling yourself up and sauntering out of his view.

He stares at the ceiling for a moment, in a daze over just how much he likes you. He wonders, would you be shocked to know he hasn’t had sex in much longer compared to you? One and a half months for you? That’s nothing to him. He’s been besties with his right hand for at least six months by now. Trust him when he says that it truly was difficult to not turn into a hormonal idiot when he saw you in the shop that day. 

Finally, he shakes himself out of the spaced out horny brain staring at your ceiling and stands to his feet. He’s quick to adjust the bulge in his jeans, uncomfortably shaking his leg before looking toward where you walked off to.

“Um.” He stops, realizing you were watching him, looking directly at the spot he just adjusted. “I mean,” He tries to start again, adjusting again as he feels it slowly move out from its tucked place. “Listen,”

“No, I get it.” You say, snickering at his embarrassment as if he somehow doesn’t know you were suggesting at least some foreplay by moving to your room.

“Of course you do,” He drops his head, now blatantly shoving his hands down his pants to adjust before looking back up and taking a step forward. “You’re the one who sat on me like that.”

“Please, I didn’t even sit on it.” 

“Didn’t need to.” He shrugs, now coming up to you and waiting for you to guide him through your space and into your room. 

Once the two of you get there, him not even attempting to hide that he is very aroused at this moment, you’re very quick to turn and face him once he comes inside. 

“We are on the same page, right?” You ask, looking at his lips and the way they still look so kissable. 

“As far as I know, with all things considered.” He responds, looking down at himself and how pathetic he must seem in getting so aroused by nothing more than a kiss and a position change. 

You smile, reaching for his hand and watching him tumble forward to you. Now standing mere inches in front of you. 

“Do you want to see it?” You ask, a cheeky smirk on your face as you turn away from him and run to your bedside table. 

He has no idea what the fuck you’re referring to until he sees it. There, in all of its non-human glory. Jay ticks his tongue, curiously straining his neck out to peek at what else is in your drawer as he walks closer. 

You make no attempt to close the drawer and instead pull out another one, and another one, another one.

“If you keep pulling out toys I’ll start to think you were lying in saying you wanted to feel something more, um–”

“Real?” You say, turning from your presented line-up of toys to look at him. 

He nods, gazing over the toys, four dildos all far bigger than he is. 

“I can admit that men can’t vibrate, nor do they have those little rotating beats but,” You chuckle at the conversation, scooping the toys up quicker than you laid them out and tossing them back into the drawer. “They’re not warm, or attached to someone that can kiss me. They’re also not witty.”

You study his expression.

“They don’t make me laugh before getting me off.” You continue, wondering if you may actually be too forward about this now. 

He’s rendered a bit speechless, which is rare for him in any given situation. He always has a quick response, not at this moment though as he looks at you. He wonders if you pity that obvious act of self-doubt upon seeing your toys. 

“They’re not attached to you.” You add, this time stifling your chuckle, because it’s a pretty funny conversation if you look at it from the outside but you can imagine he must be feeling some type of way to be so quiet.

He thinks hard about it, knowing damn well where this was leading and pushing for it himself. Hearing you now though, so confidently say these things, all doubt erases from his mind. 

“Before we do anything,” he starts, his shaky voice coming out more confident as he continues. “Is this just a hook-up to you or are you feeling the way I’m feeling right now?”

You look at him with a question in your eyes. He was kind of shocked that you didn’t finish for him this time, actually. 

“Like, you know if we do this, I’m going to be calling to take you out to dinner at some point unless you say you don’t want me to, right?”

You hadn’t thought of anything past him since you’ve gotten here. You didn’t think about anything more than hanging out with him, and now, kissing him, and maybe you know, feeling him. For some reason though, despite the lack of sex you’ve had lately, him saying that only arouses you more. It’s been so long since you’ve intended to sleep with someone and have them want to stick around after. Some of the people you’ve been with didn’t even ask for your number. Is this what adult relationships are actually like? 

“As in, you’d want to see where this goes in the–”

“Future, yes. I’m not just going to fuck you and pretend I didn’t when I see you again.”

Shockingly, that’s a first for you and you like the feeling it gives you. Plus, him implying that he’s about to, or very willing to, fuck you sends a wave of fondness through you.

“Alright. Let’s not call it a hook up then.” You say, the playful arousal from before stifling out at the idea of being intimate with someone who is making you aware that you’ll see him again, now being replaced with…feelings? Arousal with feelings?

“What should we call it?” 

