#now that I have to take a purse when I leave the house for carrying emergency meds reasons

[rosegolden13]

Princess Treatment w/ John Price

His workaholic habits do not stop after he leaves base to come home to you...

We already know he's opening up every damn door for you. He has the magical skill of knowing when doors need a push or a pull so he never fails to laugh when you pull a push door. "Tha's why you shoulda left it to me, love. Stubborn thing, you are." He'll reach over your head to push the door open for you, plopping a kiss to your hair while he does.

His masculinity does not get in the way of holding your purse for you whenever you're out together, his big bear hands wrapped around the handle of your little black purse.

He refuses to let you carry your own luggage, doesn't care if it takes him multiple trips to get both of your bags into the hotel or rental house. He'll get all exasperated if you insist on helping. "You had a long drive. Lemme handle it, pet." (even though he's the one that drove...)

There's nothing he loves more than ordering for you at a restaurant. His voice is filled with an unreasonable amount of pride when he says "And for the missus..." before telling the waiter your order.

Speaking of food, if you ever eat anything that needs cutting or even doctoring up, expect him to jump in. "Now, now, doll, you know tha's my job." He'll tsk and gently take the knife from you to cut your steak into bitesize pieces or to butter your roll. Yes, he will go as far as to bring the fork up to your lips and feed you if you don't put up a fuss.

He will absolutely pay for your manicure and then coo when you offer him your hand to show off your new nails. "Real pretty, love... Don't go chippin' 'em now. Come sit."

Price always sets up a nice place for you on the couch or bed, blanket at the ready and pillows right where you like them. "Come on now, Mrs. Price." He'll pat the spot next to him like one would for a dog. Of course, he likes it best when he can be your pillow and personal heater (that man is always warm, always) but sometimes he's got to find a way to coax his little love into his arms and away from chores.

Naturally, he will swat your hands away when you bend down to tug on your heels or tie your sneakers. He'll crouch down to place your foot on his bent knee, patting your calf firmly and leaning in to press a kiss to your ankle once he's done.

If you nick yourself while shaving, he'll level you with a disapproving stare and then insist that he do it for you next time. After all, he has plenty of experience with keeping his facial hair so tidy. "Can't have my woman hurtin' herself, now can I?" You bet your bottom dollar he's using his fancy razors and shaving creams on you, extra delicate to make sure he doesn't mar your skin.

He's terrified to smoke around you after you coughed one (1) time and now he only will take his cigars out on the back porch or in his office with the window open. If you come in, he'll snuff it out asap and usher you out of the room, shushing your protests.

I'll probably eventually add a part two cuz soft Price is everything to me hehe... Can you tell my standards are ridiculously high?? Also, does anyone have an accent writing guide for TF-141?? I am painfully American.

[r11yh1soka]

CAT & MOUSE

sevika x female reader

synopsis: sevika happens to be a regular at the brothel you work at under your dear friend babette. she asks for you every so often but the answer is always the same, you don’t take any new clients but that doesn’t seem to soothe the aching itch she has to indulge in you. you’re not oblivious, you notice her too, looking at you in the halls just before the doors to her rented room closes or spending no more than two seconds observing you when you pass each other in the halls. when the chance arises and the restraint finally flees, neither of you spare a moment to resist the temptation.

note: comments and reblogs appreciated<3 !

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The air is thick with smoke from the common cigars many customers take a liking to. You stride through the halls, observing the customers still taking part in their paid pleasures of the brothel. You worked a long week and tonight, you were let off a bit earlier than your usual. You’d collected your cash and wrapped yourself up in a trench coat to prepare for the cold breeze of the dark night.

On your way out, you happen to glance into one of the rooms with the curtains still opened. The moment you did, your gaze was not left unmatched. The regular who made herself more than noticeable with you met her eyes with yours when you looked at her. Her hair pulled back messily into a short half up half down ponytail. She pulled the cigar away from her lips when she saw you and almost instantly disregarded the paid woman in front of her.

She looked as though she was waiting for you to say something but you made no effort to do that. Her head tilted to the side slightly to get a better look as you walked past, you grinned to yourself as you carried on about your business. You finished out the way through the hall and up the stairs before pushing the door open to the undercity.

You begin making your way through the streets, walking at a normal pace until you begin to hear much faster footsteps from behind you. You ignore it at first until it continues for a little while longer, you turn your head over your shoulder and find Sevika following after you. You smirk at the sight and turn down the closest alleyway for her to follow you in to, you turn around to face her.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” You cross your arms over your chest with a grin, standing before her tall and large frame.

“Isn’t it obvious? Have I not made my wants clear enough for you?” She smirks with her brows raised and her head tilted at the of sight of you.

“I suppose you have. That doesn’t mean that I want the same thing though, now does it?” You remarked as she positioned herself closer to you, shrinking the gap you’d kept up.

“By all means…tell me you’re not interested and I’ll leave. Simple as that,” she says calmly, towering over you from where you stood.

You considered all things for a moment but most of all you allowed your curiosity to run free. You observed her before you and let your mind wonder what it was like to feel those lips of her against your skin. You wondered what kind of woman she was in the bedroom, you’d only ever heard good things from the other workers she visited. A part of you wondered what it would be like for you, you had no doubt that she’d fuck you in ways that you needed. The thought alone made you shiver a bit, shiver with excitement.

“Come on,” you granted and turned around to lead her through the alley.

Your house wasn’t far from here, you could feel the anticipation rising in you as you walked through the streets to get back home. You pulled your keys out from your purse and unlocked the door. You walked inside and shut the light on, she entered in after you, looking around as you closed the door after her.

“Make yourself comfortable. I have to change,” you gestured towards your couch before leaving the room and heading into your bedroom.

Despite having a guest over, you showered and changed into more comfortable clothing. You had a rule about wearing your clothes from the brothel inside you home and you assumed that if she wanted you bad enough, she’d still be waiting on the couch when you got out.

And she was.

She turned her head to you as you emerged from the bedroom in a black slip on dress. The trim was lace and you smelled of cinnamon and vanilla from the oil you rubbed on. She stared at you with a smirk reaching her face as you walked over to her. She rubs her jaw as you walk around the couch and stand before her legs as she sits manspread.

“I hear that you ask for me…often,” you inform with your gaze fixiated on the rising and sinking of her chest.

“Do you not think you offend my coworkers when you ask them for me while you’re with them?” You question teasingly as you sink to your knees before her.

“I do think. I just don’t care,” she answers and her boldness makes your heart flutter in your chest as you put your hands on her knees as she speaks and lean forward.

You can smell the cologne that encapsulates her, a certain musk and coolness to it that ignites something in you. You just barely brush your lips against her neck, teasing her with just the light feeling of you being so close. She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth as you pull away, only to grab ahold of you by your neck and yank you back towards her.

“I don’t like to be teased. You know what I came here for,” she corrects with her face in front of yours and you can only smirk.

You knew she didn’t like being teased, your coworkers had talked of how she never seemed to have them pleasure her, it was only the other way around. You found challenge in that. Her hand came close to yours before she pulled you in for a hungry sloppy kiss. Her head tilting to the side as she kisses you as hungrily as you were for her.

Out of sheer curiosity and determination for her tells, you moan into her mouth as you kiss. You can feel her beginning to smile through the kiss at the sound of your moans. You work your hands down her muscular thick thighs and move them up a little until you find the button to her pants. You undo it and begin to unzip her pants until she breaks from the kiss and glances down at your hands over her crotch.

“What do you think you’re doing, pretty lady?” She chuckles a little at your hands fumbling with her zipper.

You don’t answer her, it’s obvious. You push your lips back onto hers from climbing up onto her lap where she raises her hips a little to adjust. Her hands slide down to your waist and another hand down to your ass. Your lips smacked against hers as your hips bucked a little against her in a strong need for her. Though before you satisfied your own needs, you satisfied your curiosity first.

You slid your hand back down, inside her underwear where you met your fingers with the warmth between her legs. She broke from the kiss to chuckle a little as she felt your fingers slide between her wet folds.

“Eager one, aren’t you?” She allows your fingers to work between her folds before she slides her tongue in your mouth.

She gets wetter as the kiss deepens and your fingers move slower, you pull apart from the kiss with a slight whine. A string of spit breaks upon your separation and you make sure to focus on the look in her eyes as you shove a finger inside her soaking cunt. He brows narrow out, she clenches her jaw with a slight grunt as you shove in another finger right after. She’s tight around your finger, tense as ever so you lean forward and kiss along her neck until you find her sweet-spot.

She doesn’t loosen up when you kiss along her neck so you try other things. You bite her neck for a little but that doesn’t work either, your fingers are thrashing in her until your chest brushes against hers and you feel her hardened nipple rub against yours.

You smirk a little before using your other hand to pull up her shirt, revealing her bare chest. You tilt your head down and take a brown nipple in your mouth, only to suck and tug at it as hard as ever. She holds back a moan, watching you suck at her chest with so much eagerness she thought she might be outmatched for hunger.

You begin to fell her cunt loosening up the longer you suck. You look up with those beady eyes of her as she becomes a groaning mess, wet on your fingers and wet in your mouth. You catch your breath a little and watch spit run down her hardened nipple before you brush your thumb against it.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” She groans and latches her hand to the back of your head, shoving your mouth back onto her nipple.

You can’t help but grin as you watch and feel her unraveling at your touch. You worked your fingers faster inside her as you took more of her nipple into your mouth, sucking hard. She’s fights the urge to moan as loudly as you know she wants to, your coworkers had said she didn’t make much noise other than grunts. All the approval and satisfaction was said to be in her eyes but here she was with her head tilted back and her bottom lip bit.

Your curiosity doesn’t stop there, you release her nipple from her mouth with a pop sound and lower yourself onto your knees again. You grab the waistband of her pants and her boxers and begin to yank them down her legs with so much anticipation you can feel yourself growing wetter by the minute.

Her shirt falls back over her chest and she watches you practically drooling at the sight of her wet cunt in front of you. You toss her clothes elsewhere without concern and pant a little before bringing your head between her separated thighs. Just as you’re about to lick, she yanks your head back and tilts her head to the side while looking at you.

“So greedy…I didn’t even hear you say “please”,” she mutters while looking at your hardened nipples through your gown.

“Please Sev…I want it,” you beg, unable to find the strength to continue your game of teasing for the sight in front of you is just too beautiful.

“Ah…but what about what I want? Come here,” she demands firmly with a hard look up and down at you.

You climb onto her lap again just for her to lay you down on your back. Your head rests on the arm of your couch and she gets in between your legs only to discover that you’re not wearing any underwear. She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she gazes at your wet cunt, she shakes her head with s grin across her face.

“You know me too well, already.” She mutters before taking not even a minute to shove two of her fingers inside you.

With her mechanical arm she’s holding your thighs apart, the grip is cold and firm but the temperature difference to the heat of your body soothes you. You thrust your head back, her fingers are much longer and larger than yours and you can feel it.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t you? So wet for me…you want me to fuck that beautiful face of yours, don’t you?” She teases and you nod as fast as ever while your back arches up off the couch.

She can’t help but grin as she watches your hips buck to her touch. You’re practically aching for her, she shoves in a third finger without warning and you whimper under her. Her eyes flicker wide for a moment, finding pleasure in hearing you whimpering. You roll your eyes back, feeling pleasured to a degree you’d never been pushed to before. In a moments notice she switches her fingers, her cold mechanical fingers slide into you, three of them and her other hand grips your thigh.

The cold feeling made you shudder with complete bliss. With your customers, you’d scarcely finished with them but with Sevika you already felt as though you were going to cum. You couldn’t even get your words out, you were a whining moaning mess. Your silk nightgown was ruffled at your hips, leaving your cunt completely exposed to her. The coldness from the metal of the mechanical arm pleasured you beyond measure.

Your thighs fought close as your hips bucked but she allowed none of that. She figured that was your tell as you came close to finishing but she wasn’t done with you. A second later and you felt her swollen clit against your mouth. She was thrusting her cunt into your mouth while your mechanical arm was reaching back to keep her fingers sliding in and out of you. She steadied herself with her hand on the back of the couch as she bucked her hips repeatedly. You wrapped your arms around her thighs and took the opportunity to suck on her swollen clit.

Your moans only came out muffled as she drowned you in the wetness between her thighs.

“Fuck! Just like that,” she grunts aggressively, thrashing her hips roughly and messily.

Her muscular build weighs on you but you don’t care, you don’t let it stop you from indulging in the sweetness on your tongue. You shove your tongue inside her, forcing it inside her until she tosses her head back in response. You can dee her muscles flexing as she holds on to the couch and her nipples remain rock hard through her tank top.

“So fuckin’ good with your tongue baby. You like that? You like having your face fucked?!” She praises and you can only nod quickly, not pulling your mouth off her for a second.

She slides her fingers out of you and instead grips the top of your head, nestiling her fingers in your hair that’s been messed up from the couch. She holds onto you as she thrust her hips against your mouth. You’re not given a single second to breathe but the taste and feeling alone brings you to your climax. Your breath hitches as she moves faster, aching to reach her climax as well.

You finish with the taste of her on your tongue, your own legs jolting with the sensation she brings you. Your hips buck up into the air as your back arches up a little but she doesn’t allow you to rest. She keeps going until she’s satisfied. Her brows furrow as she looks down at you and bites down on her bottom lip while grunting. Your suck on her swollen clit, pulling at it until the taste is practically imbedded in your tongue.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She groans out loudly, she bites down with her head tossed back as she begins to cum.

Your tongue lapping at her cunts to soak up every bit of cum she releases and you’ve never tased anything better. Your own cum is dribbling down onto the couch while hers is dribbling down into your mouth. She pants with her chest rising and sinking dramatically, her eyes open again and she waits until you’ve licked up every drop before she lifts herself up off your mouth.

From pocket on her shirt she pulls out a cigar and a lighter as she slumps down next to you on the couch. She places the cigar in her mouth and lights it with a slight pant and she comes down from the high you brought her too. Without a word, she turns her head over to you and reached her arm out. She drags you across the couch and pulls you onto her lap as she smokes.

All before she slides in a finger with you on her lap and the lit cigar in her mouth…taking you right back to the pleasure you so desperately found only with her.

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[tj-crochets]

Hey y'all! This question came up when I had family visiting, and I am genuinely unsure of how common this is

[pilonciillo]

lol didn’t think someone giving money would give me anxiety

[sturniowhore]

Bf!Chris hcs

warnings: fluff, smut (nsfw section), established relationship, Chris x fem!reader, some blurbs are long

A/n: FIC #2 LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO not that proud of this one ngl

Tags: @d3axplr @mattsturnziolio

Dividers: @bernardsbendystraws

SFW

Bf!Chris who is insanely clingy. He'll always be attached to you in one way or another.

It was 11am, you have to go to work in 2 hours. You tried getting up but your boyfriend was basically smothering you. "Chris I need to get ready" You whined, trying to push him off. Instead of letting you leave like any normal person would, Chris just held you tighter against him. "Just call in sick" "Chris, you made me call in sick 2 days ago I'm gonna get fired." The boy just shrugged, not caring. "you don't need a job I buy everything for you anyway." "Chris I'm being serious I have to go." You tried sitting up, it was no use he just pushed you down. "5 more minutes" "That's what you said 15 minutes ago!"

Bf!Chris who never lets you do anything, why would you do it when he has 2 hands himself?

You and Chris were coming home from a shopping trip at the mall. His hands were filled with several of your shopping bags, and your hands were empty. Chris didn't mind, he was the one who offered to carry them. As the two of you approached the front door, your hands went inside your purse that was on your shoulder, searching for the house key. You brought out the key, twisting it on the key hole and were about to open it before Chris's hands stopped you. "i got it." He smirked down at you. You raised your eyebrows "Chris you're so sweet but your hands are literally full." He waved you off, moving in front of you to get to the door. He struggled a bit but managed to twist the handle, allowing for the door to open. He kicked the door with his foot, motioning for you to get in with his head. "After you" he grinned. You laughed at his gesture and went inside, Chris following close behind.

Bf!Chris who always pays attention, he'll see you pick up a book or a trinket you find interesting and make a mental note of buying it for you later.

The two of you were at a small bookstore. You were browsing the shelves humming to the song that was playing in the store, Chris right behind you like a lost puppy. Every so often you would pick up a book you found interesting, reading the back of it to learn what it's about then put it back where it was. When you go on to a different section of the store, Chris takes a picture of the book that was just in your hands, promising himself that he's going to buy it for you in a couple days.

Bf!Chris who buys you flowers randomly.

It was a random Thursday afternoon. You were hanging out in the living room reading a book when you heard the door opening. Nick, Matt and Chris came back home after filming a vlog for their channel. Chris came up the stairs practically sprinting towards you, his hands behind his back. "guess what?" "what?" you look up at him smiling. He reveals his hands from behind him and gives you a bouquet of pink tulips. "They reminded me of you so I had to get em." Matt rolled his eyes at the interaction "We were 2 minutes away from the house and he made me turn all the way back for just for them."

Bf!Chris who will always put your comfort above his.

You two were at a party. Chris was having a great time, laughing and catching up with his friends. You.. not so much. You had a terrible day at work, the lights were too bright, the music was too loud, so many people were bumping into you, your clothes felt itchy on your skin, and you have a terrible headache. All you wanted more than ever right now was to go home, but you couldn't tell Chris that.. he was looking forward to this party all week. So you decided to suck it up and at least pretend that you were having a good time. You were sat in the corner away from everyone else, looking down at your feet praying that no one would come up to you. Chris took notice, he met your gaze silently asking if everything was okay. Even though your eyes said yes, he knew you weren't. He walked up to you and rubbed his hands on your shoulder "hey ma.. you good?" You nodded your head quickly "yeah I just have a small headache but I'm fine! You go have fun" Chris gave you a sympathetic smile "you wanna leave?" You looked up at him, you so desperately wanted to say yes but didn't want him to feel disappointed. "no i'll be fine I promise, plus I know how you were looking forward to this I don't wanna take it away from you" He shook his head, offering you his hand "I'm not having fun if you're not having fun. c'mon lets go home." You shot him a grateful smile, taking his hand as he led you towards the door. "thank you" your voice small, He brought your hand to his lips giving it a gentle kiss "of course."

Bf!Chris who has you model for his brand.

Chris insisted for you to model for him not taking no for an answer. He loves you in his clothes especially his brand. Seeing you pose for his newest drop makes him feel giddy inside. Chris loves showing you off, he can't keep his eyes off of you. Someone from his team is telling him something but the words go in one ear and out the other, all his focus is towards you. How could he focus on anything but you? You looked flawless, you looked so good in fact that no one would believe you if you told them this was your first time modeling. Chris watches you with lit eyes and a huge smile, He truly believes that you are the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth.

Bf!Chris who can always makes you laugh even in the most serious situations.

Your period cramps were bad, your mood swings were going wild, every body in the house knew to keep their distance from you this week. Everyone but your boyfriend. You were laying in bed with a heating pad to your stomach when Chris came into the room and leaped on the bed causing your position to shift. "Chris! can you not?" You snapped at him. He didn't even flinch at the words, instead he turns towards you and wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him. "Ugh Chris please gimmie some space" You plead struggling against him. The boy started peppering kisses all over your face, at first you were annoyed but soon that annoyance turned into joy. You giggle at every kiss that tickles your face. Satisfied with himself by making you laugh he stopped and stared at you "if I turned into chicken Alfredo would you eat me or would you know it was me?" Chris asked as if this was a life or death question. You looked at him in disbelief and amusement "Chris.. what!?"

Bf!Chris who kisses your tears away.

You and Chris were watching the notebook together. You were bawling your eyes out, snot coming out of your nose and everything. You were truly a mess. Chris on the other hand was fine, the movie was sad yes but it wasn't sad enough for him to cry, honestly he thought you were being a bit dramatic. "Sh-she's gonna f-forget him" You sob, trying to wipe the tears away with a tissue, it's no use the tears keep on coming. Chris laughs at your antics, you notice and swat his arm "Stop laughing at me!" You pout, still crying. He cups your face, his eyes soften and a small smile appears on his lips. He leans down and kisses the tears running down your cheeks away. "you're cute when you cry."

Bf!Chris who always listens to you speak never interrupting you once.

The triplets invited you to do a car video with them. The four of you were having a great time, chatting and laughing. An interesting topic came up and you had a lot to say about it. As you were speaking Chris stared at you intently, not interrupting at all. Matt and Nick were shocked, usually Chris would always try to get his opinions out, not caring if someone was in the middle of saying something or not. But with you he's different, he listens to your every word. A soft smile gracing his face as he watches you talk. He loves hearing your voice, The boy is absolutely in love with you.

Bf!Chris who will never let you be embarrassed alone.

"NO WAY!" You said a bit too loudly, a few people from different tables at the restaurant glanced your way. You slumped back in your seat, embarrassed at your outburst. "YES WAY! I KNOW ITS CRAZY!" Chris matches your energy, noticing the look on your face. The few people who were staring turned back to their own conversations, not paying attention to the two of you anymore. You gave Chris a grateful smiling, silently thanking him. He reached across the table, lacing his hand with yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Bf!Chris who loves when you play with his hair.

It was a quiet night, Chris was laying on top of your thighs answering emails on his laptop. You were above him with both your hands on his scalp, gently massaging it. You got a text notification from your phone beside you. One of your hands left his hair to pick up your phone, an instant groan came out of Chris's mouth "nooo put it back" he whined as he reached behind him to try to get to your hand. "just a second geez" You laughed, quickly replying to the text you just received. You put your phone down, your hands going back to their original position on Chris's head making him let out a content sigh.

Bf!Chris who matches his nails with yours.

