#okay so i turn 20 in two weeks

[retourpresdetoi]

vent and cw for talking about suicide/depression (im not suicidal anymore im okay i promise this is about the past)

[fingertipsmp3]

Today has been a productive day :)

[gurugirl]

Sex Tutor

Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.

A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!

Word Count: 10k

Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink

. . .

“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough

You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.

So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.

“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”

“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.

“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”

You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”

Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.

“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.

“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”

You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.

And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.

Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.

Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.

Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.

Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.

Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.

You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.

Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.

You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.

Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.

You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.

He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”

You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.

When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.

He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”

Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.

You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.

“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”

He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”

Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.

“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.

Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”

You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.

“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”

He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”

You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”

He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”

You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”

“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”

You nodded again.

Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”

“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well…” you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”

He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.

But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.

Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.

And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…

You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”

“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.

“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”

Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.

“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”

You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.

“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.

So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.

Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.

“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.

He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.

When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.

He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.

“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”

You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.

“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”

You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”

You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”

“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”

“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”

Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.

“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”

It made sense you guessed.

“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”

He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”

You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.

“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“

“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”

“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.

You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.

“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”

You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”

Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”

“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”

Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”

“Did it turn you on?”

Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”

Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”

You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”

“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”

“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”

It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.

“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”

Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”

You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.

“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”

“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”

“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”

It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.

He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”

You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.

 “So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”

You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”

Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.

For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.

“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”

He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.

You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.

Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.

Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.

“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”

You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”

Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“

“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”

“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”

Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.

The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.

Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”

“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”

You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.

Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”

You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”

You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.

You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”

You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”

“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”

You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.

You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.

He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.

He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.

“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”

He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”

You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.

The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.

“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”

You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”

Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”

You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”

“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.

After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.

Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”

You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”

Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”

Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.

When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”

The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.

The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.

And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.

Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.

It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).

The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.

He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.

When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.

Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.

“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.

“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.

Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”

You nodded.

“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.

He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”

Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.

You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.

“Fuck! Yes…”

You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.

You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”

You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”

He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.

You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.

When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.

And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.

But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.

Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.

He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”

You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…

You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.

“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.

A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.

Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.

“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”

Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.

And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.

Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.

The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.

“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”

Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.

When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”

He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.

You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.

You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.

He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.

When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.

You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”

But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.

When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.

“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”

He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.

He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.

The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.

Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.

You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.

“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.

You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.

If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.

He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.

“Did that all for me? Yeah?”

You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.

“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.

Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.

“Feel okay?”

You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”

“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.

You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”

You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.

“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”

There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.

Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.

You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.

When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.

“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”

He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”

“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“

He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.

You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”

“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”

PART 2

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[lucidfairies]

money [a.a]

pairing: ceo!abby x secretary!reader

synopsis: when you finally land the job of your dreams, you had no idea what your boss would be like. and damn, no idea you conjured could've done her justice.

warnings: top!abby, bottom!reader, age gap (reader is in her 20s, abby is in her early 40s), cunnilingus (r/a receiving), strap (r!receiving), praise + degradation, mommy kink, dirty talk, manhandling, pet names (sweetheart, sweet girl, angel, baby, whore, slut)

word count: 3.3k

it wasn't everyday that you landed a job with one of the most well known law firms in washington. for now you were just a secretary, someone to sit outside of an office and take calls, but your hope was to work your way up to one of their lawyers.

you had little prior experience with being a secretary, but it was just enough to get you this gig. the building was large, and the office you were to assist was on one of the highest floors, naturally where the head of the firm was.

you knew her, abby anderson. incredibly talented lawyer who even won over a supreme court case. though you hadn't met her in person, you were exhilarated to meet her. she was who you dreamed to be, especially by her age.

it wasn't until your third day, when abby was finally in the office, when you got a glimpse of what working here would actually look like. abby showed up in a well pressed black suit, armani logo drilling into your eyes like a laser, making you feel all that underdressed.

"do I know you?" she asked when you knocked gently on her office door and went in. she truly didn't mean to be rude - her son had been sick for three days and she was feeling it now - but you didn't know that. you automatically assumed she was an asshole, and that threw you off.

you cleared your throat, meeting her eyes and immediately shifting them again. she was intimidating, almost scary. "I'm y/n. I'm your new assistant." she looked you up and down, gaze still burning your skin, and the corner of her mouth turned up to a smirk.

"great. I take my coffee black, nothing in it. there will be a card on your desk that you can charge it to every morning. get yourself something. I expect you to leave before I do, as I stay late. by any chance, do you babysit?" your eyes found hers as you finally looked up.

"I mean, I can. I used to when-" she cut you off, uninterested in anything except the yes. you noted that for later.

"I might need you to pick up my son from school every couple weeks. not often, and certainly not until I've run a background check on you." she wasn't hardly looking at you now, eyes flipping between her papers and computer. "did I miss anything?"

"no ma'am," you said, standing up and instinctively wiping off your skirt, though there was nothing there. suddenly you were back at your desk, waiting for calls and bookings to come in while trying to make sense of that interaction.

the next day you arrived late, but in your defense, the line at the coffee place was long and traffic was even longer, and now you weren't even sure that the coffee was hot. abby was there when you gently knocked on her door, allowing your entry with a low 'come in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, there was really bad traffic and the line-"

"it's okay, sweet girl." your stomach flipped. yesterday, when your eyes knew nothing but the floor, you hadn't exactly taken in her appearance, but today. today.

today she was in a black turtleneck, sleeves right around the muscle in her arms that just made her look so, so good. her black slacks were tight at her hips with a belt, and they were hugging her legs so tight that you were sure the seam would rip.

her hair was pulled into a nice bun and she wore no makeup, not that she ever needed to. she had freckles, beautiful eyes. rings. she had rings, that she could put inside of you any day.

"I'll be on time tomorrow, miss." your gaze dropped again as you turned to leave her office. this was surely going to be nothing but torture for the following months.

two weeks later was the first time she asked you to stay late. you originally had plans, but the way your name dripped off of her tongue like honey made you immediately cancel them. she had asked you politely to pick up her son, and you even acquired her number from the ordeal.

dealing with kids was not your specialty, but abby's son was a delight. he talked all about his mom, some about his dad and it made you wonder if abby was single or not. she never wore a ring to your knowledge, not even on a necklace, and from your speculation she almost looked like a lesbian. maybe you were just dreaming about the end.

if you had taken your apartment and multiplied it by ten, it still wouldn't be half the size of abby's house. she truly did have money, if the armani suits and porsche didn't say that already.

an hour into your babysitting, which almost just felt like hanging out with a kid in a mansion, abby got home. she walked in, greeting you with the first real smile you had ever seen on her face. your brain malfunctioned when you gently placed her hand on your arm and pressed an innocent kiss onto your cheek.

you were blushing profusely, pupils blown, almost dizzy, all she did was kiss your cheek, a very normal way of greeting someone and you were fucked. abby didn't fail to see you run your fingers over the spot and look at them before quickly turning back towards the two of them.

abby lived for it. lived for the you drooled over everything she did, lived for the way that she was sure her fingers would look so, so good in your mouth... and she tried not to think about it. how could she, when her son was standing right next to her, trying to tell her about his day, and you. you just looked so innocent.

you were engulfed in her smell, the perfect balance of pine and amber and erotica. she smelled like five hundred dollar cologne right off the shelf of valentino. you wanted to smell like that, wanted to smell like that, wanted to wear her clothes and have everyone think that you were together.

"thanks for coming, sweetheart. I'll see you on monday." you looked at her with your brows knit, knowing you had work the following day, friday. "take the day off. you did something for me, and I'm repaying you. use my card and get something."

the amount of money she had to just throw around was so attractive to you. she was an independent woman who brought in millions every year and was letting some secretary she had known for three weeks let buy anything on a day off.

monday had arrived, and you had purchased nothing with abby's card, naturally. you weren't one to spend someone's money just because they had a lot of it, or because they told you to. she would've had to buy it for you to accept it, at that.

it was nearing eleven when abby called you into her office by your first name, instead of one of the many nicknames she always seems to use. "sit." she demanded as you stepped in, and you did so.

"is something wrong, ms. anderson?" she wasn't mad, but she was irritated. she told you to do something, told you to put yourself first and you didn't.

"I told you to treat yourself on friday," her gaze left her laptop and met your eyes. "why didn't you?" you blanked for a moment.

"I just.. I didn't feel right spending money that wasn't mine." she gave you a disapproving look, before getting up and coming around her desk to stand in front of you. in a matter of moments, one of her large hands was grabbing your jaw and forcing your head up to look at her.

she bent down slightly, lips grazing over yours, and you were sure she could feel how much your face heated up. "next time I tell you to do something, you're going to do it. understand, sweet girl?"

"I don't-" your pupils were blown and you were so desperate for her to press her lips just a bit closer, fill the gap and just let you have it.

"say 'yes abby'."

"y-yes abby." she let go of your face and went back to her desk, pretending to pay you little attention, but she was acutely aware of the way you pushed your thighs together and squirmed.

"you're dismissed. I expect to see a charge by the morning." you got up and hurried out, going straight to the bathroom. your face was burning up, and you could vaguely see an imprint from her hand.

you were meaninglessly circling the mall, trying to decide what to spend this newfound money on. obviously you wouldn't get something big and glamorous, no matter how much she seemingly wanted you to.

every time you walked, you seemed to pass victoria's secret. It seemed like it was calling you to buy something, and after that interaction with abby earlier, you decided that maybe you should treat yourself and went in.

you looked around for a while before finding a cute blue set, with embroidered, lacy flowers. it was nothing special, just transparent and high waisted, but it was speaking to you. suddenly you knew what you were wearing to work the next day.

- - -

you felt completely scandalous wearing a short little skirt over the lingerie in the morning, with a button down, where the first few buttons were unbuttoned. it was different from your usual dress pants and blouse, but it definitely did what you needed it to do.

work was as usual for the majority of the morning, and you were suddenly doubting why you wore what you did. there was no point, you were seriously delusional and seriously needed help. what kind of freak where's lingerie and completely inappropriate work clothes to work after one minor interaction with their boss?

that was until you got a simple email from ms. anderson herself, reading nothing but;

my office. now, please.

you cleared your throat, brushed out your hair slightly and adjusted your shirt before nonchalantly entering her office. you sat, observing the way she remained quiet for a moment before clearing her desk and turning her attention towards you.

“did you think I wouldn't realize?” she asked, cooly, with her eyebrows raised slightly. “I mean, props to you, you did as you were told. but I checked the card. I'm not the only one who can see the transactions on that card either, sweetheart.”

you were immediately red. who else could see them? “I didn't r-really think-”

“no, you didn't. I bet the men in my finances would love to see you dancing around in whatever you bought, wouldn't they, baby?” she was standing before you could think, hands resting on the handles of your chair. “why don't you show me, huh? I know you're wearing it.”

“I'm not- we can't do that here.” you looked around, though you knew no one would ever bother her and her office had no cameras. “we're at work, abigail.” there was a fast switch in her eyes, the way they went from cocky to wide, almost needy.

“fuck,” her head dropped into the crook of your neck before she ran her nose along your jaw. “say it again. please, baby.” her tone, the gentle pleading made any rational thoughts disappear from your mind. your hand wrapped around the collar of her button down and pulled her in gently.

“abigail,” you whispered, “I want this,” with that, her hands were everywhere, all at once. she was pulling you up, wrapping her large hands around your hips as she pulled you in for a harsh kiss. she was forcing you onto her desk, keeping her lips to yours as your bodies molded to each other.

she left your lips, finding a perfect spot on your neck and sucking. you gasped when you felt her hand undoing the buttons of your shirt and pulling it out of your skirt. you were grabbing her by her waist trying to pull her closer as she continued to mark up your neck and grab your tits.

when she finally pulled away from your neck, her eyes became wide looking at your lingerie clad tits. you slid your shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it, looking up at her as you began to unbutton hers. she didn't let you get very far before she was gently pushing you back until your back was against the cool wood of the desk.

she unclipped your bra and pulled it off, tongue immediately meeting your nipple. she bit it and you yelped, grabbing her shoulders. her large hand was messing with your other, tugging gently and kneading. "I love your tits so fucking much, baby.” she mumbled into your skin while she kissed down your stomach.

she left more hickies on your ribs, but you desperately needed her in one place. she was pulling your skirt down in seconds, pressing her tongue against you like it was nothing and watching you arch and moan. she was eating you out through your underwear for a minute, before you grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.

"take them off." she smirked, and her head tilted slightly to the side.

"who said you're in charge, sweet angel?" the nickname was new, but you fucking loved that she always called you sweet. you were something sweet to her, and that made your brain lag every time.

"abby please," you bucked into her, chasing friction. that's when you felt it; the large bulge in her slacks that you hadn't noticed earlier.

"feel that, baby? that's all for you." she pulled down your underwear slowly, tossing it in the pile of clothes. she spread your lips, watching slick connect and drip down your thighs. your face burned and you covered it, embarrassed. "uncover your face or I'll stop." you did as told.

she pulled a ponytail off her wrist and pulled her hair into a bun before pressing her tongue into your clit and licking a fat stripe. your head hit the desk with a thud, reveling at the feeling. she worked your clit, sucking it into her mouth and painting patterns with her tongue while she pressed a finger into entrance.

she used her free hand to hold you down by your stomach, since your squirming was messing her up. you whined when she added a second finger, not used to her thick fingers. "if you can't take my fingers, how am I supposed to fuck you with my strap?" you moaned at her words, loving the dirtiness of it.

she returned to your clit and you got loud when she curled her fingers up into the best spot, whimpering and groaning. she remembered the time when you pressed your fingers to your cheek in her house, and brought her unused hand to your mouth, tapping your chin lightly. "open your mouth and suck," she instructed, noticing your confused look.

you took two of her fingers in your mouth and sucked them, which shut you up. your stomach coiled, a warm feeling rushing between your legs before you could even mumble a word. it felt like you just kept coming, until she finally pulled away from your cunt.

"are you gonna give me another one, angel?" she was unclipped her belt while you caught your breath. "wanna fuck you all day." she pulled her pants and boxers down just barely enough to get her strap out. "flip over, ass up." you turned over, fucked out muscles aching.

she ran the tip of her strap between your folds, letting your wetness lube it up, then lined up with your hole. she pushed just the tip in, groaning at the way you took it so well and swallowed her in. "what if I just fucked you like this, huh?" you whined.

"please.. need more," you pushed your hips back slightly, trying to push her in further. she pulled out, simply pushing the tip back in.

"desperate fucking whore," she thrust in on the last word, bottoming out immediately. you whimpered, the strap stretching you far more than her fingers. "aw, baby, does that hurt?" she pulled out far and fucked into you again.

she started fucking you, deep and hard, until you were moaning and grabbing onto the desk, trying to stabilize yourself. one of her hands left your hips and grabbed your hair, wrapping it around her fist and tugging. "fuck.. abby- abs.. mommy,”

your eyes widened at the name, which came out unintentionally. she stopped momentarily before groaning and picking her pace back up rapidly. "call me that again." the tip of her strap kissed your cervix and bumped against your g-spot every time. her arm wrapped around your waist, flicking your clit.

"mommy.. m'gonna cum." you slurred, cock drunk and fucked out. she kept her pace, hardly changing anything except for the fact that she was louder now, finding the perfect angle to get the harness to hit her clit.

"just wait a second, my love,” you held it for as long as you could, but it became too much, and she was hitting just right. your mind went absolutely blank as your vision went white, a wave crashing over you as you came.

you could hear abby moaning, but you were still going, and unable to think of anything. “fuck baby, you make such a mess.” you relaxed your tense body and look over your shoulder at abby's soaked harness, pants, and desk.

“m’sorry.” she slowly pulled her strap out and unclipped it front her hips, letting you lay for another minute before she grabbed your hips and helped you flip over and sit up. “wanna make you cum, mommy.” you looked at her with doe eyes, watching her eyes darken.

“I already came, sweetheart. don't worry about me.” you brought your hand down to cup her cunt and she took in a sharp breath. you ground your palm against her clit and she groaned, shifting her stance from foot to foot.

you slid off the desk with wobbly legs and kneeled in front of her, pupils blown. “please mommy,” you ran your nails over her abs and under her boxer strap lightly, making her muscles tense.

“such a slut, aren't you? want mommy to fuck your face?” you nodded, pulling her boxers down to her ankles. her blonde bush matched her hair, and you noticed her happy trail that you hadn't earlier. “stick out your tongue, baby, be a good girl.”

you stuck your tongue out flat, not even getting a chance to lick before she was pressing her cunt to your mouth. she fucked herself on your face, gripping your hair tight and grinding fast. you gently pushed her against the desk, lifting one of her legs to your shoulder and leaving the other one down.

she must have loved the new angle, because she was moaning and grunting more than you had ever heard her. her clit was twitching and puffy, wet from your spit and her slick. she let out an involuntary whimper, and it was like music to your ears. “gonna c-cum on your f-fucking face, angel.”

her legs shook as she came, ans you spent the following moments licking all of it up. you pulled away and stood up, still shaky. she pulled her boxers and slacks up, moving towards the pile of clothes and handing you what was yours. “do you wanna get dinner tonight?” she stopped what she was doing to button up your shirt and zip your skirt.

“yeah, that's great.” she smiled, kissing you softly.

“you can go home if you want to clean up. I can take my own calls for a few minutes.” it was your turn to smile, grateful to get out of your uncomfortable, wet clothes.

“I'll see you tonight?” you asked, looking over your shoulder once you got to the door.

“pick you up at seven.”

a/n: part two? 🤭

tag list: @shewantstoknow @baumbii @zombholic

[productivefairy]

Your guide to waking up early.

So, you are struggling to wake up early or maybe just wanna try waking up early to improve productivity, health or to meditate? I got you.

Dont set your expectations too high. If you wake up at 10 am then the next day, you cant just wake up at 4am. Its okay to take things slow.

Set your alarm 30-15 mins earlier each day. For example on Monday you woke up at 9am then on tuesday set your alarm at 8:45 then so on. After a week you'll be waking up at 7am.

Take atleast 8 hours sleep atleast. I know you are busy but sleep is gonna help you have healthy body and mind.

Play your fav game or watch tiktok for 20 mins to keep you awake. And you can use app blockers to block those apps just after your allowed time. After a week or so you can change this thing with a novel or intresting book.

Now, we have talked about general tips and we will spilt the following into two sections THE NIGHT BEFORE and THE MORNING.

The Night Before:-

1. Switch off all your devices atleast 45-60 minutes before sleeping.

2. Restrict your caffeine intake for atleast 6 hours before bed.

3. Set your alarm somewhat faraway from you. (not that far that it's unable to wake u but not beside ur bed).

Also you can download one of those shuffling alarm apps.

4. ready your clothes and plan an exciting breakfast.

5. Make your bed before sleeping.

6. Follow a night self-care routine. It doesn't have to be magnificent just do ur skincare, write journal and meditate.

7. Manifest. or just repeat "I wake up early." "I love mornings". and don't forget to say thankyou for all u have.

The Morning:-

1. After switching off the alarm, Drink water first thing in morning. You can sleep with a water bottle too.

2. Play a game or read a book that keeps you awake. (but in a limit)

3.Stretch. You can do light cardio or pilates from YouTube on your bed.

4. Make bed. This is small yet so beautiful act of self-care to you.

5. Do your morning routine and turn off your phone in morning please.

And just take it easy. Don't be mad at yourself cause' you overslept a day. Enjoy the journey to the better version of yourself.

[blkkizzat]

❛ MY SHORTY ALWAYS ON SOME BULLSHIT LIKE CHICAGO ❜

PART 2

part of the 420 'We Be Burnin' series

⋙ MENU ITEM: PLUG!CHOSO x SORORITYBRAT!READER ⋙ PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 (completed)

⋙ product description (summary): okay so you finally realized how badly you fucked up. but is it too late? will choso even talk to you now? has he moved on for good or is it that you now have to worry about someone else moving onto him? ⋙ side effects (tw): more drama. more angst. teasing. jealousy. thirsting. mentions of sex and oral sex. intoxication with drug & alcohol use. sending nudes. y/n is still a brat. bitchy sorority sisters. party culture. ⋙ thc levels (wc): 8.2k of 22.1k ⋙ inventory notes (a/n): best viewed in dark mode. i appreciate y'all liking this sm hope you don't mind i split this up more, but the second part was getting too unruly in length lol

Plug!Choso who you thought forgetting about would be relatively easy. Overwhelmed with the sheer amount of new presidential duties, you had no shortage of various meetings to keep you occupied. Even so, Choso had a way of popping into your mind as the most routine things would remind you of him. 

You couldn’t go get a fresh set of nails without expecting to see his tinted blacked-out sedan parked outside waiting for you. Scrolling socials had also become annoying as you’d see a post and immediately want to send it to Choso— your sorority sisters would think you were gross if you sent them mukbang videos. You couldn’t even bake anything anymore, especially anything chocolate, without reminding yourself of how much Yuji hated nuts in his chocolate chip cookies. 

Or even now when you had been walking across campus with your sisters and chatting about the massive proposal plan of next year’s sorority activities. A daunting task on its own which you had to submit to your national chapter by the end of the month. In fact, there were a lot of tedious things you realized you’d now be responsible for as president. 

However, all of that flew out of your mind when a car sped by blasting a familiar rock song— one that Choso always played. 

Stopping in your tracks you whipped your head around but the music was coming from a completely different car. The disappointment in your chest felt like you were suffocating.

The song was the first one from Choso’s ‘stoner emo boy playlist’ that you’d actually admitted you liked so he made sure to play it whenever you came around. You didn’t think you were official enough to have a song, but it felt like you did when you’d heard it just now. 

Although what pained you more in the moment was the fact Choso hadn’t even bothered to text you since the day of the brunch. Your pride and guilt kept you from texting him initially but after the first week you caved and did what you once thought was unthinkable— texting a guy first. 

You’d thought he’d answer instantly, happy you’d finally forgiven him for nearly ruining your brunch and you did want to apologize for missing Yuji’s game. But when 20 minutes turned into an hour and an hour turned into the entire day you realized he was ignoring you.

Choso was a dealer. 

He always had his phone on him. In fact, Choso used to respond to you so fast you wondered if he’d always kept your messages up on his screen.

The seriousness hits home when more of your texts go unanswered as the days go by. 

You huffed. 

Two weeks had passed since you first reached out and apparently Choso was still giving you the cold shoulder. Unconsciously chewing on your manicured french tips, your intrusive thoughts paint the absolute worst scenarios. 

This was around the time of day he’d usually be on campus and you’d meet up in the empty garage. 

Would he be there now doing another deal? 

Or giving ‘discounts’ to another girl?

You shook your head. Choso wasn’t like that. 

You knew he wasn’t.

Then again he had stuffed your guts in less than 10 minutes of knowing each other.

But you were the exception right? Choso wouldn’t move on just like that, would he? 

Rejection wasn’t something you had dealt with often in your life or well, ever. 

You’d gotten everything you wanted since you were little whether it was something you worked for or something given to you. 

So what if you didn’t have Choso?

You should be content with life. 

You had everything you’d ever wanted right now. 

You were pretty, got damn near perfect grades and now had the title of sorority president for fuckssake! 

Meeting someone like Choso was never part of your plans and didn’t fit into them either, so you had never really considered what the both of you were to be anything long-term. 

Nor did you ever stop to consider what he thought of your relationship. 

You thought he’d lick his wounds for a few days and forgive you. However with each passing day the thought he might really be done with you sinks in more and more.

Regardless of the legion of frat guys who would jump at the chance to date you, the only guy you really wanted right now apparently wanted fuck all to do with you. 

Ok so maybe you deserve the silent treatment. 

A lot. 

You never been that big of a bitch to him before. But you really had panicked when he showed up out of the blue with your parents on the way! Also if he didn’t go and threaten the DJ like he did???

You sighed. 

No, even under more peaceful circumstances the end result was you weren’t going to leave to go to Yuji’s game. You couldn’t blame him for being furious with you as you knew how protective he was of his younger brother but you at least wish he’d hear you out.

Just for one last time and maybe you could make it up to Yuji too? 

Get him a nice gift for missing his little league game and bake him chocolate chip cookies—without the nuts. You wanted to hear him adorably ramble on which would always be accompanied by animated hand movements while he gave you the rundown. Yuji often roped in Choso as well, who would be all too happy to play whatever role or prop Yuji needed him for. 

Their identical grins, goofy and filled with joy never failed to put a smile on your face. A smile which came easy as there was never any demands put on you when you were with them. No pretending for the sake of appearances, no worrying about social standing and no expectations for favors. 

With them you were just you and they had accepted you.

But had you accepted them? 

Shit. 

Yeah you had fucked up big. 

You knew you needed to talk to Choso and if you weren’t all but certain Choso would slam the door in your face, you’d have half a mind to go pop up at his house. 

Although maybe if Yuji ans—

“—Like HELLO!? Earth to Prez!”

Your train of thought abruptly comes to an end when one of your sorority sisters—Brianna—rudely snaps their fingers in your face. 

Bitch. 

She’d been bitter ever since she’d lost the presidency to you. 

Elections were over so you didn't have to worry about staying on everyone's good side like you had been doing for the last 3 years of being super sweet and non confrontational. Even so, snatching up a fellow sister certainly wouldn’t make a good impression for a newly appointed president.

“What IS it Brie!?” 

Turning to face her you had no choice but to keep your cool.

“Don’t give me attitude! You’re the one not paying attention, space case.”  

Brianna huffed accusingly. 

“Yeah, Brie’s kinda right Prez, you’ve been a little bit distracted lately.” 

Another one of your sisters chimed in—immediately looking down when your eyes narrowed on her.

“Don't tell me the pressure is already getting to ‘Little Miss Legacy'? Or—”

Brianna flips her hair with a sly smile before continuing.

“—is it just that you miss your burnout stalker boy?” 

“E-Excuse me!?”

Extremely disarmed by the allegation, you were not expecting in a million years the very person you were thinking of to be brought up like this by Brianna of all people. 

“You know—you’ve been acting off since the brunch a few weeks ago and we used to be practically swimming in za—way more o’s than we paid for. You must have been doing something to get all that from that future convict and he must be pretty pissed with you if you haven’t been able to get anymore since.”

The rest of your sisters were gagged at the accusations Brianna was tossing your way as it was true that your supply had been dwindling. Their eyes darted between the two of you but mostly focused on you waiting for your response. 

You ignore them though as all your ire was on Brianna.

This whore had some fucking nerve speaking about Choso like that. 

The thought of knocking the smug look off Brianna’s face is almost too tempting —presidency be damned. 

Yet your own guilt stops you.

Too little, much too late for you to be standing up for Choso now the way you had dismissed him so harshly in front of Brianna and the rest of your sisters just a few weeks ago. You could only be mad at yourself, your own actions showed them how to treat Choso.

That didn’t mean you were going to let her get away with it without a proper lashing though. 

“Listen—Brie, Little Miss Legacy is busy juggling the presidency, a 3.8 gpa, volunteer work and planning every goddamn sorority event worth attending. As for you? Well I heard you’d been pretty busy these days juggling your creepy ass T.A. Noaya’s balls because you were going to fail Biology again for the third time—so do you really want to talk about pressure or whose fucking whom for what?”

Standing up for yourself wasn’t something you ever did in an effort to be likable and so Briana, as well as the rest of your sisters, were stunned into silence. 

Even if her fucking for grades had been no secret, it wasn’t something anyone talked about out loud and yet you’d gladly air her out again for insulting Choso.

“Urgh, whatever! Anyways while you were daydreaming we were planning Jeremy's birthday party on Saturday.”

You rolled your eyes at the inattention to some random frat guy’s bday being the reason for this whole confrontation.  

“Oookay and—?”

“—and we need you to get some more za from your stalk— er um, I mean your plug...” 

Brianna quickly corrects herself seeing your eyes flare.  

“Jermey wants a joint filled pinata and we don’t have nearly enough right now to roll all those joints.”

You suck your teeth in annoyance. 

Of course it all had to come back around to Choso.

“I’m not talking to him right now. We’ll find someone else.” 

Well it was half true, more like he wasn’t talking to you. 

You tried not to pout and completely give yourself away at how much it really was affecting you.

“Well start again, Prez! You know his stuff is the best!”

“We already promised everyone we’d have it!” 

“Please Prez!”

The rest of your sorority sisters chimed in.  

“Yeah Prez it shouldn’t be a problem. Send him an ass pic or something, I bet he would respond to that.” 

The rest of your sisters giggled in agreement. 

Little did they know you had already sent Choso nudes 8 days ago, which when you checked Snap last just 10 minutes ago he still hadn’t opened yet. 

You’d die before admitting that though.

“Fine. I’ll figure it out.” 

“Knew you would Prez!” 

Brianna tossed you a fake smile as she turned around and your sisters followed suit walking back towards the sorority house. The chatter now moves on to drink options as the previous conversation is instantly forgotten. 

You still flip the bitch off behind her back though before you catch up to join the conversation lest these dumb bitches skimp out on drinks for more decorations and have you all drinking Monarch vodka again—gross, much more so than a mukbang video.

Plug!Choso who later that night has you laying on your bed staring at your phone suspended over you, your finger hovering over the send button. 

What if he ignored you this time too? 

Worse—what if he had finally blocked you?

Well all your messages had gone through so far even though his read receipts were off. 

Choso hadn’t blocked you yet. 

Only two days had passed since you last texted him but scrolling through your history the wall of blue taking over the entire screen had you feeling vexed.

Hadn’t Choso punished you enough? 

Biting your lip in apprehension you hit send. 

You almost dropped your phone on your face. Sitting up in your bed you stare at his text incredulously as the sticker shock of Choso jacking up the price by $150 hits you.

You deserved that, you supposed. 

But fuck you knew you’d have to come up out of pocket yourself for the extra and you couldn’t admit to your sisters why the price had gone up so much again.

At least he was answering you though. 

You threw your phone across your bed. 

Well that went super. 

You’d hope you’d have the chance to talk about things while he was responding to you, maybe get him to video call you? You knew he still wouldn’t be thrilled with you but you didn’t expect his responses to be that short once he finally answered. 

Choso always over texted you if anything, sending paragraphs at times so these clipped messages were like tiny daggers pricking you with each one you received.  

You didn’t think you could handle him being mean to you like this for much longer. 

Getting a taste of your own medicine fucking sucked.

With a sigh you had decided to push it to the back of your mind. It was Tuesday and he wasn’t even coming until Friday.

That’s when you realized Choso implied he was coming to you. 

As in your sorority house. 

On Friday. 

The night of the Barbie’s Dreamhouse Kegger. 

Goddamnit.

Plug!Choso who shows up to your sorority house on Friday night just before midnight when the kegger is at its peak. Choso doesn’t give a single fuck this time around that he sticks out like a sore thumb with his dark tattered jeans, matching leather jacket, heavy eyeliner and metal piercings amongst all the colorful and peppy pastel attired party-goers. 

Choso waltzes right through the front door like he owns the place.

“Oh! It's you! Finally!” 

Flipping her hair behind her to show off her ample cleavage, your sorority sister Brianna bounces over to Choso who continues to look past her as his eyes scan the foyer.

To be honest he wasn’t even sure she was talking to him until she mentioned you.

“You’re the plug, right? Choso? Here for Prez, hmm?” 

Brianna appraised Choso with a flirty glance and a smile. 