“A date?” You say back immediately, sitting on your bed and finally closing your bedside drawer. 

“Oh, you fuck on the first date?” 

You laugh at how quickly his wit comes back, especially with the way he crowds up and stands in front of you. 

“With you? Looks like it.” You smile wide for him, feeling the tension bleed away and replace itself again with the arousal of him standing and looking down at you. 

“How did we not meet earlier?” He asks, leaning down a bit as if to kiss you.

“Fuck if I know, I bought all of those toys at your shop.”

“Ah, right. Nine in the morning on a Monday. I don’t usually work mornings.”

“Guess I got lucky last time then.”

“I guess you did.” He adds like a period to a sentence, finally kissing you again and making no effort to hide the fact that he’s attempting to lay you down much like you did to him before. 

You let him, falling back on your bed and feeling him nudge your legs to spread. Again, you let him, feeling your heart begin to race with excitement in the way he kisses you now versus how he did it earlier. 

There is clear intent behind it this time, as he positions himself between your legs. Your heart only races faster when one of his hands slides down your arm and he tangles his fingers with yours. It’s all very intimate to be coming from a man you officially met today, but you really do feel lucky. 

Lucky that he works two jobs, lucky that your family throws lame ass reunions every five years, lucky that you left your headlights on during a sunny sunday afternoon, lucky that your battery died. 

It’s so normal already to smile into the kiss and feel giddy inside. Never have you smiled into a kiss save for laughing when a leg cramp happens mid-fuck. You can’t believe how much you’ve smiled and laughed today, and you can’t believe he’s making you react this way just by holding your fucking hand and kissing you this way. 

He laughs when you react though, probably feeling at ease on your bed with you under him, squeezing your fingers tightly each time he licks against your tongue. And when he pulls back to breathe, you just look at him and the way his hair hangs in front of his eyes. He looks so pretty at this angle, even when he’s moving slowly, even when his other hand remains planted beside your head to hold his weight from falling onto you. 

It’s not been since highschool that you’ve laid with someone simply making out, fully clothed, giggling. You’re unsure of how he’s pulled this out of you, because usually when a man is on top of you, you’re already trying to get his clothes off. But this? This is something that you want to last. You want it to be slower than a usual fuck, because you like when he’s here with you. Whether on top of you or not, there was a reason he’s stayed this late already and you already know it wasn’t solely to fuck you.

“Did you expect to be on top of me someday?” You ask between kisses, and he takes that as an invitation to laugh against your neck and tickle your cheek with his messy hair. 

“Expect it? No,” He starts, leaving a kiss just under your ear before lowering his lips to the collar of your shirt and kissing there too. “Hoped I could, though.” 

Your heart swells up at that. You realized he must have meant it when he admitted to having a small crush on you. Only now do you realize that the curiosity that brought you back up to the food-table during the reunion may have been the start of a crush on your end too. 

You don’t say anything more after that and instead fall into the feeling of his lips kissing along your collar. For some reason the sensation of his lips pushing the fabric out of the way so he can kiss new exposed skin makes you feel incredibly wanted. Maybe it’s the pace, or maybe it’s just because you really really like him, and want him to want you. 

“Do you want to take it off?” You ask after a few more of his kisses, wanting to control yourself but also very much wanting to feel his lips everywhere else too. 

You can feel him nod in the form of his hair tickling your cheek more. But he doesn’t move from that spot at first, continuing to kiss you the same way and in the same places. You let him, up until he finally sighs and pulls back. 

Looking at him now, even compared to a few moments ago, he looks even more pretty. His eyes are now soft, you can almost see the lines from where he’s smiled for you all day. His lips, looking more kissable than they did the past two times you thought they looked as kissable as they ever could. His eyebrows, showing no signs of tension but permanently arched in a way that makes him appear constantly moody. 

You’re staring and you’re not intending to hide it. Even as he lifts your shirt from your waist and starts to pull it up. You barely budge as you stare, and stare, until you can’t because he’s trying to pull your shirt over your head.

“If you’d stop staring for two seconds maybe I could get this off of you–” He smiles knowingly, finally pulling it off when you arch your back and then prop yourself up slightly with your hands. “There.”

He sighs when he says it, going silent and almost frozen at the image of your nearly-naked torso. You watch him stare now, a smirk forming all too quickly.

“Now look who’s staring.” You chuckle, noting that his eyes still don’t leave the newly exposed skin or the fabric of your bra.