You both walked out of the nail salon with a fresh new set of nails. You're practically skipping to your car overjoyed that you managed to make your boyfriend agree to match with you. Chris let out a soft laugh, watching you so giddy. If he knew how happy matching nails would make you he would've done it years ago.

Bf!Chris who goes pretends to give you back shots when you bend over.

BEEP BEEP BEEP the oven rang signaling that the cupcakes were ready. You walked over to the kitchen, putting on your oven mitts and opened the oven door, the smell of the sweet treats filling the air. Bending down, you grabbed the cupcake tray from inside the warm oven and were about to place it on the counter when you felt a pair of hands on your hips keeping you in place. "Boom! Boom! Boom!" Chris slightly pushed into you, a scowl appeared across your face. Chris let go, allowing you to take the cupcakes out and placing them on the island. "Chris! You could've made me fall! My face would've burned off!" Chris scoffed at your dramatics "Sorry miss lady you just looked too good!" Chris protested his gaze now averted towards the cupcakes "ooh can I help you frost them? please?" You rolled your eyes unamused, handing him a piping bag which he excitedly took from your hands.

NSFW

Bf!Chris who always talks you through sex

"You're doin' so good f'me" Chris says from above you, his hips thrusting into you. One hand is on your waist, the other is pining your wrists above your head making sure you wont escape. "you're so pretty ma." Your moans and his words collide, his thrusts move even faster hearing the sweet sounds that escape your lips. "I love it when.. fuck- when you make those pretty sounds ma." "m'close.." your back arches as the familiar knot builds in your stomach "yeah? is my pretty girl gonna cum?" You could only respond with a whine. "please Chris.. c-can't hold it." Chris smirks down at you loving the way you melt at his touch. "Go on baby, make a mess on my cock f'me." A ring of white coated his dick, Chris looks down groaning at the sight his own release following after. He leans down, his lips attaching onto yours. "you're so pretty.. the prettiest girl ever"

Bf!Chris who tries to be soft and gentle but always ends up being rough near the end.

"Wait Chris sl-slow down" Your face was squished against a pillow with your ass in the air. At first his thrusts were slow and gentle but he couldn't hold it in anymore, Chris's hands gripped onto your hips leaving behind purple bruises and his thrusts gained speed. "s-sorry so so sorry" He apologized not slowing down "you're just so fuckin' pretty.. can't help It around you ma"

Bf!Chris who loves your tits, always staring, touching, sucking etc!

Chris's hands were kneading your breasts as you rode him. The sight of your tits bouncing on top of him made him go wild. His mouth latched on to one of your nipples, his thumb and pointer finger pinching the other. Your eyes rolled back at the immense pleasure that was being brought to you, your jaw went slack. "look at you.. that feel good ma?" Chris mumbled into your tits. The harder that Chris sucked the closer you felt, your mind was going numb. Your bounces growing slower and weak. Chris took notice, his fingers sliding down to your clit rubbing it with speed and pressure. All of your limbs gave out. You gripped the headboard of the bed for support, your tits dangling in front of your boyfriends face. He didn't mind at all, in fact he was basking in the wonderful view above him.

Bf!Chris who eats you out like there's no tomorrow.

Your moans echoed throughout the room, Chris's head between your thighs lapping his tongue around your dripping cunt. You were beyond overstimulated, your whole body shaking after reaching its 4th orgasm. "Chris pl-ease n-no more" You mewled, Your fingers tugged at his hair trying to pull him off you. Chris moans at your actions, tightening his grip on your thighs. His voice sends vibrations all around your body. "you taste so good ma.. s'all f'me.. all mine" he coos continuing to devour you like your his last meal.

Bf!Chris who makes sure to shower you with affection after sex, making sure you know that you are loved and cared for.

There was a comforting silence in the room, the only sounds that could be heard were the sounds of your soft pants. Chris shuffled beside you, his eyes watched your fucked out expression. He watched as your bare chest moved up and down with your breaths, he couldn't help but think how pretty you looked like this. He could stare at you forever if you'd let him. He reached for the drawer by his bed and got out a small cloth, his hands gripped the fabric and moved above you. He gently wiped your sensitive cunt, making sure every drop was cleaned up. The rag made contact with your clit, your thighs quickly shut around his hand, eliciting a whine from you. "shh its okay I know, it'll be quick I promise." Once he was done he laid back down next to you, his arms wrapped around your lower stomach bringing you closer to him. "you're so beautiful" "I love you so much" "I wanna marry you one day" Chris whispered sweet nothings into your ear, watching you slowly drift to sleep. His head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent never wanting this feeling to end.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

baby finn series, reminiscing

lando norris x wife!mom!reader

series masterlist

summary - adjusting to life with a newborn and toddler, you and your husband reminisce on the easier, more fun, and even hotter times.  

masterlist 

-

you softly stroked the light hair on top of baby lola’s head as she laid in your arms, the quiet hum of your tv in the background, and the distant domestic sounds of lando in your en suite readying himself for bed casting a sweet lullaby onto your peaceful state. you were sitting tucked into your bed, rocking lola gently back to sleep after she’d eaten, preparing to transfer her into the bassinet that stood next to you. you didn’t move her just yet, knowing her father would want a few baby cuddles before you both called it a night. 

finn had gone down easy tonight, something that shifted since eleanor was born as he never enjoyed bedtime, but your husband and you joked that he was just as exhausted by her as you two were. and even though the tiredness flooded the house, the adoration and appreciation of your new addition was even stronger. 

finn absolutely loved being a big brother, excitedly shouting out to anyone he could that his baby sister was the best baby in the world. you and lando took that as a parenting win, definitely easing your doubts that he wouldn’t enjoy the shared attention, yet you were raising a patient and well-mannered boy. you were constantly giving him gentle reminders of sharing and kindness, something that he for sure carried with him. 

“she’s not down yet?” lando whispers to you, leaving the bathroom and clicking the light off as he softly climbs into the bed.

“she is,” you respond, “just thought you’d want some lola love before i put her down,” you giggle.

“you know me too well, baby, it’s almost scary,” he replies, reaching over to take the one month old from your hold. 

“me? scary?” you whisper to him in mock offense, “i could never,”

“hmm, what about when i came home that one night so drunk i could barely stand?”

“well i was seven months pregnant with finn and at an emotional high so don’t blame me, blame the hormones,”

“your hormones are off the charts when you’re pregnant,” he chuckles with a light, playful jab to your side. 

“well you act like you’ve got pregnancy hormones when you’re not happy after a race,” you joke back in playful banter. 

“touche, my love, touche,”

“it was a different time when i was pregnant with finn, wasn’t it?” you slowly admit, now leaning on your husband next to you, head tucked onto his shoulder.

“it really was, far different than with lola,” he agrees, leaning down to place a kiss to the top of your head, “quieter for sure,”

“much,” you laugh, “i feel like we were just so young back then,”

“that’s because we were,” he laughs with you, “we were twenty-two and only six months married,”

“and everyone had already told us we were too young to have been married-”

“then we popped out a kid barely a year in,” he swiftly finished your thought with another giggle. 

“i wouldn’t change it for the world,” you sigh, bringing your hand up to caress eleanor’s soft cheek.

“neither would i,” lando sighs, “but i do miss the constant sex,”

“lando!” you quietly scold, gesturing towards the sleeping baby in his arms.

“what? she’s asleep! and i do miss it!” he bites back in defense.

“yeah i guess i do too,” you chuckle, “we used to be like bunnies while we were dating and before finn,”

“do you remember that time at the hotel in brazil? we were freshly engaged and i had done well in quali?”

“how could i forget?”

-

your back was up against the outside of your hotel door, lando assaulting your neck with his lips as his hands kept attempting to retrieve his key.

“baby, just use mine,” you let out in a breathy moan, gesturing to the purse on your shoulder.

“n-no, i’ve got it here somewhere,” he grunts out, letting you go and taking a closer look through his wallet, “ah, here it is,” he holds it up as if its a trophy of its own, swiping it over the lock and pushing you both through.

your lips meet his feverishly, as if they were what you needed to survive, and his own were taking dominance quickly. you both were love drunk on each other, hands repeatedly roaming one another, constantly moving to bring each other closer.

a small but quick tap to your ass signals you to jump, lando catching you with ease as he walks the both of you over to the bed. he lays you down gently, crawling over you with purpose as his lips land back onto your neck.

“fuck, lan,” you let out, wrapping your legs around his waist, eagerly pulling him closer.

“someone’s needy,” he teases, yet complies, rocking his clothed hips over your own in order to settle you just a bit. 

“always for you,” you sigh, causing him to groan and grasp at the bottom of your shirt.

“take this off,” he grunts out in his husky, strong voice, the voice reserved for moments like these. you do as he says, whipping off your shirt in one swift motion, and allowing him to unclasp your bra quickly. 

“your turn,” you tut, pulling on the hem of his own shirt, aiding him in the removal of it. his hands cascade down your body, knowing every crook and crevice like the back of his own hand. he kneads, pushes, and massages each part of your delicate frame, always knowing exactly what makes you tick. 

“fuck, baby,”  you sigh, pushing your chest up into his own.

“ya like that, y/n? like when i touch you like that, baby?”

“fuck, yes, lan,”

-

“that was a night for sure,” lando sighs at the memory, “i had you wrapped around my finger,”

“you did,” you hum, “you still do,” 

“i know i do,”

“don’t let your head get too big baby, remember that night after mclaren’s christmas party?”

“well how could i forget that?” 

-

“shit- y/n, feels so good baby,” lando squeaks out, his hands holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail as your entire throat closed around his dick. he was sitting on the edge of your bed, you on your knees right in front of him, “don’t stop baby- please, i-i’m close,”

with that you popped your mouth off of him, hearing his whimper at the loss of contact. 

“y/n, baby i was-”

“so close, i know,” you finish for him, climbing up his body, your legs land on either side of his as you bring your dress up to your hips and push your panties to the side, “but tonight, you finish inside of my pussy, not my mouth,” you whisper into his ear.

“fuck, y/n, you’re going to be the death of me,” he swallows deeply and lets out a guttural moan as you begin to push your entrance down onto the tip of his cock. 

“shh, lan,” you kiss his lips, “i’m in control here, remember?”

“yes, baby,” he whimpers out as you continue your journey to the base, reaching around behind you, your fingers find his balls, giving them gentle squeezes as he tries his best not to make a sound. 

“good job, lan,” you whisper, kissing his neck as you watch him squeeze his eyes shut, “nuh uh,” you tsk, “eyes on me, baby,” his eyes open swiftly, bloodshot and hungry as he watches you bounce, his release coming quickly.

“i-i’m gonna cum,”

“not yet, lan, you can hold it for me,”

“i-i c-can’t,”

“you can, baby, you can,”

-

“shit, that was amazing, y/n,” lando laughed as you both recounted the night.

“it was,” you laughed with him, reaching over to take lola out of his arms and place her into the bassinet, “we’ve had plenty of fantastic nights like that,”

“such as making this one,” lando nods over to little eleanor, as you crawl back into his embrace, “now that was a good night,” he emphasizes as his hands roam down to your hips, pulling you into him tighter as you both get comfortable in bed.

“that was an unforgettable night,”

-

“thanks, mate, again for letting him sleepover tonight,” lando says to max fewtrell, nodding down to little finn and his suitcase - who was jumping with excitement to spend a night with his godfather.

“of course, mate, y’know i love the little guy,” he laughs, “plus you and y/n need some time together, you’ve been too uptight recently,”

“oh shut it,” lando laughs off, heading back a few steps to his and yours apartment, across the hall from max’s.

“just don’t be too loud making a second, your first is only a wall away,” he jokes and lando just sticks his tongue out and shuts your apartment door. 

“baby?” lando calls out to you throughout the now quiet home, “finn’s all set over at max’s”

“in here!” you call back to your husband. 

the two of you had planned a special night in, opting for a quiet dinner at your place in order to avoid paparazzi and enjoy the ability to act on the drowning desire you had for each other. as lando stepped into the kitchen, his eyes raked over your body shamelessly, watching you finish plating up the food, “here you are, lan,” you sigh, handing him his fixed plate and nodding towards the table, “fancy a seat?”

“would prefer you on my lap as we eat, my love,” he chuckles out, “you look amazing,” 

you had decided to still dress up, wanting to wear something other than the travel clothes or work clothes that had been adorning your body the past few weeks - needing your own boost of self-confidence in your best dress. 

“thank you, baby,” you waltz over to him, placing a gentle kiss to his lips, “you don’t look too bad yourself,” lando was in an easy white button up and dark trousers, taking your breath away regardless of what he wore - and he felt the same about you. 

“mm, thank you,” his hold was firm on your hips, the one hand that held his plate now had discarded it onto the counter before him and traded it for your waist as he furthered the kiss, “i can’t wait to have you all to myself tonight,” he whispered into your lips, your fingers lacing themselves around his neck.

“maybe we should just skip the dinner,” you hum, continuing to softly kiss your husband, “take ourselves to the bedroom,” lando groans at the thought, but quickly tenses up.

“but, love, you spent all this time on the food-”

“fuck the food,” you cut him off, lips now traveling to his neck, “i want something else for dinner,”

“fuck baby,” he grunts, not a second later you are hoisted up into his hold, the both of you heading back into your bedroom. he lays you onto the bed, fast to remove his shirt as your dress followed a close second on your bedroom floor, “ya make me crazy, y/n,” lando speaks into your neck as he trails his kisses lower, “absolutely mad,”

your moan is the only response able to muster out as his kisses reach the waistband of your panties, his fingers already beginning their dance along your clothed slit.

“already so wet for me, baby,” you feel his hot breath along your body at his words and your back begins to arch off the bed. 

“please, lan,” you whimper out as he continues to stroke and kiss your already squirming body.

“mm, please what baby?” he chooses to tease in return, your panties now off and his lips begin their track down to your sensitive bud.

“please do something, lando,” with that direction from you, his lips are connected to your heat in a split second, your hands grasping at the bedsheets to find some sort of stability, “need you inside me baby,” you whimper out, bucking your hips up into his mouth. 

“but i’m just getting started, love,” lando breathes out before venturing back to your pussy.

“we have all night, lan,” you remind him, softly grabbing at his head as a glistening smirk appears on your husband's face, “all night,” you emphasize, bringing his lips down to your own as his hands work to remove his pants. 

“mm, i love you so much, y/n,” he speaks into your lips, his pants and briefs now flown across the room as his rock hard member is pushing against your inner thigh.

“i love you too, lando, so much,” your breathe out, a hand of yours coming down to stroke him a few times before he aids you in lining up to your entrance.

“ready, love?” he asks gently, hovering over your body as his left hand comes to push some strands of hair away from your face.

“always, baby,” you reply, letting out a deep moan as he pushes into your soft folds and through your entrance. lando moans with you, one of his hands holding himself up while the other reaches to wrap around your neck.

“‘s beautiful,” he grunts out as his pace quickens and he watches your face of pleasure under him. 

“‘s good,” you reply, your hands wrapping around his broad back in an attempt to pull him closer and deeper than he already is. 

“fuck, y/n, ‘m not gonna last long,” he whines out, feeling your own release coming as your walls continue to clench around his cock. 

“me neither,” you moan, your lower tummy getting hot as you try your best to hold on, “we’ve got all night, remember?”

“all night, baby,” lando replies, “ya gonna cum with me, hmm?”

“fuck, lan, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you pant, your nails now beginning to scrape down his back at your need.

“f-fuck, cum with me, y/n,” his pace gets sloppier and his face contorts, letting you know you can let go. you’re a writhing mess underneath him as he grunts in your ear, feeling his seed begin it’s warm travel into your body as your own coats his dick. his body collapses on top of you and you feel his sweet kisses on your neck as you both nurse your comedown. 

-

“i can’t believe max was right about that night,” lando chuckles at the memory and realization.

you laugh with him before replying, “how did he even find out?”

“oh, he did the math,” 

“only fewtrell,” you giggle with your husband, bodies tangled together and beautiful memories replaying in both of your minds. if anyone doubted your love, even after two little pieces of evidence had crawled their way out of your body, you would tell them about these nights. the nights where everything and everyone was quiet - except you two. tangled in cozy sheets, making each other relentlessly laugh, and soft kisses proving your adoration for the other. 

“how about a recreation of that night, baby?” lando nudges his nose against your face, silently asking for a kiss, and you comply with ease. your lips mold together as they were made for each other - and part of you believes they were - as his hands trail down and around your body. 

your own hands begin to make their way up his neck and to his hair, soft tugs to indicate just how good he always made you feel. his own gentle squeezes to your ass are his own indication and praise to your work. just as lando rolls to be on top of you, a quick pitter patter of tiny feet down the hall and towards your door alert the both of you that company would be arriving.

your husband drops one last kiss down to your lips with a small eye roll and a quiet, “i really miss the constant sex,” before he makes his way over to the door, opening it to find finn at his feet, “and what are you doing here, mister?”

“can’t sweep, dada,” finn says with a yawn, while rubbing his eyes as he looks up at his father.

“c’mere,” lando sighs, picking up the small boy and bringing him over to you, “just for tonight, bubs,”

“you said that last night,” you remind your husband with a giggle, pulling finn into your hold under the blankets as he proceeds to get comfortable. 

“whatever,” lando lets out in a playful groan, wrapping his arms around you and finn. 

even though you both did miss the constant sex, you wouldn’t trade this for the world. going to sleep on a peaceful night, with your two babies snug right in your arms.

-

[alnilaem]

House of the Rising Sun butcher/neighbour simon x reader

-

The rusty knob of your shower gratingly creaks as you twist it. You look up at your showerhead, toward the sparse drops of water falling from the nozzle. How they splatter against the floor of your bathtub in quick, light taps. Dripping like a leaky faucet, emptying itself out. 

Annoyance congeals under your skin. You have a meeting in an hour, for a second job somewhere north of here, and still smell like the sweat you’re sleek with from the nerves. And, naturally, your shower isn’t working. 

It’s rashly undertaken desperation that pushes you out of your flat and in front of Simon’s. Clutching your towel and clothes to your chest, rasping on his door. You know he’s home—you can tell by the hum of the football match thumping behind the wall—and Simon confirms this by swinging his door open, looking down at you with his depthless, burnt eyes. 

He’s wearing a mask again. And before that deep-seated urge to see him without it, to see him bare, fully consumes you, you’re blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Can I shower here?”

Simon’s brows purse together, his eyes marginally widening, and you realise how odd that sounds. 

“M-mine isn’t working,” you tack on, “and I’ve got an interview in an hour.”

Simon grunts. The short, guttural sound carries an undercurrent of disapproval. “You gettin’ a second job?”

Temperately, you nod. Feel your knees grow tender as you’re dwarfed by his stature. 

He throws his chin over his neck, shepherding you inside. Simon’s flat smells of salt and antiseptic, a little bitter, and is flecked with things like fishing implements and staples for hunting. A bolt-action rifle is mantled above his television. A cobweb-cracked picture frame holds a photo of four men on the coffee table, inscribed in perfunctory writing, Scottish Highlands, 2019. That makes you avert your eyes, stare at your shoes, not wanting to seem pervasive as he leads you to his restroom. 

Here, you realise Simon is a red-blooded minimalist. He keeps his restroom barren, save for an eroded bar of soap on the lip of the bathtub, a two-in-one shampoo and conditioner bottle, and a shaving kit that looks stolen from an inn. 

Simon recovers something from a cabinet under the sink. When he stands back up, he holds it in his hand, awkwardly curling in on himself. It’s a little unseemly to see—a man of his big stature, trying to sheepishly make himself smaller in your eyes.

“A candle,” he grunts. “I heard birds like showering’ with candles or somethin’, yeah?”

Softly, you smile. A pang of something sweet hits your chest when you see the shells of Simon’s ears turning pink, his hands fumbling in his pocket for a lighter. He sets the burning candle on the counter, then proceeds to bull-headedly stand in the middle of the bathroom, staring at you. He reminds you of a dog on guard. 

You call his name and his spine straightens.

“What?”

“You need to leave when I’m showering.” 

If Simon had dog ears, they’d be sagging. He twitches like he’s confused, disappointed, and only now realising you’re waiting for him to leave. 

He turns and exits the bathroom. 

And even when you turn the knob, stepping under the shower, you notice the hot water can’t replace the warmth Simon had taken with him.

And you also notice, that while lathering yourself in Simon’s shower, invading his space, an affinity takes hold of you. A pinprick of belonging, and, an avaricious undercurrent for wanting something more.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 3) part 1, part 2

-

“Neglecting your husband already?” he asks when you pull away from the arm curling around your waist. It’d migrated there from your back during the walk away from the courthouse. 

“You know I’m not��I’m not some horse that you can just…break in,” you seethe, glaring up at Price. Your arms are crossed tight over your chest, putting the slightest boundary between you and him. It’s more of a mental boundary than anything, a self-soothing gesture; you know it hardly even registers to him because the man still looks down at you with that unimpressed expression, like dealing with a particularly vexing child. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” he says dryly, looking you up and down. It’s a scorching, hungry look and it makes you shift from foot to foot. 

The two of you stand outside the front door of his house, the front door still shut tight. You put up a fuss on the walk from town as the reality of your situation finally sunk in, squirming in his hold until he threatened to just load you over his shoulder and carry you off. His tone leaves little for you to doubt. Nothing about him brooks skepticism; until the end of time, you’ll look at John Price and think, this is a man of action. This is a man that will move heaven and earth. 

You clam up after that, lips pursed shut though turned down at the corners. 

It’s a bigger house than you might’ve expected for a single man, but perhaps it was built with a wife and children in mind. The thought makes you swallow. A wooden two-story thing with a porch out front and an adjacent stable for his two horses with a pen around back. Speckled Appaloosas that look up at the sound of his boots and keys, attentive for all of a few seconds before losing interest. 