“I’m Brianna, but everyone calls me Brie. She’s outside with her boys! I’ll take you there, kay?”

Her boys?

Brianna batts her eyes sweetly to complement her peppy demeanor. 

Choso simply nods, appearing unphased as Brianna grabs him by the arm of his jacket to lead him through the sea of people crowding the hall and out to the backyard. The very same backyard where you had rejected and humiliated him to save your own superficial social standing just a few weeks ago. 

Of course he hadn’t forgotten. 

Choso noted this time though the expansive yard had a completely different vibe from the pretentious scene he’d walked into before. The backyard was now filled with pink inflatable decorations and rose gold plastered party supplies, trading the expensive crystal for matching pink solo cups and decorative flower displays for shotskis. 

Yet Choso’s comparisons end once he finally spots you in the crowd. 

Playing beer pong with some frat fucks, carefree like you had zero concerns (or thoughts of him) in the world as you taunted your opponents. 

Choso’s eyes narrow when you—clad in a scandalously small pink sparkly tube top—brought a dainty manicured nail to your chest and seductively dragged it down your cleavage to tug at the hem of the fabric. The tops of your tits swell over the edge of the material provocatively as you tease the chance they might altogether spill out onto the table if you pulled any lower.

The plan worked and your opponents thoroughly distracted missed their shots much to your amused squeals and Choso’s growing irritation. His brow twitched as he noticed the rest of your outfit which barely provided any more coverage. 

The matching mini skirt you wore rested low enough on your curvy hips to show the very edges of your thong but high enough on your thighs that your cheeks were nearly peeking out just from the slight bend you took as you aimed to take your next shot. Your pink jeweled belly ring (that he’d bought you) and gem adorned nude fishnets lead down to chunky hot pink glitter pumps only calling more attention to your lower half as they were illuminated by the outdoor tiki lights.

Why were you dressed like such a slut and letting those greasy shitheads drool all over you? 

Your beer pong partner was clearly exaggerating his drunkenness for an excuse to feel you up as his hand rested dangerously close to the top of your ass as you took your next shot. 

Were you that clueless?

Choso’s jaw clenches as you allow yourself to be pulled in by the shoulder tits first into a celebratory hug after landing a cup off a bounce, thus removing two. The way you’d casually let those assholes gawk and grab at you when you wouldn’t even make eye contact with him in public pisses him off like none other and reminds him why he had decided to cut you off after all.

This time though Choso doesn’t march over, masking his resentment with nonchalance as he considers leaving altogether. 

Sure he needed the money—but it wouldn’t make or break him in the long run. 

Keeping the big picture in mind, Choso had Yuji to think of and he couldn’t afford to catch a case over your slutty ass if he actually gave into the urge to knock some random frat fucker’s teeth out.

Yet Choso switches his attention back to Brianna when she returns with a beer filled cup for him and her sheer top unbuttoned even lower. 

Oh? 

Choso grins. 

Plug!Choso who you finally notice standing near the back door of your sorority house next to—Brianna?!…urgh! 

Her obnoxious high-pitched laughter loudly cut through the music and party chatter to draw your attention over. 

What the hell was Choso even doing with her?! 

You grit your teeth as Choso takes the drink. You watch as he reclines against the house and cheers cups together. Brianna is twirling her hair innocently as she flirts with him, giggling like an idiot. 

One without an ounce of shame at that. 

You seethe as she clutches onto his bicep pulling herself closer and resting her tits on his arm when she pretends to momentarily lose her balance. 

Stupid cunt ass bitch. 

You know it's just to spite you too. 

Of course Brianna still didn’t know of the true nature of your relationship with Choso for certain but a backstabbing whore like her would try to fuck him solely off an inkling. 

If anything just so she could say your ‘stalker’ was now hers.

She was just using him! Did Choso not see that?! 

Your beer pong partner slides his arm around you to tell you it’s your turn again but you don’t even spare him a backwards glance as you shrug him off. Abandoning the game and ignoring his puzzled calls after you. 

Truthfully it doesn’t even register as you are on your warpath with Choso and Brianna in your sights, stomping directly towards them like you were on a mission. You were too, as far as you were concerned, determined to break that shit up expeditiously. 

Especially now as you see Brianna airdropping her contact info to Choso.

Stopping directly in front of them you’re far too tipsy to prevent your souring mood from spreading all over your face when they both seem to not notice you right away.  

You loudly clear your throat.

“AHEM!”

Staring at Choso expectantly your lip curls when it's Brianna who greets you first instead.

“Oh Prez, my B girly! We didn’t notice you there!” 

“Whatever, Brie.”

You sneer at her. 

Although Brianna only giggles again, feigning innocence and leaning into Choso a bit more. 

The whore was still touching up on him.

“I was just keeping Cho here company until we found you.”

Bullshit, they were searching fo– Hol’ the fuck up—CHO?! 

Did this whore just call him Cho?! 

That was your fucking nickname for him! Only you and Yuji were allowed to call him that!

Oh Brianna was just begging for that ass whooping, dying for it even. 

Swaying on your feet, your buzz only intensifies your anger and folding your arms in front of you serves two purposes at the moment: 

To keep your balance as you try to prevent your heels from sinking into the grass— but more importantly— because the urge to yank a bitch was escalating to the point your hands were now twitching. 

You had drank way too much in your nervousness waiting for Choso.  

You thought a quick round of beer pong would settle your anxieties as you’d been hanging out near the front door all day and night not knowing when he’d show up. However time had slipped away from you and one game had turned into three. 

You didn’t even really know the guys you were playing with, just some random freshman!

Of course once you finally let your guard down Choso would not only show up but be hanging out with your biggest opp!

But what really had you about to crack—Choso was taking his sweet time in acknowledging you as he appeared to be more concerned with checking Brianna’s contact info than speaking to you right in front of him. “Ight, got it.” 

Choso confirmed and slid his phone back into his jacket before pulling out a joint as he finally made eye contact with you.

THE FUCK!? HE ACTUALLY SAVED IT?! 

Plug!Choso who stares at you with a condescending smirk as his eyes twinkled with sadistic amusement before exhaling smoke towards the sky.

You bite your cheek to hold back your angry tears, you weren’t about to give Brianna the satisfaction. She could fuck right the hell off as far as you were concerned, only wanting to speak to Choso who was currently looking at you like you were the one interrupting something.

“W-Why didn't you text me you were here?! I would have come outside!” 

Your words fumble out of you drunkenly, not sounding one bit as smooth and unbothered as you hoped.

“For why tho? Don’t you have me silenced anyway, Prez?”

You stiffened. 

Even if he wasn’t silenced right now you couldn’t deny you had previously silenced him before the last few weeks of trying to get him to talk to you. 

“Yea figured—so thought it’d be best to come inside…”

Choso exhales smoke through his nose this time, leering down at you as he passes the joint to Brianna who eagerly takes it.

“You really think I’m still tryna wait for you?”

Choso’s words are crushing as the double meaning behind them is not lost on you. Parting your glossed lips you couldn’t even form a sentence as your mouth had gone completely dry.

Brows raised Choso is practically daring you to challenge him. 

But you’re frozen. 

Ironic, because his eyes are all but intensely burning into yours as his accusingly cruel question penetrated you like a hot knife to butter. 

However, bringing you back, Brianna interrupts the moment—because of course she does—not being able to read the damn room nor handle the attention being away from her for 5 fucking seconds.

“You know Prez… You’re going to be pretty busy with all your responsibilities soon...”

Brianna taps her stiletto shaped nail to her lips in faux contemplation. Her smarmy expression gives away her true intentions resembling every bit of the evil bitch she is. 

“...Annnnnd it won’t look good for our lovely new president to put herself at risk by getting us drugs, right? Sooooo, I was telling Cho here how I’m going to be the one taking over for you now.”

Brianna coyly tucks a few loose strands of her long tawny locks behind her ear. 

“Who knows? I might be able to get a better discount than you too.”

Passing the blunt back to Choso she winks at him. Choso merely chuckles, shaking his head at the implications before taking another hit.

And yeah that’s what fucking did it alright.

More than ready to give Brianna exactly what the fuck she’d been asking for you wordlessly lunge forward to snatch her up by those raggedy ass microlink extensions she couldn’t stop touching.

However your trajectory is thrown when you feel Choso grab you by your wrist. Pulling you in towards him, the action confused both you and Brianna—who didn’t know how close she was to actually kissing dirt.

Choso passes the joint back to Brianna, telling her to keep it as a ‘sample’ he turns his attention back towards you.

“Come on Prez, I got places to be. Get me my money now before I charge your ass the full stack.”

You both leave Brianna standing there dumbfounded as Choso drags you back into the house. 

Plug!Choso guides you through the crowd of your sisters that are all now much too drunk and self-involved in their own good time to care about the pierced n’ scary dark haired man towing their president behind him. 

Reaching the staircase Choso motions for you to go ahead of him and you nod dumbly as you obediently climb the stairs trying not to trip. 

Urging you along, Choso is right on your tail— quite literally, as he tries to simultaneously avoid staring at your ass cheeks jiggling out from under your skirt—but more importantly tries to keep any other wandering eyes below from getting a peek as well. 

Choso places a hand on your waist, both to keep you from falling and to move you along quicker. Warm tingles radiate out from where his hands touch your bare skin yet he instantly releases you once you reach the top.

You can’t help but to pout at the loss of contact.

“Which one?”

Choso still feels all business though as he walks ahead of you like he can’t wait to wrap this up and get you the fuck out of his life again.

Plug!Choso who you usher into your room before closing the door. The party seems distant as only the faint sounds of the base bumping against the walls reach the sanctuary of your room. Still holding the knob you’re leaning with your back against the doorframe as your body is still pumping insane amounts of adrenaline through you. 

Nearly fighting Brianna, Choso finally touching you, on top of being drunk had your mind going into overdrive especially since it seemed like Choso would leave as soon as the deal was over.

Would he really take the money and go just like that?

Choso’s face is unreadable as he strolls deeper into your room and casually looks around. You had always come over to his place and he would have never in a million years dreamed of being able to see your room in your actual sorority house. 

It was so you though. 

Tidy and adorned in your favorite colors, your walls are decorated with pictures of celebrities, friends and various moodboards. Not to mention it smelled like you. The scent of your sugary perfume with notes of vanilla and saffron assaulted Choso's senses making it seem a bit warmer in the room than it actually was.

“Yo Prez, the money.” 

His patience for the situation is dwindling. He has to get out and fast. 

Choso doesn’t know what he’ll do if he doesn’t leave soon.

Yet you were plotting the exact opposite and you couldn’t let him leave so easily now that you finally had him alone after all this time. 

Armed with a plan you nod as you scoot by him and over to your vanity to retrieve the cash. Acting clueless as to which drawer you put it in, you search them all as you bend over to check one of the drawers at the very bottom. 

Choso swallows hard.

Your ass–with plenty of curves to spare–is on display for him as well as your sheer pink thong that teasingly pokes out between your crystal studded fishnets. 

You had to be doing this on purpose. 

Swishing side to side your skirt raises up a bit higher with every shift of your hips while your thong strains tighter across the print of your fat pussy lips threatening to snap altogether.

Akin to a seductive pendulum as you sway before Choso completely entrancing him. 

Only you could ever affect him in this way.

After what feels like years do you finally locate the money, a sizable stack of cash composed of 20 dollar bills.

“Found it! In the top drawer all along, imagine that!”

Smirking you plop down in your vanity chair crossing your legs not missing how Choso’s gaze lingered, even if just the tiniest moment, on your thighs.

“Took ya long enough…” 

Choso mumbles. There's no real bite to his words this time though. He’s holding his backpack close to hide his half chub while he removes 3 hefty bags of kush from his backpack to toss on the desk beside you.

Reaching for the cash his annoyance is evident on his face when you jerk away from him. Leaning back and fanning the bills across your chest, you wave them tauntingly in the air.

“Stop playin’ around. Not in the fuckin mood, I swear.”

“Playing?”

You question acting coy.

“This is just business right Choso?”

You sat up as if you were taking this seriously at all and Choso is unamused as he reaches for the money again. 

And you snatch it back yet again like a fucking brat. 

“I’m practically dropping a stack on this–thanks to your new “tax” and all. How do I know if it's any good?”

Clearly your plan is working as you continue to push Choso’s buttons pretending you aren’t excited from him towering over you now.

“Cut the games, Prez. Ya know my shit is always pressure.”

You act contemplative as your eyes lazily travel up his tense muscular form appreciating the view after not seeing him for so long.

“Hmmm, do I though?”

Choso scoffs, growing tired of your games. 

That’s all he ever was to you, a game.

“Like I said, just business. Or are you telling me you weren’t going to count the cash to make sure it's all there before you left?”

Damn. Well you got 'em there. 

Choso rubs the back of his neck before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Tch—let’s make this quick then, Prez.”

Plug!Choso who after grabbing one of the bags of weed off your vanity takes a seat on your bed. He shrugs off his jacket to retrieve a pipe from the inner pocket and impatiently extends his hand hurrying you with a quick beckoning gesture.

“Gimme your grinder.”

Rolling your eyes you haphazardly toss it over to him. However, unbeknownst to you, the top was loose and crumbles of kush spilled out of it and onto your bed when he failed to catch it.

“Nice looking out Cho, great catch.”

Even though the poor throw and loose top had been your fault, the fact he apparently couldn’t wait to fucking leave along with you still pissed with how he flirted with Brianna makes you lash out. 

“You fucking serious right now? I’m always lookin’ out for your ungrateful ass.”

Obnoxiously you huff, crossing your arms and turning your head away from him.

Ungrateful? For what!? 

He hadn’t been ‘looking out’ for the last month, he’d been completely ignoring you! 

“Heh, like I didn't just stop you from turning that gouda chick into actual cheese from the way you went at her?”

You press your lips together firmly to keep from cracking a smile at his play on Brianna’s nickname. You’re honestly still salty he had even been around her at all getting so chummy. He’d always talked about how stupid your sorority sisters were, it didn’t make sense why he let her flirt with him like that.

You’re also mad he didn’t at least let you pop her one good time.

“The bitches name is Brie. You should know, you were ‘oh so concerned’ about saving her number and giving her a discount.”

Choso looks at you like you’re an idiot as he shakes his head. He stops packing the bowl to throw you his phone.

“Whose number?”

Frowning, you already know the passcode so you unlock it right away. 

Sure enough there was no Brie nor Brianna in his contact lists. Not even her number showed up when you searched his phone for it in case it was under a completely different alias. 

He’d never even saved it. 

The smug smirk on Choso’s face tells you he knew what she was doing all along and got you all riled up on purpose.

In fact, Choso had recognized Brianna’s ploy immediately. You had previously mentioned something about an annoying n’ bitchy rival. 

Besides, there was no other plausible reason for a dumb sorority bitch like her to be talking to him at all—much less throwing herself at him so aggressively.

“Doesn’t feel good now does it, Prez?”

Your face is on fire and you turn away from Choso totally humiliated. You had played right into his hands.

“Hmph! Don’t get cocky, I wanted a reason to beat her ass anyway.”

You puff your cheeks into a pout that Choso can’t help but to chuckle at, shaking his head at you again. 

You were a huge brat that's for damn sure.

“Well, it certainly looks like you found one.”

You’re quiet finally as you rake over his words in your mind. 

‘I’ve always been looking out for you.’

Not only did he not save Brianna’s number there’s a high probability he just kept you from being kicked out of the entire sorority and maybe school too. Fighting was a huge no-no and you could have gotten expelled. Apparently jealous with rage you were ready to risk it all at that moment without even thinking of the consequences. 

Fuck.

Choso had in fact still been looking out for you—even when you didn’t deserve it. 

Plug!Choso who accepts your silence is a sign of your defeat and after a few minutes you move from your desk to sit next to him on your bed as he finishes grinding and packing the bowl. 

“Brats get greens this time.”

I’m paying a premium for all this shit, I better get greens. 

But you hold in that thought, not wanting to give him any more lip in the moment as you’re the one left licking your wounds this time.

Like a gentleman Choso holds the bowl for you and lights it as you take a hit. He tries not to notice how well your glossed lips are wrapping around the phallic mouthpiece as searingly thick smoke flows into your lungs. 

Damn, this shit was dank as hell. 

You’re doing your best to hold it in but your lungs are burning as you watch Choso take a hit himself. Not being able to keep in your coughs for a second more you’re left signaling at Choso to ‘wait a sec’ when he holds the pipe out back to you.

Fuck, it was even stronger than what you remembered.

“See Prez? True pressure.”

You shrug at him trying to save face although your eyes are watering, already tinting a bright shade of red.

“Uhh duh, I always cough Choso. I’ll still need a few more hits to know for certain.”

Choso rolls his eyes.

You take another hit—a smaller one this time—before slowly falling back onto your bed.  

Your eyes close as your high settles in and you debate on what to say next without fucking things up even more with your slick ass mouth. 

However your concentration is diminishing quickly as your buzz makes your senses overly aware of Choso’s intense body heat radiating off him, your thighs practically touching. 

The weed swirling together with the alcohol in your system makes you all the more sensitive. Your mind floats away as your gaze is hyper focused on how the lean muscles of Choso’s toned back and broad shoulders ripple under the thin black tee he wears.

God, Choso is so sexy. 

Your legs squeeze together to calm the burning in your core just from the thought. You want nothing more than to drag him down to bed with you and melt into his embrace—but there's an invisible force field around him that you can’t reach. 

You’re almost certain he would recoil from you if you tried now. 

There’s a conversation you needed to have first but you didn’t know how to start it without fucking things up even more. 

The result is an awkward silence that uncomfortably settles in the room as Choso finishes the bowl off himself. 

Never one to smoke too much of his own product he’s only indulging now to temper his mood. 

Choso doesn’t know why he’s still here, all good sense in him telling him to take the money and get the hell out. Yet he knows he’s hoping for something–anything–to show him you’ve changed even though all signs so far tonight have been showing him you haven’t.

You’re still cowering away from any accountability and he is determined not to give you an easy out this time. 

And it’s for that exact reason Choso can’t look over at you right now.

Otherwise he’s sure to see your tiny pink top that had started to roll up exposing the glitter adorned skin of your underboob. Or how your slow exhales cause your soft stomach to dip temptingly showing off the pink crystal belly button ring he gave you. 

The sight of your fishnets brushing against one another out of the corner of his eye alone is enough to know he wouldn’t be able resist grasping onto your supple thighs. God how he would relish the way his fingers would indent into them. He wanted to rip those slutty fishnets right off of you so his head could push your skirt up even further on your hips while he drowned himself in your wet cunt—not even stopping when you would cry from overstimulation.

Plug!Choso, who is thankful his distraction at long last comes in the form of the faded gray blue fabric by your pillow. 

“Yo!..is that my shit?”

Eyes opening wide, you pale upon seeing Choso reach for the crumpled up shirt. Choso unravels the tee to confirm it is in fact his shirt—one of his favorite band tees at that. 

“Oh, is that yours?”

Choso deadpans.

“So you listen to RHCP now?”

“Maybe…” 

You grab it from him and toss it to the side less you break down and confess to him you had slept in it most nights. Not only have you slept in it but you do in fact listen to RHCP now, especially when you workout.

However with this Choso has hit his limit. 

To him you hadn’t changed. 

Could you not even own up to the tiniest of things?

He couldn’t let himself get sucked back into your toxic web, not anymore. The longer he stayed the more likely that was.

“S’all good, Prez. Keep it.”

Choso grabs his jacket.

“Listen, I gotta g–”

“—w-wait!” 

You grab the other end of his jacket. You still find it difficult to find the right words but you had to say something. 

It was now or never.

“W-Wait… ah, at least before you go…l-let me know how Yuji’s game went?”

You meekly ease into the question but see Choso go ridgid at the mention regardless. 

For now he relents and stays seated. Although a few minutes pass before he speaks.

“He won, of course. MVP of the season.”

You smile genuinely at that but Choso isn’t looking at you— too pained by the memories that began to bubble up again like bile in his throat.

“Awe, that's so great! I knew he would! I’m so happy for him.”

Choso grits his teeth as he turns back to you, his anger evident in his entire being as every muscle in him flexes.

“Are you? So that’s how you treat someone you’re happy for? Really?!”

He doesn’t give you the chance to respond.

“Yuji’s a strong kid— much stronger than me. Honestly, I didn’t even think he minded you weren’t there as he was all focus and excitement to play that day—”

You let out a quiet exhale in relief though any consolation you felt was instantly shattered as Choso continued. 

“But when I put him to bed that night. H-He..He’d asked why you weren’t there…He asked if you were gone now like our parents. Yuji wouldn’t believe you’d miss it otherwise.”

Choso struggles to say the last bit and maintain eye contact with you. 

Every moment you gaze into his eyes though was pure torture as you’re racked with even more guilt.

“Choso I–”

“I’m so fuckin’ tired of all your fuckin’ excuses!”

You’re silent. It’s so strange to see him this upset you don’t know what to say.

“I’d ask you if you’d even considered the abandonment issues that kid already carries but you don’t. You don’t fill that fuckin’ superficial lil’ head of yours with anything beyond yourself!”

Finishing what he had to say, Choso gathers up his jacket and backpack, stuffing it full with the stack of cash on the vanity—not even bothering to count it.

Momentarily dumbfounded, you're scrambling from the bed to block his path. 

“C-Come on, Choso! I didn’t want to abandon him or you! I tried to call you and I texted you so much these past few weeks to talk!”

Choso isn’t impressed.

“And not one text actually had the words ‘I’m sorry’ in it. Not that it would have cut it this time.”

You're reduced to silence for the umpteenth time tonight. 

You wreck your brain knowing most of your texts had been focused on baiting him to respond to you but fuck—did you really not even apologize? 

“But I am sorry!”

Choso’s gaze is cold and distant, so foreign in comparison to the warmth you’d taken for granted before.

“Whatever you say, Prez.”

There it is again. You’ve grown to resent the title, the job, everything about it.

“Just stop calling me that, okay?!”

You’re trying hard to fight back the tears that threateningly pool in the corners of your eyes.

“What...Prez? Why, it aint all that they cracked it up to be?”

“N-No… it’s n-not… I actually hate it and I hate being here.”

Your voice is hardly above a whisper as you direct your words towards the ground. You didn't want Choso to see your glassy eyes even if he’d noticed the cracks in your voice. 

Plug!Choso who regards you with skepticism but curiosity nonetheless. So at long last you decided to be honest with both him and yourself aloud for the first time.

But it didn’t mean shit if you wouldn’t do something about it.

“Then quit.”

Choso says to you like it’s the most obvious answer in the world as your head snaps up incredulously.

“H-huh? W-What?!”

“You heard me princess— quit.”

Could you really just quit? 

Truthfully, you had never considered it an option. The expectations put on you by your sorority sisters, your parents and the plans you had made for yourself had all led you to the commitments and responsibilities you had now. 

How could you just let them all down by walking away from it all?  

“Choso— I heard you..b-but I can’t, you don’t understand I–”

“—No, I understand better than you do, princess. You spent so much time with me and Yuji because you hate this sorority bullshit, you can’t stand any of these bitches and now you just agreed to be president of your own goddamn misery!”

Reading you for filth, Choso stares at you expectantly but you avoid his gaze.

Your nails suddenly becoming all the more interesting as you fumble with them.  

“–Ight then.”

Choso doesn’t want to argue with you any longer. 

You’re still full of excuses to his disappointment. If you wanted to be something you weren't that badly, then that was your own prerogative he decided as he brushed past you.

“N-No! P-Please, don’t leave Cho!”

There's clear desperation in your voice. You cling to him, burying your head into the middle of his back as your shaky hands weave their way around his midsection. 

Choso is mid-twist on the doorknob. 

He had all intentions of leaving if you still weren't being honest with yourself about things.

Still does. 

Yet his determination is wavering from your hot tears begin to seep through his shirt and trickle down his spine. The warmth of your body—now flattened against his—causes your pert nipples to poke into his back while your delicate fingers wretchedly grasp onto his taunt abs like a lifeline. 

Like you actually needed him in your life.

Fucking hell, you didn’t play fair at all.

But he couldn’t forgive you just to hurt him again and especially not Yuji.

“Let go.”

“No.”

“I said let go!”

“NO!”

Choso easily pries you off of him, spinning you around as your back slams against the door pinning you in place. His hands encircle your arms and extend out fully so he could put some distance between the two of you. 

He couldn’t think straight when you were all over him. 

Your world is a blur and in your crossfaded state you are left with vertigo at the sudden shift of positions. Both you and Choso are left panting at the intensity of it all.

“You don’t listen to anyone do you?! You just do whatever the fuck you want…”

Choso’s face is red with anger and your eyes—already reddened from your high—take on a deeper shade as you are now openly bawling in front of him.

“Tch, why are you the one crying? This is how you want things, right?!”

You shake your head, unable to communicate beyond your pitiful sobs. 

Choso grows more and more frustrated as the guilt he is feeling battles with his more rational mind prompting him to still be angry with you despite your tears. Back and forth his mind races until it all bubbles over and—

“—You don’t think I know I’m not good enough for you!?”

Your teary eyes widen at the sudden admission. 

Choso even startles himself with his own confession he’d been holding in all this time. 

“But not Yuji...He’s already so much better than me! He’s gonna actually be something one day. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Your lip quivers and your pleas are almost unintelligible.

“I-I know…m’s-sorry…m-m’so sorry C-Choso!”

Choso exhales deeply and shoulders slump forward as he releases you, running a hand over his face and back through his raven locks.

You couldn't read his expression but you didn't want him to attempt to leave you again as you close the gap between you, arms encircling him once more.

Choso doesn’t push you away, yet to his credit he doesn't return your embrace either as he’s still torn.

“I-I missed y-you so m-much.”

Cursing the hold you have over him Choso can’t deny he still wants to be with you—but you both were at an impasse.

Nothing good would come from repeating the same cycle again. 

There is no resolution if you still want to keep up a front. 

“P-Please forgive me Cho—I-I love you.”

The sweet proclamation is accentuated by your pillowy lips spreading kisses over his chest while the tips of your fingers slip up his shirt to place feather light scratches at the small of his back. 

Love, eh?

An unexpected revelation dawns on Choso and he is now resolved in what he has to do. 

“Yeah princess, you really love me?” 

Oblivious to the danger edging in his voice, you nod as you continue to coo affectionate words and affirmations into his chest. One of your legs hitches around his as you mold yourself deeper into him thinking he’d finally forgiven you. 

Had he forgiven you though? 

Well, not exactly. 

A devious smirk appears across Choso’s features.

Choso had come to the conclusion that at the end of the day you were simply a terrible people pleaser. 

Your stuck up bratty nature was merely a front of false confidence. 

You tried so hard to become whatever anyone else wanted you to be, you'd lie to yourself and become utterly miserable in your efforts to appease those around you. 

However, Choso knew the version of you he’d gotten when you’d been with him and Yuji had been the real you. 

And he actually did believe you loved him— even if you had just forced yourself to say it in the moment so you could manipulate him into staying.

Sympathetic to your pitiful nature, Choso wouldn’t just abandon you. 

But if you couldn’t do what was best for you, he would make sure you would himself.

PART 3

⋙ ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

⋙ I'm about halfway through P3, its 5.5k already lol. stick with me though cause pt 3 is the nasty brat taming smut we all are waiting for! if i tagged you here i will tag you again for p3 but im still adding new people to tag list so lmk in comments or reblogs if you'd like to be added. trying to focus to finish this but my adhd might distract me into writing a quick gojo fic but if i do i will finish this right after!

⋙tags: (ps ty for all the sweet comments for those who joined my overall writing tag list yall legit had me in tears ilysm!) @nkogneatho @toji-girl-main @RoyaltyAndRoses @aydene @slowlyshycomputer @bontensbabygirl @yoonjinhusbands @anxious-chick @kashxyou @halosdiary @littlemochabunni @ryomens-vixen @buttercupblu @tonycries @lowkeyremi @strawberrygirl0 @crybaby-herbalist @rintcrous @bomboclakkk @anubisisthebomb @alwaysfreakingout @oeanonyme @chrys23 @spltbtch @uranometrias @officialsimpp @crispycatt @purple-obsidian my-jukebox @peachyharts111 @thedorklingqueen @sugurusprettygirl @scarasw1f3 @kgorethz @c1truswh4re @madaqueue

[eternalsunrise]

study date

lsu! joe burrow x fem! reader

wc: 1.7k

tags! established relationship, make out sesh, no actual smut, jus a couple of horny college kids in love with each other, vomit inducing fluff

notes! brainrot so bad i had to start writing fics. hope the joe burrow community finds this well 🧘‍♀️ expect more for joe coming! xoxo

letters on a keyboard clicking and a pencil scrawling across paper are the only sounds that reverberate around the room. you started off sitting up straight, but as time progressed you’re basically lying down, laptop perched on your lap.

the pillows are plush underneath you, and your boyfriend’s scent is enveloping you. there’s something about joe’s bed that always feels 10 times more comfortable than your own.

if you closed your eyes you could probably doze off for a mid afternoon nap.

you hear the sound of someone shifting above the covers, but you don’t turn your head to look, too preoccupied with your essay that’s due in the morning.

you feel a kiss press against your cheek, and you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “hi joey. you doing okay?”

another kiss against your cheek, followed by an overdramatic sigh, “yeah, just really hard to focus on statistics with something so distracting in my bed.”

joe’s closer now, a hand playing with your hair as he peppers kisses down your jawline.

you roll your eyes at his antics, knowing exactly how this was going to go. “oh i’m the distracting one?” you question, your tone sarcastic.

he moves his hand to your cheek, tilting your head to the left to face him. his blue eyes bore into yours and you realize why you’d avoided looking at him. it’s much easier to stay on task without his handsome face in view.

joe leans down to place a slow peck on your lips, “a very.” peck. “very.” peck. “pretty distraction.”

he pulls away from you entirely, smirking when you try and chase his lips. this is exactly why you wanted to study alone. as much as you loved your boyfriend, how are you expected to get anything done with a gorgeous quarterback all over you? but the two of you have barely seen each other these past few weeks, and joe insisted on you both doing schoolwork together before his practice later that day.

“joe. baby. we’re supposed to be studying.” your voice is pleading, begging for any sort of mercy. he caresses your cheek bone with his thumb, a smirk sitting on the side of his mouth. “i am studying.” he uses a tone that tells you he wants you to ask what his punchline is. you bite.

“and what are you studying exactly, joseph?”

he trails his hand down your body until it rests on your waist, just above where your hands and laptop sit. he lets his eyes trail down and back up, bright blues staring at you while he licks his lips, “anatomy.”

you let out a laugh for his sake, grabbing his wrist and removing his hand from your body, “you’re impossible!” you place a quick kiss on his lips, standing up and taking your laptop.

joe groans loudly, falling back against the pillows on his bed, “where are you going?”

you carry your work to his wooden, student-issued desk, setting your laptop down and taking a seat. “you’re going to stay there. and i’m going to stay here. we both need to get work done and it’s hard to do that when you’re being…well you!” you try to sound frustrated, but you both know better.

joe being the cocky bastard he is, just gives you a knowing smile. the effect he has on you just strokes his ego (as if anyone else needed to). he decides to leave you be for the time being. he picks his pencil back up and holds his hands up in faux innocence, “yes ma’am. whatever you need.”

you turn back to your essay, typing your third page, smiling when the framed picture of you two displayed on his desk appears in your peripheral vision. if you looked around, your presence is covering this room. his whole apartment in fact. sure, you may be putty in his hands. but you have joe burrow pretty much wrapped around your finger.

after about 20 minutes of both of you working diligently in silence, you hear joe clear his throat.