“Yeah, I am.” He admits, wetting his lower lip again and then flicking his eyes to you. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Suddenly, that eye contact makes you feel shy. You’re more naked than he is, despite mostly being dressed still.

“You know,” you start, avoiding his intense eye contact just to get the words out. “If we just take all of our clothes off now, it would probably be easier.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle at you but nods, already lifting his shirt off and going for his zipper and button.

“There’s no rush, but if you’d prefer we do,” He scoots back and away from you, standing to his feet to shove his jeans down his legs. “I don’t mind.”

You watch him undress and lose all ability to act on your own for a solid thirty seconds before you finally start panic-shimming the rest of your clothing off. Save for bra and panties, and he, now standing there clad in only a pair of form-fitting briefs. 

You’re glad he isn’t as shy as you at this moment though, or rather, he appears to be entirely infatuated with your body and doesn’t look away from it for even a moment to feel embarrassed himself at standing on the side of your bed nearly nude. 

“No rush?” You ask, when he finally trails his eyes up to you and takes his position between your legs from earlier. Except now, you can see his biceps and the way they flex, now, you can feel the immense amount of warmth radiating from him. Now, his hair is even more of a mess.

“I can try,” He says quietly, balancing on one hand and lowering his lips to yours once more, trying to ignore how dangerously close his length is to bumping against your core. “No promises now, though.”

You smirk, wondering where he lost his self control within that short span of time where you got undressed. He cuts your chuckle off mid-way though, now kissing you again and moving his hand up and down your waist. It tickles and causes goosebumps to form all over you, to the point that you can’t help but sigh into his kiss. 

He continues, still holding his hips back from grinding against you, kissing you as good as he can until trailing back to your neck again. 

It’s not until you run your fingers through his hair that he sighs himself. That relief and heavenly feeling of your fingers scraping the back of his neck— such a simple touch can literally send him straight to hell at this point and he wouldn’t care a single bit as long as it’s from you and your hands. 

He lowers himself more, just to prevent his hips from intruding into this moment only to lock his lips onto the mound of your breast, other hand lowering so he can lay down and push your bra to the side a bit. 

The cold air that hits your nipple is short-lived when you feel him immediately suck it into his mouth with a deep breath. You continue to scratch through his hair, now using your other hand to nearly hug his head in place as you feel the sensations shoot straight between your legs. Each flick of his tongue sends signals to your brain to go! go! go! But much like him, you hold back, even though your legs still manage to squeeze his body between yours in an attempt to find the friction he isn’t yet offering. 

He continues this for a few minutes, and then works his fingers under the bra on the other side of your chest before switching his lips to that one. Perking them up so perfectly that he can graze his teeth against either nipple and feel your legs react to it. All of it is turning him on beyond belief, it’s dangerously attractive to him now too, to know that you have several toys that could have already gotten you off by now, but you choose this. You choose his lips playing with your tits, and your legs doing an amazing job of showing him your lack of control. After all, toys can’t give you the foreplay that he can.

His lips continue their work, up until he’s trailing further and further down, making your sighs hitch higher and higher in pitch. He kisses your waist, just above your belly button, then just below your belly button before leaning back.

There, he looks directly at the seat of your panties and smiles at the wet spot there. He plants a kiss right in the center of your mess  before climbing back up and caressing your cheek again. 

“You’re wet.” He comments in a huskier voice than he normally uses, balancing yet again on his other arm.

Goddamn, if this is how he sounds when he’s with a girl then you feel more lucky than before. You can’t imagine the amount of women who have fallen completely in love with this guy. And, before you can actually respond to him with another cheeky comment, his hand on your cheek disappears and is instantly between your legs, cupping you there and even scooting you up the bed with the force of how he grabs you.

You hitch out a sigh and look at him with a smile.

“Obviously.” You say back, rolling your eyes playfully before unintentionally bucking your hips into the pressure his palm offers against your clit. 

“Cute too.” He adds, lifting his palm to run his fingers up the wet spot on your panties before pressing in slightly. 

You can feel the fabric stick to you uncomfortably, but it still feels so fucking good. Any amount of touching from him feels good, if you’re being honest. 

“And you’re teasing me.” You argue, looking away from his smirk as he plays with the wet fabric against his fingers. 

“Just ask. I’m not teasing you if you're not telling me what you want.” 

You shoot your eyes back to him, a mixture of curiosity and shock in your eyes. It’s true though, you are a little shocked. Most men really just do what they want, and so do you. Never have you been asked what you want. 