You know without asking that Price must have built this house with his own two hands. It’s not shoddy by any means, but his house has that indefinable quality that some places have. Organic. Homegrown, almost. It’s hard to put up against the houses of your youth, but then again, you grew up in the cramped quarters of the city, apartments thick with the scent of sewage on bad days and dust on the good. The two are hardly comparable. It’s even harder to put up against the estates that you’ve spent the better part of the last few years cleaning and learning inside out, but at least his house doesn’t make your stomach turn at the sight. 

There’s a moment when you first turn to him where you wonder if he’ll look for approval in your face, some sign to set him at ease, but when you meet his gaze, it’s steady and impenetrable. Quietly self-assured. It’s incongruent with the machismo you were raised around, the constant need to impress or transcend. It puts you on edge. It makes you almost feel like baring your teeth.

Your comment had come from seeing the horses and the house and the porch with the two rocking chairs, your hackles raising every step closer. Price built his house big enough for children because he anticipated a baby in his future. Children he’d have with his wife, which, though a fuzzy memory as far as memories go, you quietly stepped into the role of not half an hour ago. 

You’ve thought about it before. Motherhood; marriage, domestic living, settling down with a man to start a family. The reality of your life has always made it seem like a problem for the future. Years chipping away like flakes of faded paint off the walls of your bedroom, still living with your aunt and uncle well into adulthood, trying desperately to scrimp and save and stay afloat. Disappointing but not surprising that you’d never been considered the marriable sort, not with scrubbing other people's toilets for a living. 

And now look at you, ring on your finger and whisked home to be bedded. A shiver roles down your spine at the thought and you scowl at Price instead of sinking into the strange thrill. 

When he wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you towards him (his fingers easily overlapping; another thrill), you snap.

“That is quite enough with all the touching!” 

His eyes narrow. “I’ll have more than my hands on you by the end of the night.”

A more proper woman would gasp. You barely hold yours back. 

You know in the back of your mind that you’ve already lost any semblance of an upper hand in this situation. It has long spiraled out of your control. His ring sits on your finger all nice and pretty, and though you signed your marriage license under a different name—your own rather than the name of his actual intended—that Price hadn’t even bothered confirming, you are, for all intents and purposes, his to touch as he pleases. 

“I’m—” your eyes dart around, the urge to bolt a sharp and sudden compulsion lodged in your chest, “—I know I said yes, but I—there’s always the possibility of an a-annulment if we don’t…if…”

You flinch, startled, when he pulls you into his chest only to cup your face again. He has big hands with callused fingers, rough against your skin. Up close, you can see the way his beard is cropped closer than his mustache and mutton chops. It gives him a grim air, almost somber until you catch his eyes staring down at you with an affection that feels unearned, meant for someone else. 

“Deep breaths, darling, there’s nothing to fret about just yet. You’ll work yourself into a state like this,” he murmurs, dropping his head to sip a kiss from your lips again. 

You’ve been in a state since the moment you walked into the sheriff’s office and laid eyes on this man. Turned around and knocked sideways, like you’ve walked into a storybook without noticing. If only it hadn’t all been so sudden, you might’ve been able to approach the situation with a clearer head. You might’ve been able to think up some other way out of it beyond giving Price a fake name and waiting anxiously for your true identity to be painstakingly drawn out over the course of a week. 

“Don’t know why you keep working yourself up,” Price says softly, then slots your lips together for another tender kiss. “Figured you might be a little skittish, but…’m gonna be such a good husband for you, honey. Not gonna want for nothing.”

His slow kisses drag out longer than back in the courthouse, languorous and decadent. As if he has all the time in the world now. In a way, he does, now that he’s helped collect your belongings from the inn and brought you home. When you think of pulling away, the hand wrapped around your wrist lets go and slides to your back, pulling you flush against his chest. Your breasts flatten against his chest, pulse skittering like mad when you feel the hardest of his chest against yours and the muscle holding you in place. 

You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips when the hand on your cheek slides to the nape of your neck and grips, holding you in place. The kiss deepens, the heat on your cheeks feeling palpably hot, vision swimming until your eyes have no choice but to flutter shut. Your suitcase sits forgotten somewhere in the dirt, toppled over onto its side. You pant low, hot breaths into his mouth when he breaks the kiss, letting his lips just hover over yours.

“There we go, darlin’,” Price mumbles against your mouth, sliding the hand on your low back down to grip the plump flesh of your ass through your dress, lips twitching when you make a broken, affronted sound. “Isn’ that better? Not thinkin’ so hard?”

You can’t think at all, in truth. When he kisses you again, your thoughts evaporate up into the clouds, the tongue licking into your mouth dispelling any ideas or notions you might’ve had. It disappears into the heat and lust and the fingers digging into your backside, groping at the flesh there without shame or compunction. You go with him when he clutches you closer, gasping again into his mouth when you feel something hard press against your low belly. He grunts when you twitch against it. 

“John—John—” you gasp, pulling your mouth away and whimpering when he chases after you, letting him steal another wet, slick kiss before your trembling hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt. “Enough—it’s not—it’s not proper—”

“No prying eyes around here,” he grunts. “‘Sides, who’s going to tell a man he can’t kiss his own wife?”

Trembling all the harder at his words, you dig your nails into his shirt sleeves and hope you pinch the skin underneath. All twisted up inside. The ring on your finger glimmers when it catches the light, brighter even than the sun this close to your face. When Price feels your nails dig into his arms, he groans, fingers pressing harder into your bottom and making you squeak. All the pent up lust finally trickling out of him and into you. 

“C’mon, honey, let’s get you inside.” He finally lets you go after giving your bottom lip one last wet suck, pulling it into his mouth while his half-lidded eyes stare into yours. It’s somehow more intimate than kissing. 

You’re still reeling when he turns around to pick your suitcase off the ground, certain that your knees will give way and send you tumbling as well. Every point of contact on your body sizzles, aches. You watch from outside of yourself as he turns back to you, suitcase in his hand now, eyes still dark and fixed on you. Hungry. Your eyes widen when they flit down to find a thick bulge at the crotch of his pants. 

Like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over your head, you hiss and back up three steps when he takes a step towards you. “Oh no, you don’t take one step closer! I won’t have anything to do with—with that!”

You must look like some feral barn cat, back all puffed up, teeth bared to the man trying to coax you towards him. Price must see it too because he grins, amused. “Still spittin’ mad, huh? Felt those claws in me before, darlin’…gonna love feeling them with nothing between us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Price doesn’t bother clearing anything up, but you intuit it the second he takes another step in your direction, whirling around and sprinting towards the house. It feels counterproductive to seek shelter in the man’s house, but dusty plains stretch out in every direction apart from back into town, where you know not a soul will lift a finger to help you. His house is the only shelter you’re going to get.

You hurry up the porch stairs, tearing open the door before glancing over your shoulder to find Price not far behind. He advances on you at a walking pace, but each stride of his long legs matches two of yours, making you shriek and scurry up the staircase. You dart for the first open door you see, slamming it shut behind you and leaning your whole weight against it. Glancing down, you perk up at the sight of a lock on the door before flipping it.

It’s not long before the sound of boots clomping up the staircase meets your ears, headed straight in your direction. You shake when you hear him pause right outside the door, then startle when he tries the knob. 

“You gonna let me in, darling?” Price asks, grin in his voice. Even raps his knuckle against the door for good measure.

“No,” you snap. 

“Not even for your things? Got your suitcase right here.” You hear him set it down, a little clunk against the wood floor. 

“I can manage like this. I’ve slept in my dress before.”

He pauses. “Have you?”

You tilt your chin up proudly despite the door blocking his view. “Yes, and I don’t mind doing it again. You can just stay on the other side of that door until you…until you put that thing away.”

“Can’t do much about that thing, darling; it’s sort of grown on me over the years anyway,” Price chuckles. “Well, not much I can do with it behind this door. I’ll go tend the horses ‘till suppertime comes ‘round and then come back to tend to you.”

“Licentious…reprobate,” you hiss through the door. 

He laughs, the sound deep in his throat. Your stomach flips. 

The stairs creak under the weight of his boots as he descends back downstairs. You wait until you hear the front door open and shut behind him, until the house is completely quiet save for the blood pumping in your ears before you hastily unlock the door and dart a hand out just to pull your suitcase in. You shut and lock the door as soon as it passes the threshold. 

It takes a while to settle your nerves and for the trembling to subside. In the meantime, you sit on your bottom at the foot of the door, with your back still pressed firmly to the wood, and take stock. There’s a bed in the room, one you hadn’t noticed in your mad scramble to lock yourself in. A bigger bed than the one you’d slept on back at the inn, but just as sparse, with gray flannel sheets and a blue quilt folded and draped over the end of the bed. 

The rest of the furniture in the room—two end tables, a chest of drawers, a desk, and two chairs situated in the corner of the room—appears so consistent in its design that you have to wonder if Price made them by hand as well. Hardly a reason to question it. You think to yourself that you’ll have to ask him how he finds the time only to quickly shake that thought away. Can’t be getting too chummy, certainly not if you don’t expect to be around in a month’s time. Hopefully less than that. 

You chew on your lip at the thought of fleeing in the night.

It trickles into your thoughts while you open your suitcase on the bed and riffle around for your nightwear. Price will likely keep you under lock and key for at least the first week of your marriage, giving you little opportunity to take off any time soon. If only you’d held your tongue and played the demure bride, he might’ve had some cause to trust you. Certainly not now, after your most recent display. 

Your own stupid fault, as usual. It’s not the first time your temper has gotten the better of you. You’ve faced worse consequences for it. 

Outside the window on the far end of the room, a horse whinnies. You pause, remembering that Price hadn’t gone very far. When you glance out curiously, you see him letting the horses into the pen, giving one a good rub down the bridge of its nose. The horses seem to melt under his touch. 

It’s strange watching him from far away. From a distance, it’s hard to reconcile him with the man that bent you over his desk not an hour ago and tanned your bottom. You cringe at the memory. It’s not that Price doesn’t seem like a man that would take his wife over his knee if he saw fit to do so, but you still can’t imagine yourself as that woman. When you think about it, it feels like a play, something you saw happen to someone else. Not you wailing and squirming like a cat in heat. 

As if feeling your stare, he glances up at the window and winks when he catches your eye. With a squeak, you leap away from the window, scurrying back over to the bed. 

A couple hours pass in restless contemplation, practically biting your nails to the quick. Eyeing the windowsill like you still might go over there just to check on what Price is up to outside. You hear him come back into the house once or twice, tensing up at the sound of his boots, only to be left vaguely disappointed when you hear him leave and the screen door slam shut behind him. 

You spend so long holed up in the bedroom that you miss lunch entirely. Below you, you hear Price puttering around downstairs in the kitchen—the sound of a knife chopping vegetables and then the sizzle of meat on a pan. The hunger pangs nearly make you break, but you’ve gone without food before. 

Your heart skips a beat when you hear him ascend the staircase again and place something just outside of your door. He doesn’t try coaxing you out this time, just heads back down the stairs and out the front door. Again, you ignore the pang of disappointment; ignore the urge to open the door and holler down the stairs for him to stay gone. 

He leaves anyway. 

Curiosity needles at you though, so you open the door up a crack when you’re sure you’re alone. There’s a plate at the foot of the door with vegetables and meat, slightly cooled but still fresh, the plate still warm. He must’ve known you wouldn’t try coming downstairs and fixed you up a plate. 

You eat in silence at the desk, bad mood ripening. Angry at yourself and everyone else. Even John. Especially John. The audacity of fixing you up a plate, of thinking of you in the first place. Irritated enough to stand boldly by the window this time, hand clutched in the curtain, tracking the movement of his shoulders and hips when he moves with the horses and fetches water from the well. You lose sight of him a couple times as he finishes up the day’s chores around the house, but the flutter in your belly always settles when he comes back into view. 

It’s easy to let yourself admire him from afar, somehow less humiliating without his eyes on you. He’s a solid man, body carved into its shape from the rough labor that’s part and parcel of living out on the frontier. A wide back tapering down to lean, narrow hips and thick, muscled thighs hewn from lifting and pulling and all manner of physical work. You bite your lip when you remember what it felt like to cling to that back and dig your nails into his arms. 

You give your head a shake. It’s dangerous to let a thought like that latch on. 

In the few hours between lunch and sunset, you occupy yourself by reading one of the books stowed away in your suitcase. Then get bored and refold your clothes. The horses bray when they’re taken into the stables for the evening. The crickets out in the bushes in the yard chirp as the sun sets pink in the far distance. It’s quieter out here in the plains than back in the city, you think, something you haven’t yet had the time to appreciate. 

When Price comes in for the night, you’re firm in your resolve to keep the door shut. If lunch at the door was just an attempt to butter you up, he has another thing coming. In a house this big, there’s likely a guest room or somewhere else to sleep—a sofa or a sleeping bag tucked away under the stairs. He’ll just have to make do while you take the bedroom. There’ll be no sharing a bed with the man that grabbed your backside like a piece of meat. 

He doesn’t come up the stairs right away. Like before, you hear him rustle up supper, spatula scraping against a pan and knife coming down on a chopping block again and again. Not enough time has passed since lunch for you to feel more than peckish. You’re thankful for that when you hear him sit down to eat. 

The knock at the door startles you. You hadn’t heard him come up the stairs. “Ready to talk now?”

You stare balefully at the door. “No.”

“We have to figure this out sometime, darling.”

“No, we don’t.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you a fright earlier, but, honey, that’s how husbands kiss their wives. Nothing improper about it.”

“I’m not frightened, I’m just not—we don’t need to do any of that,” you huff, embarrassed all over again. “You’ve hardly given me any time to even think. I didn’t know you from Adam this morning and now we’re married.”

Price sighs, the sound muffled through the door. “What am I going to do with you, honey?” It’s said to himself, a fond exasperation that puts you on edge all over again. He has no right to be amused with you, no right to be delighted and charmed by your ire. 

“Well, you can sleep somewhere else for the time being. I’d prefer the bed to myself.”

He lets out a low, dark laugh. “There’s not a chance in hell that I’m sleeping anywhere but with my wife from this point on. You oughta come to terms with that quick.”

“Well then, you can sleep out there because I’m not unlocking the door!”

He lets out a mean sound, almost mocking. “Yeah, ‘bout time I addressed that, huh?”

His words make you frown until you hear a floorboard creak as Price does something on the other side of the door. Then the doorknob jiggles. Horrified, you watch as the door unlocks and the knob turns, your husband’s body filling out the door frame. You’d forgotten how well he could fill one out. He almost has to duck to come inside, mused hair from working outside all day brushing against the top of the frame. 

“Always put a key on the top of the door, just in case,” he explains, pinching the little silver key between his thumb and forefinger before shutting the door. Your heart jumps when he locks it behind him. “Ready to talk now, honey?”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

the same tv

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, parent death, funerals, robbery, redemption/forgiveness, addiction, drinking (wine, not like hard drinking), tickling, cockwarming, they call themselves kids at one point but at no point are reader or rafe under 18, like itll make sense once you read it in context

the first thing you do when you enter your house is kick off your shoes. the next is to stop holding back your tears as they stream down your face. you can't even sob anymore, just silent, steady tears.

you sigh as you look around the entryway. there's been some changes since you moved away, despite only being out of your parents house for a little over a year. they replaced the grand portrait that was of your mom's parents with one of you, now taking the place of honor.

you look away before you get to the rest of the family photos. you've seen enough at the funeral. you walk further in to the house, bare feet against the shiny wood floor.

you pause when you hear something further in. you haven't forgotten how the old house seemed to speak, groaning and settling during strong winds or when too many people were crammed between it's walls.

this sound seems different, but you're also occasionally sniffling, your ears are shot from blasting music in an attempt to distract yourself, so you shrug it off and walk further into the living room.

the sound suddenly makes sense as you see someone stood in your living room, arms holding up your parents flat screen television, awkwardly trying to carry it.

you aren't even mad. you honestly don't care about the tv. or the fact that someone is trying to rob you.

you let out a bitter laugh before you sink to the floor. “of fucking course this happens.” you are glad you still have your purse slung from your shoulder as you pull your wallet out, quite aggressively throwing it at the robber who has now frozen.

“what?” he questions, lowering the tv to the ground and pushing his hood of his head, a dumb move for someone currently committing a crime.

“this has been the worst week of my life and now you're robbing me. just my fucking luck…” you let out a broken sob. “just take whatever you want and leave.”

the only things that matter to you still in the house aren't actually worth anything anyways. the photos of your parents, your dad's cologne that's half empty, the oak tree that your childhood dog is buried next to.

“i thought the people who lived here died.”

you pick your head up, a look of fury overtaking your face.

“they did. they're my fucking parents! and now they're gone and you're fucking robbing me! get the fuck out!” you stand up, pushing at the robbers chest.

he looks familiar, like you should know who he is but can't place him.

“im-shit. im sorry.” he says, allowing you to shove him away and out the door. 

“im really fucking sorry!” he yells again before you slam the door shut.

-- years later --

you park your car in the driveway instead of pulling it all the way into the garage like you know you should, but you need to know if you're correct about the man sitting on your front step.

“you're the kid that tried to rob me.” you say as you walk the sidewalk to the porch.

“yes.” he says, looking ashamed and a whole lot more grown up. “i was an addict and i owed a debt. my dad had just kicked me out of the house and i was on my own for the first time. it was stupid of me, but when i heard the people living here died, i thought it'd be a victimless crime.”

he sighs deeply, like even just thinking back to that time physically hurts. “i didn't even think that someone could have inherited the house. im so, so sorry.” 

he swallows thickly. “my mom died when i was young. my dad- my dad just died recently. he faked his death and i got him back, but he's actually gone this time. you know what you said about the worst week in your life?”

you think back those years. it's mostly a blur, especially the days surrounding your parents car crash and funeral, but you do remember breaking down in front of the robber. you nod gently, waiting to hear the end of his speal.

“i know what you mean now. and im sorry i hurt you. im sorry about your parents dying.” he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand.

you look into his open palm, realizing it's a ornate gold necklace.

“no.” you shake your head. “you keep it. you don't need to bribe me to forgive you.”

“i want you to have it.” he says. “it's… it's not a lot, but it's something. something to help make up for what ive done.”

you reach forward, carefully taking the necklace out of his outstretched hand, carefully not to accidentally bump his skin. 

“thank you.” you say, admiring the way the sun gleams off the metal. 

“im rafe, by the way. rafe cameron.”

“y/n.” you respond, undoing the clasp of the necklace.

“here, let me.” he takes it out of your hands, moving quicker than you can think as he steps around you. your hair is already up in a bun, so rafe is able to reach around and easily place the chain around your neck.

“thank you.” the weight of the necklace feels comfortable against your skin, like it's the last finishing touch you need. you are wearing your mother's earrings, your father's bracelet, and now you have the other piece of what made that time in your life so miserable, your robbers necklace.

“i… i guess ill be going now.” rafe says.

you turn and watch him walk away. you recognize so much of your former self in him, the clear grieving he's going through.

“are you sober now?” you call out before he reaches the end of your driveway.

“sober enough.” he shouts back. rafe doubts he'll ever truly be clean, but he can at least manage now, doesn't need the drugs like he used to.

“then come back for dinner tomorrow. we can talk.”

you can see the smile stretch over his features. “ill be there.”

-- three months later --

“shit.” rafe says, head snapping over to you. “this is the same tv.”

you giggle and nod, surprised it took him so long to realize. “i never really watch tv on the actual tv, so no need to replace it.” you shrug, the gold necklace still draped over your neck. you haven't taken it off except to shower and sleep.

“god, thats crazy.” rafe looks over to you. “imagine if we just talked back then.” 

you shake your head. “you just think you want that because we get along now. we were both in bad places.”

“you don't think we would have been hooking up back then?” rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at you, watching the way your thighs press together at the mere mention of hooking up, already feeling the urge to sleep with rafe even after having sex only a couple of hours ago.

“we were two scared kids. if we were hooking up we definitely shouldn't have been.” you giggle, reaching your wine glass out for rafe to refill, which he is glad to pour a more than healthy amount in.

“and now?” rafe looks down at his lap.

“and now we are two slighty less scared slightly older kids.” you giggle again, taking a deep sip before leaning across the couch cushion to press a kiss to rafes cheek, the movie you had put on long forgotten.

“rafe.” you wait until he looks you in the eye. “im here for you.”

“god, what have i done to deserve you?” rafe wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he flops back onto the couch. 

you let out a laugh before it's cut off with his lips. he kisses you heavily, hand against the back of your head, not allowing you to pull away, not that you want to.

you let himself get lost in your kiss. you wish you had someone to support you in the time you needed most, and you're determined to be that person for rafe now.

rafe easily dominates your mouth even though he's underneath you as you quickly work your shorts off, wiggling against him until your bottom half is nude.

you press against rafes crotch, still covered by his sweatpants. you feel his cock straining against the fabric as you rub your pussy against it, wetting the gray material.

“baby, please.” rafe groans. he would pull his cock out himself, but his hands are preoccupied holding you close to him as if his life depends on it.

“oh, now you don't like teasing?” you smile.

“alright, i deserve this.” rafe also manages a chuckle despite his straining erection. “but please. need to feel your pussy ‘round me.”

“alright.” you roll your eyes dramatically. you'll have to get revenge on rafe at a different time for edging you the other night.

you push his pants down his thighs until you're able to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock. you give him a few quick strokes before lining up your entrance and sinking down.

rafe let's out a moan, barely pulling his face away from yours. “you're so wet.”