“hey pretty?”

“mhm?” you reply, clicking back and forth between your class notes and your paper.

“didn’t you say you took this class last year?” joe asks, deep voice like velvet when it hits your ears.

you pause your task and turn around in your chair, “yeah i did for a semester, why?” he looks absolutely delicious. he’s sporting a cozy lsu hoodie and nike gym shorts that reach barely mid thigh, his trademark array of bracelets decorate his wrists. the way one of this legs is raised make his shorts ride up, giving you a peek at his black briefs. you suddenly wonder if the essay is even that important.

“wanna come check this for me? make sure i did it right?” he taps his pencil a couple of times and holds out his notebook toward you. there’s no flirtation intent behind joe’s question, he just values your insight. and for some reason, that just turns you on even more. he’s won. he’s getting what he wanted without even trying.

you stand up from your seat and make your way over to him, taking the notebook from his hand. he looks up at you in silence, waiting for you to check his work. but instead you toss the notebook to the side. it makes a slight thud when it hits the hardwood.

joe opens his mouth to question your actions but you’re on the bed with him in a matter of seconds. you swing your leg over his hip and straddle his lap, legs resting on either side of him. his hands are on you immediately, per instinct, large hands engulfing your thighs. it takes him a moment to process your actions but he sobers up quickly, cocky and confident, “aw, who knew stats could get you so worked up?”

you want to knock that stupid smirk off of his face. you also never want it to go away.

“shut up.” followed by a feverish kiss full of want and desire. the lack of each other for weeks has stretched the rubber band of tension to a hilt, and you finally let it snap. your fingers thread through his wavy hair at the nape of his neck, tugging just a bit. he’s due for a haircut soon. a noise rattles up from his throat, your reaction immediate. your hips grind down, begging for some friction. he gladly provides, guiding your waist back and forth.

the next moments are full of tongue kisses and heavy breathing. “next time we—“ gasp. “study together, we’re doing it in public–ow!” joe bites your lip, an apology vibrates against your lip, you know he doesn’t mean it. “like the library.” joe grips your hips and flips the two of you over with ease. you yelp in surprise, now looking up at him.

joe scoffs at your words, “like that’s ever stopped us before.” he reconnects your lips, a new sense of urgency found in this kiss. he props himself up with an elbow next to your head. your leg finds itself hooking around his waist, forcing him impossibly closer to you. he breaks away for air, hand dragging up and down your lifted thigh. he leaves goosebumps in his wake.

he looks down between your bodies and watches as your hips lift to meet his own, adam’s apple bobbing. his eyes flick back to yours, a familiar darkness clouding the ocean. his kisses follow a trail down your jaw, “god baby, you drive me crazy.” he purrs in your ear, lips attacking your neck. you aren’t sure how he can say that, when you’re the one that feels dizzy under his touch. your hand finds his hair again, letting out fits of giggles when his mouth grazes your most sensitive spots.

you tilt your head to the side, catching sight of the time on your phone screen as it lit up on the nightstand. you let out a gasp, partly because of joe shifting his hand between your thighs, but mostly because it was almost time for, “joe. practice.”

he returns his attention to your lips, “5 more minutes, all i need.” he murmurs, capturing you in a kiss that’s hard to turn away from. you feel his hand slip under the waist band of your pants, and as much as you dread this ending; you know what you need to do.

“joey. babe, hey.” you use your grip on his hair to pull him away. the love drunk look on his face makes this even harder. “listen. as much as i want to, we can’t. you love to be unreasonably early, and coach o will track me down himself if i’m the reason his star isn’t there for pre, pre warmups.”

joe chuckles and nods his head, reluctantly removing his hands from you entirely; it’s as if you’re magnets, if he isn’t across the room you’ll gravitate back together. he stands and starts to get ready for the one thing you’re forced to share the title of joe’s first love with, football.

you start to stand to get ready to go home, but joe quickly faces you and shakes his head, black backpack and cleats in his hands.

“no no no stay. here.” he throws his backpack over his shoulder and uses his free hand to dig in his pocket. he pulls out his purple lanyard, plucking his apartment key from the carabiner.

joe places it in your hand and folds your fingers over it.

“here, i’m gonna have you one made anyway. go back to your dorm, grab some stuff. you can order dinner, finish your homework here. i’ll be back in a couple hours and i’ll take you to that froyo shop down the street and then we can…finish what we started.” joe says with a wiggle of his eyebrows. he punctuates his words with a sweet kiss on your lips, another on your forehead, “bye pretty. love you.”

you stare at him in awe, “love you. have fun!”

he winks at you before he walks out of the front door.

you sit there on the edge of the bed, staring down at the shiny key in your palm. you’re shocked at how he can make such a big relationship step seem so nonchalant. he’d obviously been thinking about this for a while, you being around more. in his space.

you flop down on your back, kicking your feet with a giddy smile. if you weren’t alone you’d be embarrassed.

looks like you’ll be studying here a lot more often.

[s-4pphics]

a friend in need! (e.w.)

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SYNOPSIS: heartbreak aid during the apocalypse, you ask? 

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: bff!ellie who’s sad, kinda perv oc who’s eager to fix that, remixed version of seattle!ellie, dina catching strays for no reason (i love her pls), wound care but erotic, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MINORS DNI, dubcon (nasty green), porn watching, mutual/guided masturbation, brief poochie eating, oc in denial ab her little crush, real girlhood <3, slight angst :(

A/N: the bubblegum apocalypse where no one dies or lies. #SCISSORING

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The gates of Jackson open, and relief rushes through your chest. 

Everyone is accounted for. Ellie’s accounted for. 

Weeks—or however the fuck long— of pent-up anxiety finally settles in your limbs as you sprint towards Shimmer while Jesse tends to Dina, greeting the hazel mount with coos and rustles through her fur. Baby needs a bath and a good brushing. 

Your eyes swiftly shift from her to your best friend, “Ellie, I’m so glad— “

“Can you help me down, please?” 

Creases bunch in your forehead at the strain in her tone. And then you’re met with the blood-soaked wrap that's enclosed around her jean-covered thigh. 

“Oh, shit… c’mere.” 

Ellie’s good leg swings over the saddle, and you hold her waist to ease her down into the muddy grass. Joel’s the first one to engulf her. They exchange words that you don’t catch before his reluctant arms drop to guide Shimmer back to the stocks, leaving you two alone. You can’t stop yourself from throwing your arms around her neck next, mindful of her leg. 

“I didn’t know what to think when y’all didn’t come back,” you whisper. 

When the two girls first made their departure to Seattle, the icy remains of winter had just begun to melt into the dirt beneath it, and that alone felt like ages ago. There’s mosquitoes and moths everywhere now, following wherever the sun beams. 

A strong arm wraps around your waist, and you instantly stiffen and detach from her, hands resting on her shoulders. 

Her gaze drops to the ground when you whisper, “What happened, Ellie? You okay?”

She breathes. “Peachy.” 

Your hands drop when she turns in the direction of her home, head jerking when she says, “I’m gonna shower.” 

“Dinners supposed to be really good tonight!” You exclaim with a broken smile when she takes her first hobble, “Eat with me? Consider it a celebration that you made it home safe.” 

Ellie seems to soften at your invitation, head bobbing in approval, and you smile. 

She holds her fist out to you, “See you in 20?” 

You bump your knuckles against hers with strained cheeks, “See you in 20.” 

One small, comforting smile from her, and she’s off, limping back home. 

“What’s up with them?” 

You flinch at the too close whisper from Jesse, and you shrug. “Maybe they broke up.” 

“Doubt it,” He snorts, “Dina told me it was brutal on the way back. The bastards were everywhere, she said. They’re probably still shook up.” 

“Damn… How’s she doing?” 

“Weird as hell. I think she’s sick or something,” Concern is melting off him, “She’s getting checked out now.”

“I’ll check on her later,” You face him, “Coming to dinner?” 

“Probably not. Gotta make sure Dee’s good.” He’s already walking off, trailing after his friend…? Ex? You never know what to call them. 

“See ya.” You wave awkwardly. 

Weird. 

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How do you cheer up a friend that just witnessed three dozen infected tear another small community to shreds? At least, according to Jesse. He was able to get more out of Ellie and Dina than you were, apparently. 

You don’t know how Ellie — or anyone — could experience such barbarous scenes as frequently as they do. You’ve been on patrol twice since you stumbled upon Jackson a few years back, and each venture leaves you less and less eager to see the world beyond its walls. You respect their bravery, not only for being able to dive head first into unknown territory with nothing but bullets and faith, but to also face those walking demons at every corner. 

Your closest friend is often excited to show you scavenged artifacts that she has collected, but… she’s barely spoken to you since you helped her off Shimmer. 

Her silence is uncommon, and therefore, frightening. 

“It’s been a while since we’ve had fish,” you scoff weakly, poking your carrots with your fork, “It’s good, huh?” 

Her focus shifts from the tablecloth to you. 

Silence. 

You drop your utensil, “Fuck, Ellie… dude, what happened out there? Jesse told me… that y'all got caught up— “

“Dina’s pregnant.” 

He didn’t tell you that.

Ellie’s whisper breezes past your ears so fast that you barely catch it. The canteen continues to bustle with hungry, ravaged patrons who returned from their second round of patrol. You assumed Ellie was one of them after her scattered return, but she hasn’t touched anything on her plate. Not even her carrots. Her favorite; A literal goddamn rabbit. 

No wonder she hasn’t eaten… Who could’ve with news like that? Especially considering the high she was riding before the couple left. 

“What.” 

Ellie’s head shakes with gall, and a disappointed grin plumps her cheeks. 

“Yup… Can’t wait to tell Maria.” 

Sharing the news of a new Jackson kiddo sounds like the last thing on her mind. Days before the two took off, she was squealing like a wild hyena in the wee hours of the night, gushing to you about the midnight explorations with her long-term crush. Her retellings of their first night together were vivid: filled with pent up tension and need and unfiltered lust. According to Ellie, they could’ve gotten married in a fortnight with the relationship they’d built over the years, and you believed her. Sadly. 

You were present, observant, during your teenage years. You were there when Cat kissed Ellie, when they broke up, when Ellie had recurring nightmares about Riley and was desperate for comfort from you, when Ellie fell for Dina… 

And now they’re in a pickle. A fat one. 

Hearing about Ellie’s relationship never went how you’d assume. You expected to be happy for your friend whenever she enthused about a topic that brought about such elation, but there was always something about the stories that gave you pause. Something that burned in the pit of your stomach and caused you to, frankly, fake congratulations. You’re unsure why, but hearing about Dina and Ellie’s relationship potentially being tarnished is calming that simmer inside you.

“Just when I thought…” She scoffs quietly. “Whatever. Fuck it.” 

You can’t resist and slip, “… Who’s the daddy?” And she hisses.

“Guess.” 

But you don’t have to... Fuck. 

Dina and Jesse’s relationship was… something. In adolescence, Ellie was either secretly celebrating their multitude of separations or crying to you about them getting back together. Their consistent streak of being on and off clearly got the best of them. There’s a ball of cells growing inside of your friend’s almost-girlfriend. 

“Shit… maybe it was… a misunderstanding? Doesn’t it take a couple weeks to… form in the womb or whatever?” 

You’re not the devil's advocate. Your lips clamp at Ellie’s stern glare.

“There’s no misunderstanding.” 

Your shoulders slump at the distance in her eyes. The indifference she’s exuding can’t disguise the hurt that she’s experiencing internally. Your heart aches for her, despite the excited jitters in your fingers.

“… Sorry, man.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Good, you impulsively want to say. You shove it down into the hardwood beneath your soles. Your brows furrow in annoyance, more so at yourself for not being remorseful. “Fuck off. Yes, you do, and that’s okay. It’s normal.” 

“Can we go?” 

Her request is sudden and cracked, and every inkling of pride deflates in your chest. Poor thing; How could you feel like this when she’s this scattered? Guilt replaces whatever dark fantasy you’ve conjured up in the past five minutes. 

You move to stand without objection. Fuck the carrots, “Yeah. Let’s roll— “

An instant lightbulb above your head… and it’s glowing green. Roll.

Roll!

Mischief shines in your chest and eyes when you glance around the packed space in search for, 

“TOMMY!” 

A flash of brown hair turns to meet your sprinting form. The peach he’s holding looks devine. 

“You seen ‘Gene anywhere?” 

Your grin widens at his disapproving stare.

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“Be careful with those, shit-for-brain! I’m not coming to save your ass like last time!” 

“Got it, boss!” You squeak with a polite smile, shoving the small baggie of rolled joints into your stuffed satchel. It vanishes the second Eugene slams his vault to his dirty ass man cave, “Fucking dicksucker.” You huff.

Ellie snickers from beside you. “C’mon. Be nice.” 

“No. He skimped on me last time. Toke hog.” 

The walk to your place is colder than usual, but it’s beautiful out. The moon shines from behind the dark clouds, illuminating the ivory that shields the incoming spring grass. Gorgeously cinematic; A scenery that gets the heart thumping. Aching. Yearning. 

You lead Ellie onto your porch and into your home. She removes her jacket and kicks off her boots, throwing her armor over the designated rack. Your satchel goes flying across the room until it clatters on your bed. Black tapes spill all over the mattress, and Ellie scolds you disapprovingly. 

“Again? Really?”

You smirk. Eugene’s always too blasted to punish your kleptocracy, “No one has a better porn collection than ‘Ge— “

Her jaw slacks, “Porn?! What the fuck, I thought those were the Jurassic Park— “

“They’re not…” Before pondering, “Although that’d be some crazy role play. RAAAWR— “

“You’re the fucking worst.” 

“C’mon! Look at these titles,” You skip to your bedside to snag a couple tapes, “Smoochie the Coochie… Banging my hot neighbor…” 

A boisterous laugh passes your lips, “Throbbin’ Hood: Prince of Beaves! Tell me that’s not fucking hilarious!” 

Ellie doesn’t laugh. Hasn’t laughed. Just simmers by the front door with red dusting her cheeks. How adorable! 

“Why’re you looking like that?” 

When her eyes travel over the creases between your brows and confused smile, your feet give an awkward stutter. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting. At the very least, she should’ve cracked a smile by now. Even an insecure one. 

You peer down at the tapes in your hand and back up at her. Her posture shifted: arms wrapped protectively around her waist while she leaned on the balls of her feet, eyes inspecting the dim lights of your space. 

Another lightbulb. Not a green one. 

“Have you ever watched porn?” 

She shrugs with floundering shoulders. You chuckle. 

“It’s just for shits and giggles, Ellie. Don’t be so serious. The acting sucks and you needa good laugh.” 

You cradle the filled baggie like it holds a sacred orb and waltz towards the VCR. Your screen shifts from bright blue to the tape’s introduction screen. Naked men in speedos… Ellie plops down on the couch behind and mindlessly flicks a lighter. You reach into the baggie and toss her the fattest joint available before working the remote. 

A sigh releases… then another flicker… then a long, drawled out exhale. You grin. 

You, remote in hand, plop down next to her, “Is it good?”

“Better than last time, for sure.” You trade the remote for the joint, arm wrapped around your angled legs as you pull. Hits smooth… er. It still dries your throat. 

“Remind me to thank him.” 

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Two joints down. Two tapes completed. Three wide smiles from Ellie from the bad acting. The night’s a win in your book. 

She lazily lights another joint while you switch out the tapes. You purposely saved the best for last: apparently the only lesbian porno in that bastard’s whole cave. When’s the last time you’ve smoochied a coochie?

More importantly, when’s the last time Ellie has? Recently, you assume; She and Dina were too close to only be going on long walks in the woods. The more you smoke, the more your mind wanders where it shouldn’t. 

… Your friend is a lover. Always has been, despite her efforts of convincing you, herself — everyone — that she’s emotionally indifferent. Craves affection, both verbal and physical, like she’s deprived. She raves to you about her desires on a weekly basis, for fucks sake! Someone hug the poor girl! 

“Feeling better?” You squeak when you plant on the cushion. Ellie nods with a soft grin. 

“Thank you.” 

Your hands clap together and her body shakes from the recoil. “The night’s not over yet! I got a surprise for you! Happy Birthday!” 

“It’s not my birthday… I don’t know my birthday— “

Your smile is laced with grating sarcasm, “Wow, you really know how to kill the vibe! Just play along, goddamn!” 

You sigh when her expression flattens. 

“Ellie…”

“Yes?” 

Oh… That crackly tone did a little something. Cheering Clitorous. Alright. Okay. 

“I found a little something in ‘Gene’s special drawer— “

“Aren’t all his drawers special.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be shutting the fuck up.” 

Her red eyes widen, but she silences. 

“You know what feels really nice after a bad breakup?” 

Her middle finger digs into her dry eye, “Getting high and watching porn with the only other lesbian you know?” 

“Even better,” Your hand claps down on her jean-clad, uninjured thigh. “Getting high and watching lesbian porn with the only other lesbian you know… while getting head. A true fixer-upper.”

More silence, and your tummy gives a nervous tumble. Eugene’s bud gives you enough courage to make eye contact, and, given any other circumstance, you would’ve hollered laughter at how stunned Ellie looks, eyes nearly stretched beyond her lids, but you don’t. You press on when she denies you. 

“You’re lying.” 

“Am I?” Your thumb presses the large button in the middle and the screen displays two, three — six women… all sprawled out on white carpet while lewdness shines through their eyes… And not at all the romantic wives fingering each other next to the fireplace like you envisioned. Plus, the music sucks. Who the fuck plays the accordion while bumping cooters?

Your eyes circle around and… Oh, wow. A lot less tame than you were expecting… Are those chains and a paddle? 

What the fuck, Eugene. 

“Oh, shit.” 

Ellie’s either impressed or about to go on a judgmental rampage. You gauge her expression curiously. Her lashes keep fluttering like butterfly wings. You nearly coo audibly. She always does that when she’s excited! What a cutie! 

Ellie recites the description at the bottom of the screen, “When six girls go off into the woods for an early 4th of July getaway, conversations take a lustful… and explorative turn. Find out what happens during one late, hot evening after a game of… kiss and blow?” 

You snort, “Are you asking me?” 

“Well, yeah… The fuck is kiss and blow?” 

You shrug, “Find out.”

One click of the remote, and the footage begins… More giggles from Ellie, and something flutters in your chest. You’ll have to watch bad acting with her more often. 

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Six minutes into Smoochie the Coochie, and you still don’t know what kiss and blow is. And you don’t care to find out. 

High pitched moans and pleasured squeals that almost sound phony rings in your hazy skull as you stare up at your best friend from between her covered legs. 

This is the quietest she’s been all night: her eyes are locked on the screen behind you, completely entranced with flushed cheeks by what you assume is the sweatiest, raunchiest… scissoring, is what it’s called? On the screen. Maybe. You’re wired and can’t think straight and Ellie’s hot. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” 

She whispers when you caress her thigh over her pants, and you nod approvingly. Desperately, but she can’t tell. “Up to you.” 

You don’t expect a cold hand to come up and tenderly brush against your cheek. You shudder and nuzzle into it. Sober you would be so embarrassed at how you’re reacting to her affections. You’ve never been the needy one. 

“Can we…” 

You pout and burn with embarrassment, but start to pull back, “Stop?” 

“No, no…” Her eyes meet yours and your body locks. A bit nervous. “I dunno…” 

“Tell me.” 

“Later.” She whispers. 

You stare skeptically as she plays with your earlobe. “I promise I’m good. I want this. I’ll tell you later.” 

A pause before you sigh. “Okay. Up.” You pat her thigh and her hips rise. Her unbuttoned jeans are peeled down her legs, gently over her fresh bandage, and tossed beside you. Your body is miles ahead of your brain; before you realize, your lips smack all over her bruised thighs, peppering over the freshly bandaged scars and faded ones. She squirms where she sits, shaky breaths puffing from her lips. 

Your mouth travels higher, and an encouraging hand lands on the back of your head, massaging your scalp. 

“Tell me what’s happening.” You mumble against her, a blind finger pointing back at the screen. 

“I don’t — So much shit is going on. Like… from all directions.”  

You smile against her thigh, “Someone catch your attention?” 

“I…” 

But no explanation is needed. There’s treads of weakness in her growl. Go figure. 

“Lemme guess… She look like her?” 

If she catches the unwarranted agitation in your tone, she doesn’t mention it. Simply digs her nails into the back of your head. No forceful tugs at your hair, but a warning, and your teeth beam. 

“I dunno what the fuck you’re smiling for, but it’s gonna piss me off soon.”

There's a smidge of threat in her voice, so your kisses travel up. A pleasant distraction, given every small twitch of her legs. 

Not too long before you reach the hem of her underwear, and you trap it between your teeth before releasing it. Her tummy jolts when the fabric hits her skin, and you go heart-eyed. 

“Tell me who you’re looking at.” 

“T-The one that brought all that crazy shit to the party.” 

Of course. Handcuffs, she means. The large, wooden paddle, she means. A slow drag of your tongue advances up her v-line and her body wracks against her will. 

“Crazy in a bad way?” You purr against softness, and she exhales a laugh. “Not in this context, I guess.” 

“You like that kinda stuff?” 

“How the fuck would I know?” 

You snort before your eyes fall, trapped by the small patch of wetness that sticks to her panties. Glues the outline of her lips to the fabric. You’re seconds — inches away from going feral. 

Whatever patience you entered with has withered: and with determined hands, Ellie’s underwear gets yanked, pried down her legs and tossed behind you. Your eyes glisten with excitement when they meet the red pearl that twitches in anticipation, walls that leak when the warmth of your breath brushes over the cup of her. 

Her pussy’s perfect. A stunner, for sure. You and Cat were never close, but you’d hit her up to get Ellie tatted. Not even in a discreet place. It’d be somewhere where everyone — Dina — can see. On your forehead, for fucks sake—

S-Stop staring at me. 

It seemed like the moans behind you became louder. You nearly shove three fingers in Ellie’s mouth as punishment for interrupting the moment, but you choke on a breath. Mumble a slur of you’re cute, can’t help it in an attempt to ease her. 

And just when your tongue unravels over your bottom lip, right when Ellie’s taste is millimeters away, right when her breath hitches and her mouth drops open, the loudest crack, very reminiscent of bullets, rings across your small living room. Scares her, scares you enough to steal the attention from the art between her thighs. 

The sight on the screen is new, even for you. 

It’s not every day you see girls being slung across muscly laps and swatted on the ass with wooden tools with their hands bound behind them while they cry and sob and beg for their masters to hit them harder. You probably would’ve laughed at the theatrics if Ellie wasn’t here, as if you weren't about to go to town on her ten seconds ago. Both your breaths shudder and tremble as raunchy sounds of lips smacking and girls touching themselves and fingering each other split your ears in half. 

Your vision tunnels and shifts when a whimper from Ellie rattles through your chest and down your ribcage. She gasps like you’ve caught her doing something bad, but she doesn’t stop whatever she’s doing. Just blushes madly with her hand shoved between her squeezed legs while her eyes flicker between you and the screen. 

Time seems to whir and the room spins. The pace of your breath increases, slobbery wheezes syncing with Ellie’s when her legs cross over one another. 

Your muscles move you closer, hands planted on either side of her waist, back enlengthening until your eyes are level with hers. Her tongue barely dips to wet her bottom lip, eyes swiftly flickering down to your mouth.

A hand raises right when another crack of a paddle against skin ripples through your speakers, and before Ellie can flinch, your palm caresses her cheek, thumb exploring the divets in her face. Over the healed wounds and fiery specks that hypnotize. You don’t expect her to nuzzle into your touch… 

And you definitely don’t expect her arm to start moving, despite its enclosing. 

Her eyelids bat, and green pierces through your chest. Over your neck, your face, your shoulders as her bicep twitches. When her lips part around a gasp, you choke. 

Lemme see. 

Ellie curses under her breath, kisses your palm, and undoes the twining of her legs. Her fingers are gentle where they rest over her pussy, the bones in her hand flexing as her palm digs into her clit, folds smushed around the muscles of her thumb. 

That’s how you do it?

Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, masking a smile as her head shakes. Your heart pinches. 

Show me how. 

Her head falls to the side as her cheeks sizzle. 

You first. 

You shudder, and your brain scolds. This wasn’t the plan. You were supposed to smoke, watch porn, eat pussy, and escort her home safely. 

Not the fucking plan.

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Ellie insisted that you restart Smoochie the Coochie before you undress. For ambiance, she’d said when you stood on two feet, watching as she removed her hoodie. For me? She’d whispered against your cheek, in only a tank top, when you finally positioned yourself on the cushion in front of her. Face to face, pussies almost touching, your knees to the ceiling. 

The volume of the footage has been turned down, but the acting… it’s fucking hilarious. You shouldn’t be smiling. You shouldn’t be giggling, but you are. 

Ellie moves loose strands of hair behind her ear, grin matching yours. 

“Hm?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Hm.”

Ellie, much to your shock, makes the first move. Again. 

Takes your wrist in her hand, brings your limp one up to her mouth to pepper kisses on your knuckles before pressing in between your open thighs. Your fingers are clumsy and your heart pounds against your ribcage, thighs jerking at the sticky contact of your own juices. Ellie's eyes between your legs like a hawk, leant comfortably against the pillows stacked behind her. 

Her attention encourages you. You balance on the hand that rests on the couch, grinning playfully around the fingers that sink into your mouth and glide on your tongue. Ellie shakes her head with a small smile before reaching for the lighter and last joint. Sticks the end of it between her lips, flicks the lighter twice, and ignites it. 

Every slow exhale of smoke gets rewarded with presses on your clit, your index and middle fingers tickling the sensitive area with learned precision. It pulsates under your fingertips whenever you lock eyes; her eyes are fervent with need, uncontrollably so, and it sends vibrations through your spine. 

Slower, Ellie whispers wetly when your touch becomes rushed. Too eager for her liking. She’s always hated when you rush things. Loathes your impatience. 

The moans from the film pick up again: shaky and cracked and high. They match yours when you apply just enough pressure on the spot right above your clit. Your walls constrict and slick gushes from, and Ellie curses.

When your fingers explore elsewhere, she sits up suddenly, her breath hitting your mouth when she mutters, Keep touching right there, with a tight hand around your wrist, trying to guide you back to the spot that makes your thighs quake.

I’m gonna cum if I do. There’s warning in your gasp.

Ellie puffs again before huffing a smoky breath, the scent infiltrating your senses. Your fingers almost sink inside, Wasn’t that the plan? 

Cum w-with me? 

Your voice is pleading, tone almost identical to when you would incessantly pester and follow Ellie around Jackson when you were younger. 

Ellie, watch a movie with me? 

Ellie, do a puzzle with me? 

Ellie, go on a walk with me?

Ellie! Ellie! Ellie! 

What used to be innocent invitations have swiftly shifted into something darker, and Ellie needs more. A shocked squeak leaves you when her free hand curls around the back of your neck to smash your lips together. Your hazy mind hadn’t registered Ellie’s fiery stares at your bruised lips, her head tilting in the opposite direction of yours, her nose brushing against yours whenever your fingers made a gooey noise. 

Your eyes flutter shut when her tongue sloppily glides over your bottom lip, moans quenchless where they hit Ellie’s tongue. She swallows them down until they jolt in her stomach, and shoves her hand between her thighs once more. 

Her fingers are drenched and so are yours; there’s nasty, slicked noises everywhere. From you, from Ellie, from the television that’s been forgotten by both of you. 

Ellie’s movements become desperate in a matter of seconds, no longer able to keep up the pace of your kiss. Your separated lips connect only by a thin line of saliva as Ellie gasps hit the skin of your cheek. 

Can’t wait to feel you on me. 

Your euphoria begs to peak at Ellie’s promise, your fingers massaging all the spots that send you to the stars at a desperate pace, trying to match Ellie’s. 

Cum with me, she growls like you did, Cum with me, cum with me, fuck —

Your friend’s name is a prayer on your tongue, shrouded in lust and a longing you’ve forced down to non-existence. You both succumb to pleasure in unison, the pulsing between your thighs synched with hers as she whimpers out. 

I wanna tie you up like that. Tie you up? Beat your ass raw and bloody? Whatever she's looking at, you want. You'll take without hassle. Anything for her. After one glance at the screen, 

Cumming for you, oh shit—

You wring out your high until there’s nothing left to give her, legs closing around your wrist at the aching sensitivity. Ellie’s head falls onto the arch of your knees, lathering your skin in spit-filled kisses, her soaked hand slowing between her legs. 

“Lay down.” 

“H-Hm?” 

“Lay down,” you croak. 

And she does, eyes filled with carnality. 

The porno is long forgotten when your head shoves between Ellie’s legs, the tape stuck on the starter screen while her cries of pleasure blend with the same bullshit accordion. 

You tongue her with fever, drink down all of her heartbreak that she endured while she was away from the source, mark yourself all over the terrain of her until she shatters with a cry of your name. Drenches your mouth, your tongue, your chin. Pushes you away with a cautious hand when you don’t stop. Flinches with sensitivity. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

“Hold still.” 

You swipe the disinfecting wipe over Ellie’s wound, fresh blood leaking into the white cotton. She assembles new bandages where she sits above you, unraveling the sterile fabric for you to wrap her in.

“I’m trying!” She whines, “It still hurts.” 

“Shouldn’t have tried to ride my face— “

She flicks your forehead so hard, it thumps like a drum, and you wince before playfully biting her finger. 

She snickers and allows you to collect the last bits of blood with the last tarnished rag in your first-aid kit, snagging the bandages from her grasp. She holds down the new gauze and does as she’s told, lifting her thigh on your command as you bind her messy stitches. 

Why did you kiss them, though? 

It lasted 0.5 seconds. A quick, gentle smack meant to soothe, but your brain doesn’t see it that way. Red alarms glow in every crevice of your cerebrum, urging you to move away from your best friend. You stare at Ellie and Ellie stares back, expression no longer readable and easy-going, and you flinch away from her. 

Inviting her over for some innocent porn-watching is one thing… but kissing her without motive? Without the need to progress into something more? It stuns you more than her. You think.

“Sor — sorry — “

Ellie’s already palming at your shoulders, “It’s okay… it’s not a big deal— “

And it’s not. Why does her confirmation bloom a new ache in your chest? 

Your knees pop when you hurriedly stand, and Ellie follows, hands sliding down your arms to grab your hands. 

“Hey…”

You meet her eyes. 

“We’re good… okay? It’s nothing serious.” 

Don’t cry. You agree with a grin. One you pray she doesn’t notice cracks in its corners. She says nothing. Just caresses your cheek in unsaid thanks. Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the distraction. 

Ellie returns a smile before gathering her clothes off the floor. She dresses in silence as you watch with a sorrowful gleam. Is it selfish to ask her to stay? Would it be too much? Should you? Will you?

It’s when she’s tying her boots up that you say something. 

“I can walk you back!” 

“I got it. I’m not going straight home.” 

Ellie’s denial is calm. Gentle. Not abrasive in the slightest, but your hands quiver and heart swells, bound to burst with dejection. Where is she going? The town is sleeping. 