Your eyes trail down as far as they can, what his hand is doing is mostly hidden between your legs but you focus entirely on the way his arms flex as his fingers travel up and down your panties. 

“You want me to ask?” You question, hips bucking up again unintentionally. 

“Not so much ask, but like, tell me what you want.”

He nods to himself as he says it, licking his bottom lip and pressing the fabric of your panties in yet again. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do what he wants right now though, definitely not. He just figures you know your body far better than he does, and he’d rather not make assumptions and embarrass himself when you could just ask him or better, guide him. Who is he to assume you want his fingers right now anyway?

“I’ve never…” You start, swallowing your words as your brain goes back to focusing on his fingers momentarily. “I haven’t–”

He knows what you’re trying to say, so he attempts to make it a bit easier for you. 

“Do you want me to pull your panties to the side?” 

You sigh with a nod, looking at him and allowing him to guide you through telling him what you want.

“Do you want me to touch you?” 

You nod again, pushing your head back against the mattress out of frustration that you, for some reason, can’t find the words to just tell him yourself. 

He listens to your body though, more than your weak nods and frustrated sighs. The way your legs shake when he asks, the way you react to the air hitting your folds when he does push your panties to the side. He can’t bear to look down yet though, because he knows for a fact that if he were to pull back and look at you in full, he’d no longer be asking you what you want. He’d be embarrassing for sure. 

You can feel his fingers now sliding through your folds though, bare pussy out and on display but not yet being looked at, only being felt. And arguably, all you can do right now is feel too, as he leans forward to kiss you in this silent moment. 

His fingers continue to explore as he kisses you, collecting all of your arousal and swirling it around your clit before sliding back down and prodding at your entrance. You make a sound at that, kissing him a little harder than before when he lets out a hum.

“Hm?” He hums against your lips, and you nod to him. 

There, he dips a finger in only slightly. Your arms reach around his neck at the feeling and pull him closer to you. To the point that you can feel him struggle to angle his hands right to slide in deeper, but you pay no mind to it. At least not until you kiss the fucking daylights out of him.

That, you do. Kissing him with full-force and making a show of how turned on you are for him. He feels it, with or without your kiss bruising him. The wetness on the tip of his finger only becomes wetter, and when you release your grip around his neck, he still doesn’t leave the kiss.

He goes back to gently kissing you, focusing more on his fingers than what his tongue is doing. He slides that same finger in all the way now, feeling your walls clench almost instantly and beg for more. Chuckling at the feeling, he fucks his finger into you experimentally before pulling them out and adjusting two fingers at your entrance. 

“Hm?” He hums again, and you nod again.

So, two fingers slide in and you’re releasing a soft moan against his lips. Already out of breath from focusing so hard on how he feels when he touches you. Your lips fall slack just to catch that lost breath, and he doesn’t argue, going right back to that spot on your neck to kiss as he picks up rhythm with his fingers. Effectively fucking you open with them as you cling to him.

You hate to say you didn’t pay much attention to his hands until now. Having not noticed how deep just those two digits reach inside of you, and good fucking lord does he know how to use them too. Curling them up at just the right moment to have your legs shaking. 

Never have your legs fucking shook for a man. This only happens with the g-spot stimulating toys. God, you open your eyes to look at the ceiling in thought, and it has you wondering if he even knows he’s doing it. 

“Keep doing that–” you urge him, and he hums at you finally at least trying to tell him what you want. 

He finally lifts from your neck to look at you, now placing his weight back on that one free arm that had been toying with the ends of your hair this entire time, and he’s fucking floored. Even if he pictured you before with those toys, none of those images came close to this. And it’s just his fingers? No where near the size of your toys, no where near as expensive, or warm…or alive.

Oh. You want to feel someone who wants you. 

“I’ll do anything you want.” He says, doing exactly as you asked except a little faster, still hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly that you’re moaning out now. 

He tunes in entirely to the sounds you’re making, the faces you’re making, and the way your pussy clenches around just those two fingers. He is aching at this point, pulling back from hovering over you to sit now between your legs, fingers still keeping pace, and sliding his other hand down his briefs. 

You don’t notice at first, too enthralled by the feeling of his curling fingers inside of you, but when you do–

“God,” You moan, rolling your eyes at the image of him out of breath, both hands working to pleasure both of you. “Come here.”

He listens, already pulling his hand away from himself but keeping his fingers in you, in a daze as he takes his original position of hovering over you.

“No, I mean, come here.” You say, looking at him as you reach between your bodies and pull his fingers out of you, then reach to grab between his legs. 