“it's almost like i like you or something.” you roll your eyes.

rafe laughs before kissing you again, hand moving up to your hair, tangling his fingers between the strands.

you sit on his cock for a moment, adjusting, before beginning to move, up then down, up then down, subtle movements of your hips, not needing anything fast, wanting drawn out, wanting it to last.

the movie is long over by the time rafe finally cums, a hand finally moving down to rub your clit to make sure you get off at the same time as his.

by the time you're both satisfied, you're sweaty and exhausted. you don't even bother to pull off his cock as you rest your head against his chest.

“thank you.” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your back. you don't need to ask what for. you know. for being there. you'll always be there.

you look up at him, a small smile on your face. “how are we gonna tell people we met?”

things are quickly getting serious, and while he hasn't breached the subject with you yet, neither of you have been hiding how quickly you're falling.

“what, you think it's a problem that we met when i was robbing you?” rafe says, making you giggle, only intensified by his hand pressing into your side, fingers tickling you as you howl with laughter.

rafe flips you over onto your back so you're underneath him, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“maybe we should just tell people we met on tinder.” rafe shrugs.

you roll your eyes. “somehow that's more embarrassing.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @edszn @theoraekenslover

[goosewithtwoos]

SLUMBER PARTY

Pairing: Bob x Reader

Summary: Phoenix left some aphrodisiac brownies at your house - you accidentally eat one

DISCLAIMER: yeah i got no fwicking clue how aphrodisiacs work so this is more of a crack post than anything don’t take it too seriously

“You brought brownies!” You squeal, running up to hug your best friend.

Phoenix was carrying a small box of brownies that were perfectly decorated with powdered sugar. Your mouth was watering just looking at them.

“Hands off!” She cries, holding them over her head. “It’s a gift for someone. I’m going to a bachelorette party later.”

You pout. “Not even one?”

“Not even one.”

The two of you head inside, catching up on things and discussing plans for your next official leave. You were trying to schedule a trip with everyone down to Sanibel island off the coast of Florida but Hangman was being difficult and said the time he’d spent in Pensacola had been enough to last a lifetime.

You helped Phoenix get ready for the party, doing her makeup for her. Having grown up with four older brothers, Phoenix had never had time to play with makeup. You didn’t mind - in fact, you loved doing makeup for other people.

After about 45 minutes, a phone rang. Phoenix picks hers up only to find that it was your phone that was ringing.

You grab it off the vanity and check the caller ID.

Bob.

You show your phone to Phoenix who grins wildly. She’s known about your crush on her WSO ever since she had introduced you.

“Hello?” You ask tentatively. It was rare that he’d call you. Typically, he’d call someone else and ask them to ask you something.

“Hey, uh, sorry this is weird for me to call. I was just wondering -“

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You looked at Phoenix, silently pleading with her for help.

‘Put him on speaker’ She mouths. You quickly do so, holding your breath lest he notices the change.

“I have your credit card. You left it at the Hard Deck last night and Penny gave it to me. I was wondering when would be a good time to drop it off?”

‘Right now!’ Phoenix mouths.

‘Right now?’ You mouth back, looking at the state of your room and yourself in the mirror. She nods frantically, turning around and quickly reorganizing your things back into the drawers.

“Umm…well I’m home right now if you wanted to bring it over.” You hoped you came across at least slightly suave instead of a panicking mess.

“Oh!” Bob sounded caught off guard. “Yeah, I can do that. Do you want me to leave it in your mailbox?”

Phoenix whips her head around. ‘No!’

“No? I mean, no! I’ve uh…been having a lot of mail theft recently. You can never been too careful.”

Bob hummed. “Mail theft is a huge deal. You should report it. I remember my sister had a problem with that for a while too.”

Bless. his. heart.

“Yeah…” Your voice died off, trying to figure out if this actually was real life or simply some dream. Bob was coming over. Your heart fluttered at the idea. “So! Um, when should I expect you?”

“Maybe like 30 minutes? I just left the PX and rush hour is kinda crazy at this time of day.”

Phoenix was grinning wickedly. She gave you two thumbs up and the look in her eyes told you that maybe this wasn’t a terrible idea.

You made a noise of agreeance in the back of your throat. “Sounds perfect.”

The next 30 minutes of your life we’re some of the most stress inducing you’d ever faced. You wanted everything to be perfect. Phoenix had high tailed it out of there, nearly forgetting her purse, and you sped cleaned the whole house like the president was coming to visit.

Sure, he was probably just going to come to the door, drop off your card, and leave but the small glimmer of hope you held made you clean. Maybe this time you’d actually have the balls to ask him to come inside.

A soft knock at your door announced his arrival. You scrambled from the couch, brushing down your shirt and fixing your hair before answering the door.

“Hey!” He choked out, taking in your figure. Your flight suit was pretty conservative along with you cammies. It was a rare occasion for him to see you in your civilian clothes. “This is for you.”

You took the card from him, careful to not accidentally brush his hand with yours.

“Thank you so much, I don’t know how I could have forgotten this.” You quickly shove the card into your back pocket for safe keeping.

He quickly shoved his hands in his front pocket and shrugged. “Happens to the best of us.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say and didn’t trust yourself to not randomly blurt out an ‘I love you’, so you settled for an awkward silence.

After you both had stared at each other for far too long, he gave you a quick nod and started to pivot away. “Well, guess I’ll see you back at in on Monday.”

Damn it, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to invite him in and talk and maybe watch a movie and hold hands a little. Not have him walk away after less than a minute on your doorstep.

“Do you wanna come in?” You blurt out, surprising not only him but also yourself. “I have to give you something as an appreciation. I probably have a beer or something.” Fucking dumbass.

He turned back towards you, removing his hands from his pockets.

“I won’t take a beer but I will take a water.”

You stepped out of the doorframe allowing room for him to enter. “I do in fact also have water.”

He entered and then followed as you walked to the kitchen. It was small but good enough to make borderline decent meals. You weren’t much of a chef anyways and ate at the chow hall more than you’d care to admit.

“Do you want ice and a glass or just a bottle?” You ask, turning to the cupboard.

“Just a glass, no ice.” He said, taking in your decor.

This wasn’t a permanent lodging, just for the time you’re stationed here, but you still liked to decorate a little bit. Felt more like something you could call home.

You poured a glass and handed it to him, brushing his fingers as you did.

Your heart picked up from the slight touch and you cursed yourself for being such a child. You were a Naval aviator, you should be able to touch someone without having your mind go completely blank. Yet alas. Your mind was gone the moment his fingers touched yours.

He took a sip, then motioned with his chin to a tupperware sitting on the counter. “You just make those?”

You tilted your head, confused on how the hell a tupperware ended up on your counter. You went to inspect it only to find they were the brownies Phoenix had brought over for the bachelorette party. She must have forgotten them in her hurry to leave.

“Uh, these actually aren’t even mine.” You admit, wondering if it would be worth calling her back for them or not. She’d probably already be there by now. Guess if she really wanted them she would have called and asked. “Phoenix made them. She stopped by earlier and I guess she left them.”

His shoulders slumped a little bit at the news.

“But it doesn’t seem like she’s gonna come back for them any time soon and it would be a real shame to waste them.” You quickly follow up. The look on his face was worth it. You didn’t really want a brownie but you knew he wouldn’t eat one if you didn’t.

You pulled two paper towels and grabbed a brownie for the both of you, handing one to him and smelling yours. God, it smelled so good. Were these really made by Phoenix? They smelled like they were made by chocolatiers from some fancy Paris bakery.

“To Bob, for returning my card.” You said as a mock toast. He raised his brownie in turn before you took a bite in tandem.

Holy shit - they tasted even better than they smelled.

You quickly finished yours before grabbing a glass of water for yourself.

Bob stayed for a while, chatting in your kitchen about everything and anything. The conversation was completely normal so it was surprising when you felt the intense need to get off.

Your heart rate picked up rapidly and you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. Your replies slowly turned from interesting, full and comprehensive sentences, to a mix of ‘mhm’ and ‘oh yeah’. God, why couldn’t you get control of yourself?

“Do you wanna go sit down?” You gasp out, fingers gripping the cup for dear life.

“Yeah, good idea.” Bob was looking much more pale than usual but you chocked that up to your terrible lighting and white countertops.

The two of you sat in the living area, a far enough distance from each other on the couch to make it awkward. You pulled your knees to your chest, hoping that the squeezing of your thighs would be able to help alleviate some of the feeling.

What was happening? You typically had self control but this was excessive. God, you needed a cold shower.

“So - uh - how’s your sister?” You also, trying to think of the least sexy topic.

“Good.” His reply was short and quick. His chest was heaving slightly, looking like he had just run a mile. Was he feeling the same thing you were? His composure seemed to be dissolving just like yours. “Sorry, I’m just a little bit warm. Do you mind if I take this off?” He gestured to his sweater, lightly tugging at the bottom.

You screamed internally. “Of course.” Fuck, once he mentioned heat, your whole body exploded and you needed to take a polar plunge.

Even once his sweater was off, he kept readjusting.

“I’ll turn a fan on.” The moment you stood, you knew something was really wrong. Your legs were like jello. Your heart was racing as your body ached with desperation.

The fan did little to help you cool off and the feeling was simply just getting worse. You had been talking about something, taxes maybe? Something that should have been a complete turn off but Bob was looking at you like he wanted to ravish you.

Your voice trailed off when you realized he wasn’t even paying attention to what you were saying and you couldn’t even remember where your sentence had died off.

“I’m so sorry, I promise I’m trying to listen, I don’t…” He was audibly panting, adjusting his collar. “Fuck, can I kiss you?”

The heat between your thighs was like nothing you’d ever felt before. “Mhm.” You manage to nod, trying desperately to not go insane. You needed his hands on you, like, yesterday.

In an instant, he pulled you into a lip bruising kiss, bucking his hips the moment you straddled him. He was so hard already, you were surprised by how needy he was before anything had even happened.

You kissed like the world was going to end. Like you needed each other like some sort of drug.

His hands found your waist, massaging your sides. You couldn’t help but grind your hips down on his, relishing the sounds he made. When his fingers slipped under your shirt, cold hands touching your warm skin, you gasped into his mouth.

“I need you so bad.” He whined.

“Say it again.” The pounding in your chest increased rapidly at his admission.

“I - I need you. Oh my God.” He cried as you bit down on the soft spot beneath his ear. “You can’t keep doing that.”

You smirk, dragging your tongue along the sensitive spot. “This?”

His whole body shook as he pulled you down tighter against him. “Y-yeah, that.” You couldn’t tell if the movement of your hips was your doing or his strong hands, pushing and pulling you back and forth.

“Can I take your shirt off?” He begs.

“God, yes, please.” You reply. His hands quickly pulled your t-shirt up and over, throwing it somewhere across the room.

Seeing your chest turned him feral. In an instant, his eyes darkened and all inhibition was gone.

“Jesus Christ.” He mutters, cupping your chest through your bra and squeezing. “I could die in between these.”

“Fuck me first.” You pant. You felt like your whole body was on fire. You needed friction, for him to touch you, anything.

He leaned forward and licked from the center of your chest slowly up your neck. You’d never had anyone else do anything like that but it was hot all the same. A strong hand lightly gripped your throat, pressing down enough to feel something but not enough to cut off any blood flow.

“God, you’re gorgeous. Could keep you on my lap forever.” He growls.

Something about the possessiveness made your mind short circuit.

“Robert.” You moan, pressing yourself down again. Every nerve was on fire. You were on fire. You were going to burn and you were going to burn with him.

“I got you, honey.” His southern drawl slowly making its way into his speech. You’d always been interested in saving a horse and riding a cowboy, and now seemed like a good time to try it.

You smashed your mouths back together and began pawing at the bottom of his shirt. You wanted it off but you didn’t want to peel yourself away from him.

He made quick work of the buttons on your shorts, pulling down the zipper and pressing two fingers against you. It felt so good - too good - and you needed him now.

"Please, please, please." You were begging a man, and you couldn't care less.

“I got you baby, you don’t need to beg. I’ll give it to you. Fuck, gonna give it to you so good.” His fingers were inside you, working you open, thumb pressing against your clit.

You threw your head back, groaning in agony and pleasure as he presses against your g-spot.

“Gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous,” he mumbles more to himself than anyone else. You were riding his fingers like a pro, swiveling your hips and grinding down like you’d done it a hundred times before.

“I need…I need you in me.” You moan out.

“I am in you.” He teases, biting down on your shoulder.

This cocky little son of a - “Robert Jameson Floyd.” You whine again. You’d never been reduced to whining and begging before but suddenly, it was the only thing you could do.

He groans when you call him by his full name. His fingers pull out, tapping your folds a few times before being pulled from your shorts completely. He lifts them and - damn him - sticks them into his mouth, acting as if it was the most delicious thing he’d had all week. “You need to take these off.”

Brilliant idea.

You stand, quickly removing your shorts and panties in a fluid move. He unbuckles his jeans and pushes them down. His boxers came off almost immediately afterwards and your eyes went wide.

You’d known he was pretty. Hell, he was probably the prettiest man you’d ever seen, but you didn’t realize that every inch of him was going to be pretty. And big.

You swallow, eyes flicking up to meet his. He was panting, looking at you and you realized you didn’t feel self conscious at all. You felt good, safe, and sexy. You’d probably ask to marry him if he could fuck you as good as he was saying he could.

“How’d you want this?” He asks.

“You’re from Texas, right?” You ask and he nods. “I’ve always been interested in saving horses.”

He throws his head back, laughing. “If it weren’t you standing naked in front of me right now, I’d be getting up and leaving. That was the worst thing I’ve ever heard. Get over here.”

You suppress a laugh, sitting back down on his lap, feeling him hard as a rock underneath you. "Your shirts coming off." You say, pulling at it.

He removes his glasses, shaking his head lightly, tousling his hair even more than your hands had. With or without his glasses, he made it hard to breathe. When he removes his shirt, you were sure he'd knocked the wind out of you entirely.

Your mind couldn't think of anything to say so you opted for leaning down and capturing him into another kiss. His large hands wrap around your side, kneading the flesh beneath. You had began rocking your hips back and forth without even realizing it until his hand stopped you.

"I want to get inside you before I come from just this." He admits, resting his forehead against yours.

You nod, still unable to form coherent thoughts. "Yeah, yeah that's a good idea."

You lift your hips as he lines himself up. Much to your pleasure, he didn't force you down and allowed for you to go at your own pace. It had been a while and you were tight. He hisses through his teeth as you sink down.

"Fit inside me so good." You tell him. He throws his head back, letting out a low moan. You were glad he wasn't the type of man who tried to silence himself. He sounded so beautiful. "Could stay here forever."

"Fuck me first." He says, bucking his hips ever so slightly, echoing your words from earlier.

Who were you to decline such a polite request?

You lift yourself up, enjoying how his eyes immediately snap down to watch where you're connected. The grip on your hips tightens as you go back down.

It felt like your senses were heightened. Every inch of him was sending flames through you. Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest and Bob looked no better.

He was watching intensely as you moved, mouth ajar. You press your hands against his chest and lean forward ever so slightly. The change of angles makes you see stars.

"Oh my God." You cry out. He felt impossibly deep and so, so good.

"Feels better than I ever thought possible." He groans. "Just like you were made for me."

"Thought about this before?" You tease, spelling your name with your hips. What size ring was he?

Bob's hand leaves your waist and trails down to your clit. "Often." With a light pinch, you're doubling over, crying out with a mix of broken moans and his name.

"You're gonna make me come fast if you keep doing that." You warn him. As much as you wanted to come, the thought of this being over made you want to hold off as long as possible.

He pinches again. "I'm no better, darlin. Come whenever, I'll be right behind you." The feeling of him inside you was making you crazy. You were losing your mind and felt entirely content with it. "Fuck, keep doing that."

Your orgasm was rapidly approaching. You'd never come this quickly before and it would be embarrassing if Bob weren't so stunningly handsome and crying out just as much as you were. Sweat was beading on his forehead, causing his baby hairs to stick down.

You run your hand across his head, moving both the hairs and his head back. He looks at you, all fucked out, and the sight alone is perfect shower head masturbation material for the next few months.

"You're so beautiful." He says, his eyes glazed over, like he couldn't believe that you were real. "Can't believe this is real."

You moan in agreeance. This was beyond your wildest dreams. You would have never imagined this as a possible scenario for how the day would go. Part of you began to worry this was all a dream and you'd wake up to find your credit card was in your wallet the whole time.

He shifted and your world exploded. He was deeper than you ever thought possible. God, it felt so good. So, so good. Too good.

"Robert, I'm gonna come." You cry out, gripping his shoulders like a vice. His lips wrap around your chest, sucking and biting down, the harsh breath feeling like Heaven and Hell all at the same time, before he roughly pulls back.

"You gotta get up before I come inside you." He warns, the grip on your hips loosening.

You force your hips back down, tightening your thighs around him. "I'm on the pill, I wanna feel you. Give it to me, please?" You asked it so innocently but your words were filthy.

"Yeah?" He breathes out. "Want me to come inside you? Fill you up?" You clench around him. "You like that, huh? Like the idea of me marking you as mine. Tell me you want it."

"I want it, I want it." You chant. "Please give it to me. Need to feel you inside me."

He takes your other breast into his mouth, bouncing you with more urgency. "Gonna fill you up so good." You hear him mumble around you.

He pinches your clit and you're a goner. Your orgasm rips through you and you're coming harder than you've come before around him. You can tell you're saying something but your mind is so blank, you're not quite sure what it is.

"Holy fuck." He moans, hips stilling as you feel him come inside you.

You're both panting, resting foreheads against each other. You can feel him spilling out but make no effort to move. This was something you'd want to savor for as long as you lived. A size 10 ring would probably fit him nicely.

He presses a kiss to your cheek. His hands pull your hair from your face back into a makeshift pony tail from where it had been sticking to your neck with sweat before letting it fall. "You're amazing."

You laugh lightly, never having been told that after getting absolutely railed before. "I think that belongs to you. I've never had someone make me come that quickly before."

"Same." He agrees. He finds his glasses, putting them on and blinking rapidly to readjust his vision. "A goddess, for sure."

You laugh and swat at his chest. "A cowboy, for sure." He groans, rolling his head back.

“Oh, who the fuck is calling me right now?” You breathed out as your phone began ringing, pulling you from your lovely little bubble. Your heart dropped when you saw who it was. It was Phoenix. You didn't get off him, simply grabbing your phone from the table and answering “Hello?”

“Hey girl, I’m so sorry I just realized I left the brownies at your place! Don’t eat them okay? They’re for a prank.” Her voice was rushed as she got out every word.

“What do you mean ‘they’re for a prank’?”

“They’re aphrodisiac.”

Ah.

[pink-apollo]

I feel like octo!König is a dumbo. Just this cute little guy shy octo who is infatuated with you

✨credit to whoever came up with the concept of octo!könig! I’m having trouble trying to locate the original creator :/✨

Also would anyone be interested in ferret soap?? He’s such a gremlin and I feel like him being a ferret is just fitting. He’s playful, mischievous, full of attitude and loud.

Octo!könig headcanons

💜Octo!König is such a curious and adventurous creature that tends to get himself into more trouble than he needs to be. Walking around, getting into your dresser and looking through your things. Has ran away with your underwear in his clutches at least once…

💜Gets attached to the point you can’t pry him off which leads to a happy and satisfied könig purring, as he gives little nibbles. He just needs to always be on you and cannot being to even consider to let go

💜Never misses the opportunity to take a bath or shower with you!! You bet your butt that this little cutie is going to be attached to your butt or breast every time. In general really loves the water and it makes him very happy if you have a bath with him!! To spend quality time with you and swim around you, occasionally leaving nibble marks on you

💜Leaves so many marks on your body. Little sucker prints scattered around your chest and thighs from him trying his best to stay on you

💜Always manages to climb into your shirt when you’re doing chores or just sitting down watching tv. Needs to have maximum closeness!! Or else he gets very sad and lonely. Cannot have a lonely octo because he will run around the house making noises and opening up cabinets throwing things around….

💜Must sleep next to you in bed! His little tentacle gently touching your face as he purrs away

💜If you carry around a purse you better check it! König tends to place himself in there when he knows you’re getting ready to leave and he doesn’t want to be alone! But also really likes to explore

💜Tends to crawl up to you and place himself directly on top of your chest and just stare. Makes some clicking noises and his little fins on his head start to move like crazy when you pet him. Gets slightly annoyed when you stop, the way his little face scrunches as he stares at you

💜Likes to share meals. And by sharing I mean he likes to take food off your plate and eat it because he refuses to eat what’s on HIS OWN PLATE. You got a piece of food that you plan to eat? Yeah oh well too bad, it’s his now. Just these big ol eyes staring back at you as you stare in bewilderment

💜Does the cliche pitter patter around the house. His little tentacles sticking to floor causing him to make a lot of noise if you have hard wood floors. Doesn’t understand the concept of being quiet

💜Hates your bra with a passion. It’s too much work for him as he tries to place himself on your breast where it’s warm and comforting. Tentacles flapping under your shirt as he throws a temper tantrum

[pedge-page]

I’m absolutely IN. LOVE. with ur Joel/baby Sarah/wife!Reader masterlist and all their wacky adventures 😍🤪! When u have the time and if u feel drawn to the suggestion, I hope to see reader and Joel have a cute hubby & wifey moment (either before or after Sarah, ur pick) and not just Joel having high blood pressure all the time 🤣. Have an awesome weekend!!! 😘

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: My Wife, My Love, My Life

notes: thank you for the request! Decided to make this one after Sarah is born but the focus towards the end is Joel and Reader.

Warnings: Oral m!receiving, blowjob, facial, very brief unprotective penetration

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You didn’t ever think this day would come. Not now, not so soon at least, but certainly you had hoped it would never come.

Yet as you packed your suitcase, your eyes welled with tears. Your bedroom, the one you’d shared with your husband for years for every single night you two were together, was about to be foreign. No longer sharing his warm embrace, his caresses and morning kisses.