She leaves before you can ask with a promise of seeing you in the morning for breakfast. Nothing unfamiliar, nothing changed. 

Tears rock you to sleep, and you’re not sure why. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[aliyahwritings]

PROTECTIVE INSTINCTS.

Summary: Rafe Cameron gets into a fight, and Sassy!Kook!Reader helps him clean up his wounds.

Warnings: childhood friends, overprotective!rafe, alcohol/coke mentioned, blood, dumb ahh inlove, annoying mf.

Words Count: 3163

A/N: my first 'official' post ohmygawwddd!!!! i hope you will all like this. u can imagine this out of the obx plot bc in this universe sarah and rafe lowk get along and she's not w topp*r. i imagine rafe being 20/21 and reader is js a year younger

Getting an invite to Topper's party was supposed to be the highlight of your week—a chance to let loose, drink, dance, and maybe sneak in a smoke or two. You were determined to have fun. You and Sarah had been buzzing about it for days, thrilled at the idea of a night out after what felt like an eternity of being buried under schoolwork. It had been ages since either of you had gone to a party, and with all the stress piling up, you needed the break.

But, of course, Rafe had to go and ruin it by reminding you that he existed and was going to attend the party.

As the night of the party arrived, you spent way too much time getting ready—your reflection in the mirror repeatedly checked as you perfected your messy dark eye makeup. Black heels on, strapless mini-dress in a black fabric. The waist is drawn with a thin, satin black ribbon into a neat bow. The skirt flared out slightly, you knew you looked stunning. Sarah had already sent you a dozen texts about how she couldn’t wait to hit the party, and you were just about ready to go.

When you arrived at the party, it was even more packed than you'd expected. Music thumped through the house, bodies swayed on the makeshift dance floor, and the smell of coke, smoke, and alcohol lingered in the air. Sarah grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd as you both laughed. That was exactly the chaos you both needed.

"God, I've missed this!" Sarah shouted over the music as we moved to the dance floor. You smiled, matching her energy, the rhythm pulling your bodies into a sway.

For a while, it was easy to forget everything—school stress, drama, even Rafe’s looming presence at the party.

That is, until you saw him.

Rafe Cameron, leaning against a wall with his usual arrogance, a bottle of beer in his hand and his eyes scanning the room like he owned the place. It wasn't long before his eyes landed on you, and as usual, he didn’t look away. His eyes tracked you from across the room. He always watched you—like it was his job to make sure you were okay, even though you made it clear you didn’t need him playing bodyguard.

You groaned inwardly. 

“Just ignore him,” Sarah whispered in your ear, sensing your mood shift. “Come on, let’s dance.”

And you did—letting the music take over as you moved with your friend, blocking out everything else. For a moment, it felt like maybe, you could enjoy the night without thinking about him. You walked away from your friend to get both of you a drink but as you arrived at the bar, a guy who you didn’t recognize walked up to me, his breath hot and alcohol-laced as he leaned in too close, his voice low and crude.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he said with a smirk growing on his face. “You look stunning tonight. That dress—damn, it’s doing wonders to your body.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore him as you focused on getting your drinks. “Thanks, but I’m not interested,” you replied coolly, turning slightly away from him.

“Oh, come on now,” he pressed, undeterred. “Don’t be like that. I could make your night a lot more fun. I know how to show a girl a good time. I could take you somewhere private, just you and me. I bet I could make you feel better than any of the other guys ever could.”

You felt your stomach churn, irritation rising as you glanced around for an escape. “I really don’t think so,” you said firmly, your patience wearing thin. “Just back off, alright?”

But he stepped closer, invading your personal space even more, a cocky grin plastered on his face. “Why're you playing hard to get when we both know you’re a slut. You don’t gotta pretend with me, baby—”

You rolled your eyes, about to insult him but the sound of a bottle smashing to the floor before Rafe’s fist collided with the guy's face.

“Say that again,” Rafe growled, his voice deadly calm as he grabbed the guy by the collar, pulling him close. The crowd around you froze, the music blaring in the background as Rafe’s knuckles bled from the punch he’d just thrown.

The guy stumbled, trying to mumble something that sounded like an apology, but of course, Rafe wasn’t done. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with a fury that sent chills down your spine.

“Rafe!” you shouted, pushing through the frozen crowd to get to him. “Let him go!”

But he barely heard you. His focus was locked on the guy, like he was two seconds ago from throwing another punch. It took Topper and Kelce rushing over to pull him off before things escalated any further.

The guy backed away, rubbing his jaw, his eyes wide with fear. “I-I didn’t know, man—”

“I don’t fucking care. Get out of here!” Rafe yelled, cutting him off, his chest still heaving with rage.

You watched as the guy walked away, his tail between his legs. Your attention shifted to Rafe, who turned on his heel and headed towards the stairs. You followed him with your eyes as he ascended until he disappeared into one of the rooms upstairs, shutting the door behind him.

You glanced around, searching for Sarah. When you spotted her you waved to catch her eye. She looked over, and you mouthed, “I’m going to check on Rafe.” Sarah gave you a quick nod.

With a deep breath, you pushed your way through the crowd and made your way upstairs, the noise from the party fading into the background as you reached the top. The hallway was quieter, the air heavier. Without hesitation, you headed straight for the door you saw Rafe disappear behind. You didn’t even think to knock; there was no need for formality between the two of you. It wasn’t in your nature to tiptoe around Rafe, not when you’d known him your entire life.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He glanced up when you entered, surprise flashing briefly in his eyes before it was replaced with that familiar guarded expression.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, “What the hell is your problem, Rafe?” you told him, crossing your arms on your chest. “You can’t just go around hitting people!”

He stood up, glaring at you. “He deserved it,” he shot back. He turned away from you, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Did you hear the shit he was saying to you? You think I was just gonna stand there and let him talk to you like tha?”

You sighed, frustrated but not entirely surprised. This was Rafe—impulsive, overprotective, and always ready to throw a punch when it came to you. “Yeah, I heard it, Rafe—he was talking to me. And I could’ve handled it. I don’t need you acting like my knight in shining armor.”

His head snapped up at that, and he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Really? You think you could’ve handled him? Because from where I was standing, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

You huffed, shaking your head. "That’s not the fucking point! You always do this. You’re always trying to play the hero when no one asked you to." You met his gaze with a hard stare of your own, refusing to back down.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching as he stepped even closer, closing the distance between you. His voice dropped lower, almost a growl. "Maybe I’m not playing. Maybe I actually give a damn when some asshole thinks he can talk to you like that."

His proximity made the air between you feel charged, and you had to fight the urge to step back. Instead, you held your ground, your heart pounding in your chest. "And maybe you should learn to pick your battles instead of flying off the handle every time someone so much as looks at me the wrong way," you shot back, your voice just as sharp as his.

His lips twisted into a smirk, though there was no humor in it—just frustration. "Pick my battles?" He echoed, his voice low and dangerous. "Like you would ever let me. Every time I try to protect you, you act like it’s some kind of personal offense. Like I’m doing something wrong by giving a damn about what happens to you, Y/N."

You scoffed, crossing your arms tighter across your chest. "Because it’s not about me! It’s about you needing to feel like you’re in control of everything. You can’t just punch your way through life, Rafe."

"It’s not about control. It’s about not letting anyone treat you like that. I’m not gonna stand by and watch it happen. Not when it’s you."

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of his words hanging between you. You sighed, the fight slowly leaving your body. “You’ve always been like this, you know?” you said, your tone softening just slightly. “Even when we were kids. You were always ready to defend me.”

His expression softened, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, well, some things don’t change.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “You’re impossible, Rafe Cameron.”

He let out a low laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real bite behind it. The anger between you was fading. He infuriated you, but deep down, you knew his heart was in the right place—even if he had a habit of making things way more complicated than they needed to be.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours, the tension still there but different now. He stepped closer again, but this time, there was no anger in his movements, just something more... deliberate. His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "You looked good tonight, by the way."

Your breath hitched, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with a smirk of your own. "You’re just now noticing?" you teased, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

"Trust me, I noticed the second you walked in."

You cleared your throat, breaking the intense moment between you two. “Let me see your hand,” you said, trying to refocus on something else.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his usual cocky smirk creeping back onto his face. “What? Worried about me now, princess?”

“Hardly, but you’re a mess and someone’s gotta clean you up before you bleed all over Topper’s sheets.”

He grinned, stepping back slightly and letting you grab his hand. His skin was warm under your fingers, and you tried to ignore the way your pulse quickened as you turned his hand over, inspecting the damage. His knuckles were raw, a few cuts oozing blood.

You glanced around the room, spotting a small bathroom attached to the guest room. “Sit down,” you ordered, nodding towards the bed. Rafe didn’t argue—surprisingly—but the amused smirk never left his face as he sat down, watching you with that intense, unblinking gaze of his. You walked over to the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinet until you found some bandages and antiseptic wipes.

When you returned, Rafe had leaned back against the headboard, legs spread slightly, his arms resting on his knees like he was waiting to be entertained. 

“Hold still,” you said firmly as you sat on the edge of the bed beside him, gently taking his injured hand in yours. 

"Careful," he teased, his voice low and husky. "I might start thinking you actually care."

You shot him a quick glare, your eyes narrowed. "Or maybe I just don’t want to deal with your whining if this gets infected."

He chuckled, the sound deep and almost... seductive. "Trust me, I’m not the whining type. You, on the other hand, love getting under my skin."

You ignored his comment, though the corners of your mouth twitched in amusement. “Here you go, telling lies. Unlike you, I am responsible—something you wouldn’t understand.” 

Rafe’s smirk widened, his blue eyes locked on yours as you worked. “Yeah? Is that why you spent half the night trying to avoid me?” He tilted his head. “You’re terrible at it, by the way.”

“Maybe I was avoiding you because I knew you’d do something stupid. And look, I was right.”

“So, you were watching me all night, huh? Didn’t realize I was that distracting.”

“More like I could sense the chaos coming from a mile away,” you shot back, the corner of your mouth twitching despite your best efforts not to smile.

“Admit it, you’d miss me if I didn’t cause a little chaos.”

You snorted, playfully nudging his good shoulder. “Miss you? I think my life would be way more peaceful.”

He gave a dramatic sigh, clutching his chest with his uninjured hand. “Wow. You really know how to wound a guy. If I wasn’t already bandaged, I’d need another one for my heart.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Please, Rafe. You’ve got an ego the size of this entire house. I think your heart’s just fine.”

He chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Maybe. But you like me this way.”

“Oh, do I now?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And what makes you think that?”

Rafe leaned in just a little more, that teasing grin still plastered on his face. “Because, no matter how much you complain, you’re always right here. Taking care of me. Telling me I’m an idiot. It’s kind of your thing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though the sass in your voice was playful. “It’s called charity work, Rafe. I should be getting paid for dealing with you.”

He laughed, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up. “Oh, I’ll pay you back. Trust me.”

You tilted your head, giving him a sly smile. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that?”

Rafe’s grin widened at your challenge, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He shifted a little closer, the air between you growing even more charged. “Oh, you’ll see, princess. But you’ll have to be patient. I know that’s not your strong suit.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you leaned back on the bed, crossing your legs. “Patience? With you? That’s asking for a miracle, Cameron.”

He chuckled, his hand resting just beside your thigh. “Miracle? More like a blessing. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and you know it.”

You shot him a look, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Best thing? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re like a stray dog that keeps following me around, begging for attention.”

Rafe smirked, leaning in so his face was closer to yours, his voice dropping low. "And you love the attention. Don’t act like you don’t.”

“Please, the only thing I love is the peace and quiet I get when you’re not around.”

He let out a mock gasp, putting a hand over his chest. “Ouch. Again.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Dramatic again. Besides, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, that cocky grin never leaving his face. “Me? Can’t take it? You must be thinking of someone else, sweetheart. I can take anything you throw at me.”

You leaned in a little, matching his energy. “Anything? That sounds like a challenge.”

He tilted his head, his blue eyes locking onto yours, full of playful intensity. “It is. Go ahead, try me. What’ve you got?”

You pursed your lips, pretending to think for a moment before smirking. “Alright. How about this? For starters, you’re predictable. Every time something doesn’t go your way, you throw a tantrum or a punch, like you’re still a spoiled little boy.”

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter, if anything, it grew. “Predictable? That’s rich, coming from someone who’s always acting like she doesn’t care when we both know she does.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “I don’t care. I just know how to deal with your dramatics.”

“Right. That’s why you followed me up here, bandaged my hand, and now you’re sitting here flirting with me,” Rafe said, his tone smug.

You blinked, caught off guard for a second. “Flirting? Don’t confuse taking care of your stupidity with flirting, Cameron.”

He leaned even closer, his lips just inches from yours now, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “Oh, so this isn’t flirting?”

You bit your lip, fighting the heat rising in your cheeks. “No. This is me being nice because you’re too dumb to take care of yourself.”

“Sure it is,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that husky tone that always made your heart race. “You’re really bad at hiding it, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow, challenging him. “Hiding what?”

Rafe grinned, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “How much you like being around me.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re delusional. I’m just here so Topper doesn’t kill you for bleeding all over his stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Rafe replied, his thumb lightly tracing circles on your thigh, the gesture casual but full of tension. “And I’m sure you’d leave the second I’m patched up, right?”

You blinked, but your voice didn’t waver as you answered, “Absolutely. As soon as I’m done here, I’m out.”

“Really?” His eyes sparkled with challenge, his breath warm on your skin. “Then why haven’t you left yet?”

You faltered, trying to keep your cool, but his proximity was intoxicating. “Because... You needed help for your hand and I couldn't let you be miserable.”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Always gotta get the last word, huh?”

“Someone has to,” you shot back, but your voice was quieter, less sharp as the tension between you both thickened.

He watched you for a long moment, his gaze intense but soft at the same time. Then, with that infuriating smirk still on his face, he leaned back slightly. “Alright, I’ll let you win this round. But don’t think I didn’t notice how close you got just now.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up from the bed. “I was checking your hand, not getting close to you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess,” he teased, watching you as you walked toward the bathroom to put away the bandages.

You turned back to him, shaking your head with a smile. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet, you keep coming back,” Rafe quipped, standing up and stretching.

And he was right…

tags: @glors3 @mattyskies @cutiebuety @sumlovesjude @dilfluvr4ever @cooper8224 @octaviareina @imawhoretho @drewscoquette @cutiebuety @gracelynnmarielester @amourfolklore @gillybear17 @rafestaurusgf @meekmillsfrenchfries @auriellawp @urdreamgirl12 @katie-the-author @love1deandra @rafecameroninterlude @stargrltara @stupendousturt1e

[nanivinsmoke]

Forbidden Fruit

Toji x F!Reader

okay okay i know i just wrote something about toji recently but got this man is on my mind… this might be pretty short.

summary : can’t help but to taste what’s not yours.

warnings : small age gap, reader is in her late 20s and toji is in his late 30s, sexting, phone sex, cheating (toji is married to your sister), cream pies, mentions of breeding, & some anal. nickname: daddy, mama princess….

you couldn’t help yourself each time he came around and neither could he. what started off as small as flirting, quickly turned into something more serious.

sneaking away to see you even though he was married to your sister? it was wrong. he knew it and you knew it too. but, who gave a damn? your sister wasn’t a good person either.

you saw this as her karma for her breaking up your past relationships. fucking and flirting each of your ex-boyfriends and telling you that they were “no good for you anyways” as her reasoning.

the affair between you started the day they got married. as you sat in your hotel room, your phone chimed and it was a message from him telling you that he couldn’t keep his fucking eyes off you, no matter how hard he tried. the text followed with a picture of his boner behind his black boxers.

you couldn’t believe it when your first saw the message. you spent a good thirty minutes contemplating what should you do before you responded with a picture of your hard nipples, poking through your t-shirt you were sleeping in.

during his entire honeymoon, toji spent it sexting you. the both of you sending pictures and videos back and forth to each other, building up the temptation and excitement. the last day of their trip, he called you while your sister was asleep; voice raspy and sexy. he told you how they didn’t have sex this whole time they were away and that he needed some help to relieve the strain in his pants.

smiling, you sat on the edge of your kitchen counter and began teasing your nipples the more he talked. the more you pinched and listened to his voice, the hornier you became and before you knew it; you were two fingers deep in your dripping wet cunt.

“soo wet for you—fuck im cumming~” you breathed into the phone as your creamed right there on your counter top, putting the phone on speaker so he can hear everything. he was right behind you on the other end, grunting and moaning out your name; shooting a thick load out onto his hand. a few seconds later he sent you a picture of his cum filled hand, begging for you to come help him clean it up.

when he finally returned from his honeymoon he immediately hit you up, wanting to come and see you. he told you that your sister wanted to visit your parents for a week, which meant he wanted to be with you for that week as well. so, you spent the early hours of the day getting ready for his arrival.

fridge was stocked with food and drinks. you went shopping, picking out lingerie you thought he might like, but you know once he sees you in it; he’ll be ripping it off in a heartbeat. you thought about cooking for him, but decided against it because you aren’t his wife. instead you ordered takeout for the both of you.

you were wearing nothing but a tight fitting t-shirt and your panties, watching reruns of your favorite show; when you heard your doorbell ring, followed by a knock. clicking the television off, you got up from your spot on the couch and walked over to your front door. after checking the peephole, you opened the door and immediately pull him in a kiss.

your plump lips melting on his, kissing him like it was the last time you ever will. and when you parted from him, a trail of salvia followed after you which you happily licked up. “damn mama, missed me that much?” toji chortled, closing the door behind him and handing you the brown paper bag he had in his hand.

“hungry? there’s food in the kitchen” you told him, looking in the paper bag as you walked. he had two bottles of wine and a box of condoms. “condoms? we won’t be needing those.” turning around to look at him, he raised an eyebrow and chuckled. oh, he was going to have way too much fun with you.

he grabbed the bag out of your hand and sat it on a near by coffee table, before grabbing your hand and leading you to your plush brown couch. pulling you down on his lap as he sat, his huge hands rubbing your ass that wasn’t hidden by your panties. “not hungry, hm?”

“not for food” he said lowly, hand tugging at your panties; his forest colored eyes darkening by the moment. your body got all warm and the middle of your underwear started to dampen. “don’t worry baby, I’ve got something to satisfy your hunger~” your words fueled him and his lips pressed on your’s as he pressed you down on his crotch hard, his boner poking you through his dark grey sweatpants.

his lips moved from yours to side of your neck, kissing and licking on it; finding the sweet spot immediately. moans and whimpers falling out of your mouth, your arousal building by the second. you rolled your hips against his clothed cock, your slick seeping out and onto his pants. his hands gripped the hell out of your cheeks, halting your movements before he pulled away from your sweet neck. a whine escaped your lips and you looked at him with a pout.

“calm down, princess. this couch is way too small for me to fuck you the way i want to” the older male said, a smirk printed on his tan face—his scar rising when he does. it took everything in you not to pounce on him, getting up from his lap your face flushed with embarrassment when you saw the wet spot you left on him. his smirk deepened when he caught your gaze. he grabbed your hand and you led him to your bedroom, where your king sized bed sat.

wasting no time, he attacks your body again with lust fueled kisses—both of your clothes being tossed on the bed one by one. his big hands gripping your ass, spreading them apart while his cock pokes you in the front. your slick had made its way down to your ass cheeks, which he felt as teased your aching hole from the back. “toji~!” you whined, spreading your legs further apart; letting him tease you some more.

his scarred lip turned up into a smirk again, thick digit pushing its way inside of you, “please, just fuck me already~.” with one swift movement you were no longer touching the floor, instead you were in the air, his arms underneath your thighs holding you up. reaching under, you angled his girthy cock to your wet folds—rubbing your slick on it before pushing the fat mushroom tip inside of you.

wincing at the pain that came with it, you leaned closer towards his bare, sculpted chest, gripping at his shoulder blades. “you can take it~” he coached, wiggling his hips so his cock could move around in your tight canal—letting you get used to it.

“so fucking good—shhhittt, right there” your cries of pleasure echoed in his ear, the minute you got used to him and his pace increased. his balls slapped your cunt, getting coated in your wetness which drove you crazy. the more he moved the more his cock drove you crazy. if you new how good this would’ve felt, you would’ve fucked him a long time ago, way before he got married to your sister.

toji’s hands moved to your ass, squeezing the fat together—his stroke deepening with each thrust. the way he filled you up in each stroke made small drips of fluid leak from your cunt. “squirting already? pussy’s too fucking good~” hearing you whimper and mewl ignited something in him, his dick pushing into you harder and deeper than the last. you was sure your pussy would be stretched and sore when he got done with you.

the feeling of your walls clench rapidly around him made him go insane. “you’re gonna cum for me, daddy? please. please. please, i want your cum so bad” you babbled, tugging at his hair, your own orgasm approaching.

his green eyes stayed locked on yours, lidded and blank—his hips slamming into yours. “cumming—fuckkkkk” his load shot out in thick ropes, filling your pussy up to the brim. you let out a loud moan and nibbled at his ear lobe, cumming all over his cock.

———

‘PLAP. PLAP. PLAP. PLAP’

the juicy sound of your ass clapping against his bare pelvis echoed in the room as he drilled you from the back. being that his wife wasn’t fucking him he was so pent up that his balls were still aching for another release.

you had never been fucked like this either. the way he made your pussy his, left you in awe. you were falling in love with him and his dick. and although he was with someone else, you were his and he was yours.

hearing his phone vibrate and ring, he reached over to his sweatpants that was tossed on the bed; he pulled out his phone and answered it once he saw the name that popped up. “hey honey? how’s your parents?” he spoke, greeting his wife; your sister while continuing to fuck your cunt sloppy.

you must’ve clenched around him a little to tightly because he sent a hard slap to your ass, making you moan into the mattress. the thought of you being caught fucking someone else’s husband only made you hornier. you swiftly reached underneath you and began to fondle his balls, earning a deep breath from him.

“nothing, just watching a movie. huh…miss you too” he looked down at you when you turned you head at him, smirking while you continued to massage him. toji looked down at your ass and at your puckering hole, smiling wickedly when your eyes widened once his finger prodded at it. “wait baby—nghhh~”

his thick digit sat curled in your hole, moving it around each time he dug himself deeper inside you. “uh huh. yes i love you too, bye” he tossed his phone somewhere on the floor, one large hand on your hip, pounding you deep into your soft mattress. he groaned at the tight sensation that engulfed his cock, so fucking wet—just for him.

“breed this little cunt, yeah? make you swollen with my babies~”

“cumming. im cumming so hard for you daddy”

with two more hard pumps, his dick twitched inside of you and he emptied his balls out; draining him completely with your orgasm following. your body shook and spasmed, whispering his name as you rode out the intensity of your orgasm. pulling out of you once he was sure every last drop was inside, he pulled your body close to his and pulled up the covers.

“there’s a possibility i might get pregnant. what if she finds out?”

“i know. and i meant every word I said, im going to breed you until your swollen with my babies” He started, leaning on his hand to look at you with that sexy, yet dangerous smirk.

“and that won’t happen. this will be our little secret”

[f0point5]

Max Verstappen x bestfriend!reader Masterlist

She’s still bejewelled - Y/N finds out F1 wag pages are once again speculating she is dating her best friend, Max Verstappen

It’s (not) a cruel summer - Y/N and Max enjoy the summer break

August slipped away - Y/N does a Q&A to catch up with her followers after summer break

Burning red- Lando puts his foot in it

Holy ground - Fans discuss their excitement to see Y/N and Max interact at Zandvoort

I’m the one who understands you - A window into Max and Y/N’s home life

It turned into something bigger - Y/N’s comments about her childhood friend, Mick Schumacher, lead to a social media firestorm

They’d say I’d hustled, put in the work - A look at Y/N’s podcast, Dirty Air(time)

Shake it off - Determined to forget her worries, Y/N goes out parting with Max and Lando

They say home is where the heart is - Fans discuss how Y/N and Max love being roommates

(We’re) in the club doing I don’t know what - Fans look back on Max and Y/N’s Club Rat Renaissance

Pauses, then says, (he’s) my best friend - Y/N spends the day in Amsterdam while Max does press at Zandvoort

How evergreen, our group of friends - Snippets of Y/N and Max’s other friends on the grid and beyond

We’re faster and never scared - It’s a dramatic Friday in the Zandvoort paddock

I watch Superman fly away - The drama continues as Y/N and Mick have a run in in the paddock

Long live all the magic he made - Y/N supports Max as he equals the record for most consecutive wins

Remember the footsteps - A look at Y/N and Mick’s lifelong friendship

He has his father’s eyes…his father’s ambition - A look at Y/N’s relationship with Jos

I love your handshake, meeting my father - Fans discuss Jos’s perspective on Y/N, and her relationship with Max

And maybe it was egos swinging - Everyone speculates about the cause and consequences of Y/N and Mick’s falling out

I fell from the pedestal - Y/N becomes the subject of internet trolling after her fall out with Mick becomes public

Don’t know how long it’s gonna take to feel okay - Unable to deal with the stress and trolling, Y/N goes home to Switzerland, cutting off Max

My reputation’s never been worse so - Y/N’s absence sparks concerns amongst those closest to her

If someone comes at us, this time I’m ready - Y/N’s friends publicly support her as the hate continues

You don’t want to know me, I will just let you down

My words shoot to kill when I’m mad - Mick and Y/N finally talk

Something in your eyes says we can beat this - Max has a tough start to an important weekend, but his luck is about to change

(We) saw something the can’t take away - Y/N is there as Max wins at Monza and breaks another record

This is life before you know who you’re gonna be - Netizens discuss Max and Y/N’s enemy era

20 questions, we tell the truth - Y/N catches up with her followers after a hectic couple of weeks, and meets a man in Monaco

On a Wednesday, in a café - Y/N’s podcast with Daniel leads to some interesting revelations

Do you really want to know where I was? - Y/N and Max spend a day at the factory as rumours begin to swirl

I make it look oh so easy - Y/N and Max choose different confidants as they both attempt to avoid the elephant in the room

You’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes - It gets harder for Y/N to keep her secret

Slow motion, double vision in rose blush - Y/N gets back in the saddle while Max watches from the sidelines in more ways than one

Carnations you had thought were roses - Two of Y/N’s secrets are revealed

Didn’t it all seem new and exciting - Max leaves Y/N behind in Monaco as she reflects on her date

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time - Y/N heads to Switzerland for a special appointment as her relationship with Max is put under a microscope

I don’t wanna miss you like this - Y/N and Max deal with the distance between them differently

Your finger on my hairpin trigger - Tensions run high as Max has a bad day on track and Y/N gets defensive

Takes one to know one - Y/N’s much needed talk with Elliot is interrupted by an explosive qualifying in Singapore

I want to tell you not to get lost in these petty things - Max’s streak comes to an end and he and Y/N look ahead to Suzuka

Forever going with the flow, but you’re friction - Max asking Y/N to fly out early to Japan leads to tension and Y/N turns to Daniel for advice

I drive down different roads - Fans, and Y/N, speculate about her budding relationship

(They) knew what it was, he is in love - Netizens set out to prove that Max is in love with Y/N

(We) counted days, I counted miles, to see you there - Y/N arrives in Japan and is reunited with Max

Balancing on breaking branches - Max receives an unexpected delivery as Y/N answers questions from the media and her mother

It’s you and me, there’s nothing like this - As Max gets back to business as usual in Suzuka, wag social media does it’s thing

My (baby flies) like a jet stream - Max has a good day on track and Y/N’s Vogue article goes live

I can read you like a magazine - The internet reacts to mentions of Max in Y/N’s Vogue article

He’s passing by, rare as a glimmer of a comet in the sky - Red Bull securing the WCC is overshadowed by the revelation that Max hates podcasts

The lingering question(s) kept me up - Y/N does an Instagram Q&A

I just may like some explanations - Y/N answers more questions

How you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry - Set in 2017, we learn what led to Y/N’s dad being dropped as Max’s sponsor, early in their friendship

People started talking, putting us through our paces - When Y/N is spotted out with Elliot, Instagram, Max, and Lando react

I don’t wanna touch you - Y/N finds herself short of breath on her padel date. Later, she appears on Max’s stream

(I) will never make my parents’ mistakes - Y/N’s dad hears about her dating life, and her mother weighs in

Drinking on a (yacht) with you all over me - Y/N and Max kick of his birthday celebrations with a day on the water, while Elliot changes his tune

I’d pick you up and we’d go back in time - Y/N and Max bring in his birthday somewhere special

We’re gonna be timeless - It’s Max’s birthday, but Y/N isn’t the only one planning surprises

Take the moment and taste it - Max enjoys a birthday boat day with family and friends, and Vic makes an accidental discovery

There’s glitter on the floor after the party - It’s the morning after night before. Max and Vic discuss Y/N’s letter

Movin’ on was always easy for me to do - Y/N and Elliot meet up to talk and Y/N’s friend weighs in. Y/N’s tweets irritate Max

Your eyes look like (being at) home - Y/N goes riding, Lando proposes plans, and Max has plans of his own

No I didn’t hear the news, ‘cause we were somewhere else - Max and Y/N arrive in Doha, but rumours about Max’s Monaco exploits follow them

You heard the rumours from (your friends) - Max attends Media Day while Y/N hangs out with an old friend

‘Cause they don’t know about the night in the hotel - Max’s GQ interview exposes an interesting part of Max and Y/N’s past

I was dancing around, dancing around it - Y/N and Clara celebrate Max’s on track triumphs

(You) stand up, champion tonight - Max becomes a three time world champion

This life is sweeter than fiction - Max wins in Qatar in a physically gruelling race

Life makes love look hard - Back in Monaco, Y/N is seen out with Elliot, and he makes a bold suggestion

Can we always be this close? - Y/N and Max have a chill day at home and while Twitter notice Max made an admission in an interview, Y/N makes an admission to Victoria

Inescapable, I’m not even gonna try - Y/N and Max spend a day at the factory, where both realise they may have something to work on

You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me - Y/N’s podcast with Oscar comes out, on the same day she finally films one with Max. Meanwhile, Max uses the sim in an unconventional way

Yes, I remember what you said last night - Y/N’s plans for COTA baffle Christian, and Y/N learns an unexpected fact about the past

Take out, then take me home - Y/N prepares for Austin, and an interview with Max comes out

Love’s a game, wanna play? - Y/N tries her hand at padel after watching Max compete, and Max steams with Redline

Rosé flowing with your chosen family - Clara and Y/N spend the day together, and Clara becomes determined to finish what she started in 2017

(We are) a flight risk, with a fear of falling - Y/N and Max head to the US

Ain’t it funny, rumours fly - Y/N heads to a Ferrari gala as rumours swirl about Max’s next career move amid reports of infighting at Red Bull

As if I don’t already see (it) - The circus settles in to Texas and Y/N’s dad weighs in on Elliot

Can you see right through me? - Y/N and Elliot make a king and awkward paddock debut

I’ve been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night - Y/N sheds light on her dating history while she and Elliot struggle to adjust to life in the paddock

It’s morning now, it’s brighter now - Y/N reaches out to an old friend for support. Meanwhile, Daniel tries to support Max

The moment I could see it - Max takes another win in Austin while Elliot reaches his breaking point

You’ll find the real thing instead - Y/N and Elliot have an honest conversation

In the name of being honest - Bonus part where Y/N answers Instagram questions after the Austin GP

I’m asking you why - More of Y/N’s post Austin Q&A

You’ve got a girl at home and everybody knows that - Y/N and Max are suspects in the wildest paddock rumour yet as they wrap up their trip to Austin

You learn my secrets and you figure out why I’m guarded - Y/N gets brutally honest with Mick as Max plays goalkeeper twice

You saw the truth in me - Max cuts it close before media day as reports surface of security threats in Mexico

They tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused - Max attends a gruelling media day as Y/N deals with the heat of Mexico

Laughing with (your head in my) lap, like you were my closest friend - Everyone has a tough quali day

This is the golden age - Maxico delivers another win, and Y/N celebrates with tequila

(You would never) me darling, but who could stay? - Y/N and Max arrive in Brazil for a short break before the race

No one has to know what we do - Max and Y/N fall off the map and enjoy some private time

I can’t say anything to your face - Max and Y/N continue to leave each other flustered and Max starts press for the Brazilian GP

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm - Max takes pole in difficult conditions and Y/N gets near her breaking point

We were cards sharks, playing games - Max wins the sprint and Y/N wins games of her own

🚨I’ve had to add a second masterlist for all posts after this point. That can be found here 🚨

[macfrog]

sweet child o' mine | pt. ii

hi. this is max's lawyer speaking. please don't get mad at her for this part. she asked me to let you know that she loves you all and hopes that you trust her. sincerely, jimmy mcgill

pairing: neighbor!joel x fem!reader

summary: you're pregnant with joel miller's kid. he's dating someone else. you deal with it.

warnings: reader is literally pregnant so typical pregnancy stuff like nausea (none of the v word, y'all are safe with me), ultrasound scene set in a hospital, anxiety and guilt surrounding pregnancy, description of body change/growth, brief and i mean brief discussion of abortion, joel is dating someone who isn't reader, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), reader has no physical description save for hair, cursing, genderless use of buddy when referring to baby, joel kisses someone who is not his partner, mention of alcohol, disturbing & semi-graphic nightmare about being involved in car accident, reader has a panic attack, discussion of dead parents, fluff and the beginnings of angst DISCLAIMER: this series covers some issues which i know may be sensitive and possibly triggering to some. warnings will always be as thorough as possible, but if there's ever anything you feel i've missed, please let me know. feel free to drop by my inbox anytime.

word count: 9.2k

pt. i / series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🩵

“I know, I know,” Joel holds a palm up, “it’s nine thirty. I know. But I had to lug all this wood over here, and it – You okay?”