He immediately moans at the feeling, his hips pressing harshly into your grip with a whine as he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes just to feel it. 

“Pull it out.” You continue, slowly becoming more and more comfortable telling him what you want. 

Just watching him do what you ask is insanely hot. The way he pulls his cock out seems so natural to him, you suddenly imagine what he must look like all alone while getting himself off. Thankfully though, he’s not all alone right now, he’s with you, and you intend to be getting him off. 

You look at him, between his legs, and then back at him once more before grabbing it again and practically pulling his hips to you by the cock. He groans all the same at it though, and only holds his breath when he feels your legs spread further and essentially press his cock between your folds and hold it there from the head. 

“Grind.” You say, still holding your hand in place to keep the pressure against him, which also puts pressure against your clit when he does grind up.

You both shiver at it, and he still looks down at you, fucking smiling through his sighs of relief regarding the new sensations you’re offering. 

“You’re actually fucking perfect.” He compliments, fucking his hips up and coating his cock with the dripping of your needy cunt. 

Out of everything he’s ever said to you up to this point, out of everything he’s fucking done to you, that’s the one thing that has you spiralling into a world of fire. It makes you feel so warm, especially with the head of his cock bumping your clit. He has barely gotten any friction and he is still calling you perfect? Sign you the fuck up, forever, actually. 

“Don’t be stupid,” You start, waving him off between moans and gripping his shoulders.

He grinds up harder at your words though, now propping himself up on his elbows and grabbing your face on both sides. 

“You, don’t be stupid.” He says clearly, pointing his thrusts directly at your clit and moaning only slightly as he looks at you.

You swear, at that moment he could see your entire life. Everything about you. Everything you love and hate. The way he doesn’t look through you but at you? 

“You’re actually insane.” You laugh, crumbling to his pointed gaze and thrusts, your legs automatically shooting up to wrap around his waist. 

He seems proud of being called insane right now. Mostly because he can come up with at least fifty reasons as to why this is anything but insanity, but he remains quiet at the feeling of your legs squeezing around him. 

Such a girl was looking for mundane sex toys to have normal sex with? Lucky you, this is his fucking favorite. Plain ‘ol missionary? Check. Legs squeezing around him, almost pulling him in? Check. Looking directly at the face of the person he wants to make feel good? Check. 

You barely notice his lack of control by this point, the closeness alone feels like you’re already having sex but you realize you’re entirely empty still. This is fine though, until it’s not.

When does it not become fine? When his confident moans turn to soft sighs, and you notice his arms shaking a bit to hold his weight above you, and when his eyes go dead staring at you. You can tell he’s focused entirely on the feeling between the two of you, doing nothing more than aggressive yet…weak grinds? 

“Jay,” You say, slightly out of breath. 

“Hm?” He responds half-heartedly, releasing his weight from one elbow and dropping his head between your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck me.”

It’s like you can feel the switch in his head go from losing sanity to gaining it back in an instant at those words. He felt like he was pleasuring himself against you for so long, with so much friction between your hand and his abdomen constantly pressing into it. He could have gotten off from this, if you wanted him to anyway. It would have been an intense orgasm after working up for so long too, but now? 

He doesn’t even say anything, he doesn’t even move his head from between your neck and shoulder. Instead, you feel him expertly adjust his hips and press in without much trouble. He finds exactly where he belongs so fucking fast that is has you spinning and clenching immediately. 

“Shit,” He drones out with a long sigh, slowly sinking his cock into you. “You’re throbbing.” 

You chuckle, because yeah. You definitely are, but so is he. You can feel his thick length spreading you open inch by inch, until he’s fully planted into you and twitching. Then he doesn’t move again.

“This alone could do me in,” He chuckles against your neck, breathing in a deep sigh and attaching his teeth to your lower ear lobe. “Honestly, I can't believe I didn’t already cum  just from having my fingers in you.”

You’re both flattered and shocked by this comment, before you can even think to respond he’s talking again.

“You’re so tight, so wet.” He soothes himself through the feeling of your walls clenching around him by explaining how good your pussy feels, not yet wanting to move and just wanting to feel what your body does to him on its own. “It’s so hard not to move right now.”

“Please,” You manage to get out, struggling to focus on just one thing with the way he’s talking and the way he sits so perfectly inside of you. “Please, move.”

And he does, instantly. Pulling out and sliding back in so easily that the slapping sound is muted entirely by the matching moan you both release. You can feel his voice vibrating against your neck, and you can imagine he might be able to feel yours through your pulsing walls, because it feels like every sound, touch, and sensation is sent straight there for him to enjoy. 