��You were leaving him behind.

 Memoriese placate your mind, routines and dents of the bed were about to be disrupted for the first time, and your heart ached at the idea.

Worst yet, you were leaving your own daughter, your sweet little angel who was not even one year old. She’s too young, should you even be separated from her at this age? How badly would this scar her? How much would she remember her own mother, who showed nothing but love and care and smiles for her entire existence, how much would that penetrate her memory of you as you abandon your family—

“Are you crying’ again?” Joel asks from the doorway. “It’s only a week!”

You sniffle and toss your blazer into your bag, avoiding him. “I don’t wanna go.”

You’re just traveling for a brief work trip just for the week then you’ll be back this time next Sunday, but STILL. All of those things hold true(ish), and it still hurts to have to say goodbye—

“Would you relax, honey. Christ.”

Even if your husband doesn’t care, you know Sarah will feel the pain of her own Momma leaving her behind with no reason she can possibly come to understand—

 “You are so clingy and needy—“

JOEL WOULDYOUSHUTTHEFUCKUP I'MHAVINGAMOMENT, DAMNIT.

You sigh heavily and zip up the bag before lugging it to the ground. He raises his eyebrow as you storm by, his arms folded with a bemused smirk.

“Oh it’s funny to you? Guess you do want me gone—“

“It’s a week,” he reminds you firmly, his hands rubbing along bothy your arms. “It’s gonna be like a vacation for you!” 

His words of encouragement suck ass because your ideal vacation is with your family. No, this was more like hell. 

And Joel seemed to be loving every minute of it.

“Don’t forget ya moisturizer, oh and I packed ya some snacks for the plane. Plus some pepper spray, which you gotta put in your checked bag cuz they ain’t gonna let ya through security. Your passport is in your purse already…” 

He was practically ushering you straight out the door. Running around the house like road runner, athering everything ahead of time, getting your little carry on and security tag and even breakfast quickly made for you to ‘make you not worry about a thing’.

No. The fucker was getting rid of you for sure, and glad of it—

“Stop sitting there with that face,” he says.

You sit down and shove your eggs in your mouth. “What face?” You snap.

“The ‘he’s intentionally trying to get rid of you’ one you got on right now. Just want ya to be prepared is all.”

You quickly wipe your expression but scowl at him when he has his back turned. 

After breakfast, you kissed your baby goodbye. She was still sleeping soundly in her crib. Joel supervised you from the hall to make sure you didn’t try to sneak her into your purse so you could take her with you.

“Ok you have enough milk in the freezer and some already thawed in the fridge when she wakes up. You have teething rings, you know how to heat her bottle, you have her burp blanket—“ you list each one on your fingers as he backing you up to the car.

“Yes,yes,yes,yes! Honey, I got it all—“

“I bought groceries already for the week —“

“And if ya missed anything, I can go grab it myself. I can cook, you know that. Got ya in bed with my food before so—“

“Joel I’m serious.” You stop him. but as you think it over, you know he’s right. He’s like a pro at taking care of you and Sarah. You’re just trying to avoid the feeling that she’s gonna miss you gone. 

Maybe she won’t even notice you're gone…

Joel catches your eyes faltering, lips trembling as water shines in your eyes. 

“Nonono! It’s gonna be okay.” He hugs you, his soft hands securely stroking your back until he can feel you breathe slowly again.

“I know I know. I’m just. I’m gonna miss you both.”

“The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back,” he hums reassuringly. 

You pull away and frown. “Definitely looking forward to getting rid of me—“ you seethe under your breath.

“OH GET IN THE DAMN CAR.”

-

Joel just got the text from you that you on time and safely boarded onto the flight. He knows you’ll be out of contact with cell service for the majority of the week since you were going to be out of the states, so he’s glad you were able to message him this last time. 

And while no he was NOT glad you were leaving, he wasn’t complaining either. You needed some alone time. You were preggo monster for 9 months and now non stop mom ever since. He could tell from the bags under your eyes and short temper that you needed a little vacation. It didn’t matter if you realized it or not. This conference was a blessing in disguise. There would only be a few hours a day of work stuff, then you could go to the pool, the gym, get a massage, anything you wanted was included.

And he’d get some fantastic quiet time without your nagging just for a little. A mini vacation for him too for the first time in…well, ever.

A win-win for you both.

Sarah was just rousing from her sleep, stretching her arms wide with a big yawn and wiggly toes. He sends a quick pic of her with her hazy eyes before scooping her up.

“Ready for some food, girlie?” He nuzzles his face into her chest, and she giggles happily.

It takes probably 5 minutes of Sarah sucking down her bottle in her high chair on her own before she’s looking around the strangely vacant house.

“Mum-ma?” She asks curiously, just as Joel returns to dump some cereal on her tray.

“Mommy’s left to go go on a trip. Just you and me this week, kid.” He rubs her head affectionately.

Joel really didn’t expect Sarah to fully grasp anything he says, but evidently she did understand “mommy” and “left” and that was it.

Her face scrunches up and she immediately launches into the loudest cries known to man. 

Joel was prepared for this. “Okay, okay Sarah, I know, you miss Momma,” he grabs a host of items: her pacifer, her bunny stuffed animal, her favorite chocolate that you told Joel she couldn’t have but he whips out for energencies like this. Even with his smiling face level with her pained one, wiggling each item excitedly, nothing seemed to be doing the trick. If anything, she wailed longer and harsher, kicking the table and slamming her bottle down until it rattled to the floor.

He eventually picks her up and tries rocking and bouncing, but she just shakes her head furiously. Her face is all red, fat tears dampening her little cotton onesie, with one hand scrunching his shirt and pushing him off. “You get this drama queen shit from your mom,” he tuts.

He sets her down on the floor, and Sarah immediately starts crawling towards the garage door, pointing to Joel to open it.

“She ain’t there, baby. She’ll be back—“

She screams harder, aggressively patting the door and looking back at him like she’s pleading.

He scoops her up again and takes her to the living room. He’s running out of ideas to get her to settle. Checked her diaper just in case, rejected any food, all toys were no hope. He was gonna lose his hearing at this rate.

Joel thought it would take at least the rest of the day before she would notice but this shit might be harder than he thought. If she kept huffing and puffing to keep taking a scream, or shed any more waterfall of tears, he’d have to take her to the hospital for dehydration and shortness of breath.

Sarah crawls over to the couch and yanks on the dangling blanket, pulling down pillows all over top her. He chuckles as she disappears into the mound, but can see her little form navigating from the top. Finally, the sandworm baby stops moving, and he notices her crying desist.

“Oh shit. I already killed her.”

He gently pulls pillows away until he finds Sarah with her face down, diaper bum up and her nose buried in your favorite blanket. She was smelling your scent, and that seemed to calm her almost immediately. Joel sits down and pulls the blanket free, and Sarah panics, reaching out for it desperately. He hands it back to her, and she grips it tightly, pushing her face into the soft coziness. It was still slightly warm with your body heat. Since you use it every time you’re in the living room, it smelled exactly like you.

Sarah takes a deep breath, clearing her cries. She crawls into Joel’s lap and tugs as much of it as she can along with her, sitting down between his thighs and cuddling the blanket around her.

Joel grabs the other end and smells it, and your scent floods his brain with endorphins. “I miss her too, bubba.” He leans and plants a kiss on her head, giving her the pinky back into her now accepting mouth.

She continued to play with her toys on the floor, blanket right next to her everywhere she went. Sometimes, she would just pause and nuzzle her face into it, sighing deeply and then continuing. Even Spoon was feeling the effects. Curled up by the door, whining occasionally, but otherwise just guarding the entrance, waiting for your return. Joel even pitied the big girl and allowed her on the bed so she could curl up into your spot.

Sarah was on her best behavior as much as she could be. She only cried when she was hungry or needed changing. She understood there’s no humor in bullying Joel unless you were here to punish him. 

Things were going great so far for him. 

And Joel felt pretty relaxed too. He could catch up on some programs, get some work done, go to bed when he needed it. It was peaceful.

But it wasn’t until a few nights in that he noticed life wasn’t as dandy. And it wasn’t Sarah that was making it evident.

It was him.

-

As you board your flight back home, nothing brings you more peace of mind than imagining walking back into your house. 

Joel was right, this was somewhat of a mini vacation. And while it was nice, the bed wasn’t right. Didn’t matter how much money they spent on the king sized memory foam body conforming mattress with silk sheets and pressure release pillows. It just wasn’t the same as the 10 year old spring queen sized mattress that you and Joel had been cramming your asses on since you moved in together and the flat-no shape pillow that you had since you were in college. No amount of Michelin star chef prepared meals could match Joel’s empanadas and rice. 

There wasn’t even anything to compare to being curled up with Joel and Sarah on the couch, watching tv until you both fell asleep in his strong, secure arms.

So in the end, you were right (as always). And damned be Joel, but you wouldn’t be listening to him ever again. If you have to go on a trip again, you’ll just bring them along or quit your job. Easy peasy.

Part of you wonders if he was still having a superb time away from you. Doing all kinds of work around the house without you nagging or asking for dinner, or having him fetch a billion snacks for you because you’re too lazy to get up, or rub your feet or your back or your calves or your clit, or getting a blanket or turning on the fan…damn you were annoying as well. And he does it all. He’s probably gonna see you walk in and sigh disappointingly, joking that he wished it lasted longer. You wonder if he and Sarah now morphed into best of pals, and she no longer considered you her #1. 

Oh fuck, I’m gonna start crying on the damn plane.

 By the time you landed, you couldn’t get in touch with Joel. you had received a text selfie image of him and Sarah smiling with the caption “Can’t wait to see you!”. You smile to yourself. God, you’ll risk getting a ticket just to speed home right now.

1.5 hours after you drive home, you open the familiar door. The aroma of home surrounds you, and you couldn’t be happier.

As does a squealing baby being carried by your big ass husband, who both immediately attack you out of thin hair with warm hugs. Spoon wags excitedly beneath you.

You nuzzle yourself into Joel’s neck just as Sarah nuzzles herself into your chest. The four of you stand there for moment, eyes closed and silently grateful.

And wafting. 

Joel and Sarah’s noses and Spoon's especially were twitching and sucking in air against your skin and clothes, more so than hugging you.

“Oh are we…we are smelling me…” you say matter-of-factly but a little confused. Shit do I smell that bad??

He’s about to say something when you snatch Sarah and begin talking to her. She  comfortably hands on your hip as you two chat (well, more like you chat and she babbles excitedly but you return the audience). It was late, and as you rocked her to sleep in your arms, you set her down in her crib, rubbing her belly softly as she soothed to sleep.

You close the door behind you when another hand gently clasps yours.

Joel doesn’t say anything, which surprises you. He’s more stoic than usual. He takes you down the hall and into your bathroom and turns on the tub.

He starts shucking off your clothing without a word. Shirt over head, then bra clasp, pants unzipped and dragged down. you can’t even stop him, he’s so gentle yet determined. and truthfully, you didnt have it in you to give him return home sex he’d probably been missing.

“Joel,” you say softly, and he shivers. “Um, I’m a little tired, but I promise tomorrow I will—“

“Tub,” he commands. 

You tilt your head in confusion but step into the basin, now stark naked. The water is just perfect. You sink in until it’s level with your chest. Joel mixes in some suds and pulls his mini stool next to the edge, and begins massaging your shoulders.

“Oh honey you don’t need to do that,” you insist. “I got a massage when I was there…” 

He doesn’t say anything but keeps going. And it’s not until he really finds your sensitive areas that you realize you do, in fact, need this. You sigh contently as he works the particularly troublesome knots in your shoulders, then gently over your neck. His hands, god you miss those hands, feel like heaven. After a few moments of you letting out soft moans, he lathers your expensive ‘for rare occasion’ shampoo and begins slathering it in your hair. With exceptional care, he works his fingers in circles, and you can feel your eyes going cross eyed with the thorough job he’s spoiling you with. Your whole body feels relaxed like a warm sheet of butter folding into a decadent pastry.  You simmer and sink down even lower, indicating you’re incredibly tranquil. 

He still remains silent. You can’t see him as you face the opposite end of the bathroom. Just the two of your breathing falling in sync.

Once finished, he pats you dry with fresh and warm towels, carries you bridal style to your bed.

You think now maybe he’s gotten you ready and pliant so he can rail your back out of place, but instead, he lays you on your side of the bed and tucks you into the sheets.

He tosses his socks and plows into the bed on his side, crawling up to you and putting himself face down into your chest and neck. He takes the biggest, longest breath possible through his nose before letting it out with a satisfied hum. Closing his eyes, Joel allows himself to relax, surrounding himself with you, his hand protectively over your stomach and absent-mindedly swishing back and forth with his thumb.

You giggle, smelling his sweet brown curls and rolling his hair through your fingers. “Did my clingy needy husband miss me?” You tease.

He’s already snoring and drooling into your breasts.

-

Joel’s having an out of body experience right now, and he can’t tell if he’s dreaming. There’s a fantastic, tingling, pleasurable feeling dancing along his entire body. He stirs slightly, letting out an audible groan. Something is warm against him, wet and moving, and it feels like a massage from heaven. He can’t exactly piece together what it is, still floating through his subconscious trying to rouse him awake, but still so blissfully relaxed he can’t quite fully awaken yet. He was out so deep last night in your embrace. Surrounded by your presence, your smell, your touch and breath and love and body. 

His lashes flutter open, and the ceiling blur takes shape before him. He’s lying on his back in the bed, with something heavy against his lower half. sounds make their way to his ear, his own rugged gasps getting louder as the sensations more clearly are identified, sending signals of euphoria to his brain. He rasps out, eyes widening, and groggily tilts his chin down to see you; your mouth sloppily taking his hardened cock over and over, slurping the saliva and coating him with your talented tongue. You suck on his tip before working down his massive length, your other hand expertly jerking in rhythm what you can’t fit.

He chokes, still unsure if what he’s seeing and feeling is a dream. He hopes it’s not a dream. 

The sounds from his throat cause you to peer up. A slight warm, loving grin tugging at your lips to make eye contact with him as you give him the morning blow job of his life.

And that does it for him. He yelps, stomach tightening before hot ropes of his seed shoot out of his tip like a canon. You bare down and suction your lips to his pulsing dick, feeling each throb deposit his sticky hot cum into your mouth. You gulp and gulp over and over, not nearly quick enough as his cream overwhelms you and bulges out of your cheeks. Even after you’ve coughed, his cock doesn’t stop, splashing all over your face in ribbons, one after the other, as he lets out drawn out moans, eyes rolled back and head arched into the pillow. He’s seeing stars, ruining your face like a mud mask of his spent. By the time he’s finished, he looks back down to see your slightly shocked expression, mouth agape with cum pouring down your forehead and eyelids, cheeks and chin, back onto his stomach.

He’s struggling to return from cloud nine. Brain hasn’t been this foggy even when high and drunk. He feels like sinking into the mattress and retiring from life.

You finally chuckle at his current state. “You didn’t get off all week did you?” He shakes his head side to side, eyes closed. You crawl up next to him, using his bedside tissues to wipe your face clean.

“I hope you liked it, I couldn’t wait for you to wake up—“

“Quit your job,” he says quietly.

He opens his eyes and rolls over to kiss your forehead and lie on top of you, his body conforming to yours. You feel his face nudged into your neck again as his back relaxes. You give him a confused look.

“I’ll take on extra projects,” he continues plainly. “Work extended nights. Just don’t leave us like that again.”

You cup his face in your hands to look at you. He’s sincere, kissing your palms and rubbing his cheek into your touch like a puppy. 

You can’t help but smile.

“You missed me that much? Thought it was a mini vacation!”

He shakes his head. “It sucked,” he pouts like a child, hugging you tighter.

It was by the 4th night in that Joel realized it.

He prepared his solo meal quietly, served Sarah her mushy food quietly, and sat down at the table quietly. With only her little happy coos here and there, and him blowing on his own meal, he never realized just how quiet everything is without you.

Your chair was empty. Your side of the bed was cold. The house was so vacant without one person that it almost just feels like a building rather than a home. He realized he just gets up, feeds and talks to Sarah and spends time with her, then as soon as she’s in bed, he’s just. Existing. There. With nothing to do. He loved taking care Sarah, but she was pretty self sustaining. She was doing a hell of a lot better than he was. He tried busying himself with housework or TV or construction projects he had been wanting to do, but it all just felt like work. Like everything he did for himself was a chore. 

He didn’t want to do anything if you weren’t there to see him by the end of the day. 

He remembers when he used to thrive when he was living by himself. But he also realized… he hasn’t lived by himself in years. Since before he met you. 

“You know I can’t quit my job, right?”

He grumbles but nods into your breasts.

“And I don’t want you taking on extra projects. I want to see you at the end of the day too. Tell you this: if I get another conference, either my family comes, or I don’t go. Deal?”

“Deal.” He kisses your chest before shimmying his way up your body until he’s fully over top you. “Otherwise I’ll tear your boss a new asshol—“

“Joel.”

“I’m just saying. Everyone wants to keep ya from me—“

“Joel.”

“N’ as your husband and baby daddy, I have a right to say where you put that ass every night and it should be right up against my di—“

“Just kiss me already.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He captures your lips with his hungrily. You feel his knees nudging yours apart, slotting himself perfectly between your bodies. The freshly hardened tip of his cock breaches your entrance, but Joel doesnt even let you gasp. His lips remain sealed on yours.

 He wasn’t going to let you get away that easily again. Not even for a second. 

- - - -

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow

[sold2vlaykz]

AI-uploaded.

Prompt:Tesla has officially made robots the new thing! Everyone has one, what happens when you get your very own?

You’ve never enjoyed the idea of robots taking over the world, or humans already having control of it.

You didn’t understand why war or anything happened why couldn’t we all just make out or chill, something jeez.

Though you needed some extra help around the place, sure you didn’t like the thought of someone or something you didn’t know being around your house and handling things.

But you couldn’t clean, take care of your animals, and work too.

So you bought one, a Tesla fucking robot. You remember them advertising the blank faced thing on tv.

Making it more ‘acceptable’ by giving it a voice.

Though the damn things still had words on its face, so they’d be accessible for deaf people even going as far to teach them sign language.

Some have moveable braille. They come in colors, brown, pink, yellow, anything you could think of.

Now it’s not that you were excited, happy or even relieved. You thought of it as a burden because now you’d have to go to a Tesla socket and plug the damn thing up.

You already brought the damn robot there’s no way you would buy the charger too.

Did it look like you had thousands of dollars laying around?

No.

You only brought this so you could get some sleep and not hear your dog crying all the damn time.

So here you were, jaw to the floor as another robot carried the thousand pound box to your living room. A man in the car reading what looked like mail.

The robot walked out of your house, making small talk as it left.

The robot came full pieced, all you had to do was power it on.

It was just like a cellphone almost, it came charged.

It took the strength of every bone in your body to stand the damn thing up straight, your hands wondered on the shiny thing trying to find the damn button.

“Hello?”

A voice spoke, you jumped back. The thing was on, you didn’t even know what you pressed.

“How did you umm, turn on?”

You stuttered over your words as if examined itself, twisting its hands in front of where eyes should be.

“Eye recognition.”

You gasped, you remember when Apple did its eye thing but who knew they partnered with Elon musk?

It muttered your name before tilting its head up to you.

“What shall I do as your service?”

You coughed clearing your throat, feeling uneasy because it was harder to read this stoic thing than a human.

“Just feed my pets, keep the house clean. Easy job. When you’re done you can do whatever.”

It nodded before scanning the house, its head doing a weird observing tilt.

“Where are these ‘pets.’ Currently and what are they?” There was a weird pause between you two.

“They’re outside, let them in-in two hours, let them out every four. They’re dogs.”

It hummed before nodding its head

Immediately going to do what it was told to.

“You don’t have to now, I’ve already done everything. Just do it when I can’t.”

It froze in place a beep sound coming from it, it face had some weird dots on it coming in connecting circles with the words on the bottom ‘loading.’

“Then what was the point of my purchase if I am to just do what you didn’t manage to do, but usually do?”

You shrugged your shoulders, before passing it the remote.

“Here’s some TV, try not to fuck your mind.”

Another boop, and another loading screen.

“Fuck my mind, I assume you are trying to metaphorically tell me not to mess up my mind the same way others use the term fucked up.”

You paused, you held your laughter in your throat.

“Uh yeah, sure dude.”

You jogged upstairs leaving the vessel of wires on your couch clicking through the feed.

You went to get ready for work, you had already took a shower earlier that day so all you had to do was get your clothes and necessities.

You grabbed your purse and began scattering through your dresser drawer, you sighed and realized that finding your keys would’ve been a hassle.

So you moved on and decided you’d do that last.

You put on your work clothes, the uncomfortable texture made you feel cold, you grabbed some shoes, something dirty, or fucked up so you didn’t have to mess up anything else.

You grabbed your purse and threw your phone inside, you jogged down the stairs only to see the robot gone.

“Uh, robot?”

You heard nothing, no response. The horn outside repeatedly beeping made the suspense worse.

You walked into the kitchen only to see the robot sitting near the counter pressing the button on the keys.

“God you found it!”

You jogged up to him or it and snatched the keys. It sensed your annoyance.

“I am sorry, I suppose I got distracted.”

You cut him some slack, you knew what it was like to get distracted when you had things to do. But a robot? What good was it if it couldn’t do what it was designed for?

“Listen, just watch after the house. It’s fine, I’ll see you in 12.”

You headed out the door, and went towards your car. A twelve hour shift was practically voluntary slavery.

—————

You sighed, home sweet home.

Your back muscles were tensed, body sore snd feet cramped. You groaned as you stepped out the car, picking up your purse was another burden because of the weight it held.