You realize when he pauses that you’re gaping at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place behind your front door. Your jaw hinges shut, a gulp like carpet burn down your throat. You didn’t hear a word he just said.

How does he know? He can’t possibly. Did he sense it, from two lawns away? Dream about the binding of cells, the furnace left lit in your body from that night? The embers still floating, just waiting to catch to life again?

Did he do the fucking math, the way you probably should’ve? How does he fucking know?

The minute the question leaves your mouth, you regret it.

Joel’s eyebrows drop. “How did I know what, kid? That you need new closets? Like you ain’t been nipping my ear about ‘em for weeks?”

Your eyes unlock from his and shift to the slats of wood leaning against the balustrade. The toolbox hanging from his fist. The worn jeans and the white dust marks on his thighs. He doesn’t fucking know, you idiot.

Joel steps forward. Takes your wrist. One grounding, steady hand around your thrashing pulse. “You’re freaking me out. What the hell’s –?”

“Nothing,” you chirp, remembering. The closet. The deal. The fucking – the deal. You withdraw your arm. Hidden up your sleeve, quickly slipping out of his grasp, is the news that his life is about to change forever.

Maybe. You don’t fucking know.

“No,” you continue, blinking the burn of sunlight from your vision, “I just – I forgot. Sorry. Come in. Sorry.”

“Quit sayin’ sorry,” he mutters, eyeing you suspiciously. He lifts a foot and hovers it over the threshold, hesitating. Like the first step across a minefield; instinct telling him to tread carefully.

And you swear an oath to yourself, swear it on your own life: if he doesn’t put the heel of his boot in your hallway, if he turns around right now whether because his instinct is razor sharp, or because he forgot his lucky screwdriver, or purely because he needs to take a fucking leak before he gets started – you will never tell him. He will never know.

If his intuition is that good, he’ll turn around and never show up on your porch again. If he has any sense, he’ll forget any of this ever happened. Deal off.

“How’s the stomach?” Joel asks, sole still three inches from wood.

“What?” you bleat, your heel knocking against the bottom stair. It’s a little more panicked than you intended.

“Yesterday,” a crease forms between his brows, “you said you had a weird stomach. That any better?”

Oh, you think, and as you open your mouth to reply, his foot hits the ground. No answer needed. He was coming in whether you tried to deter him or not.

“Oh, yeah. It’s – Well, it’s better than it was. I think I worked it out,” you grimace, tongue curling under the tinge of anxiety and – well. “Thanks,” you add, noticing the brisk cut of your replies.

The heavy thud of his footsteps follows you upstairs, blunt on the carpet as you lead him up. Joel sets the toolbox down and casts your room a quick glance, snapping back to you as soon as you notice him.

You tug on the corner of the bedsheets, a heat bubbling beneath your cheeks. Something shy and self-conscious, all of a sudden. The reality that you don’t feel close enough to this man to share the anatomy of your room with him, mixed with the knowledge that the two of you are, now and forever, bound by the anatomy of something a little more significant than dirty laundry and dusty wardrobes.

A little closer than most humans get, let’s say.

“You want a coffee or something?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning back against the window sill.

“You havin’ one?”

“Sure. Wait – actually –” Can you have coffee whilst pregnant? A woman at work quit it altogether when she fell pregnant with her son. Fuck. “I’m – No. I’m good. But let me go make you one.”

Joel shakes his head, amused. Screwdriver burrowing into a door hinge already. He flashes you a tickled grin. “I’m good just now, kid. Wait until you’re makin’ one. Thanks.”

You lift a shoulder. “Welcome.”

His eyes flit from the twist of silver to your hunched shoulders, your arms crossed protectively over your chest. “You gonna stand there ‘n watch me all day? You my foreman now?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he laughs. You sniff, twisting your foot into the carpet. The plastic test itches against your skin; you can feel the two lines ripping into your wrist like tiny burns. “I can go, if you want.”

His lip turns, musing. A quick flick of his jaw. “You’re good company, all in all.”

Metal clanking against metal; fingers knuckle-deep in the toolbox. You can hear the harsh sound across your body, like the point of screws and bite of rust are actually scoring your skin. The groan of a near-fifty-year-old man rising to rip a decades-old door from its home. The creak of wood as it splits.

Everything so heightened that it’s actually painful.

Joel straightens up and pauses, turning his screwdriver between his fingers. “Are we –? We’re good, right?”

“Good?”

“Yeah. You’d tell me if things were weird?”

“Why would things be weird?”

His answer scrawls itself across his face. Your response scoffs from your lips.

“I just,” Joel sighs, “I feel like something might be off with ya. Maybe you just ain’t feelin’ too hot. But you’re quiet.”

“Quiet,” you whisper, palms locking heavily against your biceps. More defensive than convincing.

“Yeah. You usually annoy the hell outta me.”

Over your shoulder, Alice Brown waddles down her driveway, eyeing her flowerbeds. She pauses when Diane’s station wagon pulls up across the street; stands motionless as she watches the round figure climb out and totter to her own front door.

“Just – not in a very annoying mood, I guess,” you offer, staring at the white head of hair fluttering in the breeze. The glint of a trowel in her hand.

Joel’s chin lifts. He studies you, tongue tracing the ridges of his teeth. And then he’s nearing you, turning until you’re shoulder to shoulder, two silhouettes stood against the bright square of blue sky inside your window frame. His arms crossed; his stare fixed.

The words begin to boil in your stomach. Violent bubbles against the wall of your midriff. Rising like steam, fading into nothingness over your tongue, the sting of heat where your voice won’t collect them.

Joel moves from foot to foot. It feels like some kind of merry dance, some choreographed moment between you – like a skit in a comedy show. I know something you don’t know.

“What happened – at the wedding,” he murmurs, addressing the polished gold of your bedframe.

Some small sound passes your lips. An affirmative. You’re on the same page.

“We didn’t use – you know. And with you not feelin’ well, it’s…” A deep breath. Chest full of a ghostly bravery. And then he asks, “Are you –?”

Silence swallows the end of his question whole. You didn’t need it, anyway. The stiffness of his frame, his stare shooting straight ahead. The lack of oxygen between you – both holding your breath for fear that something might tear loose from your lungs. He knows. He knows he knows he knows.

You gulp. “…If I was?”

His head cranes upwards, focusing on the cracked plaster of your ceiling. The realization slowly trickling down over his skin. It hasn’t seeped through, hasn’t bled into his brain yet. “Then,” another breath, “then it’d be a conversation…” His voice is halved, split somewhere between knowing and – what is it? Hoping?

Your eyes slip over to the worn sleeve of his T-shirt, stretched around the swell of his bicep; scaling up to his shoulder, the tight set of his jaw. He’s so much taller, he’s so much older. There’s so much life lived and so many lessons learned behind his eyes that you wonder how much the news I’m pregnant would actually crack him.

Your eyes meet. You whisper, “Then – talk,” and his expression softens.

He blinks away whatever’s left of his trying, his polite attempts to skirt around it. He sheds probably a good three decades – turns back into some doe-eyed boy, wonderstruck and terrified. His voice is quiet, and at the same time, the heaviest with emotion you’ve ever heard it. “Are you?” he asks, and immediately, he blurs behind a wall of tears.

Your sentence gets caught in your teeth. It made no sense to begin with. Tangled between your molars, latching at the back of your tongue. Your hand slowly pulls free from your sleeve, the little white test between your fingers.

Joel’s eyes instantly drop, staring at the pale stick with a fraught expression you understand to mean the message has finally reached his brain. The same words now ringing between his ears: She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. I got her pregnant.

You hold the test out, quivering in the daylight. He takes it in his thumbs, instantly soothing its tremble. Everything muted, every movement steady and considered. And suddenly the sight of that positive test feels less scary, in his hands. Feels like a smaller problem, if that were ever possible.

And he says nothing, and it’s almost unbearable to watch the shape of his lips thin, the shadow beneath his brows darken. Agonizing to stand here and wonder what the next words over his tongue will be.

He stares at it a moment longer. You count the beats of your pulse in your throat. You wrap your arms tighter around your body, holding your skeleton together.

Joel’s lips part. Your breath freezes. Whatever he says, you don’t want to miss a syllable.

“Are you –” he blinks, “– are you feelin’ okay?”

You stare blankly. His eyes finally lift.

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay?”

Your head jerks. “I’m – I’m fine. I mean, I’m fucking shocked.”

He nods. “How long have you known?”

“Took that right before you showed up,” you say, eyes diving to his hands. “Twenty minutes, maybe.”

He’s still switching between you and the test. Checking those two lines are still there, as if they might fade to nothing, and then checking you’re still there – as if you might, too. Might be swept off if he’s not keeping an eye on you.

His face pales. He sinks back against the window ledge. “Jesus,” he breathes, a hand down the scruff of his chin.

And it feels like relief, like a mirror sat before you, presenting the honest truth: you’re fucked, and Joel thinks so, too. It embeds the shock into the cushion of your brain, the weight of it absorbed and laid bare for every particle in your body to pay it a visit. What the fuck do we do now?

“Yeah,” you sniff, “Jesus.”

But then his arm wraps around your shoulder, reminding you you’re still solid. Still whole. He holds you to his side, and when you turn into him, he takes you in the other and pulls you flat against his chest. His lips to your hair. His breathing slowing yours.

“We’re gonna work it out,” he says into your hair. “We’re gonna – Jesus, I did not expect…We are goin’ to be fine, alright? You are goin’ to be fine.”

You’re nodding, the prickle of tears flooding across your eyes again. They’re doing nothing, his words – blunt against your skin and insignificant to the fear swelling around your heart – but it feels better to be afraid with someone. Feels better to hold onto something stronger, something bigger, while you feel yourself beginning to shrink.

“What do we do?” you ask into his shirt.

Joel loosens his grip, pulls away until you’re staring at one another. “What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t…” Your head’s shaking, lips moving quicker than your voice will offer the words over. “I don’t think I want to get rid of it.”

He nods, a hand coming up to hold your cheek. “Alright. Then you don’t have to. You don’t gotta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with.”

“But,” you sniff, guiltily averting his gaze, “this fucks everything up. Everything’s about to change.”

Joel takes a long, slow breath. “It complicates some things, that’s for sure.” He looks out to the street; Alice Brown now hauling weeds from the edge of her lawn. In his exhale, he breathes a name.

“V…What?”

He looks down. Eyes dance around your damp cheeks. “Vanessa,” he says, clearer now.

“Vanessa?”

A nod. His nose wriggles with an awkward sniff. You push off from his chest.

“Who the hell is Vanessa?”

Joel lets you go; lets you step back. He watches as you brace yourself against the ledge. Runs a hand through his hair while he fixes the right order of words. He’s thinking. Carefully.

Too fucking carefully. He’s taking too long.

“Joel. Who’s Vanessa?”

“She’s…” He sighs. “She’s my ex. From Tommy’s wedding. Vanessa Hart.”

Your jaw slackens. The purple dress. The hair like silk, a halo around her head where the light kissed her perfectly. Her plump lips; the way her head tipped back to laugh. The amount of air you felt her take up the second you laid eyes on her, the second you saw her, arm on top of Joel’s.

“Vanessa,” you whisper, your eyes descending his frame. The memory feels menacing now: her sweet giggle a sneering cackle, and you’ve no idea why. The bulky jewels around her neck, her clawed fingers on his arm.

Joel’s hand sits inches from yours on the wooden sill. Alice is walking back inside.

“We, uh…we swapped numbers the morning after the wedding, at breakfast. I didn’t think much of it, but we’ve seen each other a couple times since.”

This isn’t the time for another it’s a date, it’s not a date argument. What the fuck does he mean by –

“Seen each other?”

“Mhm.” He owes you better than that. He reckons so, too. “Dates,” he clarifies. “We’ve been on a couple dates.”

“Oh.”

Your heart falls to the pit of your stomach. Plummets, dragging with it your breath and your nerve and any other words you can think of. Your chest gnaws at the edges of the cavity left behind. It hurts. It stings.

Though you’ve no right for it to hurt or sting: as far as you were concerned, as far as you think Joel was concerned, that night was a one-off. It meant as little as the alcohol draining from your glasses, the vacant buzz of love and hope loose in the air. Equally as intoxicating as each other.

Cataclysmic, for the first little while. So heavily awkward that you would wait to watch Joel head out in the morning, clear of your path, before you’d set off for work. It felt like the aftermath of some natural disaster – the cleanup of debris and mistake.

But oh, it feels like a punch to the gut. Low, unexpected; a foul move by someone who never meant to hurt or not hurt you. Someone ignorant to every move he made, right up to this moment.

Your arms wrap around your body again, as though tending to the bruise left by the sucker punch shaped something like that tall woman named Vanessa.

Joel scratches the back of his neck. “We were…we were seein’ about starting things up again. Me ‘n her.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I got you. That’s – I mean, I’m – I’m sorry, Joel, I –”

“Woah, woah,” he’s stepping forward now, “hey, no. No way. This wasn’t you. Well, shoot – it kinda was you. But it was just as much me, right?”

You smile, your face back in the safe hold of his hands. Tears roll down your cheeks, collecting in the corners of your mouth. His thumbs swipe them away.

“This was just as much me,” he repeats, voice soft and soothing.

“But, you know – if you wanted to – just ‘cause I don’t want to get – so if you didn’t wanna have to – that’d be okay, you know that, right?”

His head snaps back, brows low. It’s the first time he looks like his cool has broken all morning. It’s the first time he looks…downright offended. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, and then, “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I just – I know this ain’t ideal. It’s even worse if you’re tryna make it work with Vanessa. So if you felt like it was too much, then…”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up,” he says, edged with some kind of groan. “Stop talking, right now. Stop. You gotta take a deep breath, alright? I’m here, ‘n I mean I’m here. We’re in this together. I am not running out on you.”

“Joel –”

What was a mere crack in his cool before, rips through it now like lightning spreading across the sky. He closes his eyes, a sigh escaping between his teeth. “If you think I would leave you right now, to deal with this on your own –”

“I don’t,” you tell him, his vexation powering your sudden animation. You wipe your tears away, shaking your head. “I’m just saying, it’s a fucking lot. I don’t want you to feel trapped. I’m giving you an out, man.”

“I am not interested in taking it. Enough. Conversation over.”

“And what about Vanessa?”

“What about her?” he asks, the question dripping in something akin to anger. He catches himself, draws it back in. “She’ll just – We’ll talk, I’ll explain it. The hell else can we do? One thing at a time, okay?”

“Right,” you nod, “okay. One thing at a time.”

“Let’s just build these damn wardrobes. I sure as hell didn’t lug all that timber over here to not do ‘em.”

“Okay,” you repeat, making for the door.

“Ah.” He clicks, and you turn back. “Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

“To get the timber.”

“I don’t think so,” he says, pointing to your bed. “Sit down. Relax. You ain’t getting a damn thing.”

Joel calls it a day at six o’clock.

The skeleton of the closet is up: a smooth, tan frame lining one wall of your room. Much bigger, much sturdier than its predecessor.

You’re in the same spot he left you in: lying across your bed, admiring his handiwork. He’s good at what he does. You told him twice, and the two of you almost heaved both times. Compliments aren’t something you’re used to handing one another.

He left, maybe, three hours ago. Said he had to shower; said he’d be back first thing to finish the job. You sat up to see him out, got struck by a wave of nausea so bad that you fell back to the bed with one hand on your stomach and the other over your lips, and Joel had insisted – demanded – that you stay where you were.

I’ll be back later to check on ya, he assured, setting a glass of water at your bedside. And then he told you to call him if you felt even remotely off – sick, or panicked, or had a tickle in your throat that you couldn’t clear – and that’s when the two of you realized that you don’t even have one another’s numbers.

And you laughed, the both of you; laughed at the absurdity of you carrying his child when you don’t even carry his contact details in your phone. Laughed at how quickly everything has turned one hundred and eighty degrees in the few hours since you woke up. It felt like some form of release, the only way to clear the blockage of tension in both your throats. So, you laughed, until you felt sick again, and Joel swept the hair from your shoulders to cool you down.

The attentiveness is…new. It’s interesting. It’s kind, in the same way that being told to say hi to whoever your grandma is talking to in the grocery store, is kind. Sweet, the same way that answering the door on Halloween to a bunch of kids you don’t know from a street you don’t recognize the name of, is sweet.

Whatever. It’s fucking weird, alright?

You’ve never seen this side of Joel. You didn’t know or even think, in your wildest dreams, that he existed. Let’s face it: you two have spent the entirety of your inhabitance next door to one another, antagonizing each other. Your favorite hobby has always been pissing Joel off – teasing him for having backache, seeing how far down his porch you can launch his newspaper and he’ll still go get it. Playing the same kind of music you heard him playing on his guitar that one time, full-volume from your kitchen window just to fuck with him.

And, likewise: his favorite hobby has always been…well, ignoring you. Doing everything he can not to engage. If it weren’t for that fucking cat lady and her jittery green Chevrolet, none of this would’ve ever happened. She was a catalyst where one was neither needed nor wanted. You would’ve gone about your life, pinning your underwear only slightly more carefully to your clothesline, and Joel would’ve gone about his, doing – whatever the fuck he does.

Sure, it’s weird. But it’s nice. It’s nice to have him on your side, turning to check on you rather than snap at you for something. Nice to have him talk – actual, rounded words in place of grumbles and mumbles and groans and sighs. Nice to hang out with him and watch him work and ask questions about screws and power tools and pretend to be interested just to distract from the weight of queasiness in your stomach.

Your hands trail down, cupping around your navel. Your stomach still feels like your stomach: still soft, still spongey under your touch. If not for the two more tests you’d taken this afternoon, perched on the bathroom counter waiting for Joel to unstick his gaze from his watch and announce, That’s three minutes – both also positive, by the way – you’d have no fucking clue.

You hold the bottom half of your tummy, fingers rubbing gently over the skin that will soon enough grow and swell and protect.

“Hey,” you whisper, staring at the stationary ceiling fan overhead. A pause. An awkward inhale. “…hey, little buddy. I don’t – know you very well, yet. I figure you can’t even fucking hear me, but whatever. Just wanted to say hi. I’m – Ew, no. I’m not Mom, yet. What the fuck. I don’t know who I am right now, so just…maybe go easy on me until I figure that part out. And after, too. Alright? Are we…we cool?

“You can’t tell me, I know. I just have to assume we’re cool. Okay. Well. Keep growin’. Keep…doing your thing. You’re doing great. We’re doing – we’re doing alright.

“Good job, kid. Good job.”

Joel tells Vanessa two days later. She takes it…about as well as you might hope.

He says they talked for four hours. Three cups of coffee and a drive to Taco Bell later, she agreed to meet you. Properly. Not across the cluttered dancefloor of Tommy’s wedding.

She –? Is – is that a good idea?

I don’t know, kid. It’s the best I’ve got.

Meet me? Like, come kick my ass for sleeping with her boyfriend?

Joel had sighed and deadened his eyes on yours. Not her boyfriend, he corrected, passing you a sweater folded a little slapdash for your liking, and wasn’t her boyfriend when we slept together.

You shook the sweater straight again and fixed his work, muttering to yourself that at least he’s a better builder than he is a folder.

Joel heard you, and let it go. Passed you another – unfolded – sweater to sit in your wardrobe. Let’s just see how it goes, alright?

Alright.

We’re really trying this again. It’s only been a couple weeks.

Okay.

And neither of us have had much luck in that department since we broke it off, y’know?

Joel. I said okay.

He held your gaze a moment too long. Okay.

You’re on your porch when he strolls over, wrist blocking the six o’clock sun from his eyes. Newspaper in his fist, wind licking the corners. “Forget somethin’ today?” he asks, meeting you at the top of the steps.

“Came out to get it,” you brace yourself on the railing, “felt sick. This is me workin’ up to it.”

“You want me to toss it back onto my lawn so you can go fetch me it?”

You smile, eyes screwing shut. “Was coming over to ask what time for tomorrow.”

The reminder snaps him from his happy daydream. He says, “I was comin’ to ask you the same thing. Seven work?”

“Seven’s good. Are we getting food?”

“You wanna get food? I figured maybe you wouldn’t be up for it, what with the, uh…” Joel gestures to your hunched position, your head low between your shoulders, your deep, deliberate breaths.

“Maybe just drinks,” you utter, gulping back the sharp taste of bile.

He nods. “Drinks it is. You okay? You need anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks. See you guys at seven.”

Four minutes early, there’s a knock at your door. You pull it open, and there they are. Picture-perfect, like they might be posing for a holiday card. A bottle in his arm, a bunch of flowers in hers. A timid but genial smile between her cheeks, a twinkle in her eye. That same circle of shining light around her head, brunette tresses curled into bouncing waves.

“Howdy,” Joel says, stepping into the space you create. He dips his head, kisses your cheek, whispers a brief, Y’okay? in your ear. You nod quickly, gently shifting him out of the way.

Vanessa lingers for a moment in the doorway. She glances from Joel to you again, blinking in the porch light. Her pale skin lit in an ethereal glow. She’s prettier up close.

Joel addresses you, hand brushing the small of your back, “…this is Vanessa.”

“Hi,” she says, and pushes the flowers towards you – a small bouquet of gypsophila and eucalyptus. Bright, polite. Each sprig laden with the burden of appearing simpatico, but important. Meaningful, in the airiest sense of the word. “Hi,” again.

“Hi,” you echo, and then feel stupid for having nothing more to offer. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, hot on your shoulder.

But Vanessa takes the weight from your chest. “It’s nice to meet you – officially. I saw you at Tommy and Maria’s wedding. You looked so beautiful.”

“Thanks,” springs from your tongue sooner than the rest of the sentence. Your brain scrams to find more words. “You looked – you looked great, too. Do you wanna –? I mean – Sorry. Come in. Obviously.”

She clicks over the threshold, her pale dress floating into your hallway like she’s part of a dream. She’s just as beautiful in this light, relaxed form – pastel blue and the glimmer of golden jewelry – as she was in the sleeker, more dramatic form you saw her in before. An aura about her which captures and tends to your attention. Intense, captivating, but not intimidating.

You usher them to the living room, offer them a space on the couch while you take Vanessa’s flowers to the kitchen. Joel follows you through, sets the bottle on the counter.

“Nonalcoholic,” he says, unscrewing the cap.

Your eyebrows jump. “Great. Thanks.”

“She’s nervous,” he murmurs, leaning in. “I know you are, too. Y’all are similar like that.”

You slot the stems into a vase of water one by one, carefully organizing a display. “She seems sweet,” you assure him. “She shouldn’t be nervous.”

“Neither should you.”

“Is this…totally weird for you?”

Joel breathes in deep, filling three glasses. “Yeah,” he says, eyes never lifting from the sparkling peach.

“Sorry.”

He angles his jaw. “Stop sayin’ you're sorry. I’ll kick your ass.”

Your head drops between your shoulders, eyes lifting only to his elbows. “Sorry.”

He scoffs, swiping the glasses and stepping back to let you out first.

“I’m trying not to make it weird,” you offer, slipping by.

“I don’t want you to try anything.” He kicks your ankle lightly and follows you back into the living room.

Vanessa sits forward and clasps her hands around her knee when you sit back down, shifting as though to reach for you before she stops herself. “How are you feeling? Joel said you’re a little…worse for wear, right now.”

“I’ve been better,” you say, smiling. “Just morning sickness. Which lasts – all day.”

She nods sympathetically. “My sister had it rough with her first. I actually…” She twists around, reaches for her purse, fishes out an orange packet. “I brought you some ginger tea. Kate told me it helped her a lot, so.”

She holds it out in almost trembling fingers. Likewise, you steady yours to take it from her, thanking her with a shy nod of the head. “That’s so kind,” you reply quietly, eyes darting to Joel. He’s staring at the pack in your hands, watching as you turn it over to read the back.

“And – listen,” Vanessa continues, the acceptance of her offering clearly fueling her assuredness, “I don’t want anything to be weird – between you and I, between you and Joel. I know this situation is…new. It’s, um…”

“It’s kinda weird,” you say, humoring. “It’s okay. I know.”

She breathes a relieved laugh. “It is. Thank God you said it.” She glances back at Joel, who smiles at her, slips his hand onto her knee. “But I guess,” a deep breath, “I guess it is what it is. And we’re all adults, you know? We can make it work, right?”

Your head switches rapidly between nodding enthusiastically and shaking enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yes. No, absolutely. And, you know, me and Joel – there isn’t – we’re not at all…”

“Oh,” she bats the idea away, “I know. I know that. He told me everything. It’s – You know, it’s just a timing thing.”

Joel’s staring down at his hand locked around her leg. Unblinking. Unmoving. His expression doesn’t shift until the two of you settle back into your seats; until Vanessa asks if he’d mind making you a cup of ginger tea.

You barely notice his absence, the way she takes you up in conversation. Like twirling you off in some kind of dance, each sentence strung safely to the next. There are no lulls, no awkward pauses. She asks about work, asks about your family. She tells you stories about her niece, who’s three now, and compares how you’re feeling to how she remembers her sister feeling.

Then her work, and the IT guy her friend hooked up with, and her class at the gym which she’s trying to convince Joel to come along to, and Kate’s hot yoga class every Thursday night, and the new sushi place which just opened downtown and You gotta try it some day; the nigiri is divine.

And you nod along, and you laugh at her anecdotes and tell your own, and Joel tells her to tell you about the jazz band who were playing at the restaurant they visited a couple weeks ago, and you offer to top her drink up and she says she’ll do it herself and she leaves you and Joel alone for the first time all evening, and – it’s weird.

Because – behind the veil of conversation you’re doing your best to uphold, sits an image of this very night – only, in Joel’s house. In Joel’s house, on Joel’s couch, drinking nonalcoholic wine with Joel’s brother. Joel and Vanessa leant against one another on one couch, Tommy and Maria on the other.

You can’t help it – you’re wondering what Maria thinks of Vanessa. How long they knew each other, if at all, before the breakup. Whether they hung out, whether they discussed sushi and yoga, or the housing market, or their Miller boyfriends and their annoying Miller habits.

Maria would’ve liked her, you think. Would’ve found her as lovely as you do. And the idea, the image of them giggling together at family parties and being Tommy’s Maria and Joel’s Vanessa – presses a firm, bullying finger into the bruise you thought had faded some from the other day.

And once they’re gone, once you’re left alone again – lying in still silence, closed in on yourself by the thick darkness of your room, nothing but you and your thoughts and your unborn child for company – it slips out.

“Fuck her, right?” You hold your hands out, addressing your stomach. “She was so fucking nice. Did you like her? Fuck me, I liked her. I hope they break up.”

And then, realizing who you’re talking to: “No. Sorry, baby, no. I don’t hope they break up. I want your dad to be really happy. But – Goddamn. She was so sweet. I thought she was gonna slap me, and she just – she brought ginger tea! Fuck. They look good together, don’t they?”

It’s just hormones. Just the emotional trip that is being four weeks pregnant. Everybody feels like this when they fall pregnant – sensitive, vulnerable, clingy. Right? Right?

Your words sit stagnant in midair. You swear you can see them, heavy and intruding. Awkwardly lingering someplace they don’t belong. Because none of it even matters – the hormones, the emotions. The weird knot burning a hole in your chest, shaped like a clenched fist, knuckles branded by the heat of longing. It can’t matter.

You’re where you are, he’s where he is. A pillow in your arm, Vanessa in his. Feet apart, bricks and mortar and something like twenty years and two dates too late separating you.

Both staring up at the ceiling, wondering who the other’s thinking of.

“At eight weeks, your baby is roughly the size of a raspberry.”

Your knee bounces, breath coming and going in shaky ripples. The rubber sole of your shoe cries against the sterilized hospital floor. Your chest hums anxiously and your throat catches when you swallow and are the lights too bright? The room too hot? You’re sweating. Why are you sweating? Can you breathe right now?

Joel nudges your arm and your eyes roll to the pamphlet in his hand, his finger tracing the words. “C’mon,” he utters, leaning in, “how can anything the size of a raspberry be scary?”

You squint under fluorescent white. “A raspberry that grows into the size of a watermelon, can break my ribs, make me throw up, make me lose hair, and then tear my vagina apart on its way out? That’s pretty scary.”

He smirks. “Not to me it ain’t. My vagina stays perfectly intact the entire time.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you reply, whacking him.

He laughs, swatting your palm away, keeping ahold of your fingers inside his own. “Speaking of – we gotta talk.” He elbows you, waiting until you’re looking again to speak. “We gotta cut the language.”

“Cut the language?”

“Uhuh. Rein it in. And by we, I mean you.”

“Uh,” you scoff, “I don’t think so. When you do the growing, then you can rein your own swearing in. Leave me alone, asshole.”

“Charming,” Joel says. “You know the baby can hear you? You want it to come out swearin’ like a trooper?”