It doesn’t stop either. Both of you shamelessly moaning at the feeling of him snapping his hips into you at perfect speed, with a perfect voice, and a perfect hand moving up to grip your chest. 

He’s practically blanketing you with his body, your legs holding him in this spot, his hair still finding a way to tickle your cheek with each thrust in. It’s so fucking much. It’s so good, and so…comfortable.

You’re comfortable. So comfortable you don’t even feel the need to rub your clit, you don’t want to chase the orgasm, you just want to feel him. And apparently, he’s still on the same page with you. 

When he lifts his head, kissing the bottom of your chin and then your lower lip, still the two of you are groaning at each deep thrust in, but he manages to talk through it, somehow.

“Don’t stop,” he says, despite you barely doing anything. “Keep doing that.” He continues as his thrusts pick up pace. 

Only now do you realize that you were doing something. Without noticing, your hands were nearly tearing his back apart. Not literally, but your nails may have dug in a few times. Normally, once you notice doing that, you would stop because normally men don’t want the trace of another woman on him. Jay though, he’s in love with the idea that you’ll leave a mark. 

Obsessed with the sting of it, really, loving the idea of going to his night-job tomorrow and staring at all of the toys that don’t offer you a back to hold onto like this. 

You do as he asks much like he does for you, gripping him so tightly that your nails have no choice but to leave half-moon shapes on his skin. Each thrust drags your fingers up, down, up down, and with each thrust it somehow feels deeper, harder, hotter.

When he releases your chest from his other hand and puts it back to your cheek, caressing much like he has each time he’s focused on kissing you, you think you’re a fucking goner. 

As expected, he kisses you at that moment and thrusts once, hard, before holding himself there.

“I’m really close,” He whispers apologetically between kisses, “tell me how to get you there with me.”

You smile when he kisses you again instead of letting you answer, but you fall into it much like he does and you opt to grab that hand on your cheek and guide it to your clit. 

Instantly, he’s rubbing harsh and sloppy circles around it, and you reward him for the perfect work of his fingers yet again with your fingernails digging into his back. He softly moans at that, and you swallow it up all too easily. 

Tensing your muscles, his fingers on your clit work you up so quickly that you barely warn him of your oncoming orgasm, even as his cock sits leaking and heavy inside of you. You don’t even know how to tell him, all you can do is frantically moan out shortly.

“I’m–” 

Instantly his hips are back at work, barely even thrusting but instead remaining buried into you for the most part. He pulls out an inch and slams back in, wanting your orgasm to get him off more than his own movements. And fuck, it does.

The way you clench when you reach your high, slack lips against his own, he releases at what he could argue is the best possible time. Your tenses muscles work him up perfectly, gently massaging his cock as he releases in full without too much overstimulation. 

And you. You have never gotten off with a man staying mostly still inside of you. Actually, you’ve only gotten off that way with toys because nothing beats getting off while completely full. Jay really is something, or, someone. 

The two of you release together, and his lips fall slack just like yours do. The kissing turned to that of desperate, orgasm-fogged moans into the other’s mouth. For some reason, it was incredibly hot to you that you both reacted that way. So insanely drunk on the other that nothing felt embarrassing.

Even the way his fingers moved on your clit through your orgasm, he somehow knew when to go and when to stop. 

Even now, as your orgasm tapers off, you are so blissfully aware that you want to immediately fall asleep even with him inside of you. Jay is polite though, and gently pulls out with a small apology of the mess. 

When he looks at you, looking so sleepy under him, maybe it translates to him too and he instantly yawns but tries to be strong for both of you.

“We should clean up.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

There wasn’t even a question in your head when he slept over that night. He didn’t even hint at leaving. Nor did he hint the morning after as you groggily opened your computer for your daily work. 

He did hint that he would miss you when he eventually had to go to his own house and get ready for an evening at the sex-shop. He also hinted a few times at feeling like, when he looked at you, you weren’t a brand new person in his life. Part of you wonders if that’s because maybe you want to be permanent in his life from now on.

Later that night, he came back. Bright eyes and a stinging back.

For some reason, you feel it’s safe to say that neither of you can stand being apart for too long. So yeah, maybe this is what a normal relationship is like. If, you know, you were in a relationship with him.

Ironically enough, only a few days later that relationship is established in the form of a new car battery and a bottle of lube that he bought for you. 

Not that you need it. (The lube.)