You didn’t feel like rummaging for your key.

Never thought you’d say it but thank fucking God for Elon musk.

You dragged your limp body up the steps before three harsh knocks. A deeper voice answering you.

“Hello, who is it?”

“Your owner.”

You responded, he recognized your voice and opened the door immediately.

“Good morning, how was your day-”

You walked passed him, throwing your purse to the ground nor caring about your phone.

You didn’t even bother to take off your shoes on the freshly cleaned carpet floor.

You noticed your two dogs sleep in the dog bed with their bowls full near them and that’s all you needed. Though there had been a little piece of metal in its mouth,

Normally anyone else would’ve been concerned but your dogs had a weird kink for biting its cage apart.

You let out a hefty sigh and closed your eyes before telling the robot to lock the door.

————

Your eyes fluttered open by the sound of clashing, you immediately took a look to your left, your dogs were sound asleep.

You stood up, knowing that the damn robot had got itself into something or stuck.

Though when you stood you couldn’t help but notice your shoes off and your purse gone.

Did the damn thing rob you?

“Hello?”

You called it before hearing the now famous loading boop.

“Up here.”

Its voice had been blank, as if it simply fell and understood it couldn’t get up.

You walked up the stairs a little nervous if you had to be honest, you didn’t know what you were to see.

You pushed your door open before seeing the robot on the ground its left hand covering its right forearm.

Electricity seemed to be buzzing from it, anyone could tell it was injured.

“What the hell happened?”

You yelled, loading screen once again.

“I went to let your animals in and they attacked me, I suppose they feared I was an intruder and tried to protect the home.”

You gasped before kneeling to its side before wondering one thing.

“How’d you manage to get away?”

You had to ask, you had two, two hundred forty-pound dogs.

“When it bit me I climbed up the rails into your room.”

The thought of the robot clinging to your walls like Spider-Man unnerved you but God you couldn’t let your thousand dollar investment go to waste.

“How much is it going to cost to fix you?”

You asked, a sigh leaving your lips.

“ a few thousands of dollars, though I wouldn’t mind waiting.”

You sighed before grabbing some cloth and wrapping its arm tightly so no bolts or wires would fall out of its joints.

“You’re laying in my bed.”

The robot let out an audible gasp,

“I wouldn’t want to burden you-”

You ignored what it said and repeated yourself before helping it into the bed.

You sighed.

“I should’ve just stayed home, but thank you for helping me.”

The robots head turned to you in a creepy way, unsettling and you knew it was something you’d have to get used too.

“No need to thank me- Battery low. - That’s what I’m here for.”

You sighed knowing you’d had to drive to a charger tomorrow and work extra hard to get it fixed and pay for the bills and your animals.

“Goodnight- Power off-”

You sighed before nuzzling into the covers.

“Goodnight. Robot.”

[notjustjavierpena]

Misbehavior

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I haven’t written spanking in a while, and so I thought I’d treat myself and you.

Summary: You call Joel daddy at the annual 4th of July barbecue. He does not like that.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (MDNI!), dad’s best friend joel miller, teasing, daddy kink, spanking session, fingerfucking, m masturbation, dirty talk, loooots of pet names, praise kink

Word count: 2.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48831457

Misbehavior

“Honey, will you get the beer from the trunk?” Your mother’s voice is already fading as she walks towards Joel’s front porch. She’s carrying a couple of prepared dishes for the barbecue, your father tagging along beside her as they enter the house. 

As you grab the six-pack from the back of the car, you can hear your father say Joel’s name, then the excited ‘there he is’ that’s followed by the known sound of two men hugging; the three slaps to each other’s backs as if counting like a referee at a wrestling match, telling the other to tap out before it gets too intimate. You smile to yourself. 

It’s the annual 4th of July barbecue that Joel and your father usually take turns hosting. The last few years, you saw no reason to attend and even stayed at campus a few times to avoid it. Though today, there is no reason to display some kind of independence on Independence Day; you desperately want to see him. Joel Miller. Nothing or no one can flood your brain quite like him. 

When you finally enter Miller’s home, everyone has already moved outside to the backyard. You allow your eyes to wander around the living room, trying to avoid looking at the family photos, one including your father, and then at the couch where you had been splayed out just before leaving for college again around Easter. 

You tear your eyes away from the living room. You can hear your mother say your name, suddenly remembering the beverages in your hands as she hurries you. The sliding door to the garden is open, and you can smell the barbecue smoke from outside. 

When you appear in the door only Joel looks up from what he is doing. 

Your name sounds like heaven coming from his mouth as he calls you over. Your legs have already started moving, guiding you towards him as if being led by pure instinct.

He wraps a lazy arm around you to hug you whilst still holding the barbecue tongs in his other hand. You can smell his cologne, the musky scent filling your nostrils and making warmth creep along your chest and down to the pit below your belly button. You haven’t seen him in a while, so it’s only natural that your body responds to him like this.

“I have missed you,” you whisper to him now that you are so close to him, watching his body stiffen for just a moment at the realization of what you are implying. He doesn’t respond though, instead just makes casual conversation like the kind you used to have before he decided to throw caution to the wind. It’s his own fault really.

“Didn’t know you were gonna be home, sweetheart,” he says a little too loudly as he finally pulls away, giving you a warning look. He turns his attention to the burgers again, flipping them over but reaching for his beer as he does it as if he needs something to occupy his mouth. It makes an image of his mouth on your cunt pop up in your head. He drinks slowly from the bottle, lips pursed slightly as he swallows and you watch his throat bob as it goes down. 

“No, I needed a few days home from college, missed everyone too much,” you admit, settling the six-pack of beer onto the table where your mother has also placed the homemade coleslaw, “What better time than now since we’re all together? Knew you were gonna host the barbecue party, though I don’t see the pink inflatable dipping pool anywhere?”

“You and Sarah aren’t kids anymore,” he says with a little laugh, not noticing the verbal trap that he has just walked into.

“No, I for sure aren’t,” you pause very briefly, looking from side to side to see if anyone is within earshot. No one is, “But you know this, Daddy.”

You lick your lips, sending him a wink and leaving him choking on a mouthful of his drink. 

*

It feels as though your pulse won’t go down again after that. Even as you talk to your parents and Sarah during the last preparations for dinner, your heart drums uncontrollably in your chest and it’s making you an adrenaline junkie. You just want to shock him again and again and make his life miserable until his only option is to give in to your demand for attention. 

When the lot of you finally sit down to eat, you choose to sit down next to Joel opposite your parents. He acts like it doesn’t matter, but you quickly notice his hand curling around the armrest of his chair, holding onto it for dear life. 

The conversation flows naturally between the lot of you but you’re barely registering where the conversation is coming and going, not caring about work or school or whatever movie is playing on the big screen. 

College rarely offers anything as good as the food you get at home, and with the mission in the back of your head, you moan softly when you finally eat, “Fuck, Mom, this is so good.”

Joel’s hand twitches at the swear word, nearly dropping his fork onto the plate and your mother asks him if he is okay. It’s not that you aren’t allowed to be foul-mouthed, but given the nickname you’ve thrown his way earlier, the swearing is definitely a nudge at him and his stupid rules.

“That’s actually made by Miller,” your father adds, pointing to your food with his own fork, “Good to know you can feed the girl if she’s ever in need.”

Joel forces out a laugh, reaching for his beer to avoid replying to the double entendre of that comment. 

You lean over your armrest to rest your head on Joel’s shoulder, hearing the deep breath that he sucks in as you touch him. He powers through like a champ, confident after a sip of his drink, smiles, albeit strained, down at you as you give him an innocent look, “I’ll give your old man the recipe, kiddo.”

“Look at you two gettin’ along,” your father muses. If he only knew that you had your hand underneath the table, resting on Joel’s inner thigh.

The rest of the meal stays like this. You push boundaries, Joel gets semi-hard at your stroking up and down his crotch and your parents are oblivious. 

*

The house goes quiet as fireworks start outside. You stay inside with Joel, making up an excuse about wanting to offer your help with clearing the table and doing the big pile of dishes that won’t fit in the dishwasher. Your mother compliments you with a kiss on your forehead for being such a great daughter, and you beg that she doesn’t hear Joel’s scoff under his breath.

You are standing side by side now but no one is saying anything. The both of you are only listening to the sound of water running and the clink of plates being stacked in the cupboard in front of you, working together in some sort of fucked up symbiosis of two people that shouldn’t be allowed in the same room these days.  

There’s a tension. It doesn’t get any better as the minutes go by, even less so when you stretch your body to reach past Joel as you wipe down the counter with a damp cloth.

Suddenly, Joel’s large hand grips the back of your neck. He manhandles you without remorse, ignoring the gasp of shock that you let out, and shoves your upper body down over the clean kitchen counter. His voice is low, annoyed, and aroused, “You. You are a very dangerous young lady.”

“Joel—“

“No, shut up, I don’t think you have earned the right to explain yourself,” he actually sounds angry too. Your stomach drops and you avoid his gaze, but it doesn’t outweigh the tug below your belly button that’s causing slick to dampen your panties. Him scolding you shouldn’t be having an effect but here you are.

“Fuck, I should spank you for being such a dirty girl all evening,” he growls, shaking you a little with his hand still so tightly cupping the back of your head. 

You whine, nodding your head carefully.

The realization that this is something you want seems to hit Joel like a train, because the groan he lets out is primal, “Yeah? That’s what the princess wants?” 

You say nothing because you know he’ll tell you off for not having permission to speak right now. There’s a dark chuckle behind you, “Let’s see if I can smack the stupid brat out of you.”

One of Joel’s rough hands bunches up the fabric of your dress’ skirt. He pulls it up over your ass and tuts at the incredibly small piece of fabric that you dare call your underwear. They’re covering not much else than your pussy. You’ll deny it if he asks if you have worn them for him. 

“Slut,” he mumbles when he hooks his finger into them and pulls them down. The fabric stretches around your skin, nips at your skin when he settles them halfway down your thighs. His knuckle grazes along your cunt on the way, and he makes a low guttural sound when he sees the slight shine on his skin afterward. 

“Someone could walk in, Daddy,” you say then gasp; the nickname earns you a quick slap to your behind, not quite stinging but hurting from the surprise of it. 

“There’s that name again. You really kiss your mother with that filthy mouth? Someone walking in should be the least of your concerns, sweetheart,” he grabs the curve of your ass, obscenely shaking your jiggly flesh with his hand. His thumb goes inwards after, pressing one of your cheeks outwards to spread you open. He ogles you, admiring the shine along your slit, “You got some nerve looking so delicious when I don’t have time to stuff you with my dick.”

It feels intense already and he hasn’t even smacked you yet, but the anticipation of having his hand resting on the plump flesh of your behind and not knowing when he’ll give you the first blow is exciting beyond what you could ever have imagined. 

“Please,” you beg as your cunt throbs and you stick out your ass for him. You want this, you deserve this. 

“Quiet or I won’t stop until your ass matches your pretty lipstick,” he warns firmly. He looks up as the fireworks grow louder outside, the celebration is reaching its peak and it gives the two of you both a limited amount of time and the noise level to begin. 

Joel’s palm falls heavily against your ass once and you jerk forward, the sound of his skin against your skin bouncing off the kitchen walls. You breathe through it, and he rubs the spot soothingly before repeating the move and hitting the same spot. 

Another smack spreads a painful sting across your ass. You try to stay strong, only whimpering softly to make as little noise as possible, but it seems to give Joel the idea that he isn’t going hard enough. 

He is brutal during the next slaps. By the seventh one, you are sure that a blush has formed on your bouncy flesh. Your eyes have started to pinch with tears and a single one spills down your cheek and onto the kitchen table. 

“You had enough? We’re only at seven, baby girl,” he sounds like a disappointed father. You look over your shoulder to see him flexing his fingers, but when he catches your eyes, his disapproval reaches his eyes as well. He carelessly swats your behind again and another of your tears escapes, “Eyes front.”

You force yourself to look at the kitchen counter again, heart beating like a trapped animal in your chest as your body tries to figure out how to make the pain stop. Joel scrapes his fingernails across the handprint he has created on your ass, and you jolt with a proper cry now.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

You let out a tearless sob as he scratches and then soothes your skin. You have no idea how to feel, but you know that you want to beg him for something, whether it be begging for more, begging for cock or just begging for release, “Joel, I’m sorry. I w-won’t do it again.”

“Goddamn right ya ain’t gonna do it again,” he clicks his tongue. He steps closer to you to let you feel how hard he is, the bulge in his jeans against the side of your body, “Playin’ a smartass in front of your daddy. Imagine if we both had acted on that damn name.” 

You giggle at that, but it isn’t a reaction that Joel seems to like. The hand on the back of your neck squeezes firmly, thumb and index finger pressing into your windpipe, not enough to cut the air off but enough to make you stop giggling. He snaps at you, southern twang like honey despite how angry he sounds. He spanks your ass again, ripples of pain shooting out from the place of impact, “Ain’t funny. Apologize again.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say with big wet eyes. The grip on your neck disappears altogether, and you’re aware that it’s because you sound so small that he knows you aren’t going to move if he lets go. 

“Good girl,” he praises you for not running off and decides that enough is enough, “Ya ever done that before?” 

“No.”

“And you took it so well? Knew I had someone special on my hands. You’re amazing, sweetheart,” he continues. 

Warmth settles in your chest, heartbeat slowly going down as his soothing words wash over you. A part of you wants to giggle and kick your feet.

Behind you, you feel him crouch down with a grunt (bad knees) to kiss the angry red spots he has made, swatting you gently after. He uses both hands to spread your asscheeks apart, admiring your dripping cunt, “All this just from me being a lil’ rough and giving you my special treatment? You’re dripping wet.”

“Can I come?” You dare ask.

“If you ask for it, use the magic word.”

“Please, Daddy, give it to me.”

“Of course, baby girl,” he pulls his hands back and stretches to his full height again. Two fingers enter you not long after, and a groan erupts from your mouth. He draws them back before shoving them inside of you, meeting little to no resistance from how turned on you are. 

“F—“

“No swearing.”

You pant at his touch, taking whatever he wants to give you. The pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, putting on the slightest of pressure on the sensitive nub as the digit swoops from side to side. Meanwhile, he fucks you open with his fingers, “That what you like?” 

You moan desperately and nod, feeling his fingers push down at your g-spot and then curl inside of you. It makes you shiver, wet squelching sounding obscene in the quiet house. 

Your orgasm builds quickly, Joel’s work at your body speeding up as he chases your high. He gets more aggressive, but it only tightens the feeling in your stomach. Combined with him working at your clit, you come with a noise that can only be described as pathetic. 

“Daddy,” you mewl softly when he pulls his fingers back out of you. You can still feel your heartbeat jump in your cunt, and you rest your forehead against the cool surface of the counter. 

“Stand still,” he warns as you eventually try to get up, “Don’t move.”

You can hear the sound of Joel’s belt coming undone, then the button and the zipper afterward. You tense up, “What are you doing? They’ll come back soon.”

“I’m not fucking you,” he says before letting out a soft sound. You can hear him jerk himself off in earnest with the remainder of your slick on his fingers, ignoring the need for a pleasurable buildup. 

It feels dirty when he nudges your cunt with the head of his cock, not pushing into you despite how much you’d like that. He comes with a swear under his breath followed by a grunt, spurting white ropes across your folds. Some drip down into your gaping cunt, some onto the floor. You’re beet red. 

Then there’s the shuffling of Joel tucking himself away again. He goes to get the paper towels, handing you a few pieces to clean yourself off and crouching down to wipe the droplets off the floor. 

The silence is deafening as the two of you are left with thoughts of what you have just done. Joel was right, teasing him like that in front of your family isn’t a good idea. 

There’s sudden laughter outside the front door, footsteps too, and you scramble to throw out the paper towel and pull up your underwear.

“Better think of me when you sit in the backseat of your daddy’s car on your way home,” he says when you finally pull down your dress again. 

Fuck.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 03

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER TAGS/WARNINGS: THE JEJU TRIP BEGINS!, JK is clueless and a little bit annoying, jimin and taehyung are meddlers, seokjin wishes he was fishing, yoongi is a bitch as per usual, aqua uses ANOTHER arctic monkeys song as a plot device, A BIG REVEAL OF SORTS!, idk a lot of stuff happens in this chapter, the exposition is expositioning (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 7.4k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi everyone! happy belated taehyung day and happy new year! writing this chapter kicked my ass. it sat at 1k-ish words for almost the ENTIRE month until i miraculously busted out the final 6.4k in less than 48 hours. but it’s hereeeeee! a big thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading and mj @kkaetnipjeon for answering my many, many questions about jeju <3

P.S. the jeju house in this is modeled after an airbnb i found online (with a few alterations to fit my perception of yoongi’s taste) so if my description isn’t enough for you to picture it, here is the link to the house i modeled it after!

P.P.S. i finally got my taglist sorted out! if your username is missing at this point, it means i straight up don’t have it. comment and/or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!

CH. 03: WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

Jeju is a big change of pace for you.

You spend your days in Seoul with little reason to step outside of city limits. It’s so big, offering anything and everything you could possibly need. When you do happen to travel, it’s always for work, and always to some other booming metropolis. It’s difficult to recall the last time you’d been surrounded by such lush greenery as opposed to the impenetrable walls of slate grey you’ve grown accustomed to.

It feels like a miracle that your manager, Seoyeon, was able to swing this for you, even if there are a few strings. You’re still technically working—you always are, whether it’s through the brand of clothes you’re seen wearing or the model of car you’re seen leaving the airport in. A walking advertisement. But still, she’s managed to finesse things so you don’t have any shoots lined up for the next few weeks.

You don’t think you’ve been to Jeju since your last trip with Seokjin, the summer after you graduated high school. A trip that Seokjin spent fishing and you spent sunning. And the two of you, funded by the money Seokjin had saved up during his second year of college, certainly weren’t staying in a place like this.

Yoongi’s house in Seogwipo is far from what you imagined.

It’s huge, but you knew to expect that, at least. Two floors, four bedrooms, three bathrooms. More than enough space to accommodate a rock band and their instruments (and their egos), which is why it was purchased in the first place.

But given what you know about Yoongi, and the fact that the band only comes here when they need to write an album, you weren’t expecting it to be so… homey.

The walls are painted a soft sage green. Dark wooden furnishings, splashes of charcoal grey and cream. A screened-in patio on the first floor that leads to a gorgeous garden with a wooden (and from the looks of it, hand-built) free standing swing. A terrace on the second floor with a beautiful view of the surrounding beach village.

There are fucking houseplants all over the place, thriving in the natural light the many windows offer. It looks like somebody lives here, even though you’d bet your left tit that Yoongi doesn’t. 

It doesn’t look to his taste, or at least what you’d imagine his taste to be. Dark and minimalistic, rather than dark and cozy. Cold, clinical. Yoongi’s apartment is probably as inviting as a hotel suite.

Maybe Yoongi owns it, but Namjoon maintains it. That’d make sense.

You think about asking, just to satisfy your own curiosity, but as everyone disperses to drop their bags, you decide it’s not worth it. Namjoon is preoccupied with his managerial duties, unloading equipment and instruments from the car, and nothing good seems to ever come out of talking to Yoongi anyway.

Jeongguk, ever the gentleman, wrenches your bags from your hands before you even get a chance to figure out which room you’ll be staying in. Hefting the strap of a duffel bag over his shoulder, extra large rolling suitcases in each hand, he carries everything up the stairs with alarming ease, leaving you no choice but to follow. He has your bags, after all.

You follow him silently into a bedroom on the second floor. It’s only when he tosses all of the bags onto the bed that you realize, with shocking clarity, that you and Jeongguk are expected to share a room.

This room. Which only has one bed. Because happy couples sleep in the same bed.

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks, the sound of his voice effectively tearing your eyes away from the mattress-shaped elephant in the room.

You really need to get better at keeping control of your facial features, instead of looking like you’re going to be sick at every perceived complication.

“Is, um,” you start, pointing at the bed. “Are we…?”

Realization crosses over Jeongguk’s face as his gaze follows the direction of your finger.

“Oh, fuck,” he huffs, big boba eyes widening. “I didn’t really think about it, to be honest with you.”

Well, that’s not very reassuring.

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, even though you’re feeling very much the opposite. 

Being on this trip is bad enough. You already feel like you’re intruding on something you’ll never really be a part of, despite all of Jeongguk’s insistence that you being in Jeju with him will do wonders for your story’s credibility. But the idea of sharing a bed with him is just… It’s too much. It’s too real.

Somewhere in a hospital back in Seoul, Seokjin is laughing at your expense. You can sense it.

“It’s fine,” Jeongguk says, waving his hand dismissively. 

“Jeongguk,” you huff. You don’t want to be a bitch, but you can’t help but get frustrated—on behalf of yourself and his girlfriend, who you’re allegedly doing all of this bullshit for in the first place. He’s been here, has lived in this house for weeks on end as long as they’ve been writing albums here. He should’ve known this would be a problem. 

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like it very much if she knew we’d be sharing a bed while we’re here.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he says, apparently oblivious to the irritation that’s starting to come off of you in waves. “I’m sure there’s a couch I can move in here or something.”

“Okay,” you say stiffly. You’re unconvinced, but if he wants to figure out how to move a couch in here unnoticed, that’s up to him.

“Seriously,” Jeongguk insists, squeezing your shoulder in reassurance. “I’ll take care of it. Come on, let’s go back downstairs.”

“You go ahead,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m gonna unpack a little before I head down.” 

Jeongguk shrugs, leaving the room without fighting you on it. Thank god, too. You need a few minutes to decompress before you willingly head back into the belly of the beast.

Shit, this was a bad idea. This was all a bad idea, and you just keep going along with it because you’re incapable of saying ‘no’ where Jeon Jeongguk is concerned. 