You grin, tipping your head to him. “If it comes out and says anything, we’re rich. So – yeah. Let it.”

He opens his mouth to reply when a nurse emerges from a nearby room and calls your name.

“You’re up, kid,” Joel says, standing beside you.

You turn back, speaking before your brain settles on words. “I’m scared.”

“Hey,” he says, taking your hand. He squeezes it gently, uses the other to keep you facing him. “This is the easy part, right? We’re just going to meet them.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, and wander over to meet the nurse. Joel’s hand a vice grip around yours.

She leads you into a similarly washed-out clinic room, only slightly dimmer with the lights turned out, and yanks a roll of paper across the bed. Tapping it twice, she smiles. “Hop up, darlin’.”

You settle into the crinkly paper, leaning back until you’re blinking up at the speckled ceiling. Another door opens and a woman in a white coat floats in, and you swear that if it weren’t for Joel’s Evenin’, ma’am when she greets the two of you, you’d believe she were a figment of your imagination. Another character in this fucking insane dream.

“Not often I do these past five o’clock,” she says, clicking her mouse and typing on her keyboard and fixing a hair grip back into her bun. Casual. It’s not even a thing to her, introducing parents and children. She does this all fucking day.

Joel tosses half a glance to you and then realizes you’re not currently in the room. He pinches your hand again. It grounds you for all of two seconds.

“Yeah, uh,” he clears his throat, “work commitment. I couldn’t get away any earlier, so we’re havin’ to do this a little late.”

“What do you do?” she asks, staring at her screen. Her glossy brown eyes and rich, dark skin.

“I’m a contractor,” Joel replies, thumb stroking your shoulder.

Something bubbles in your stomach, something akin to jealousy, an urgency to tell her that right now, in this room, he’s mine. No more questions. Something which quickly dissipates when you remind yourself to quit being fucking ridiculous and that right now, in this room, he’s someone else’s, and the thumb on your shoulder is merely to hold you back from fleeing. Nothing more.

The sonographer nods. Her name badge reads Freya. Pretty name. Stop picturing what your kid would look like as a Freya. You are not naming them after the first sonographer you meet.

“Shouldn’t be too long, then y’all can get home for the night. You live nearby?”

“Twenty minutes’ drive. Not far, are we?” Joel asks you.

Your eyes shoot down to his. “No,” you push your cheeks up, telling Freya, “not far.”

She flattens her lips against one another, lending you a sympathetic smile. “You got nothing to worry about, honey. Promise. Gel might be a little cold, that’s about as scary as this gets. We’re just gonna make sure everything’s looking good, check your dates, check your measurements. You’re doing great.”

“You hear that?” Joel murmurs, settling down into the chair by your side. His hand hasn’t left yours. His voice is low, meant just for you, when he repeats, “You’re doin’ great.”

You huff a laugh, some nervous release from your lungs.

Freya smiles, face lit by the faint glow of the screen in front of her. “We ready?”

You roll the hem of your tee up when she motions, bunching it under the wire of your bra. She squeezes a bottle over your stomach, which tenses solid when the frozen bite of gel curls right below your belly button. Freya smiles apologetically when you wince. Told you, she murmurs, and your breath escapes in a slightly more comfortable laugh. Lighter, easier. Scariest part over.

She presses the probe to your skin and spreads the gel, coating the bottom of your tummy in a slippery slick which tickles with each inch she covers. Two buttons pressed, and a dark image appears on a screen opposite you.

A gray fan, speckled like the ceiling above your head. Dark, black shapes growing and shrinking at the turn of Freya’s wrist. She pauses, two blobs onscreen: the larger, black, round, home to a smaller, misshapen one. Flecked with white and silver and moving slowly, gently, but – right there.

“Mom, Dad,” she grins, “meet your baby.”

You and Joel move forward at the same time, drawn closer to the crunchy image as if by some kind of natural magnetism. Eyes never blinking, lips agape. The shapes flutter, the smaller dipping in and out of view.

“You see right here, right in the center?” A white cross appears over the blob’s middle. “That little movement? The kinda – pulsing?”

You each nod. Your nails dig so deep into Joel’s hand that you risk drawing blood.

“That’s the heart. Ticking away.”

“The heart?” you ask, watching the rhythmic flicker in the center of the screen.

“Yep. Perfect, too.”

She hits another key and suddenly the room is filled with a muffled thudding; a steady, energetic pulse in your ears. It matches the movements onscreen, the tiny throb of the baby’s chest, the shape of your womb moving like waves before you.

And suddenly, it's real – all of it: the screen and the room and the sonographer and you, and Joel’s hand encasing yours, holding your knuckles to his lips, and –

And the heartbeat. Right there, right in front of you. Shy, probably as nervous as you are to introduce themselves. Feeling your eyes on them, curled up somewhere safe inside you. Right there.

You turn to Joel, and his illuminated face is staring straight at the screen. Eyes soaked with tears, blinking as they form, cheeks dappled with wet. He draws his eyes from his child only to look back at you, only to mirror your stunned smile, your disbelieving laugh, more tears dripping down into his beard. He sits up, presses his damp lips firmly to your forehead.

Freya mutes the heartbeat, pauses the scan where the image is clearest, and sits back. “I’ll give you guys a moment to yourselves,” she says, wheeling back in her chair. “Take all the time you need. I’m right outside.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles for the both of you, sweeping hair from your face.

The door closes on your little bubble – you, Joel, and the grainy image of your baby. The evidence that – yeah, that night happened, and yeah, you’re forever changed because of it. The evidence that you’re about to become a mom, for real, no matter how much the thought makes you feel like your stomach is kicking around at your ankles.

And the evidence that, no matter how scared you might be, how unprepared and unworthy you feel – you fucking adore that little blob already.

Love it as much as Joel does, stood over you, kissing your hair and whispering words you’re only half-listening to. A quiet thank you, a shaky I can’t believe it. Something about showing his brother. And when you look up at him, blinking at one another, inches apart – he takes your jaw in his hands and lowers his lips to yours.

Different. Softer. No want laced through. No urgency. Nothing needed, nor requested, that isn’t already right here in this little bubble of yours.

He kisses you slowly, eyes closed, holding you until you pull away for breath. His nose bumps against yours and you laugh, heads together, eyes low.

“Still scared?” he whispers.

“Terrified,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” he says, and kisses you again.

You lean back against the bed, relief settling your bones and soothing your heartbeat. The notion washes over you that, if you could, you’d stay in this room forever. Staring at the screen, holding Joel’s hand. Whispering fears into his mouth and letting him swallow them in a kiss.

He hands you some paper towel and helps you drag it across your stomach, your eyes still fixed on the little shape opposite. He hooks his chin over your head – the fresh, woody smell of his cologne infiltrating your lungs and throwing you under the haze of something you’re not quite sure how to define.

“Duck,” he says, voice vibrating into your skull.

“Huh?”

“Start saying duck. Make the baby think we’re saying that, then you can say –” he lowers his voice, “– fuck, all you want.”

“The hell would I have to say duck for?”

Joel stands upright and shrugs. “I don’t know. Think of somethin’. A nickname, maybe.”

“Duck?”

He nods plainly, glancing over to the screen.

The pillow beneath your head sighs as you turn from Joel back to the ultrasound. “Baby Duck,” you offer, and he smiles.

Smiles in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile. Eyes glistening, cheeks swollen. Something innocent and earnest about it. Something pure.

He agrees. “Baby Duck it is.”

Joel insists that you spend the night at his place.

“It’s been a big day,” he reasons, fixing the bed in his guestroom. “Just – let me run around after you for a little bit.”

You fight your corner as much as you can be bothered – I gotta maintain my independence, I’m gonna be a single mom soon enough, you know – but, truthfully, you’ll take any excuse to have him rush around at your beck and call. Some days you open your mouth and he hears the wet click of saliva between your lips, and grabs a glass of water for you before you’ve even voiced the request.

He orders takeout, settles shoulder-to-shoulder with you on the couch, and lets you pick whichever movie you feel like putting him through until the food’s gone, he’s out of beer, and you’ve abandoned Heath Ledger and Julia Stiles for an argument about the best part of pizza.

You don’t like the crust?

Nope.

What fuckin’ age are you?

If it ain’t stuffed, it’s just not worth it.

At eleven, you bid him goodnight and wander upstairs, falling into a sea of navy-blue sheets to be delivered to sleep by the serene silence of Joel’s home. It takes no time for your eyes to flutter closed, the soft sheen of moonlight painted across the wall, sweeping from your view to be replaced in a whir by –

Lights. Overhead and all around and so bright and so close that you swear they’re etched on the inside of your eyelids.

You’re in the backseat, watching them soar by in blurs of white and red and amber and green, and your pulse is rattling through your veins and throbbing between your temples and you can’t focus on any one object for longer than three seconds, before your eyes roll and your head dizzies.

A word, slung from your lips in a half-wakened attempt to stop it. A word you barely recognize at first, don’t understand the meaning of. It’s been years. Why now? Mom.

You’re not sure why, or who you’re even reaching out to. There are two figures in the front seats, heads facing forward. She’s not turning around. She’s not even fucking moving, not reacting to the speed or the lights or your voice. Mom.

You scream it, the syllable ripping violently from your throat, and your tiny fingers reach for her swirls of hair. You pause, staring at the chipped polish on your stubby, kiddy nails. Mom, I’m scared.

The distorted blast of a horn scoops the car up in one motion, hurtling over itself along the freeway. You’re thrown to the roof of the car, plummet back down to your seat; the seatbelt throttles you, rips a burn deep into the skin of your neck. Back up again; your head hits the spongey roof of the car. Your stomach somersaults.

Mom, please, you wail, swiping for her hand. It’s lying limp by her thigh, dark droplets on her wrist. Mom Mom please Mom I’m scared Mom please I’m so scared I –

“Baby.”

His voice is low, earthy. It chews apart the high-pitched squeal of brakes and screaming. The glass smashing. The metal crunching.

You lift from the bed like it’s ice water, gasping when you finally surface back on Earth. Your chest heaves, it’s not sucking in enough breath; you can’t breathe you can’t breathe you can’t fucking breathe.

Joel whips the cover from your legs and you roll from the mattress, feet planting on the floor. You bend forward to grip onto the sheets, a choking rising up your throat, closer and closer until it tugs on your tongue.

“Icantbreathe,” you pant.

Joel’s body curves around yours. “You’re alright,” he’s telling you – urging you; one hand between your shoulder blades, the other holding your wrist for fear you might collapse. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re at my place, you’re safe, but, kid – I need you to slow down. You’re hyperventilating.”

You work your breathing to the strokes of his hand up and down your spine: in out in out in and out and in and out and in, and out, and in, and…out…and in…and…out.

“That’s it. Keep doing that. You’re good, baby, I got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

In – and out. In – and out again.

The room slowly desaturates back into boring, moonlit blue. Feeling sputters back into your hands, clawing at the sheets once the sharpness dissolves. The cotton pets back, smooth under your quivering touch. Your lips stop tingling, your ears stop ringing. One after another, until your blood settles back to a steady stream and you straighten up.

“Can you sit down for me?”

“No,” you whimper, and Joel nods.

“That’s alright,” he says. “I’m gonna get you a drink, that okay?”

You grab his T-shirt. “No. Don’t leave me. Please. Sorry.”

He cups your frozen cheeks. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Just downstairs. You can come.”

He settles you at his kitchen table and shuffles over to the cupboards, rubbing his eyes. You feel the heat of embarrassment and guilt, watching as he settles down with a groan minutes later.

“Ginger,” he tells you, voice rounded by his mug, sliding one of your own over to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, lifting it with two hands. The smell sharp, cutting up the remnants of gasoline and smoke.

“Many times do I gotta say it?” he asks dryly. “Quit sayin’ you’re sorry.”

You gulp nervously. “You got work in the morning. You’re gonna be exhausted.”

“And if I hadn’t let you keep me up watchin’ chick flicks, I’d be rested. That’s something I can deal with later. I got you to worry about right now.”

You shake your head; the ceramic hits the table with a sharp thud. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Well,” Joel sniffs, “you’re carrying my child. I’ll always worry about you.”

You sit back, the curve of the chair cradling, your heart beating lamely against the wood. Joel’s jaw rests in the cushion of his palm, staring back at you.

“What time is it?” you ask, and he glances over his shoulder.

“Three. Take a sip.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sip.”

You obey, lifting the tea and swallowing harshly.

He watches every move, every shift reflected in his dark eyes, decorated by a tense, stony expression. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Never,” you say. “This never happens.”

Joel cranes his jaw, cracks his neck. “Alright,” he sighs, “that’s okay. Breathe again. You’re doing fine.”

But you don’t feel fine. The dregs of panic sizzle into something thicker, hotter. Anger. Frustration. “Why the fuck is this happening?” you hiss, fingers prodding into your eye sockets. “What the f–?”

“Easy. I don’t know. Hormones? Stress?”

“You sound like my fucking doctor.”

Joel smiles. Amusement, before concern wipes over it again. “Let’s just give it some time to pass, okay?”

You nod, hanging over your drink, the silhouette of your reflection staring back at you. The steam snakes up, seeping into your skin, bubbling under the surface. Wiping clean any memory of freeway or nail polish, like coating over a bathroom mirror. The shapes still visible behind, but blurred. Gone.

“How’s Vanessa?” you ask, an attempt to distract yourself.

Joel adjusts a little awkwardly in his chair. “She’s good. She loved the scan photo. Showed it to her sister. They’re sure it’s a boy.”

“Ha. Joel Jr.”

“Joel Jr.,” he agrees, and then attempts to distract himself. “So,” he says, “Allandale.”

“Mhm?”

“Wonder if I ever saw your mom or dad. When I was there visitin’ Sam.”

You shrug. “Doubt it. I mean, they always lived right next to the elementary school, if that helps. My mom was a first-grade teacher. The two of us used to walk there ‘n back together, every day.”

“First grade, huh? Best one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, and she was the best of the best. She used to go all out for her kids; used to go to Michaels and get all this crafty stuff so they could spend all afternoon making little houses or zoos, or – whatever she could think of. And she’d always keep some aside, bring some home for me to make one, too. One time, she came home with all this blue tissue paper and little foam fish, and we made an aquarium together.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Joel says.

“Yeah,” you say again, nodding eagerly. “She was so cool. And fun, y’know? I just remember her being so much fun. I always felt safe with her, felt loved. I actually used to think she hung the sun every morning, just for me.” You take a deep breath, replacing it with a broken sigh.

“What about your dad? What was he like?”

You frown. “He was…fine. Real quiet, reserved. A little grumpy, I guess. I always got the idea he couldn’t be bothered with me, young as I was. Always wanted to be left alone. I think my mom overcompensated a lot.”

Something flashes across Joel’s face that seems to say he knows – or, at least, he understands. Almost imperceptible, a quick flicker of annoyance. “You miss her?” he asks, switching back.

“My mom?” You almost laugh, gripping onto your mug. Staring at the slow swirl of ginger. A shrug which presents more like a flinch; an animal swatting a fly away. “I miss those parts, when I think of them. The aquarium, the walking to school. Miss the memories. But I don’t think I knew her well enough or long enough to miss her.

“I’ve lived way longer without her than I ever had her. Done everything without her, like –” gesturing down, “– this. But, sometimes…sometimes, I bundle the sheets up behind my back in bed, and I pretend it’s her. Pretend I have a mom, and she’s cuddling me to sleep. I dunno. Maybe that’s what missing her feels like.”

Joel soaks in every word you say, letting the shape of each one settle on the table between you before he speaks again. Letting them be spoken into the dead of night, collected by no one, and letting them fade into silence. Secrets sweeping off into starlight. Nothing you would admit in the daytime.

“What was her name?” he asks, voice timid and gentle in the dark kitchen.

You almost choke on your tea. “Shoot – I’m sorry. That was a lot. Sorry. She, uh – Her name?”

It brings the first genuine smile to your lips; the memory of your mom now clear behind your eyes. Her round cheeks, her fluttering earrings. The deep, dark curls of her hair, thick ringlets twisting and lighting in the sun. The gap between her front teeth, the purse of her lips as she kissed your cheeks, your hands, your tummy.

Her name like a melody in your head; a safe word, a calming mantra when the world becomes too noisy, too saturated, too sharp to bear. Two syllables. Two little beats, like a piece of her still lives in the sound of her name.

“Sarah,” you tell Joel. “Her name was Sarah.”

[bettyfrommars]

Whole Lotta Love

Eddie x fem!Reader

18+MDNI, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, pet names like baby and sweetheart, both Eddie and reader are over 20.

I received a request for a fic where, no matter how hard he tries, Eddie can't make you cum, and I was happy to do it because it's a much more common situation than how it's represented in most media. I'm not sure this is exactly what they were looking for, but it was a very fun thing to write. This Eddie had me giggling.

a/n: I wasn't sure I would finish this wip after I wrote the first two lines, but then I was in the mood yesterday and smashed it out. It was a very quick write, definitely not my opus, but a true joy, all the same. I hope you like.

wc: 3.1k

Eddie flopped onto his back, huffing out a satisfied breath. “That was so good,” he hummed. 

The fingers of one hand drew a lazy circle on his bare chest as it rose and fell, while his other hand scrambled over to capture yours.  

Shifting his gaze, he caught you staring at the ceiling, unblinking.  “Was that…did you…?”

“Um,” you paused.  It wasn’t that you were afraid to be truthful with him, but the fact that orgasms weren’t flying out of you at the same rate made you feel inadequate, like maybe you were the problem. 

He propped up on his forearm, searching your face, brow creased with concern.  “Did I hurt you or…?”

“No, no,” you rolled over, pulling the sheet up over your hips.  “It felt great.”

At that, he gave an actual sigh of relief.

“But, I didn’t cum.  Or at least, I don’t think I did.”

“You’re not sure?” 

You chewed at your top lip.  “No, I am sure.  I didn’t.”

He traced a few hearts on your shoulder with the tip of his calloused finger.  “Have you ever? With me?”

Your silence spoke volumes, and Eddie’s mind raced to all of the times you’d been intimate in the past few weeks since you’d been together.  He blamed himself for being too eager and sloppy, and shit—he was so crazy about you, it made him dizzy.  He couldn’t believe you let him touch you, let alone cum inside.  

His head snapped up.  “But what about that time I went down on you in the closet at Robin’s party? I swear I felt you—”

“I was close that time,” you admitted, remembering how your legs shook and that heat began to build, in the same way it did when you pleasured yourself.  “But then Gareth was shouting, looking for you and it went away.”

“Fucking Gareth,” he mumbled. “You were close then, okay.  Can I try that again? Now?”

He was already moving down the bed, palming the crook of your knee to slide your leg open.

You put your hand on his head, glancing over at the digital alarm clock.  “Not now, silly, I have to get ready for work.”

You wrapped the sheet around you and got to your feet, leaving Eddie to stare into space, alone with his tortured thoughts.  “Come over tonight?” He yelled while you were in the bathroom. “Wayne leaves for work at 6, we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

“I’ll come over,” you said with your mouth around a toothbrush.  You spat into the sink and then, “But I might be too tired for…other stuff,” your words were met with nothing but silence from the next room.  “We can watch a movie or something?”

Eddie appeared sullen in the doorway next to you in his checkered blue and white boxers. “Do you not want to have sex with me anymore?”

“No, baby I do!” You assured him, eyebrows high on your forehead.  You cupped some water into your mouth and spat it out while he ran his knuckle down your arm. “I really really want to, I just don’t want us to force this.  It’s okay if I don’t have an orgasm every single time.”

“Yeah but it’s not okay with me,” he muttered. 

You turned and planted kisses down his throat, dotting smooches along his collarbone, and then the final peck was on his pouty mouth. You rubbed the tip of your nose against his, “I’ll see you tonight.  I love you.”

—------

You parked on the other side of Eddie's van at the trailer that night and assessed the windows curiously.  At a glance, it looked like the living room had caught fire from the amount of candles that were lit. The song Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin poured out into the soft yellow light of the porch, and you knocked.  

A few raps of your knuckles were met with a loud curse and something like a metal pot crashed to the floor in the kitchen.  No one came to the door, so you entered with caution, and your senses were greeted with the smell of something burning in the oven.

Eddie was by the sink and he spun around with a startled look, wiping his hands down his jeans. He wore a Slayer shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and his feet were bare, letting you see the black toe nail polish you’d delicately painted on a few days earlier.  

“What’s with all this?” You blinked a few times, marveling at how tidy it was.  But also, there were at least 15 mismatched candles ablaze on the side table, the top of the tv, and the counter. 

He wiped his mouth and went over to greet you.   “I just wanted to set the mood,” he grinned, grabbing onto your hips to pull you close. “I read somewhere that the atmosphere can help with, you know.”

“You read somewhere?”

“Just one of those magazines at the grocery checkout.”

“I missed you,” he smiled against your mouth as you said it.  His warm skin smelled spicy and sweet, like he’d recently showered and put on cologne. The yearning you felt for him was all-consuming.  A few hours apart weighed on you like an eternity.  You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, and already your loins were giving you the nod like, “yep, we need to have him inside of us.”  You absolutely craved him on a sexual level, so why was it so hard to find your climax?  It seemed to come easy for everyone else in the world: everybody at the party was cumming but you.  

Eddie was nervous.  He hadn’t felt that out of his mind since the day he confessed he had feelings for you, but if you didn’t feel the same that would be cool, because he didn’t want to fuck up the friendship: you were too precious to him.  Your presence in his life made him feel sane and loved and seen in a way he’d rarely experienced in his life, if ever.  A miracle happened that day, and you’d flown into his arms, asking him what took him so long.

But what kind of boyfriend would he be if he couldn’t please you? In every way?

You watched a sitcom while you ate dinner on TV trays, and when you came back from using the restroom, he had everything put away, dishes thrown in the sink, and he was sitting very propper at the end of the couch, watching you expectantly.  

“Are you, um,” he cleared his throat.  “How are you feeling?”

This was weird, he thought. He was making it weird.  He needed to loosen up and not be so hyper focused on his mission.  Maybe you were tired, maybe you needed to let your spaghetti and burnt french bread settle.  

You straddled his lap, brushing hair away so that you could kiss his forehead. 

“I think I’m ready to try again,” you whispered, and then you ducked down to nibble his earlobe.  “Unless you’d rather stay here and—”

Before you could finish the thought, he was up and the two of you were moving out of the room and down the hall, kissing and fumbling with clothes as you went.  

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he nipped your jaw and side of your neck, banging the bedroom door open with the side of his fist. “I hate being away from you.”

There were a few candles around the bed too; on his nightstand, and a red one dripped wax from the window sill down the wall.  

You stopped abruptly, staring at the bed.  “Are those…rose petals?” 

“Tulips, actually,” he rushed to the scene and swiped the soft pink curls away with his arm. “That was stupid, I just thought it would be—”

You caught his mouth with yours, tongues lashing at each other in such an erotic way that a small moan escaped him. 

He wondered if that night would be the night he came in his jeans.

He wasn’t going to let himself cum before you, that was the plan.  He’d jerked off shortly before you’d arrived, but that didn’t mean shit because he was absolutely ready again.  

Suck it up, Munson.

All was off but for your underwear and while Eddie licked greedily at one of your nipples, you reached down to undo his button fly.  “Release the beast,” you cooed.  

He caught your wrist.  “Not just yet, I can’t, I mean, I want this to be about you.”

“I need an even playing field if I’m going to be relaxed enough to…you know.”

He couldn’t get his pants off fast enough at the urging of your hand that was quick to breach the waistband of his boxers to stroke him. He was rock hard and the tip was already weeping, needy for you.  

“Is this all for me?” You ran your thumb in circles over the tip.

Eddie tensed and huffed out a breath that fanned the hair away from his face.  “Fuck, baby, every inch.”

If he wasn’t sharp, he’d cum right there on the spot.

You bounced when your body hit the bed, and Eddie dropped to his knees between your legs.  The visible wetness on your panties were taking a toll on his already fragile state.  He wasn’t patient enough to take them off of you, he just put his mouth right on the material, nuzzling at your pussy through the fabric in a way that pulled a few sharp gasps out of you.  

“I missed her so much,” he pulled back the final barrier with one finger, licking a few times on your swollen lips, and then cursed.  “You’re so wet already.”

“Well, that’s what you do to me,” you propped up on your elbows to look down at him, sucking in your bottom lip at the sensation of his breath on you.

He slid your underwear off the rest of the way, trying to recall what he’d read in that Playboy article he read a while back? Something about writing out the alphabet, and the woman you are with won’t make it to “x” without cumming.

“How does this feel?” His tongue rolled along your folds in a way that made you wonder what he was doing.  He lost track of the letters at around “M”, hips bucking into the side of the bed, cock pulsing so hard, he had to reach down and take some of the pressure off.  

“G-good,” you gasped.  “Just like that but then, up a bit higher.”

You weren’t exactly an expert when it came to your own pleasure, either, you only knew what felt good when you touched yourself.  If Eddie made you cum, it would be the first time you ever experienced that with another person.  You wondered if you should tell him that.  

He followed your instructions, swallowing while he consumed you, until he found the tiny pearl treasure at the top and your grip tightened on him.

“Hmm I think I found it. Hey there pretty baby,” he murmured into your cunt rolling his tongue around the spot. 

“Yesyesyes, right thereeeee Eddieeee.”

The pressure and the speed was perfect and your hand went to his head for encouragement, but then he slowed down and moved locations, licking up the arousal that dripped down  your slit.

“Baby? Could you go back to that thing you were doing a second ago?”

He compiled without a word, trying to find the same pacing again, but the moment was gone. 

“Eddie—” you spread your legs wider as an invitation. “I really need you inside of me now.”

Well, he wanted that more than anything.  But one pump and it would be all over for his dignity.  His eyes were rolling back, seeing cartoon stars just thinking about it.  

Truth? He wasn’t going to make it.  

You noticed his hesitation.  “We can keep trying…after.  But I need to feel you.  It’s lonely up here.”

“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he crawled up onto the bed, kissing along your stomach, up between your breasts as he went, and then nuzzled at your neck.  “My dick can wait until—”

But he choked on his last words when you took hold of him and rubbed the tip of his length along your wetness.

“Sssshittt,” his whole body trembled. 

Sliding himself in, becoming one with you, made him emotional in a way he’d be embarrassed to share with anyone else. 

“I love you so much,” your voice came out as a cry when he sank halfway in, locking eyes with you.  The stretch made you squeeze around him, eliciting a whimper from so far back in his throat that he wondered if it came from somewhere else, some far off place. 

Once he started to move, he thought about that sweet little pearl and lifted up enough to put his thumb there and move it around.  Your head went back and  you exposed your throat to him.

Eddie grimaced at how close he was, fuck that—he had to slow down.  The way he was touching you, it was making you stiffen like you had when he was on his knees, and he was taking note of everything.

But then you started telling him how bad you needed him to cum, to fill you up, to make you his.  He tried to hold out but then his eyes locked onto yours when you told him you loved him again and he couldn’t stop the wave once it started, no matter how hard he clenched his jaw and his buttcheeks.

One long babble came out of him as his thrusts got sloppy.  “Oh fuck I love you so much I’m cumming so hard, I’m…I’m…holy shit I love you.”

He didn’t ask if you had come that time, because he knew better.

After he caught his breath, he pulled you with him, twisting onto his side, slipping two fingers where his cock had been.  “What if I push all of this cum back inside so it will stay there? Hmm?”

You moaned against his mouth, grabbing a fistful of his hair.  “That feels good, keep doing that.”

“You like that?” He asked, just to be certain.

You nodded, and then, your hand slotted down between your bodies and his arousal spiked when he realized you were touching yourself.  

He curled his fingers to feel that soft, spongy spot, asking how fast you wanted it.

You couldn’t speak, your concentration was intense, eyes screwed shut. 

Oh sure, he was getting hard again.  The feel of his warm spend in your tight hole was doing nothing for his resolve.  

You clenched around him, and then he was whispering, “let me try again,” as he kept his digits buried and made his way down between your thighs.

His mouth had no trouble finding the treasure that time; it practically peeked up at him, begging for a resolution.  He relaxed his shoulders, breathed in the musk of your arousal, and took you into his mouth with a vibrating groan.

“Right there!” You hadn’t meant to scream it, but it was an actual eureka moment.  “Oh fuck Eddie, don’t stop…keep doing…keep doing that.”

He hadn’t moved his fingers in a while, but when he tried to incorporate that into the mix, you stopped him.  “Keep them still,” you held his head, locking him in place—not that there was anywhere else he wanted to be.  “Don’t move your hand just…Ahh yes yes…”

Your jaw went slack in a silent scream, but then his pace quickened, and before you knew what was happening, the blinding white wave crashed through you, rolling through your limbs like satin electricity, making you whine an extended, “cummingcummingcumming,” while you clung to his hair so you wouldn’t fall off the earth. 

Eddie was astonished to learn that could feel it happening.  The juicy walls around his fingers spasmed, fluttering like tight ripples, and he drove his tongue in eager circles, wondering if he could make you cum twice in one go.  Was that even possible? His heart all but flew out of his chest, it was beating so fast, and he moaned long and hard.

But after a bit, you were trying to push his mouth away.  “Wait wait, now it’s sensitive,” but he was so determined, he didn’t pull off until you physically lifted his head.  

He stared up at you, licking his wet, swollen lips.  

You were breathless, letting the final bits of glitter swim through your veins.  “That was—”

He kissed your cunt one two three times.  “That was what?”

He was grinning now, feeling like he’d just won the lottery, or at least a new car. The sense of satisfaction was officially unmatched.

He made his way up the bed to hold you, but you surprised him by taking his fingers into your mouth to suck them clean, dragging teeth along his flesh.  

“I’ve never cum that way with anyone else before,” you said in a whisper, but when he finally registered the weight of the words, his eyes widened.

“My sweetheart,” he pulled you flush against him, giddy, holding your face to brush his lips over yours. “I’m really your first?”

You gave his shoulder a teasing love bite. “And my last.”

“Oh nowww you’re in trouble,” he rolled on top of you, interlacing his fingers with yours to brace your hands above your head, and then he went to work munching at the side of your throat, growling as he did so.  

You screamed and giggled, realizing he was hard again as it nudged at your hip. “I see you’re ready for battle again.”

“I was born ready, baby,” he straightened to see your face. “You want to try a new position? I was reading this—”

The front door to the trailer burst open.

“What the hell? Edward? You tryin’ to burn the place down?”

It was Wayne.

Shit shit shit shit it was Wayne!

Home hours early from work, for whatever reason.

The door to the bedroom was wide open and his heavy footfalls were rapidly approaching from the hall.

Eddie threw the sheet up over you, and a few tulip petals fluttered to your face.  “I’ll be right there!” He shouted, trying to jump into his jeans. He missed a leg hole and stumbled back onto the mattress, making you snort out a laugh. 

He got to the door just in time to greet his Uncle, blocking any view of the room, buttoning his pants as he stood there.  

You could hear Wayne’s voice change. “Is, ah, is your girlfriend here? Sorry, I didn’t see her car.”

“No that’s cool, we were just—” and then he maneuvered him out into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

You lifted up to listen to their murmuring voices, and then Wayne asked, “why is there wax all over the carpet? Blow these fuckers out before the curtains catch fire.”

You had to bury your face in the pillow to muffle your laughter.  