Meeting the band after their last concert was one thing. A necessary evil, in order to sell all of this. Even hijacking their tour wrap dinner wasn’t that big of a deal—it certainly felt good to put Yoongi in his place, you have no problem admitting that.

But this? Sharing a house with the other members who all think you’re someone you’re not, just for some airport pictures? A few Instagram posts? It feels like you’re both taking things too far.

And then there’s Yoongi. 

Yoongi, who hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since the plane took off from Incheon. You didn’t think so many questions could be answered with hums and grunts, but you’re almost impressed by how wrong he’s proven you. It’s all in the inflection, it seems.

He’s pissed. Whether it’s still about the dinner, or just the fact that you’re here at all, you don’t know. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to piss him off further, just on principle. But being in such close quarters like this…. All a pissed Yoongi is going to do is cause more problems for you.

You’re deliberating on whether or not proposing a truce would be worth it when you finally leave the bedroom, heading towards the stairs. 

Everyone seems to be doing their own part in setting up for the trip. Namjoon and Jeongguk are outside clearing out what remains in the car, visible through the glass of the front door. Taehyung is pacing around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets and recording his findings in the notes app of his phone. And…

Speak of the devil. Yoongi is helping Jimin set up his drum kit in the middle of the living room, right smack in front of your face as you reach the foot of the staircase.

Since you’ve been upstairs, he’s shed the stupid black puffy coat he was wearing at the airport. The sweater that was underneath too, it seems, leaving him down to a long-sleeved white thermal. 

It makes sense–-Jeju is more temperate than Seoul, and the heat is blasting in the house anyway.

He’s sprawled out on the floor, on his back as he attaches the legs to the kick drum while Jimin deals with the toms. It’s not as if drum kit assembly is particularly interesting to you. You don’t know why you stop and look, but you do. 

Yoongi is always so buttoned up, both metaphorically and literally. Especially with the chill that’s been permeating Seoul for the past two months. Everyone’s been drowning in layers—except you, thanks to Hyerin. And it’s so, so stupid, but the hem of Yoongi’s shirt is bunched up just the slightest bit as he reaches for a screwdriver. It’s just the faintest hint of pale skin, right above the waistband of his jeans, but it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him. For some reason, you just can’t bring yourself to look away.

But then he adjusts and its gone, forcing you to snap out of whatever bizarre reverie you’ve found yourself in.

When you glance up, he’s staring right back at you. Your eyes zero in on his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, just a flash of the little silver barbell there before it’s gone again. His eyebrow raises in recognition, like he’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t.

…Are you doing something you shouldn’t?

“You’re doing that wrong,” you blurt, relief flooding you when he breaks first, his head swiveling to look over his handiwork with a furrowed brow. 

Your diversion gives you enough time to sneak away towards the kitchen. Yoongi’s muttered ‘what the fuck do you know’ reaches your heated ears as you pass by, but you have no choice but to let it go.

What the fuck. You really need to get laid if an inch of skin can make heat crawl up your neck like this. From Min Yoongi, no less.

★ ★ ★

Time spent hiding in the kitchen reveals the method to Taehyung’s cabinet-snooping madness: building a grocery list. 

Once your little freakout subsides, you’re fully briefed on the process, joining him in taking stock of what’s here and what isn’t. To your surprise, many of the shelf-friendly basics have been kept in full stock, leaving mostly perishables (meats, vegetables, and fruits) to be added to the list. After Taehyung’s phone is passed around for everyone’s additions, Namjoon and Yoongi roll out to go grocery shopping at a nearby market.

It isn’t lost on you that the pair are acting a bit strangely towards each other—and it can’t just be because of what went down at the dinner. Ever since you met the band at Incheon, they’ve given Yoongi a noticeably wide berth. But the maknaes still talked to him, despite the lackluster responses (grunts) they received in return.

Even Jeongguk has been interacting with Yoongi, and he was the one who drove him out of Yoojung Sikdang in the first place! You haven’t seen Namjoon look his way all day. He still isn’t, you note, as you watch their car retreat through the window.

Weird.

Not that you care, of course. Yoongi deserved what he got at that dinner, as far as you’re concerned. You don’t regret calling those reporters. You told Seokjin you wanted to make his life a living hell, and you’d meant it. 

But still, you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at you at the possibility that you’re playing the part of Yoko Ono. You’re sure Yoongi thinks so.

Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. Who gives a fuck? It’s not like you’re here for him. You’re here for Jeongguk. You just need to put him out of your mind, you decide.

You make your way through the house, intent on finding Jeongguk to help with whatever else needs to get done tonight, when you’re ambushed by two maknaes that are clearly up to no good.

“YN-ieeee,” Jimin sing-songs. There’s a mischievous look in his eye as he grabs you by the hand and pulls you towards the living room.

“Come sit with us,” Taehyung insists, plopping himself down on the couch and patting the space next to him.

“I was actually looking for Jeongguk,” you say, eyeing both of them. But you relent anyway, stiffly sitting down on the couch where they now flank you.

“He gets you all the time,” Jimin says. He smiles brightly, turning his body towards you and tilting his head as he studies you. “It’s our turn. We have a question for you.”

Oh, you do not like this one bit. 

“A question?”

“A question,” Taehyung repeats, nodding.

“Okay, um,” you start, unsure of which one of them to look at. You settle on Taehyung, because he’s far less menacing. “Go ahead?”

“What’s going on with you and Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin asks.

Fuck. So much for putting him out of your mind.

It’s a fair question, but still, your head turns so fast in Jimin’s direction that you swear you hear a crack in your neck.

“Wh-what? What do you mean?”

“The animosity,” Jimin purrs. He’s still grinning at you, all charming teeth and deceptively cute mochi cheeks. “You both just met, right? Where’d that come from?”

This is a nightmare.

It’s not like you can tell them the truth, as much as you may want to. Until you can figure out exactly what it is Yoongi claims to know about you, he pretty much has you backed into a corner. Plus, you’ll be living with him for at least a few weeks. You’re not against ruining his time here in small, inconsequential ways, but this is decidedly not that.

You’ll keep the peace. For now.

“I think Yoongi-ssi and I just got off on the wrong foot,” you explain. It’s not a complete lie, to be fair. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him about what happened at Yoojung Sikdang…”

“That was ugly,” Taehyung says, wincing at the memory.

“Yeah,” Jimin agrees. “Does he really think the photographers were your fault?”

Yes, because they were.

“I guess so,” you sigh. “I don’t blame him, honestly. I would’ve thought the same if I were him. I feel really bad about the whole thing.”

“Don’t,” Taehyung says emphatically as he clasps one of your hands in his. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Taehyung since you’ve met him, it’s that he’s not very big on personal space. He’s so casual about it, though, that you’re finding you don’t mind all that much.

“We can talk to him if you want us to,” Jimin says. “Yoongi-hyung can be a real asshole when he puts his mind to it, and you don’t deserve that.”

“No! No, it’s fine,” you insist, trying not to panic. For whatever reason, Yoongi has kept his suspicions about you between the two of you. As far as you know, at least. You’d like to keep it that way. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Are you sure?” Jimin asks, eyeing you.

“I’m sure.”

Thankfully, they both seemingly let it go after that. When Jeongguk reappears, he joins the three of you on the couch and the conversation moves to safer topics, all of them excitedly chattering to you about what they plan to do while they’re in Jeju. 

Apparently, the four always make a point to visit a nearby citrus orchard when they come here. It sounds fun, and for the first time since Jeongguk invited you, you allow yourself to feel the slightest bit of excitement about this trip. You can’t help it. You fucking love tangerines. 

Namjoon and Yoongi return from the market an hour or so later. 

Namjoon enlists the help of the maknaes to help him haul bags of groceries inside, leaving you to hover awkwardly as Yoongi moves around the kitchen.

He and Namjoon must’ve talked or something. He looks much more at peace than he did when they left. At least, until he catches you staring.

“What?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his eyes at you as he procures a cutting board from a cabinet.

“Just wondering if you need any help,” you say, a practiced, saccharine smile on your face.

“From you?” he scoffs. “I’m good.”

“At least I offered.”

“You’re a regular Mother Teresa.”

You roll your eyes as you watch him pull what he needs from the knifeblock, silently praying he cuts one of his precious guitar-playing fingers off. But your intent to voice that hope is thwarted by Namjoon and the rest of the members ambling back inside, arms full of grocery bags.

Yoongi clearly doesn’t want you lingering, so after you help clear off the counter, you make yourself scarce until dinner is done.

You busy yourself with texting Seokjin with an update on how things are going. You know he’s probably at work, so you try to keep it as succinct as possible despite everything that’s happened since you’ve arrived—Yoongi’s icy behavior, the confusion surrounding your sleeping arrangement, the (resolved?) tension between Namjoon and Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung’s interrogation.

And then, because you want him to at least envy you a little bit, you send him pictures of the house—and then brag about your proximity to fish.

You: we’re like a 5 min walk from a fishing port too lol

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes, and you can’t help your snort at his response. It’s a selca of him pouting in his scrubs, covered in stickers of an agonized Mario.

SuckJin: I h8 u

You: <3

The rest of the night goes smoothly, all things considered. Yoongi’s maeun-tang is delicious, which is slightly annoying, but you’re not one to take good food for granted. Plus, the two of you are a lot more amicable during this dinner than the last one you shared together.

After dinner, everyone finishes setting up the equipment in the living room, which quickly turns into an impromptu jam session under the guise of testing the setup. It’s nice, being able to watch them play together without the pressure of a stage, of a crowd. They’re just fooling around, playing whatever sounds right, joking back and forth—and you get to witness it.

You’re just about to get out of their hair and head upstairs when Jeongguk gets up, intercepting you before you reach the staircase.

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting his head towards the patio. “Come outside with me?”

Wordlessly, you nod, confused as you follow him outside. Jeongguk guides you over to the swing you were admiring when you’d all arrived. You can’t help but notice how nervous he looks as you both sit, but you try not to assume the worst.

“I feel like you were kinda mad at me,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Earlier.”

About the bed? Yeah, kind of. But you didn’t realize you’d made it so obvious.

“It’s fine,” you insist, shaking your head. “I was more flustered than anything, honestly. I just don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“You won’t,” he huffs, smiling a little. “I moved a couch into our room while Yoongi and Namjoon-hyung were gone. Like I said I would.”

Oh. Well. Now you kind of feel like a bitch.

“I’ll take it,” you offer. “You’re the one who’s here for work, anyway. I’d feel bad if I didn’t—”

“No, I’ll take it,” Jeongguk says, ignoring your responding huff. “Come on, YN-ah. I’ll barely be working while we’re here, anyway. It always goes the same way: Yoongi-hyung pretends like he’s going to let us help, and then he writes the entire album by himself. The rest of us are basically on vacation.”

“Besides, you’re here as a favor to me,” he adds. “Let me take the couch.”

You want to protest, but once Jeon Jeongguk sets his mind to something, it’s pretty much impossible for anyone to stand in his way.

“Fine.”

“Speaking of Yoongi-hyung…”

You groan, leaning your head back against the support of the swing. Everyone wants to talk about Min fucking Yoongi today. “What about him?”

“Is he playing nice?”

“He’s barely spoken to me,” you mutter, turning your head to level Jeongguk with a look. “So yes, he’s playing very nice. For him.”

“What’s his deal with you?” he asks, curious. Isn’t that just the question of the day?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say. “Jeongguk, it’s fine. Seriously. He doesn’t like me, I don’t like him, but I’m dealing with it. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Jeongguk clearly disagrees, but he holds it in, which you’re thankful for. At least you can be more candid with him than you can with Jimin and Taehyung.

“Just let me know if that changes, okay?”

“I will,” you mumble.

“Let me know if anything changes,” he corrects, nudging your shoulder with his. “Like… If you don’t want to do this anymore. I know it’s a lot.”

“It is,” you agree, sighing. “But nothing’s changed, Guk. I’ve dealt with assholes before. Min Yoongi is nothing compared to the worst of them.” 

If only he could know just how much you mean that.

“I just wish you two could get along,” he says, fiddling with his lip ring nervously. “Yoongi-hyung is a good guy when you get to know him. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

You don’t know what to say to that, partially because you have a hard time believing it. You have absolutely zero evidence that Yoongi is a good guy, and you’re more likely to believe that they’ve all just known each other way too long. That Jeongguk is blinded by admiration for his hyung.

“I’m sorry,” you say, because it’s all you have to offer. “I wish we could get along, too.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, the swing rocking your bodies back and forth. But you can only take it for so long.

“I’m gonna head up. You coming?”

“No,” Jeongguk says, shaking his head as you stand up. “You go ahead. I’ll be in later.”

You feel bad for leaving him alone when he’s so clearly upset, but you know there’s nothing you can say or do to fix it. Just another thing outside of your control. They’re piling up, aren’t they?

You offer him a sympathetic smile, and then you head inside, leaving him with his thoughts.

★ ★ ★

You’re up bright and early the next morning, a full afternoon of Teams meetings ahead of you. Luckily it’s nothing too laborious—some planning for your schedule prior in light of the new year, calls that were scheduled long before you were invited to Jeju.

Jeongguk didn’t make it in before you fell asleep last night. You find that he’s already gone when you wake, too, blankets left in disarray on the couch he’s wedged into the corner of the room. 

Guiltily, you resign yourself to staying locked in the bedroom until you’re done with your work. It’s only right to give him time with his hyungs, something he obviously needs after your conversation last night. You’re happy to leave him be, if that’s what he needs.

You’d set your alarm with plenty of time to scroll aimlessly on your phone before you need to get up, so you do just that, reading through missed texts and Instagram notifications in a groggy haze. After, you wash your face and brush your teeth in the adjoining bathroom before setting your laptop up on the bed. 

Your calls go fine, although you’re bored to tears the whole time. You don’t know why Seoyeon even adds you to these things—it’s not like you have any control over your career. They might as well cut out the middleman and brief you on their decisions via email. But instead, you silently snack on a power bar you find stashed in your bag as your life for the next calendar year is mapped out for you, smiling and nodding when necessary.

As time passes, you lose track of how many faces have cycled through your screen. You stay glued to the same spot call after call, your stiffened legs pins and needles underneath you, and you only register how much time has passed when the bedroom door swings open. 

“Hey. You in a meeting?”

Your eyes snap up from your laptop to find Jeongguk poking his head into the bedroom. With a quick glance to your calendar, you realize you’ve just finished your last call of the day, and it’s not even two in the afternoon.

“No, I’m all done,” you say, shutting your laptop and waving him in. “What’s up?”

“Namjoon-hyung’s gotta go back to Seoul, so we’re taking him to the airport,” Jeongguk says, kicking the door closed behind him and sitting on the edge of the bed. “And then we’re gonna fuck around in Jeju City for a little bit. See the sights and all.”

“Oh, okay.”

Is this an invite, or…?

“Yoongi-hyung’s staying, though.”

Fuck. Nope, not an invite.

“Is he,” you hum, acting as unbothered as possible.

“We got some songs started today,” Jeongguk says, studying your expression for a moment. “The rest of us are burnt out, but he wants to keep going.”

“Well, do you want me to join you guys, or—”

“I want you to stay and talk to him.”

There it is.

“Jeongguk,” you huff, a protest on the tip of your tongue.

“YN, it’s worth a shot! Maybe if you two have a chance to talk you’ll find out you have more in common than you think.”

“I don’t think he’ll be happy if I interrupt his songwriting to have some kind of Kumbaya moment, Guk,” you sigh.

Jeongguk stands up from the bed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Can’t you at least try?” he says, his voice clipped as he paces. “Both of you are so fucking stubborn. Maybe you can bond over that.”

He’s one to talk about being stubborn, but whatever. You’ll let it slide, only because you feel so fucking guilty.

A long moment passes, and at your silence Jeongguk stops in his tracks to look at you expectantly. Fuck. Fuck this man and his stupid big brown eyes.

“I can’t promise you anything,” you finally say.

“Like I said, I just want you to try.”

He’s still tense, but at the hint of acquiescence from you, he softens. And that little bit of softness is enough for you to fully give.

“Fine,” you huff. You can already feel a migraine coming on.

“Thank you,” he beams, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, patting his back. Your heart flutters just the slightest bit because you’re a weak, weak woman. “Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

“I won’t!” he promises, pulling away with a bright grin. Hopes absolutely all the way up.

Goddammit. You hope Yoongi is feeling talkative today, because if not, you’re going to be the one crushing this poor guy’s dreams.

At this point, you’ll make him talk if you have to. Anything to keep that from happening.

“Go,” you say, nudging him towards the door. “I can’t talk to him until you guys leave.”

He clearly doesn’t need any more motivation than that, because then he’s out the door.

“You’re the best, YN!” he calls as he books it down the hallway, leaving you to flop back onto the bed with a groan.

Well. You’ve fucked yourself now.

***

You allow yourself the luxury of taking a shower before you head downstairs to face Yoongi. Maybe part of you is trying to prolong your peace, but you also haven’t felt clean since you got off the plane yesterday.

Still, you take your time, giving your hair a thorough wash and meticulously applying your skincare. By the time you dry off and exit the bathroom, a large cloud of steam follows you into the bedroom, still lingering in the air as you pull on some clean clothes.

What’s the right outfit to wear while you’re waving a white flag at your sworn enemy? Will a sweater and jeans cut it? You reason that you might as well be comfortable for this, settling on something soft and cashmere for the top—because you’re worth it!—and then pulling on a baggy pair of blue jeans.

Your socked feet finally pad down the stairs in search of the man himself, but you don’t have to look very far.

Yoongi sits cross-legged on the floor in the living room, his signature custom McCarty laid across his lap as he scribbles in the notebook in front of him, brow furrowed.

You know it’s not going to be easy to get him to talk, but you can’t help but feel annoyed when you sit down in front of him and he doesn’t even lift his head. Asshole.

“Yoongi,” you say, waving your hand in front of his face.

It doesn’t make him look at you, still scribbling away, but you at least get a grunt in return this time. You’ll take it.

“Don’t you think you should take a break?” you say. It’s obvious you’re fishing, but looking at him, it’s clear he needs one anyway. He looks exhausted. Did he even sleep? Or did he start working when everyone else called it a night? He’s not wearing the same clothes from last night, white thermal replaced with a black t-shirt and matching beanie, but that doesn’t mean he slept.

Not that you care. 

“No.”

Okay, you expected that. God forbid he make things easy for you.

You watch as he drops his pen, gaze still on his open notebook as he strums at the strings of his guitar, humming a half-baked melody under his breath.

“Why’d you pick Jeju?” you ask, satisfaction swelling when he glances up, meeting your eyes. But then it fizzles out when he looks away again.

The seconds tick by and he remains as tight-lipped as ever. Annoyed and antsy, you resort to filling the silence yourself, hoping you’ll get him to break if you just keep talking.

“I mean, it’s nice here, but you guys could write an album anywhere. There’s gotta be a reason you picked here, of all places.”

More silence. You want to give up—you could give up. You could easily tell Jeongguk you tried, and it wouldn’t necessarily be a lie. But you owe it to him to try harder.

Huffing, you reach out and close the notebook between your sitting bodies, earning a sharp glare from the man in front of you.

“C’mon, Yoongi,” you plead. “I’m really trying to get to know you here.”

With a long sigh, Yoongi looks up at the ceiling, his eyes rolling dramatically.

“Okay, fine,” he concedes. “If it’ll get you to shut the fuck up. What do you wanna know?”

Triumphantly, you ask about the house—if you’re going to be forced to make nice, you might as well ask questions you actually want to know the answers to. Who actually owns this house and why seems like as good a place to start as any.

“I own it,” Yoongi says. It seems like he’s going to try and leave it at that, but when you fix him with a withering stare, he continues with a sigh. “It used to be an Airbnb, but after our first stay I wanted it for myself. So once I had enough money from the first album, I negotiated with the owner. Bought it for a ridiculous price, but it’s mine.”

“It looks so well-maintained,” you offer, hoping he’ll continue if you resort to flattery. Plus, it’s true.

“I didn’t just buy it for us,” he says opening his notebook again. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he slides it out of your reach. “My family uses it sometimes, like a vacation home. When I was growing up, they always talked about taking family trips here during the summer, but money was too tight most of the time. Now they can come whenever they want.”

Oh. That’s… actually kind of sweet. Huh.

To your surprise, he entertains more of your questions without a fight. Where does his family live? (Daegu.) Does he have any siblings? (An older brother.) Is the swing outside really handbuilt? (Yes.) Who built it? (Yoongi did.)

His answers are succinct, but at the very least you’ve got him talking. As he continues to strum his guitar, you decide to push your luck and switch topics, hoping he’ll continue to play along.

“What are you working on?”

Yoongi grins, meeting your eyes again. “I’m writing a song for you.”

Uh oh. 

He’s fucking with you, right?

All kinds of alarms are going off in your head, but still, you can’t help yourself. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. Listen.”

Without missing a beat, Yoongi starts playing the chords he’s been half-heartedly strumming since you sat down, this time in earnest. And then, his gravelly voice fills your ears as he sings the lyrics he has written down in front of him.

Well, it's ever so funny 'Cause I don't think you're special, I don't think you're cool You're just probably alright But under these lights you look beautiful And I'm struggling, I can't see through your fake tan Yeah, and you know it for a fact that everybody's eating out of your hands

But what do you know? Oh, you know nothing Yeah, but I'll still take you home

What. The. Fuck.

Is this why he’s been entertaining you this whole time? Was it all just a set-up for the most insulting punchline you’ve ever heard in your life?

He doesn’t even bother to suppress his laughter when you snatch his notebook and throw it clear across the room.

“You are such an asshole!” you shout, surging forward to push roughly at his chest.