[loafgeto]

FANTASIZE — 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. gojo satoru

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ having sexual fantasies about your landlord seems illegal, but what can you do when it’s gojo satoru?

⌗contents ⤥ fem!reader, she/her pronouns, explicit language used, landlord!gojo, no curses au, gojo and reader are in their 20’s (range not specified), masturbation (gojo catches you), pussy hungry gojo, oral, unprotected p in v sex, orgasms, creampie, deep penetration, pet names, not proofread

⌗wordcount ⤥ 4.7k

⌗notes ⤥ i literally thought abt this while on the toilet

finally, after a long and exhausting shift, you finally arrived back home. you were standing outside of the gates that lead into the apartment complexes, showing the security guard your identification before being allowed inside. you were tired and hungry, thinking about what to cook once you got into your home.

just as you’re reaching your apartment complex, you pass through the play area built for the children, and you notice a tall, white-haired man standing by a bench while a young child is running around with another on the playground. your heart stops when you realize it’s your landlord, gojo satoru.

while he was on the phone, you notice another man sitting on the bench, his dark hair nearly blending in with the night. you gulped, hoping to walk by without getting caught by either of them. why? because— you haven’t paid your last months rent.

you promised satoru you’d pay, but the next rent payment was due in a week and you hadn’t even sent him money. satoru didn’t bother with it during the first two weeks, however— he became impatient and was slowly demanding you pay the rent. even the co-landlord, suguru, was reminding you but rather, in a more gentle manner.

as you quietly passed by, one of the children spotted your presence. “oh! miss [name]!” the young megumi shouts out, putting the unwanted attention onto you.

oh… megumi, why?! you cursed mentally at yourself and made a quick hesitating expression before forcing a sweet smile and turning around. by that time, megumi and the other child, yuji, had jumped off the playground to greet you. they both approached you with their cute giggles, each hugging one of your legs. “megumi, yuji! what are you guys doing out here?”

“gojo and geto-san let us play outside for a little bit!” megumi answers when looking up at you. nodding, you glance at the two other men, who were deliberately surveying you— especially satoru. you clear your throat and look down at the two kids again.

“can we come to your house on saturday, miss [name]? i wanna bake cookies and watch pokemon again!” yuji questions, jumping up and down slightly.

“o-of course.. just make sure you guys get permission from your dad’s!” you reply, maintaining your smile as they pushed themselves off your legs. “i have to get home super quick now, ‘kay? just let me know by tomorrow.”

“okay, miss [name]!” they both cheered happily at the same time before scurrying back to the two men.

therefore, you took that as an opportunity to leave quickly and back to your apartment. when you arrived, you quickly unlocked the door and entered, nearly sinking to the ground. a smile slowly crept on your face and you slipped off your shoes before walking further into your home.

you glanced at the ground, noticing your broken vase was still scattered to pieces. you sigh, remembering your purse accidentally knocked it over and since you were rushing to work, you decided to clean it up once you got home. grabbing a broom from the kitchen, you swept it to the side by the wall, figuring you would gather it into the trash later.

after changing into something more comfortable, you went to brush your teeth and get ready for the night. a smile was still on your face, and well, the reason was simply because of satoru.

three months ago, you were apartment hunting after saving so much money— one of your work friends suggested you to tour an apartment from a landlord named gojo satoru.

the apartments he owned were absolutely marvelous and in your price range. but what even tempted you to sign rental agreement was satoru himself. he was someone everyone wanted: he had handsome features, a perfect build, an alluring voice, and most all, earned loads of money. to others, it was obvious that you had a huge interest in him, but it’s gotten to the point where you began developing feelings— way too much feelings. so much that you began fantasizing about him everyday.

it started off as fantasizing going on romantic dates with him— eventually to getting married, having kids, being the mom to little megumi. eventually leading to fantasizing you underneath him, holding him as he fucks into you. most would think it was absurd— to be obsessing over your own landlord who dislikes you at the moment.

but you liked the attention you were receiving from satoru. you two interacted many times before, but that’s mostly because of megumi. the child often ran into you, eventually getting close enough to where satoru allowed him to go to your house to bake cookies or for you to babysit. however, when you missed your first rent, satoru had came to your place— which, caught you by surprise, you thought he’d bring megumi but he was all by himself.

therefore, you intentionally pretended to forget to pay your rent, even though you did actually have the money to pay. of course, you were going to pay eventually, just so you don’t lose your apartment, but you were keeping up the act due to satoru’s appearances nearly everyday— demanding you to pay your rent. he’s gotten slightly aggressive over the past two weeks, but it never necessarily bothered you.

you pretend to avoid him, while still try to be around him. it was weird, maybe, but when you have a crush on someone, you usually end up doing things you don’t normally find yourself doing.

after getting into bed, you relaxed and got comfortable— but you feel as if you needed something else to cool your mind: thinking about satoru.

you felt lazy to grab one of your vibrators, so you decided to use your hands, imagining as if it was satoru’s instead.

“gojo, gojo, can i pleaseeee go to miss [name]’s house on saturday? pleaseeee,” megumi was whining to satoru repeatedly as they were heading back to their home. after saying their good nights to yuji and suguru, megumi just couldn’t shut up about you.

satoru was helping megumi get ready for bed, but the kid just couldn’t sleep until he said yes. and if satoru didn’t say much less of a no, or a simple no, megumi would throw a tantrum. satoru honestly didn’t know how to calm the child down whenever that occurs, so he makes sure to answer properly.

“maybe if she pays her rent, you can go,” satoru smiles at the kid, realizing his words slipped out without care.

“she did pay it! you just don’t check!” megumi pouts.

“oh megs, please just go to sleep. i’ll think about it tonight,” satoru replies with a sigh as he stands from kneeling beside of the bed and walks towards the door.

“nooo!! i wanna go, please!!” megumi begs, nearly crying at this point.

“gosh.. why are you so stubborn at this age,” satoru shakes his head as he was about to walk out. “fine, fine! you can go! just go to sleep, it’s late and if you don’t wake up in time tomorrow, you will not go, understand?”

suddenly, little megumi’s demeanor changed completely. he was now bubbly, smiling like crazy before getting comfortable underneath his blanket. “thank you, gojo! can you please go tell her that you said yes! i will tell yuji tomorrow, i’m so excited!” and without anything else, megumi was able to fall into a slumber.

satoru sighs yet again, shutting off the lights of megumi’s room before closing the door. honestly, he didn’t know what to do anymore, but he was glad megumi found company in someone else other than him— not that he does. satoru decides to flip through files, rental agreement files.

and of course, he stumbles upon yours. along with the papers that wrote payment overdue. satoru was pissed, to say the least.

satoru was lenient the first time, almost to the point of considering to not have you pay the rent— because, well, he also has an interest in you. his feelings began developing the day you both encountered, and he remembers trying so hard to get you to like the apartment. you both exchanged contacts that day once you signed the rental agreement, but it was nothing more than that. it initially surprised him when megumi asked to go to your place the first time, he hadn’t known then that you two were slowly becoming close as you’re adjusting to the new environment. but he shortly felt as if this was an opportunity for him to get closer with you.

now, they’re are definitely times satoru wanted to straight up say he had a fat crush on you, keeping it behind his mouth felt as if he was in high school again— however, he just couldn’t get the courage. he didn’t understand why, and most of the time, megumi would be cutting him off and grabbing your attention.

a few weeks ago, satoru was coming home with megumi, after picking him up from school. carrying the kid on his shoulders, megumi was saying this and that about wanting to visit your place. satoru was going to say yes, until: he detected you with someone else.

and that someone else ended up being suguru.

you both were chatting casually, it seemed you had also returned from work and stopped by to chat with suguru while little yuji was running around the playground with another child. watching at how you two interacted triggered satoru— the way you two smiled and laughed together, the way you tapped his arm when he said something that made you laugh. suguru was much bigger than he was, and definitely had more of the ladies’ attention.

however, in hindsight, satoru mistook your gestures and friendliness towards suguru as having feelings for him instead.

therefore, satoru suddenly became harsher towards you— but only because he was jealous of suguru and believing you liked him instead. even though his best friend didn’t show any display of affection towards you, satoru remembered the first impression you gave to suguru: “she’s pretty,” he complimented, but nothing else.

honestly, satoru felt quite immature to act like this. you weren’t even his girlfriend and even if you did like suguru, there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

satoru walked to his room, feeling utterly exhausted but still reached for his coat. as megumi wanted, he was going to deliver the message about him being allowed to go to your house on saturday to you, as well as remind you again about the rent.

the walk took no less than five minutes, though satoru often paused his steps or made circles because he felt anxious seeing you. of course, earlier he did see you when the kids were greeting you, but you barely even looked at him: at least, that’s what he perceived.

and when satoru approached the front of your door, he began anticipating as he hesitantly raises his hand to knock on the door. he leans back slightly, biting his lower lips as he thinks about what to say once you open the door. ‘hey, just wanted to say that megumi can—’ no, that wasn’t a good idea, he thought. ‘it’s time to pay your rent—’ well, not that either.

satoru shook his head, trying to surpass the feelings of nervousness before knocking on the door. and well, he must’ve knocked way too hard since the door cracked open. he stood there puzzled, and for a moment, he thought you were already on the other side. but realizing it was silent, he pushed the door open.

the first thing satoru noticed was the broken vase on the floor, causing his eyes to widen. did someone break in? is someone threatening her, is that why she can’t pay rent? dozens of thoughts were processing through his head as he enters further into your apartment, swallowing hard as more anxiety crawled up his back.

“[name]?” satoru calls out, and when you didn’t answer, he panicked even more. were you hurt? did something else happen here that he couldn’t grasp? satoru knew you lived alone, often inviting several friends or family members over but there was never anyone who looked threatening or intimidating to cause harm.

your apartment was clean, even though there were boxes and other things stuffed in corners and shelves, and there were no signs of any other damage aside from the broken vase. pulling out his phone, he readied to dial anyone. satoru was approaching your room at that point, bottled in his own thoughts as he looked around— he stands ahead of your bedroom door, realizing it was slightly cracked open, enough to where you can see the bed.

however, what satoru’s eyes laid upon was something unexpected.

the sight of you lying back on your bed, thighs spread open with your panties and underwear pushed down to your ankles, soft moans circulating the room caused blood to rush quick to satoru’s dick. while you were in your own world, satoru had been worried that something terrible might’ve happened to you. but you were just.. masturbating?

“f-fuck.. satoru..”

satoru’s eyes widened more when he hears you call out his name, causing his heart to thump and cheeks to burn red. were you imagining him right now? were you thinking about him touching you like that? the tightness of satoru’s pants began to poke out, throbbing nearly in pain as he watches you pleasure yourself because of him.

“need you to fuck me.. please..” your pleas and whines reached satoru’s ears like a melody, and he swore he could cum just by the sound of your pretty voice.

was this how you sounded like? was this how you moaned his name? it was driving satoru mad, making him want to push that door open and fuck you just like how you wanted. but, he felt like a creep— just standing there and watching.

satoru continued to watch you pleasure yourself before getting lost in his own thoughts, not remembering his phone in his other hand and dropping it to the ground. the loud thud causes the two of you to snap back into reality— sending you into an alert state and satoru into a panicked one. he cursed himself under his breath as he tries picking up his phone to quickly scatter out, but by now, you were already by the door.

“who’s there—?!” you nearly shouted, ready to attack and defend yourself against the person. but you were caught by surprise when you made eye contact with satoru.

the room became silent, as you both awkwardly stood and stared at each other for who knows how long. the embarrassment immediately got back to you, causing your face to burn and you could barely even formulate a proper response as satoru rubs the back of his neck.

“g-gojo…” you anxiously let out, averting your gaze in another direction. you could barely look him in the eyes.

“i didn’t mean to watch- or, i mean disturb you. i came at a wrong time, i’m sorry,” satoru slips out the response, also looking elsewhere while glancing back at you several times.

“you were watching..?” your face shoots up and satoru’s face nearly went pale.

“i- i just wanted to let you know that megumi is allowed to come over saturday, he wanted me to deliver the message!” satoru switches the topic as you avoid eye contact with him again.

“oh… i see,” you reply. the atmosphere was severely awkward, and you both didn’t know what to exactly or utter. “guess—”

“need help?” he blurts, eyes lowering back to you.

“help?” your eyes remain wide in shock and you can feel your heart pulsate quicker, nearly making your legs weak. you try to avoid gazes with him, but satoru reaches for your wrist just to get your attention.

satoru can feel his dick throb knowing that your needy pussy was underneath those tight shorts of yours, being forced to act normal when rubbing your thighs together out of embarrassment. he only imagines how wet you are— no, to feel how wet you are, to really know what kind of filthy girl you are. it was turning him on, and it was obvious from the bulge in his pants.

“i mean, from the way you were moaning my name, i figured you did,” satoru replies in a hushed tone, sending chills down your spine.

the moment was cut short when satoru leans in to kiss you, shocking you even more, but you instantly melted into his lips. you kissing him back with immense passion drove satoru insane, now that he figured out he had been the one all this time. he pushes his tongue pass your lips and into your mouth, hungrily searching for your tongue. you both share several soft groans before satoru grinds himself against you, allowing you to feel his erected dick.

“feel that?” satoru whispers when he leaned his head back to catch a quick breath, only receiving a small nod from you. “‘m so fucking hard, just because of you. gonna do something about that?”

“mhm.. of course..” you shyly replied, looking up at him with those nubile eyes.

you eventually find yourself on top of satoru, completely undressed aside from your soaked panties. you were facing his hard cock that was still being suffocated underneath his pants, meanwhile, satoru was beginning to tease your clothed clit with his middle finger. it made you whine, since you haven’t felt another’s touch in so long.

satoru pushes the material of your underwear to the side, getting a good view at your soaking cunt just dying to have someone’s cock drilled inside. “so pretty ‘nd perfect,” he whispers, his breath softly blowing against your clit.

“o-oh.. satoru,” you moan, feeling his tongue lap over your slit.

satoru circles his tongue around your clit, sucking it several times before working around your wet folds and pushing slightly pass them into your sopping cunt. you can feel ecstasy pump throughout your entire body, all just from his tongue.

“fuck.. your tongue- feels s’good..” you utter through your soft moans. “always fantasized you eating my pussy out like this.. a-ah..”

“yeah?” satoru hums, bringing a finger to rub circles on your clit while his tongue messily explored your cunt, licking and slurping all of your arousal that gradually coated down to his chin. your words dumped roughly on him, making his dick throb. “fucking hell. suck me off too, angel. need to feel your mouth around me.”

you push satoru’s pants down, along with his boxers that immediately causes his cock to spring out. you hold a breath as you take his length into your hand, watching as his pre-cum leaked out. you start with a lick around his tip, gathering the pre-cum on your tongue and earning a soft grunt against your pussy from him.

pushing your head down, you begin winding your tongue around his girth, sucking several times while pumping the rest with your hand. satoru’s cock twitches several times, nearly becoming sensitive under your touch and warm mouth. he proceeds to fuck your pussy with his tongue, thumbing your clit that causes your moans to vibrate around him.

“mm- ‘toru-”

“hush, baby. ‘ts okay, don’t want ya to choke. unless you like that,” satoru whispers, sinking his tongue into your pussy again, trying to slurp up all of your wetness. his nose easily brushes against your aching hole, sending you waves of pleasure.

you push satoru’s cock further into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, trying to maintain a pace. you could barely focus due to satoru’s tongue lapping your vulva and folds, inching into your cunt as if he’s marking as his territory. the tip of his cock softly slams against your throat, slowly pooling your eyes with tears.

“don’t forget to breathe, baby. oh fuck- keep sucking my cock like that- mhm- good girl,” satoru praises, grunting as he feels your mouth taking almost all of him. you could barely even handle it, yet you’re trying so hard— it was amusing, in a cute way.

your muffled moans sync with the sloppy sounds of your cunt being lavished with satoru’s tongue, the pad of his fingers rubbing your clit faster and causing you to reach an orgasm. grinding your hips slowly on satoru’s face was enough to tell him that, and he uses his other hand to slap the fat of your ass, eventually gripping it.

“gonna cum, baby. s-shit, in your mouth?” satoru glances at you, noticing you were bobbing your head as a response.

when satoru’s warm cum shoots into the back of your throat, it causes you to orgasm at the same time. your legs twitch from the sensations, but capturing his load was the main thing occupying your mind. you’d never thought you’d be situated with satoru like this— it’s just as if your fantasies are becoming a reality.

swallowing his cum, you push your head away and inhale several breaths while coughing lightly. shortly enough, you feel satoru pulling you back against him and turning your head. after sharing a long and sloppy kiss, he pins you on the mattress, spreading your thighs apart so that he’s in between them.

from what you could see, he was still hard. very hard. his aching tip was pressed against your entrance, teasing your clit and making you whimper. glancing up at him, you could see his flushed face— full of energy, arousal, and passion.

“d-do we need lube?” you innocently inquired, which choked a soft chuckle from satoru.

“not at all, baby. you’re so wet. feel that? feel how wet you are?” satoru hums when he guides his tip along your wet entrance, hoping it’d be an enough of a satisfying answer. you only nod, giving satoru a look and he reassures you with another kiss. “i’m gonna put it in now. tell me if it hurts, ‘kay?”

“‘kay..” you nod, biting your lower lips.

satoru groans as he inserts his cock past your folds, pushing your walls apart that clenches around him each time he inched deeper. you gasped as both hands went around his biceps and your fingers press into the skin, notably marking the area. your walls fluttered around him, accepting his thick and hard cock so earnestly.

“feel okay, love?” satoru questions, glancing down at you.

“mhm.. i’m okay, ‘toru..” you reply, indicating for him to move.

satoru slowly begins to move his hips, groaning at the feeling of your pussy when his cock slips in and out. for you, his cock was already kissing your most sensitive places that had moans fall from your mouth constantly. satoru gropes one your breast, pinching the nipple with two fingers as he nudges your deepest parts.

“f-fuck! satoru- your cock feels soso good-” you cry out when his pace fastens, nearly having your eyes roll back.

so, this is how her pussy feels like? satoru was lost in his own mind, lost in the feeling of your pussy. he was already addicted, wanting to be inside you forever and be able to dump his cum into you. to him, you’re perfect: everything about you is. he loved the feeling of your soft and delicate skin rubbing against his own, aside from your pussy kissing around his cock.

“you fantasize about this too, angel? fantasize about my cock fucking into your pussy like this?” satoru huffs as his thrusts initially became quicker— rougher, nearly filling you entirely up.

“yes! yes, ‘toru. always fantasizing about it.. about you- ngh..”

you could feel a knot slowly forming in your core as his cock continues to stimulate pleasure to your pussy. you could care less about the neighbor’s ears, knowing that another tenant’s room was on the other side of your headboard. as of right now, your landlord was fucking you, just like how you’ve always imagined about. the fact turned you on even more.

satoru groans, now pounding his cock into you, deep to the point it’s kissing your womb. the sound of skin slapping circulating the air along with your moans, making the room scream perfect sex. satoru presses a finger against your lips, signaling you to lower your voice when loud knocks on the wall is heard, telling you both to shut up. but how could you?

“i can’t- ‘toru. feels so good- ‘ts too much-” you cry out, bringing his finger into your mouth and swirling your tongue over.

“naughty girl. you really want to get a noise complaint, don’t you?” satoru chuckles, before throwing both of your legs over his shoulders. well, since he’s the landlord he could just dismiss the complaint whenever it came through.

“want them to know- how good you fuck me.”

and how could satoru deny such request? wrapping his hands around your thighs and pushing them against his chest, he pummels his cock deeper into you, getting screams out of your mouth. your breasts bounced each thrust, matching the gentle slams of the headboard ramming into the wall.

the angle of the position allowed satoru’s cock to perfectly grind against your g-spot, which is already sending you towards your next orgasm. his balls slaps against your vulva as he penetrates his cock deeper and deeper, feeling your walls clench around him each time.

you don’t know how long it’s been until you’re on your knees and hands, ass in the air as satoru fucks you from behind after another orgasm. gripping onto the sheets, you repeatedly cry out his name, just to feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“you’re such a perfect girl, you know that?” satoru proceeds to blurt out compliments, caressing your skin and pressing soft kisses on your shoulder blades to your neck. right now, he was just grateful that it’s him— that he is the one able to do this with you.

“sa-satoru— ngh- i’m cumming-”

satoru was close to cumming too. he wanted to dump his next cum load into you, stuff you up to the brim and feel you milk him dry. “cum on my cock, baby. c’mon,” he encourages, pushing your hips back with both of his hands as you reach your climax.

“cum in me, ‘toru! pleasee!” you cry out next, turning your head to make eye contact with him.

satoru’s eyes wide at the sight of your lewd expression, telling him to fill you up. and so he does. he does a final deep thrust, dumping his heavy and warm load all saved just for you. satoru feels your walls pulsate around him just before he slips his cock out.

from there, you both remain in silence once more, catching breaths before satoru collapses on top of you.

“three months..” satoru whispers against your ear, utterly confusing you.

“what?”

“i’ll give you three months free of rent, maybe more if you go on a date with me.”

“that’s not fair to the other tenants though.”

“they don’t have to know.”

you giggle, turning around so that you’re completely facing him. cupping his cheeks into your hand, you lean in to give him a kiss— a more subtle kiss. “alright then. a date is settled.”

as satoru entered his apartment, he was surprised to stumble upon— a rather, agitated suguru. arms crossed over his chest, it seemed as if satoru had done something to piss him off.

“sugu—”

“do you know how many times i’ve called you? 17 times! i even messaged you and you answered none of them!” suguru rambled and satoru easily noticed fumes erupting from his ears. “you should be grateful that megumi can take care of himself.. gosh, he’s only what? seven? i can’t believe you left him home alone. what if something bad happened?”

“look— suguru—”

“ugh, whatever. i made sure megumi got to school safely with yuji. make sure you pick them up later and drop them off at [name]’s house, we have a meeting this evening,” suguru cuts satoru off again as he grabs his coat, not leaving any room for satoru to explain.

“suguru—”

“why do you look like you just..” suguru pauses once he got a good observation of satoru’s appearance. “did you drink last night?”

“wh— what? ABSOLUTELY not!” satoru defends himself.

“uh huh.. hurry up and get ready,” suguru dismisses it once more before leaving the apartment.

well, guess satoru didn’t really need an explanation after all.

LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

a/n: me after using the word cock

[pedroscurls]

training partners (pt. 2)

summary: after your next training session, you join hugh for lunch at his place. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader warnings: implied age gap (hugh is 55, reader is in late 20s-early 30s), reader has some description (hair, outfit), sensual and initmate smut (unprotected p in v sex - creampie oops, missionary, cowgirl, marking and biting, light dirty talk) no use of y/n. word count: 8.9k (i got carried away lol) a/n: this is part two to training partners. i needed more lol and i told myself that it would only be a two-parter, but i may or may not continue this with more... (let me know if i should write more parts to this story bc i'm having so much fun writing this!) again, i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman and this is purely fictional (all in my delulu mind). prev part. - next part.

It’s been a week since meeting Hugh and it’s still so surreal that you’re frequently talking to him. Or rather, he’s frequently reaching out to you whether it’s through a text message, a phone call, or FaceTime. You realize just how comfortable you are with him, how you can completely be yourself and not worry about what he thinks, because he just makes you feel like who you are as a person is enough. It’s something you haven’t felt before and there’s a part of you that tries to tell yourself that this isn’t going to be serious. You’re just going to have fun. Hugh isn’t going to want something serious, so don’t set yourself up for disappointment. 

But the more you talk to him, the more you find yourself imagining and daydreaming what it would be like to be in a fully committed relationship with him. You know it’s never going to happen, but a girl can dream, right? 

On today’s workout, you decide to wear a faded black oversized t-shirt and black spandex shorts. You put your hair into two braids and slip your shoes on. Within a few minutes, you hear a knock on your door and you bite your lower lip in anticipation. You’re excited, yet nervous, to see Hugh again. Despite the plenty of FaceTime calls over the last week, it’s just a different feeling seeing him in person. Right in front of you. Within arms reach. 

You swing your door open and look up at Hugh who’s smiling in your direction. He’s dressed in black shorts and a black fitted t-shirt that looks like it’s about to tear at the seams around his biceps. It causes you to bite your lower lip, yearning to reach out to just squeeze and–

“Good morning, love,” Hugh says with a chuckle, breaking you out of your thoughts. 

“Hi, good morning, sorry,” you apologize, looking down at your feet. “You wanna come on in? I’m just grabbing the rest of my things.”

“I’d love to,” Hugh responds. “But can I get a proper greeting?” 

“Oh, so me checking you out isn’t proper?”

Hugh grins. “I’d say it’s far from proper, love.” 

Your eyes narrow and then you step up to him, your arms wrapping around his frame as his long arms wrap around your waist. “Is this proper enough?” you whisper against him.

“Very proper,” he whispers, tightening his hold on you before he pulls away. “We still on for lunch after our workout?” 

You nod, leading him inside of your apartment. “Yeah, but I just realized I’m gonna be all sweaty and in your home and–”

“Pack a change of clothes. You can shower at my place.” 

You shut the door behind him and then walk into your living room with him trailing behind you, trying to bite back the excitement that settles in the pit of your stomach. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Not imposing at all. I want to spend time with you…” Hugh begins. “In a setting that’s just you and me.” 

“Okay, Hugh.” You say, turning around once he takes your wrist to spin you to face him. He brings you to his chest and uses his free hand to rest onto your hip. He looks so incredibly large in your small apartment and you can’t help but feel the butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach. Even though he looks so out of place in your apartment, it feels right having him here. With you. 

“But only if you’re okay with it,” he says, releasing his hold on your wrist to rest it on the other side of your hip. 

Slowly, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, stepping closer to him until your front is flush against his own. “I’m more than okay with it. I just don’t want you to think that I’m… You know…”

“I don’t,” he shakes his head. “What?” 

“That I only want you because you’re famous and you’re rich.”

“Oh, I thought those were the only two reasons.” He teases. “And because I’m old and you like older men.”

You let out a quiet laugh, gently punching his chest and his hands fall from your hips to wrap his arms instead around your waist. He holds you tightly against him and slowly dips down until his lips are mere inches from yours. “Seriously, Hugh.” 

“I know, love. Listen, I like your company. You make me laugh and it’s a while since I’ve felt this way.” Then, he brings a hand up to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, careful not to mess with your braids. “Whatever way you’ll have me, I’m fine with it.” 

“But I’m just me…” you whisper. 

“And you being you is a breath of fresh air. I like it. I like you.” 

You feel the corners of your lips turn upwards, the heat in your cheeks rising once more and you feel like you can lean in to kiss him. But you don’t. Not yet. You still have a workout to get to. 

“The Hugh Jackman likes me?” You feign a shocking expression, looking up into his eyes. 

Hugh lets out a quiet laugh and leans into bury his face against your neck, his stubble brushing against you and causing you to let out an uncontrollable giggle. “Oh, you’re ticklish, are ya?” He smirks against you, lips brushing against your neck as his stubble continues to tickle your skin.

You squirm against him, trying to pull away from him, but he just tightens his grip on you as your laughter fills your entire apartment. “Hugh!” you exclaim in between giggles, pushing against his hard chest. It’s no use though, he’s just so much stronger, so much bigger, and it isn’t until you lose your footing that he falls on his back on your couch with you on top of him that the laughter begins to die down. You pull back enough to look down at him, his hands gripping your hips as you realize that your legs had subconsciously placed themselves on either side of him. 

You’re literally straddling him and he’s staring at you with lust-filled eyes. Your core is pressed firmly against his lower half and you feel his length stir against you, hardening with each passing second. 

“Hugh…”

Your eyes deviate to his lips, watching him bite his lower lip as his fingertips dig into your hips. “Ya think we’d get in trouble if we miss our workout?” he whispers huskily. “Because I think I really like this view and I don’t wanna get up.”

Your cheeks are hot. You’re sure that he can feel the heat between your legs and you’re afraid to move because you’re sure that if you do, you’d lost all ounce of resolve and want to just pounce him because while he likes the view of you being on top of him, you absolutely love the view of him underneath you. 

“We should get up,” you mumble, though you don’t make any movements to stand up. Instead, Hugh wraps his arms around your waist as he sits up and adjusts himself on your couch until he’s sitting back against it. With each of his movements, your hips move against his, letting out a quiet whimper at the friction. 

“You really want to?” he says, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “Maybe we can…”

“Do our own version of cardio?” you tease, obviously breaking the tension as you both erupt into a fit of laughter. You wrap your arms around his shoulders loosely. “What do you say?” 

“As much as I’d love that,” Hugh chuckles. “I’d wanna take my time with you, love.” 

“Hm, then I guess we’ll have to wait.” 

“Guess so,” he says, though begins to lean in closer to you. “But can I…” Hugh begins to ask, eyes dropping to your lips and then back up to your eyes. “Kiss you?”

“Such a gentleman, Hugh Jackman,” you tease. “I thought old men like to be in control and–”

“You’re a little brat,” he growls, leaning in to finally press his lips against yours. You gasp immediately, feeling one of his hands move up to cup your cheek. He wastes no time in moving his lips against your own. It’s like your breath is being taken from you with how aggressive Hugh is, nipping and biting at your lower lip. You can’t control the way you’re feeling, the way your legs want to close shut and your core yearning to squeeze around something. You let out a quiet moan and slowly roll your hips against his own, feeling his entire length press against you once more. 

When Hugh groans against your lips, it lights a fire in you. In a fleeting moment, you want to just devour him and drop to your knees in front of him so that you can hear more of his groans and grunts. You lean further into him, gasping as you feel his fingertips touch your skin. His hands move underneath your shirt and with your gasp, he uses this moment to slide his tongue past your lips. 

Suddenly, you pull away, breathing heavily with his hands still underneath your shirt and your hands gripping his. 

“We’re getting carried away,” you whisper, breathlessly. 

“Hm,” he grins, licking his lower lip. “You’re distracting,” he teases. 

You roll your eyes and slowly climb off his lap, missing the feeling of him between your legs. Your eyes dip lower and notice the slight tent in his shorts, watching as he reaches down to readjust himself. 

“I’m gonna–” you clear your throat. “I’m gonna grab my things and then we should go. Or else we’ll never leave.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad thing,” Hugh grins. “But okay. We should be at the gym soon.” 

As you’re walking away, Hugh stands up and takes your hand once more. He pulls you flush against him, arms wrapping around your waist from behind as he dips down to press gentle and soft kisses along the side of your neck. “I can’t get enough of you,” he murmurs against you. 

Your eyes flutter shut, hands moving to rest over his as you lean back against him. “Hugh, now you’re the one who’s distracting.” 

“Fine, okay,” he chuckles, pulling away from you. “I’m going to wait outside because you’re a bit dangerous right now.”

“Me?!” 

“Yes, you,” Hugh laughs. “Because if I stay in your apartment another minute, I’m gonna end up taking you where you stand, love.” 

You let out a shaky breath and then nod your head, waiting for him to turn on his heel to leave your apartment. Once he does and you hear the door shut, you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You bite your lower lip, bringing your fingertips to graze your lips as you think back to the very heated kiss on your couch. Oh, you won’t be looking at that couch the same way again. 