“Come on, dollface,” he says, shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. “It was funny.”

“The fuck it was,” you snap, scrambling to your feet. Fuck this. You can really say you’ve tried now, and you don’t think Jeongguk would blame you one bit for calling it quits after Yoongi’s little show.

You turn on your heel, ready to run upstairs and lock yourself in your room until the maknaes get home, when you feel a strong hand grab your elbow. You don’t know when Yoongi got up, but before you can react, you’re whirled around to face him with your back pressed against the banister.

“I knew you were boring, but I thought you’d at least have a sense of humor.”

“Fuck you,” you say through gritted teeth, jerking your elbow out of his grasp. He lets go easily, but for some reason, you don’t move. You don’t retreat up the stairs. Instead, you stand stock still as the both of you stare at each other, your chest rising and falling with your anger-fueled breaths.

Just like he had when he caught you staring yesterday, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you. A challenge.

“What’s your problem with me?” you manage, unsure of what to do with the way he’s staring you down. Why is he so close to you? Why can’t you bring yourself to move away?

“Stupid question. I’ve been pretty clear about that.”

“No, seriously,” you snap, jabbing your index finger into the center of his chest. “You said you know more about me than I think. What do you know?”

Silence. Nothing but a stupid, amused smirk plastered on his face. Of course. If he wants you to play a guessing game, you will. Not knowing exactly what he’s holding over your head is driving you insane, and you can’t do it anymore.

“Do you know about the photos?” you ask, your voice weak now.

Yoongi blinks at you, bewildered.

“Huh?”

You let out the breath that you were holding. Thank fuck. Thank fuck. Okay, he doesn’t know. Holy shit, you’ve never felt so relieved.

Shaking your head, you soldier on, despite your overwhelming urge to throw up. Your mind wanders to the lyrics he sang to you just a few moments ago. I'll still take you home. Instead of the power bar you ate earlier, a sudden bark of a laugh escapes your throat, visibly startling Yoongi.

“Do you want to fuck me or something? Is that what this is about?” It’s your turn to be amused now, especially when Yoongi sputters and turns bright pink right in front of your eyes. “You’re jealous that Jeongguk got to me first?”

“The fuck? Are you insane?”

“If that’s not it, what the hell is it, Yoongi? What could I have possibly done to make you hate me so much?”

Huffing, Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest. It’s clear that he’s torn about whether or not he should lay all of his cards on the table right now, but you’re not giving him much of a choice. You’re so wired that you might strangle him if he decides to bite his tongue.

Finally, he speaks.

“I just happen to be pretty good friends with Yoo Kihyun.”

Just like that, your hard-earned upper hand disappears and your stomach drops to your goddamn ass.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

There’s a name you haven’t heard in a while.

It’s satisfying, seeing you falter. 

In fact, it makes Yoongi feel all the more justified in the way he feels about you. He’d started to doubt himself after his phone call with Namjoon last week, but if just the sound of Kihyun’s name makes you look like you’re about to shit your pants, he must be on the right track.

“I… Oh,” you say, dumbstruck.

Yeah, Yoongi’s fucking caught your ass.

“Good enough explanation for you?” he asks, smug. Rightfully so, too, he thinks. 

But then you’re grabbing him by the wrist, glancing around like someone’s going to fucking overhear you or something. Like it’s not just the two of you here. 

“Come here,” you hiss as you drag him to the nearest bedroom, which just so happens to be his, slamming the door shut behind you.

Yoongi watches with amusement as you pace around the room, but his patience is wearing thin. He has shit to do.

“If you have more of your stupid fucking questions, just ask them,” he snaps. “You’re wasting my time.”

“What did Kihyun say about me?”

Ah. Wouldn’t you like to know?

But he’ll tell you, only because he’s feeling nice. You’ve put him in a good mood.

“Mostly that you were a shit girlfriend,” Yoongi says, smirking at you as he shrugs.

“I—”

“Felt bad for the guy, honestly. I’ve known him for years, you know, and he’s had plenty of girlfriends. He’s a good looking guy. But I’d never seen him so fucked up over a girl until he started dating you.”

“Yoongi…”

“And then one day, he calls me out of the blue, right? It wasn’t the first time he’d complained to me about you, and I figured I was in for more of the same,” he says, leaning back against the door as you perch at the end of his bed, wobbly. “But he said something pretty interesting, actually.”

“What?” you ask. Your voice is shaky. Yoongi grins.

“He told me he thought you were using him,” he says. “You barely talked to him, never took interest in anything he liked. Hardly spent time with him.” He pauses, before adding, “unless there were cameras involved. It’s a reasonable conclusion to draw, don’t you think?”

When you remain silent, Yoongi’s more than happy to continue.

“I tell him he shouldn’t have to take that shit, you know? It’s not fair. He’s a really good guy. So he tells me he’s going to invite you over, at least give you a chance to explain yourself before he dumps you. He didn’t want it to be a big thing, wanted to end things quietly.”

You whimper at that, your head in your hands now.

“Next thing I know, I’m seeing headline after headline,” he says, tilting his head at you. “And less than twenty four hours later, you’re at an award show, putting on this pitiful act for sympathy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say. Yoongi can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t think Kihyun was lying to me,” he says, matter-of-fact. “He’s not that type of guy. Everyone knows that. Admit it, you were using him. And now you’re doing the same thing to Jeongguk.”

When you look up, you have tears in your eyes. Yoongi’s gotta hand it to you, your acting is getting much better.

“I was a shit girlfriend,” you concede, sniffling. “But I wasn’t using Kihyun.”

Okay. He’ll bite.

“Why even bother dating him, then? You obviously didn’t like him that much.”

“I just—” you cut yourself off, taking a shaky breath. “He was nice. That’s hard to come by.”

“Too boring for you in the end, then?”

Yoongi expects you to snap at him, to get angry, but instead you let out a watery little laugh.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Hm. Okay. 

He’s not sure what to do with that.

“Look,” you say, wiping at your eyes as you stand up from his bed. “I don’t know how to convince you that you’re wrong about me, and I’m honestly sick of trying. You want to hate me? Fine. I hate you, too.”

At least they can agree on something, Yoongi thinks.

“But Jeongguk asked me to talk to you,” you add. “He’s hurting.”

God fucking dammit. Yeah, Yoongi noticed how fucked up Jeongguk looked when he finally came inside last night. Part of him was hoping that you two had gotten into it, that Jeongguk was about to buy you a one-way ticket back to Seoul.

But no. It was about him.

Fuck.

“Can’t we just pretend to get along? For his sake?” you ask. “Call a truce, at least as long as I’m here?”

Shit. You really care about him.

Yoongi’s still not convinced the relationship isn’t bullshit, but this doesn’t seem like acting. He thinks about what Namjoon said over the phone, about the idea of losing Jeongguk over something so stupid.

Pretending to get along with you while you’re in Jeju wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not if it means he gets to keep Jeongguk. He can always have a heart-to-heart with the kid after you fly home.

With a sigh, Yoongi relents. “Fine. But I still don’t fucking trust you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, holding out your hand for him to shake. Reluctantly, Yoongi takes it.

“Great,” he says, dropping your hand in an instant. “Can I go back to work now?”

“Do what you want,” you say, shoving past him to open his bedroom door. 

And then you’re gone.

★ ★ ★

Yoongi doesn’t see you for the rest of the day, but even as he works, you invade every single one of his thoughts. The songwriting streak he’d been on since last night comes to a grinding halt, leaving him with nothing to show for his day alone.

When the kids get back, rowdy and excited, Yoongi’s guitar is long forgotten as he lays across the couch. Lost in thought, he only lifts his head when Jeongguk makes a beeline straight for him.

“YN talked to you?” Jeongguk asks hopefully, and Yoongi’s heart clenches.

A truce.

Well, no better time than now to start.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up in what he hopes is a convincing smile. “Yeah, Guk-ah. We’re all good.”

Relief flashes over Jeongguk’s face, and for the first time since Yoojung Sikdang, Yoongi’s on the receiving end of one of his genuine, big grins. He feels bad lying to the kid, but it’s not like you’ve left him with much choice. And it feels good to be the recipient of one of those again.

Still, Yoongi can’t help but think about what you’d said earlier. 

Yoongi might’ve shown his hand, but in a way you did, too. The photos? What the fuck did you mean by that? Is there something out there that can point to your guilt, and all Yoongi has to do is go digging for it?

Not to mention your resigned agreement when he guessed Kihyun was too nice for you, too boring. Maybe he can’t use Kihyun against you like he thought he could, but the way you’d looked at Yoongi when he was setting up Jimin’s drums…

That he can use.

He’ll hold up his end of the truce, so long as you do the same. 

But you can’t blame him for wanting to know the truth.

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[ah-ga-seven]

Fucking Up the Sheets | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Fem!reader x Jung Jaehyun

Word count: 2.8k

Genre: smut, slice of life, teeny tiny bit of angst, fluff

Summary/Warnings: nsfw, established relationship, soft dom!jae, mentions of overstimulation, choking and squirting.

Never in your life did you imagine reaching this level of domestic in your relationship with Jaehyun this fast and so naturally. You’ve been together for 4 years now. Both of your social circles have basically melted together, and the only place where you lived separate lives was at work, especially since you started living together not long ago.  

Your friends always warned you that the first few months of living together was going to be tough. You’d have to re-figure each other out and get past the tiny differences you didn’t know about yet. Living together would be nothing like staying over at each other’s’ place or going on vacations for that matter.  Because now…you had a household to maintain. As a team.  

But to be honest…things worked pretty fine?  

The only problem is that Jaehyun only knows how to vacuum and do the dishes. He does all the other ‘manly’ stuff. Like taking out the trash, carrying the groceries in and fixing a lightbulb when needed. Though there weren't many bulbs to replace in a new home in the first place...  

“Babe, when I get back from work can you please change the bed sheets. I didn’t have time.” You were running late for work, giving him a desperate look as you stood in the hallway, ready to leave with your car keys and big ass water bottle in your hands.  

He didn’t look up from his phone, pursing his lips together to show his dimples as he nodded. A low hum escaped his lips, letting you know that he heard you.  

You stood still for a second, knowing him well enough to know he probably half-heard you. But for the purpose of avoiding a fight you decided to just trust him for once and not nag for not listening to you because you didn’t know for sure that he didn’t.  

You were just going to have to put your faith in him for once. And hopefully when you got back…he did the damn thing.  

Your job had it out for you today.  

You mixed up a deadline which meant you had to stay later than usual to be able to make it work and now that it was 8 pm. You were exhausted, dehydrated and tense.  

You tried to relax your shoulders and cancel out the dull ache in your lower back from sitting at your desk all day, but it was of no use. It looks like Jaehyun would have to massage yet another knot out of your shoulders tonight.

The thought of seeing him after such a long day made a smile creep up on your face unknowingly. Ah, yes. Home. It really is where the heart is.

“Babe?” you called out for him once you entered the house and walked straight into your living and kitchen area. He spotted you from the couch and got up to greet you. You had a rather exhausted pout on your face which made him chuckle at your cuteness when you opened your arms for him. He embraced you tightly, which made your eyes close in solace for a second. Jaehyun planted a kiss atop of your head and let go after his hands traveled to your waist. “I got takeout. I’ll heat some up for you while you shower, okay?” he sweetly suggests as he ghosted his thumb over your frown.

You nodded with a content smile, unknitting your eyebrows for the first time in a while. Your well-deserved weekend could finally start, and all you wanted to do after your diner was climb into your warm, clean bed to binge your favorite show together, but when you got out of the shower and into your bedroom, your smile faded.  

Jaehyun hadn’t made the bed yet, and just like that your good mood was spoiled.  

You kick yourself for not making sure he fully heard you this morning when you asked him to put on fresh sheets.

You were more fired up than usual given todays events and angrily started to remove the pillowcases one by one, making your way to the end of the bed with annoyed stomps to start unbuttoning the duvet cover and just as you were about to pull it off, the door creaked open.  

“Food is rea…dy.”  

You hadn’t looked at him yet but the little pause in his sentence was a dead giveaway for the fact that he knew you were angry. And that he KNEW he was supposed to do what you were doing right now.  

So, he did hear you this morning.  

You turn around giving him an exhausted glare. “I thought I asked you to do this.” you say throwing one of the pillowcases right at him.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, swiftly catching the cotton cover before it could hit him in the face. “I….yeah. True.” he admits pursing his lips together to show his dimples.

You just stare back at him at a loss for words. The least he could say is “I was going to” or a “Yes, sorry, I forgot, I’ll do it right now.” But he just gave you a corny ass smile as he leaned on the doorpost. Well at least he wasn’t trying to gaslight you…but why was he looking at you look that?  

You sigh in defeat, crossing your arms over your chest to seem more intimidating “Jaehyun, for fucks sake please just-” he interrupted you. “Baby where are your clothes?” he bit his lip as he gave you a look up and down and that’s when it struck you that you were only wearing your panties since you just got out of the shower.  

You guess you got distracted by your unmade bed before you could even think of putting something on.  

“I-” you look down at your bare chest and up at him again. “Jaehyun. Stop. I’m serious. Nothing about the way we run this household right now is 50/50.”  

“Hmm.” He wasn’t hearing you. His senses completely numbed by the raging hormones coursing through his veins as he looked at you through hooded eyes. He bit the inside of his cheek, his mouth watering at the sight of your erect nipples accompanied by the remaining droplets of water from your shower that remained on your neck and chest like glistening crystals. Even after all these years you still had the same effect on him.

He closed the distance between you two, brushing your hair back as his other fingertips ghosted from your neck to your chest, clamping on of your nipples between his middle and index finger. You jolted from the sensation, his cold hands sending shivers down your spine. “Sorry baby…” he mused, planting a quick kiss to your lips. “I have to get used to having you around like this all the time…” he stopped his sentence, looking down at you in awe as he feathered his fingers down your stomach. “I’ll be better, I promise.” He whispered in your ear before biting your earlobe ever so softly, and without warning his hand disappeared into your underwear.  

You immediately felt your whole body relax as you held onto his shoulders for leverage. You were dumbfounded by how easy it was for him to completely manipulate you like that. So you knew you had to put your foot down and…and uhm… -  by now you felt his fingers on your clit – What were you saying again?  

A breathy moan escaped your lips as you throw your head back in bliss. His digits slowly but steadily rubbing circles against your most sensitive bundle of nerves. “Jae-” you whined, unable to think straight anymore. “Hmm?” he mused, adding a bit more pressure now, making you buck your hips forwards in his hold. His other arm wrapped around your waist from behind to hold you in place for what he was about to do next as he moved your panties aside. Jaehyun then expertly coated his middle and index finger with his saliva, giving you a devilish look as he slowly inserted his fingers into you.  

You gasped at the stretch, but fully gave in by now just because it felt too good not to. You huffed, trying to find inner strength to voice something other than your incoherent moans.  

“L-lets argue later.” You guffawed, making him shake his head at you. He smirked contently, continuing his ministrations inside of you. “Let’s not argue at all baby.”

Fuck it. He was right.

You pulled him in for a deeper kiss as he finger-fucked you; making him moan into your mouth at your sudden eagerness. The bass in his voice made your body react to him by tightening around his fingers which made him smile against your lips. He was keeping his pumping rhythm while prying your lips open with his tongue to slowly suck on yours and by now you were sopping wet down there. You could hear it.

“Come here.” He mumbled, bending down to lift you off of the floor. You locked your ankles around his hips as he carried you to the bed. Jaehyun proceeded to let go of you playfully which made your back bounce on the matress. You giggled, watching him get rid of his shirt and sweatpants while biting your lip. You propped yourself up on your elbows to see, ghosting your fingers over his chiseled abs and his happy trail as he situated himself on top of you. He was teasingly grinding his clothed core onto yours to demonstrate how he’d fuck you with just a bit more patience. Your wetness had stained his grey sweatpants which made a string of slurs and praises roll from his lips. “Always so eager and ready for me.” he mused ghosting his thumb over your clit once again.

You lost patience and with no time to waste you pulled him in for a heated kiss again as your hands fought with the waistband of his boxers. He quickly stepped out of them once they were at his ankles, and opened up your legs as he pushed your knees up to your chest. His semi hardness rested against your thigh and the sight had your mouth watering. You wanted to pump him, but he playfully swatted your hand away. “Not until I say so,” he says sternly as he pumps his own length slowly while remaining eye contact.  

Oh? Ok sir. Period.  

“Why?” you pouted.  

He softened seeing your cute facial expression, making him kiss your inner thigh lovingly in response.  

“Cause I’m not done playing with you yet…” he was lost in thought as he roughly grabbed a handful of your breast, squeezing it hard and letting go just to slap it even harder. He was watching it bounce up and down in awe of your perfect figure, licking his lips with a lustful glare. You gasped, the stinging being a mere distraction as you watch Jaehyun eye you like a hungry animal. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?” he says squeezing both of your tits this time. You bashfully try to avoid his stare, but he grabbed your chin, making you look at him. “Eyes on me baby.” Fuck. You couldn’t help but obey given how hot he was right now. He moved down your body again, taking your panties off of you slowly just to dive into your folds with his face.  

It’s like he was starved as he ate your pussy, sensually curling, flicking and flattening his tongue against your folds and your clit in alternating motions. He had your eyes rolling back, as you grabbed fistfuls of his hair which he seemed to love, because you felt him smile against your nethers. The pleasure was making your body shock with every flick of his tongue, making you desperate for that real gush of release. “Shit. Jae, please let me cum, please, please, please!” you begged pathetically as you screwed your eyes shut. He hummed in response, but it went over your head since he never stopped his menacing dance around your clit. You kept begging as you rolled your hips against his face, making him fuck your entrance with his wet pointy tongue while his nose grazed over your clit ever so slightly. He noticed how tense you got as you tried to stop yourself from cumming just because you didn’t have his permission yet.

He eyed you as you tensed up, you were trying to move away from him but he held onto your forearms tightly, pulling you back down onto his face as he watched you slither underneath him. Now realizing what you were doing he stopped for a second, continuing to roll his thumb against your clit instead so he could speak without losing friction.

“You don’t have to ask today baby, it’s okay.” You nodded feverishly, your moans getting louder and louder as his mouth attached to your clit again. Sucking and flicking his tongue onto your clit directly this time and with a few more seconds he had your whole core shocking and trembling as you squirted all over him and the bed. “J-jae, oh my god, n-no!”  

Your waters coated his lips and face, making him lick his lips and wipe his chest as he pumped his length. A low chuckle escaped his lips seeing your fucked out state but with just seconds to recuperate and no warning he pushed his cock into you in one hard motion.  

You gasped loudly as all the air got knocked out of your lungs and continued to moan deliriously as he fucked you with long, deep strokes.  

“This pussy is mine.” he growled, making you nod feverishly. ‘Yours, daddy! Yours!” You shout.

He smirked contently at your words, and curled his hands around your thighs, pulling you closer so your knees would be at his sides before picking up the pace. Your slick was helping out with how pleasurable and effortless his thrusts were, but still you yearned for more.

You took his right hand off of your leg and mindlessly put it around your neck to show him you wanted to be choked without words, which had his eyes darken with lust even more. He smiled, leaning forward to sweetly kiss your forehead as he starting to tightly pinch the veins on both sides of your throat. He closed his eyes, relishing in how your core tightened around his dick almost instantaneously as a reaction to his actions. “Ahh…fuck baby…s-so tight..” It was getting harder for him to control his thrusts and moans already.  

You looked into his dark orbs as tears welled up in your own, cupping his face while nodding at him to make sure he knew to keep going. He slowed down, sensually fucking into you this time as you started to gasp for air and that’s when your second orgasm hit you unexpectedly. You cried out, feeling yourself squirt again as you came which had Jaehyun pull out of you and let go of your neck immediately just to cum on your tummy.  

“Fuck!” he was out of breath, his chest heaving up and down just like yours as you both gasped for air. His body was glistening with both his sweat and well, your squirt and you…you were just not on planet earth anymore.  

He leaned forward, pecking your neck, chin and lips before making you look at him. “Are you ok?”  

Jesus you were done for, but you gave him a nod and a thumbs up with all the strength you had left in you and rolled over to your side to close your legs and regulate your breathing.  

He chuckled lowly, giving you a second to breathe and collect yourself as he started to massage your thighs with soft pinches in hopes to release some of the ache. He knew he was hard on you, but he can’t help it. Something straight out animalistic awakens in him when the two of you are having sex. It was one of the things that kept your love life exciting even after 4 years of being together.

Jaehyun looked down at the sheets and himself, still high on dopamine and pride. His chest was wet, as were your thighs, and the sight was absolutely sinful. “You don’t squirt often but when you do….damn.” he mused in approval as he grabbed the nearest towel to pat himself dry.  You regained enough consciousness to realize what he was saying and looked down at him, yourself and the damn bed. “Oh my god. I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t apologize…it’s the hottest thing...ever.” he giggled cutely, making your heart swell at the sound. How is that the same man who just railed you into another universe?  

“I guess I can go back into that shower,” you mope.

“Yeah…let me join you.” He mumbled as he helped you up from the bed by pulling at your arm and that’s when you both felt the wet sheets.  

“…Aren’t you glad I didn’t make the bed now…otherwise it would’ve been all fucked up.” He says with a playful glint in his eyes, trying to hide the fact that the corners of his mouth were trying to curl up into a smile.  

You glared at him, pushing him away which made him laugh out loud as he stumbled a step back.  

“Oh, shut up.”  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you.” He kissed your temple with a smile. “I’ll do it while you have your dinner. Alright?” he beamed at you so adorably that you couldn’t help but give in and nodded. “I love you too.” you say before placing a chaste kiss to his lips. “But first, let’s get cleaned up ourselves,” you say pulling him into the bathroom with you.  

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