After you grab a change of clothes and put it in your duffle bag, you drape it over your shoulder and grab your phone and keys and leave your apartment. You see Hugh leaning against his car, opening the passenger door for you as he takes the bag from you. 

“Such a gentleman,” you point out. 

Hugh catches you by surprise and leans in to peck your lips. “D’ya like it?” 

“What? You being a gentleman?” 

Hugh nods. 

“I do, but I also like…” you bite your lower lip as you climb into the passenger seat. “I also like it rough.” Without allowing him to respond, you shut the door and smirk to yourself. Hugh is awakening something inside of you, something that you had suppressed for so long and it feels good to finally let loose and be yourself. It’s easy with him. 

You see him then set your bag in the trunk before he shuts it closed and then walks to the driver’s side. He climbs in and looks at you, eyes narrowed as he starts the car and buckles his seatbelt. When Hugh pulls out of your parking lot, he reaches over and rests his hand on your upper thigh, his fingers resting on the inside of your thigh. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, resting a hand over his own.

“Showing dominance,” Hugh winks. 

“Showing dominance?” you laugh quietly. “By putting your hand on my thigh?”

He nods, one hand on the steering wheel as he keeps eyes focused on the road ahead of him. He moves his hand slightly higher. His pinky moves just slightly and you feel it brush against your core, causing a quiet gasp to escape your lips. 

“Hugh!” 

“See? Dominance.” 

“You’re a tease, that’s what you are.”

Hugh then lets out a loud laugh. “Me? The tease? May I remind you what you were doing to me back at your apartment, baby?” 

Love. Baby. All of these terms of endearment are slowly breaking down your resolve. 

“Okay, okay,” you say quietly, biting your lower lip as you feel his pinky move up and down along your core. It causes your eyes to flutter shut, the light touch against you making you yearn for more. You need more. You need him. 

“I don’t know how I’m gonna get through today’s workout,” Hugh begins, stopping at a red light as he turns to look at you. He’s glad his windows are tinted, no one able to tell who he is or what he’s doing right now. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel as he turns his hand to press firmly against your clothed sex, gently using his middle finger to rub circles against your clit. “Because all I’m gonna be thinking about, baby, are the sounds you’re making and how you’re gonna feel wrapped around me.” 

You let out quiet moans as you grip his wrist, trying to push him away but he remains persistent. His touch against you becomes stronger and he pulls away only because the light turns green. Your eyes narrow in his direction and you realize that you’re almost close to the gym. When he pulls into the parking lot and puts the car in park, you reach over the console and move your hand to rest above his crotch. You hear his breath hitch in his throat as Hugh looks in your direction, biting his lower lip.

“What are you doin’?” 

“What you were doing to me,” you whisper, feeling the length of him underneath the palm of your hand. You then bring your fingertip to run across his length, feeling it begin to harden underneath your touch. “I think it’s only fair.”

His hand darts out to grab your wrist and pull it away from him, eyes narrowing as Hugh leans in. His lips are dangerously close to yours and you stare at him with a mischievous look on your face, biting your lower lip. 

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he growls. 

“You promise?” 

Hugh chuckles and leans in to peck your lips. “Oh, it’s a promise.” 

—

After another grueling workout session, you’re already drenched in sweat and making your way to Hugh’s car. While you still pushed yourself past your limits during the session, you couldn’t help but be distracted by him. Every chance he could get, he’d make sure to touch you – whether it’s a soft touch on your lower back, a gentle hand on your shoulder. Hugh wanted more of you and he could tell throughout the session that your eyes lingered on him. It excited him to know just what might happen once you both leave to go to his place. 

“You ready?” Hugh asks, motioning towards the door. You nod and walk in front of him, giving him a good view of your backside and legs and he bites his lower lip, his thoughts going back to the moment you shared on your couch. Once outside in the parking lot, Hugh gently takes your bag from you and sets it in his truck. 

“So,” he hears you say once he climbs into the driver’s side. “What will you be making me?” 

“Something healthy,” Hugh grins. “I am on a strict diet for Wolverine.”

“Okay, I can do healthy. What do you have in mind?” 

“You’re so eager,” he chuckles, pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to make his way to his home. “Can’t you just be a good girl and wait and see?”

Good girl. Your eyes narrow at him and bite your lower lip. All of the nicknames he’s been given you this last week: Love. Baby. Brat. Good girl. It shoots straight to your core and you look over at him, moving your hand to rest over his forearm that’s resting against the middle console. Two can play that game, you tell yourself. 

“What if…” you whisper, running your fingertips lightly across his forearm. “What if I don’t want to be a good girl?”

That causes Hugh’s head to turn. He stops the car at a red light, knowing that you’re both only about twenty minutes away from his house. His hand grips the steering wheel as he looks down at you, noticing the look in your eyes. “Oh, you know what you’re doing, don’t you, baby?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to figure out what you’re gonna feed me.”

“Oh, I’ll feed you something, alright,” he smirks, turning his attention back on the road once the light turns green. Hugh moves his hand back to your leg, but he keeps it resting on your thigh. He knows that if he pushes this further, he’d end up pulling over on the side of the road and taking you in this car. 

After twenty minutes, he pulls into his parking garage and notices the look on your face. He can tell that you’re in shock and in awe over his house, and he knows just what you’re about to say so he reaches over to take your hand in his, lifting it to his lips. “Don’t say what you’re about to say, love.” 

“You don’t know what I’m gonna say, Hugh.” 

Hugh chuckles and pressing his lips against your knuckles. “I know you’re gonna make a comment about me being so–”

“Rich,” you finish for him. “You’re rich. I mean, look at your place and–”

Hugh shakes his head and interrupts you by pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was meant to quiet you, but instead, you take the initiative to climb over the console and straddle his lap while he’s seated in the driver’s seat. His hands move to your hips as he moves his lips slowly against your own. 

“Mmm,” you whimper against his lips, rolling your hips slowly. Your hands move to tangle in his hair as you nip and bite at his lower lip. 

Hugh growls against your lips, moving his hands to run up along your thighs and underneath your shirt. God, you make him feel like a teenager all over again because he’s throbbing almost painfully at the way your hips roll against his own. He needs to adjust himself or get some relief because he’s so hard underneath you that he has to pull away from you. 

“Here you are again,” he whispers. “Distracting me,” Hugh continues, pulling his hands away from you to rest gently on your upper thighs. 

“Okay, okay,” you giggle. “Can I shower while you make lunch?” 

“Yeah, let me show you around.” He opens the driver’s side of the door and watches you climb off his lap. Hugh adjusts himself in his shorts and then climbs out after you, walking to the trunk of his car and grabbing both of your bags. 

With his free hand, he takes yours and you can’t help but smile. You turn your hand to lace your fingers with his as he leads you into his home. You look around in awe, the white walls, high ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling windows make you feel incredibly small, but despite the large space that Hugh has brought you in, it feels very homey. Very comfortable. You can’t help but look around, surrounded by the amazing view of the city and the natural light coming into his home. You then quickly release his hand only to remove your shoes and he smiles at you, leaning against the wall near the stairs

“You didn’t have to take your shoes off.” 

“Are you kidding me? Look at this floor! I don’t want to get it dirty.” 

Hugh laughs and then motions towards the stairs to his left. “I can set your things in the guest bedroom and you can shower there. Or…” he says, biting his lower lip as he takes in your frame, making it very obvious that he’s checking you out. You know where his mind wanders and you stand up to rest your hands on his chest, leaning up on your toes to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re not gonna show me where the magic happens,” you tease with a quiet giggle. 

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he replies. 

“I’m comfortable,” you answer honestly. “With you, it’s easy. I can be myself and that’s saying something.” You don’t want to get too much into detail. This is supposed to just be casual. You don’t need to tell Hugh your life story and how you came to be the way that you are. 

“Oh,” Hugh smiles. His eyes sparkle as he looks into your own and it makes your heart melt. “The feeling is mutual, actually.” He finally says. “Come on. Let’s head up.” 

You follow him up the stairs, but you’re distracted by the amount of pictures and paintings that are hung up along the wall. You want to stop and admire each one, but instead, you keep following him. Once at the top of the stairs, Hugh leads you down the hallway and opens the door. You widen your eyes at the amount of space. It looks so much bigger than your apartment and this is only a bedroom! 

“Jesus,” you whisper under your breath. 

Hugh sets both of your bags down near the bed and watches you with a small smile. You’re walking around his bedroom and he finds that he likes seeing you here. In his home. With him. He watches you walk towards the windows, arms crossing over your chest as he hears you let out a sigh. 

Slowly, Hugh walks towards you and gently wraps his arms around you from behind. He rests his head against you and places a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“What’s got you sighing, love?” he asks quietly. 

“It’s just an amazing view. I always loved seeing the city and it’s just–” you sigh. “It’s beautiful. You can see everything.”

“You should see the view of the sunset,” Hugh smiles against you. “If you want to stay, I can also make us dinner.” 

Slowly, you turn in his arms and look up at him. You feel his hands move to rest on your lower back as he pulls you flush against him. You still can’t believe you’re here with him, with Hugh Jackman. The way he’s made you feel in just a short amount of time of knowing him does scare you, but you can’t help the pull you feel towards him. 

“What’s next, Hugh? Spend the night?” you tease, bringing your hands up his arms to his shoulders, taking your time to feel the muscles underneath your fingertips. 

“Would that be a bad thing?” he says, dipping his head lower to press a light kiss on your lips. 

“I didn’t pack an overnight bag,” you smile. 

“Who says you’re gonna need the clothes?” Hugh winks, moving his hand down to grasp your backside with a firm grip. It causes you to gasp and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your face against his neck. 

“You’re a tease.” 

Hugh chuckles and pulls away to look down at you. “If you’re comfortable with it, I’d love it if you’d stay. At least for dinner.”

You bite your lower lip and stare up at him. You try to remind yourself that you deserve this, that you deserve something good, that you deserve him. “As long as you’re not tired of me yet, I’d love to stay.” 

“I could never,” he says with a big grin. “Okay, I’ll let you shower. I’m gonna shower in the other bathroom. Come downstairs whenever you’re done.” 

“Thank you, Hugh.” You say seriously, bringing your hand up to his cheek. You feel the stubble against your fingertips as your eyes scan his features. He leans into your touch and slowly turns his head to press a kiss into your palm. 

“It’s my pleasure, baby. I’ll see you in a bit.” Hugh places a kiss on your forehead, pulling away slowly as he looks at you with a broad smile. Then, he walks into his closet and leaves you in the bedroom as you walk over to grab your bag. You then walk inside the bathroom and shut the door behind you. If his bedroom surprised you, his bathroom was a different story. 

This doesn’t feel real. How can someone like you be here with someone like him? You wonder if this is his way of just having fun. Your trainer mentioned he was single and you assumed he was married. You would be lying if you said you never searched him on Google, but the last time you checked, he was a married man for over twenty years. Maybe this was just his way of getting back out there and that this wasn’t going to be anything serious. 

You try to tell yourself to enjoy the ride, even if it may not last long. 

“I deserve this,” you whisper to yourself. “I’m enough.” You continue to say this over and over again, trying to revert the negative thoughts that begin to creep in your mind with the negative self-talk. 

—

After thirty minutes, you step out of his bathroom dressed in casual loungewear. You didn’t know what to bring, so you opted for comfortability. You’re wearing black knit pants with a black crop top. It’s a matching lounge set and when you begin to make your way downstairs, you can hear quiet music playing in the kitchen. You’re walking barefoot, the cold tile of the floor causing your feet to wiggle at the coolness. 

When you round the corner, you see Hugh setting the table in the corner. His windows capture your attention because everywhere you look, it’s a clear view of the city. His hair is slightly damp and he’s also barefoot, dressed in a fitted black t-shirt and gray joggers. He looks so normal like this, so domesticated and unlike the persona he presents to the media. You feel lucky to get even a glimpse of this side of him. 

“Hey,” you call out, seeing him turn around to face you. He grins in your direction, his eyes taking in your frame. 

“Hey,” he replies. “You look comfy.” 

“I am comfy,” you smile, walking towards him. “It smells good.”

“Ah,” Hugh chuckles. “It’s just eggs, toast, and avocado. Strict diet,” he points out again. 

“Well, good thing I like all of those things. Thank you for making me lunch.” You’re about to sit down before Hugh pulls you into his arms. He cups your cheek with one hand while his other wraps his arm around your waist. 

“Thank you for having lunch with me.” Hugh says softly. “I really…” he sighs quietly. “I’m really enjoying the time we’re spending with each other.” 

“Me too, Hugh,” you smile, leaning against his touch. “Come on, let’s eat.” 

Hugh nods and pecks your lips and pulls away slowly. He rests his forehead against yours as he exhales a quiet breath. There’s an unspoken feeling that lingers in the air between the both of you and Hugh can’t deny it. He knows there’s an age gap, knows that his lifestyle might be completely different than what you’re used to, but he knows that he wants more of this. He wants more moments with you. 

“What?” you ask quietly. 

“Nothing, baby. Let’s eat.” Hugh then pulls away to pull out your chair. He watches you take a seat and then he moves to sit next to you, arm draping over the back of your chair. He sees you look up to stare at the view and he smiles to himself, leaning in to kiss your temple. 

Throughout lunch, you feel more and more comfortable. Your legs are curled underneath the chair as you lean against his side, resting your head against his shoulder. You can’t help but notice how much you laugh when you’re with him and how much you love seeing his smile and hearing his laugh. 

He pays close attention to you and it makes you feel seen and heard and unlike anything you’ve felt before. Even though you aren’t in a relationship with Hugh, it makes you daydream and imagine just exactly what it would be like. You know that you can get used to this, spending more and more time with him like this. In his home. In yours. You realize that you want him more permanently in your life, in whatever way that may be. 

“Okay, okay,” you say, looking up at him after you both finish eating. “What was your first impression of me?” 

Hugh arches a brow. “Honestly?” 

“Yeah, honestly.” 

Hugh turns to face you and tilts his head to the side. “Well, for one, you were on all fours so I couldn’t help but take a peek.” 

You feign a gasp and gently push against his chest. “Naughty, Hugh!” 

Hugh chuckles and shakes his head. “But I liked your honesty. I liked that you were just… You. Genuinely you. You don’t see that very often, especially not around me.”

“Oh, right. Big celebrity and all,” you tease, rolling your eyes playfully. 

Hugh smiles. “Seriously. Some people just get close to you because they want something out of it. It’s hard to tell if someone is being genuine or not, but with you…” he says, beginning to trail off with a shake of his head. “I know we joke around a lot, calling me the Hugh Jackman, how famous I am, but I just feel like you see me for me. Not as the Hugh Jackman,” he chuckles. “Your honesty was refreshing. It’s like I mentioned before. You’re a breath of fresh air, baby.” 

You bite your lower lip as you listen to him talk. You feel your stomach do flips and you lean in to press a soft kiss on his lips. His hand drops to your hip as he rubs circles against you, feeling your skin against the pad of his thumb as your shirt rides up when you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

“I feel comfortable around you,” you reply. “Like I can truly be myself and I haven’t had that in a very long time. I feel like I’m becoming myself again.” 

Hugh smiles, slowly pulling you onto his lap. You lean back against the table as your arms remain loosely around his shoulders as his hands rest on your hips. 

“Did something–” Hugh begins. “Happen? I remember our trainer mentioning something about negative self-talk last week…” 

You bite your lower lip. You weren’t planning on ever telling him your past relationship because you didn’t feel like you needed to. This wasn’t going to be serious… Right? 

“I just got out of a three year relationship a few months ago. I gave a lot of myself into that relationship and never got anything in return. I just–” you sigh, looking away from him. “It’s embarrassing. I just let myself go.”

Hugh sighs and hooks a finger under your chin to get you to look at him. His eyes search yours, staring deeply into you. “It’s not embarrassing. It just shows that you have a lot of love to give and he took that for granted.” 

Your eyes soften as you look at him. You never did think of it that way and you didn’t realize just how much you needed to hear that. There’s a silence that engulfs the both of you and you feel tears sting the corners of your eyes, pent up emotions threatening to spill out. 

“Oh,” he whispers, his own eyes widening slightly. “I didn’t– Baby, are you okay?” Hugh says softly, gently cupping your cheek. 

You don’t respond. Instead, you just lean in to press your lips firmly against his warm and soft lips. You feel the warmth bloom in your chest, butterflies in the pit of your stomach, and for once in a very long time, you feel whole. Not because of Hugh, but because of the words he said. 

He was right.

You did have a lot of love to give. 

“Mm, wait, wait,” Hugh says, pulling away to look at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes,” you say, almost breathlessly. “Take me to your room?” 

His eyes slightly widen, brows raising. “Oh.” Hugh says. “Oh. Yeah, come on.” He stands from his chair and takes your hand in his, helping you to stand from your own seat. You take his hand eagerly, using your free hand to hold onto his forearm as well as you allow him to lead you back up the stairs and into his room. 

You can feel the thrumming in your chest, the anticipation looming in the pit of your stomach, and you’re certainly aware of the throbbing you feel in between your legs. Hugh brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of your hand before he leads you down the hall and into his room. Once inside, he shuts the door behind him and turns around to face you. 

You can see the look in his eyes. It’s filled with lust and desire, turning to a darker shade. The backs of your legs touch his mattress and he walks towards you, arms reaching out to rest on your hips as he leans down to capture your lips softly. 

“Been thinking about this, about you,” he whispers against your lips. “I don’t normally do this,” Hugh begins, pulling away to look into your eyes. 

“Do what? Have casual sex?” you tease, moving your hands up his arms and giving his biceps a gentle squeeze. 

“I wouldn’t call this casual,” Hugh points out. “At least I don’t want it to be,” he admits. “Is that okay?” 

“You know, this is a conversation people usually have after having sex.” You smile, hands moving further up his biceps to his shoulders and to the nape of his neck where you tangle your fingers in his dark hair. “But I also don’t want this to be casual either…” you whisper quietly. “And I also don’t normally do this too.” 

Hugh smiles. You can see his eyes sparkle with excitement as he snakes his arms around your frame. “We’re just stepping out of our comfort zones, aren’t we?” 

“Nothing wrong with that,” you reply, slowly sitting on the bed and pulling him on top of you. He uses one hand to rest above your head while the other remains around your waist and gently moves the both of you in the middle of the bed. It’s so large and you’re sure that it has to be an extra large king sized bed or something, because even he looks small on it. 

Slowly, Hugh moves to settle himself between your legs and smiles to himself when he looks down to see you wrap your legs around his waist. He places both of hands at either side of your head to keep himself propped up as he looks down at you, hair splayed against his white sheets, staring up at him with doe-like eyes, twinkling against the natural light that comes through his large windows. 

He says your name quietly, leaning down slowly as his lips hover against yours. “I fear if we do this, there’s no going back.” 

You nod in agreement and move your hands from the nape of his neck to cup his cheeks. “I’m okay with it. Are you?” 

Hugh nods, turning his head to kiss the inside of your palm again. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I’m okay with it,” he repeats. 

“Good because I’ve been wanting you since this morning and I think I’ve been a real good girl waiting so patiently for this,” you tease with a grin. 

“A good girl, huh?” Hugh grins, his eyes darkening once more. “I wonder what good girls get.” 

“A reward. Good girls get a reward.”

“Yeah, they do,” Hugh then leans in to press his lips against yours. He wastes no time in moving his lips, hands dropping to your hips. Hugh can’t help the feeling that weighs on his chest and the flutters in the pit of his stomach. He was open to dating and getting back out there after his divorce, but he didn’t think that it would happen anytime soon. He enjoys your company, enjoys the fact that you make him laugh, enjoys the way you look at him and the way you make him feel. 

You move your hands to his hair, tangling your fingers in his dark locks as he deepens the kiss even further. You part your lips, letting out a quiet gasp when you feel his tongue slide into your mouth. You buck your hips against him, feeling him press himself firmly against your core. He grunts against your lips and it reverberates in his chest, causing it to come out as a quiet growl.

Hugh moves his hands underneath your shirt, letting his hands move upwards along your sides until he realizes that you weren’t wearing a bra. He feels the center of his sweatpants get increasingly tighter and uncomfortable the more he kisses you paired with the movements of your hips. 

“You’re tellin’ me,” he mumbles, pulling back slightly to nip at your lower lip and move his lips along your jawline. “That the entire time we were eating and laughing downstairs that you weren’t wearing a bra?” Hugh’s large hands come up to cover both of your breasts underneath your shirt as he pushes his hips into you. He drags his tongue along the side of your neck, your moans and whimpers directly in his ear. 

“I told you I was comfy,” you moan, feeling the pads of his thumbs brush against your nipples. “Hugh…” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the sensations of his hands, his lips, and his hardened length pressing against you becomes too much. It’s everything all at once and you try to tell yourself to take your time, to let him set the pace, but you just want to roll him over on his back and ride him like your entire life depended on it. 

“I know, baby,” he whispers, gently biting down the side of your neck and sucking on it afterwards. Hugh pulls back to look at the mark slowly appearing and he grins to himself. He isn’t usually the type of person to leave any marks, but for some reason, it excites him to know that you’ll be walking around the next few days with a reminder of today. And it’s all because of him. 

Hugh leans back on his knees and grabs the ends of your shirt to lift over your head. You raise your arms above to allow him to remove your shirt and once he does, he tosses it carelessly over his shoulder as he sees your chest fully exposed for him. 

“Fuck,” he groans. Like a man possessed, Hugh leans down and grasps your breasts in both hands. He growls to himself and leans down to wrap his lips around one nipple, feeling it harden between his lips as he sucks. He uses his other hand to caress your unattended breast and you immediately arch your back in the air, pushing your breasts further into his face. 

“Hugh,” you moan, biting your lower lip as you feel the wetness begin to build between your legs. You need some friction, you need some pressure because you’re throbbing and squeezing around nothing yet you can feel his hardened manhood right where you need him. “I need to feel you, please…” 

Hugh looks up at you and then turns his attention to the other breast, gently nipping so that he can pay equal attention to them. A few moments pass before he pulls back to lift his own shirt over his head. 

You let out a quiet gasp, looking up at him. You’ve seen pictures of him and you know that his physique isn’t something that he hides, but seeing it up close, within arms reach, it does something to you. You reach out and run your fingertips along his abdomen to his chest and back down. A blush appears along your neck and up to your cheeks as you gently tug on the waistband of his sweatpants.

“God, you are beautiful,” you blurt out. You stare into his eyes and you both let out a quiet chuckle. 

“Me?” he says, taking your hands and kissing your knuckles before he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants. Slowly, Hugh pulls your pants and your panties off your body, once more tossing the clothing across the room. You’re lying back, completely naked and exposed for him. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he finally says. Normally, you’d be very self-conscious about how you look, especially naked in front of Hugh Jackman, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel comfortable and confident. He’s truly looking at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen before. 

Then, Hugh drags his hand down the front of your chest, down to your abdomen, until it hovers between your legs. He gently parts your legs even further, giving him a clear view of your folds that glisten against the natural light. Hugh then lets his index finger run across your slit, groaning to himself when he feels your wetness coat him. He looks up at you briefly, seeing your eyes fall shut as your hands reach out to grasp the sheets. 

He smirks proudly to himself and leans over you, peppering kisses along your neck and chest and back up as he slowly slides his finger past your folds and into your hole. Hugh groans against you, feeling just how tight you feel around one finger and it excites him to know just how good it’d feel when he finally pushes his cock into you. To relieve some pressure, he uses his free hand to push down his pants and boxers, letting out a groan of relief as his cock finally springs free from its confines. 

You don’t open your eyes though, still too focused on the way his finger slowly moves in and out of your depths. You’re so wet, so warm, so tight that Hugh tries to take it slow. He then adds another finger, watching as your eyes slightly open at the second intrusion. You feel your walls stretch at his second finger and you finally look down, eyes widening even further at the sight of his length. He’s red at the tip, leaking, and throbbing. It makes your mouth water at the sight because all you want to do is drop down onto your knees and take him into your mouth. Maybe next time, you tell yourself. 

His fingers begin to move at a faster pace, the sounds of squelching echoing throughout his large bedroom. Hugh rests his forehead against yours, turning his hand so that he can rub your clit with the pad of his thumb. He knows you’re close, knows that your body is going to give way to him. He can feel you begin to tremble and he smiles. 

“You’re so wet,” he whispers against your lips. “I can feel you’re close, baby. Don’t hold back. Let go for me.” His voice is much deeper and you can’t help but nod in his direction, your arms reaching out to wrap around his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as your back arches in the air. 

“Hugh!” His name escapes your lips with a loud moan, feeling your body shake as you try to ride out your climax. He doesn’t let up though, still continuing to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a quick pace. He watches you, watches as you shut your eyes tight, mouth slightly agape, back arched as you tighten around his fingers – it’s something that Hugh will forever remember. He can feel your walls throbbing and he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, looking down at your slickness and slowly bringing it to his lips. Then, he sucks. 

Your eyes open to watch him. He’s staring at you as he licks his fingers clean of your release and it’s so dirty, so hot, that you grab his shoulders and push him onto his back. He kicks off his pants and boxers as his cock rests against his lower abdomen, throbbing painfully and impatiently. 

“You taste fuckin’ good, baby.” Hugh smirks. “Can’t wait to eat you up later.” 

You bite your lower lip and slowly straddle his lap as your eyes move across his face and down to the rest of his body. He’s so chiseled, so muscular. Your eyes deviate further down, seeing the patch of hair between his legs and then his cock. You bring your hand to your mouth and quietly spit into the pit of your palm before reaching down to slowly wrap your hand around his base, feeling the weight and warmth of it in your hand. Then, you tighten your grip and begin to pump your hand up and down. His eyes flutter at the sensation, continuous groans escaping his lips. 

He says your name in a quiet moan as you continue to move your hand along his base. Your movements begin to speed up before Hugh’s hand darts out to grab your wrist, making you cease movements altogether. 

“You keep that up and I’m not gonna last long,” Hugh admits. 

You narrow your eyes and use your thumb to run across the tip of his cock, his precum spreading over it as you hear him let out another moan. You smile to yourself and bring your thumb to your mouth, seeing it slick with his precum before you lean in and suck, your tongue darting out to wipe it from your thumb.

“Mm, you taste good too. I also can’t wait to get down on my knees and just devour you, Hugh.” That earns you a growl as he gently lifts you so that he can grab his cock in his hand to line his tip between your folds. 

“You’re naughty,” he smirks. “I like it.” Hugh moves his free hand to your hip and slowly lowers you down onto him. The tip of his cock enters you and he tries so hard not to just ram up into you because he wants more, needs more. He feels your hands rest on his chest and he flexes subconsciously as you slowly begin to lower yourself further onto his cock. Inch by inch, you feel an almost painful stretch of his cock because you know that you’re tight and you know for sure that you haven’t had anyone as big as Hugh. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, moving his hands onto your hips as you continue to lower yourself onto him until he fills you to the hilt. You’re so tight and warm and wet around him that Hugh just knows he isn’t going to last long. 

You take a moment to get used to his girth and his length. In this position, you feel him so deep within your depths. You’re so full of him and you find that you can just stay here for the rest of your days. Hugh’s eyes begin to flutter shut as you roll your hips forwards and backwards, your hands still resting on his chest. The hair at his base provides the perfect friction against your clit and you feel the tightness in the pit of your stomach begin to grow more and more prominent. 

“Hugh, oh god,” you moan aloud, continuing your movements before you begin to bounce along his length. 

Hugh growls, hands gripping your hips as his fingertips dig into your skin. He knows that’s going to leave a mark later, but he can’t help the sensation. Your walls are gripping him in a tight vice as you move along him, your walls sliding along his cock. 

“You feel amazing,” he begins, lifting his hips slowly to meet yours. Hugh groans, holding you up just slightly to give himself room to begin to thrust upwards into you. Hugh’s thrusts quicken as he watches your breasts bounce with each movement. You toss your head back as you reach back to rest your hands on his thighs and Hugh’s gaze drops down as he watches himself move in and out of your depths. He can see his cock is slick with your wetness, allowing for him to move easily within your folds. 

“Oh god, oh god,” you moan, beginning to lose your resolve. You lean forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, your chest flushed against his, face buried against the side of his neck as Hugh’s thrusts become more erratic, more rough and the sound of skin slapping against one another echoes loudly through his room. 

“Come for me, love,” he whispers into your ear. “I know you can gimme another.” 

It was all you needed to slam yourself down onto him, shaking against him as your walls tighten even further around him. Hugh has to stop himself from thrusting because he knows that if he were to continue, he’d lose it too and he wants to be on top when he does. 

You’re both breathing heavily when Hugh slowly rolls you onto your back. He leans down to peck your lips lightly, hands moving to brush your hair away from your face. Then, Hugh moves his hips against you. He pulls back to his tip before he slams himself back into you. 

“Eyes on me, baby,” he whispers, seeing as your eyes begin to flutter shut. You’re already so sensitive and you don’t know if you can last any longer, but staring deeply into Hugh’s eyes as his thrusts continue forces you to hold out. You know that if you reach another orgasm that you’d be spent for the rest of the day and you’re sure Hugh knows it too. 

“Hugh,” you moan, legs wrapped loosely around his hips as he continues to thrust into you. “You feel…” your arms wrap around his shoulders as nails dig into his skin. “You feel so good.”

Hugh smirks at that and gently kisses the tip of your nose as hands drop to your hips to hold you steady against the bed. “You feel so good too, baby.” Then, Hugh feels the tightness in the pit of his stomach and he knows he’s close. His thrusts become more sloppy and his mouth is slightly agape as both of your moans mix in with one another. 

“I’m close,” he mumbles. “Where–” 

“Inside,” you reassure him. “On the pill.” 

“Are you– Fuck,” Hugh growls. “Are you sure?” 

“Come in me, Hugh.” You answer, letting out a loud moan as his thrusts continue to get more rough. He reaches down and rubs his thumb against your clit. Suddenly, you’re so very aware that you’re about to reach yet another orgasm and Hugh’s eyes stare into yours. This is your first time having sex with him and yet, it seems like he already knows so much about what gets you there. 

“Oh, Hugh… Hugh!” you exclaim, back arching as your eyes shut and your walls tighten once more around his length. 

Hugh groans and thrusts once more before he releases himself inside of you. He buries his face against the side of your neck, lazily nipping at your skin as you throb around him. Hugh then looks up at you and smiles, seeing you return one of your own. 

“I’m spent,” you chuckle. 

Hugh lets out a quiet laugh and pecks your lips lightly. “Three times, huh?” 

“Three times. That’s a first.” 

Hugh grins proudly. “That was amazing, love.” Slowly, he pulls out of you and you both let out a quiet whimper. When he pulls out of you completely, you suddenly feel less whole, less filled. He lies back next to you and pulls you into his arms, noticing the mark along your neck and the marks of his fingertips on your hips. 

“I think I made a few marks and bruises,” Hugh says. 

You arch a brow and then slowly begin to smile. You point to his shoulders and his back as you lean up to peck his lips. “I think I did too.” 

Hugh lets out a quiet laugh and shuts his eyes, feeling you snuggle further into his side. He can get used to this. He feels like you belong here with him. 

“So,” he begins. “Stay the night?” 

You look up at him and smile, leaning up on your elbow to kiss his chin. You see his eyes open to look down at you, staring at you with soft eyes. “Oh, after that? I’m definitely staying the night.”

---

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