#people deserve soft birthdays

[imfinereallyy]

celebrate softly

it my birthday today so here’s a lil gift from me to you (yes I know that’s not how this works haha) I made a bunch of little things is celebration, i probably won’t post these till later in the day so sorry if you get a bunch at once.

Steve wanted to like his birthday.

No, really, he truly did. He knew that birthdays were the one time of year you get to be a little selfish. The people you loved gathered around you to celebrate another year of you.

It was just that Steve was also used to disappointment.

Over the years, his birthday has consisted of either his parents parading him around at business dinners or the empty silence of a house that wasn’t ever a home.

His old friends were never around. It was a holiday weekend; he didn’t expect them to stick around. Even if they had, Steve was almost sure they would have made him throw a party, where they would have pressured him to get drunk and sleep with someone, and…

Yea, Steve wasn’t interested.

The one birthday he spent with Nancy had been okay. She had to go on a family trip, her parents attempt at getting their kids to cheer up over the loss of their friends, and she was going to leave the morning of his birthday. But at midnight of July 2nd, she had snuck into his window even though she could have walked through the front door. Nancy had brought him a cupcake, a small present, and a soft smile. Steve had wanted to kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t what she wanted then. He wanted to be respectful, so he held her hand instead.

Nancy hadn’t brought a candle, said she didn’t want to risk burning the Harrington Household down. Steve had laughed, saying that would be the best birthday present ever, but she hadn’t laughed back.

The present had been a book. Which wasn’t a terrible gift per se, Steve liked reading it was just he had difficulty doing it. He couldn’t focus long enough, or he would have to reread sentences over and over again.

It just didn’t feel worth the frustration.

But it was sweet of her to get him something, so he tried reading it. It took him months to finish it, even though it was small. It was boring, and Steve had found the main character whiny, and Steve had begun to wonder if Nancy was trying to tell him something.

Then the Upside Down round two had happened, Steve got his ass kicked again and learned that Catcher in the Rye was Jonathan’s favorite book.

Steve had thrown out the book amongst his bloody bandages.

Steve was only slightly hopeful to have a good birthday last year. He had good friends (sure, one was his ex, and the other were children, but he still counted them); Dustin would be home from camp, and even though he had work, he got to spend the whole day bothering Robin, which brought him a special kind of joy.

But then they were cracking Russian code, getting tortured, and watching Max’s Stepbrother die, all within the days of his birthday.

So Steve didn’t have high expectations this year. Sure, people knew it was his birthday, it was hard to hide when he was friends with the nosiest people, but most of them were spending the entire weekend staying with Max, and he would have been too if Max hadn’t thrown a remote at him when he suggested it.

So Steve had conceded to having a quiet but lonely July 2nd.

But then at 7 am there was a knock on his front door.

A knock was putting it lightly, there was pounding echoing in the Harrington Household.

When Steve walked up to the door, he was prepared to drive away some bigots who had been trying to “repent Hawkins.” They had been going around the richer neighborhoods recently, saying we needed to clean up the streets of the sinners and the queers.

Yea, they were knocking on the wrong door.

Steve hadn’t expect Eddie Munson, notorious night owl, to be crowding his doorway at 7 am.

“Harrington, have I ever told you how absolutely ugly your house is? Like for how wealthy your parents are, they chose an absolute nightmare of a layout! It makes no sense.” Eddie budged his way past Steve with his arms full of bags.

“I’ve been telling him that for a year, Eddie, and every time he just shrugs!” Steve turned to find Robin bullying her way through him as well. She had a handful of videos in her hands.

“Sure, come in, I guess,” Steve mumbled. He shut the door and turned toward his intruders. “Not that I don’t love a surprise appearance at—“ Steve checked his watch “—7:03 am, but is there a reason why you are awake before the birds are even chirping?”

Eddie snorted and just gave him a look instead of answering. Robin shook her head, “What doofus hear is trying to convey with a noise, Jesus Eds, I know you’re not a morning, but words please, is that we are obviously here for your birthday. You, Steven Alison Harrington—“

“Not my middle name.”

“—we’re born at exactly 7:07 am on July 2nd. So we had to be here to say happy birthday officially!”

“How do you even know the time? I don’t even know that.”

“She snuck a look at your file last time Owen’s was in town.” Eddie smirked.

Robin hit him upside the head, “Don’t tell him that asshole, he already thinks I’m crazy enough. And don’t act like this wasn’t your idea!”

Eddie rubbed the back his head in dramatic fashion then yelled, “Snitch!” through hissed teeth.

Steve felt himself unthaw at the idea that these two weirdos woke up this early for him. “Ah, well, thanks, guys.” A blush rose on his cheeks, “Well, thanks for stopping by; you guys can go home and sleep if you want.”

“Stevie, did you think we brought all this to just leave? On your birthday. Oh no, no, no. We are having a whole movie and snack day! I brought weed, and chips, and we can order a pizza later in the day. And just be lazy weirdos in your fancy living room.” Eddie hopped up on his coffee table, startling a laugh from Steve.

“That sounds like a typically Friday for us, what’s so special about it?” Steve teased.

“Well we brought all of your favorite movies! Grease, Top Gun, Karate Kid, Indiana Jones...wait I think I'm noticing a theme here—“

“Robin!” Steve screeched, his blush coming back with vengeance. He didn’t want her to reveal there very obvious, and embarrassing pattern to his favorite films.

“And!” Eddie said from atop his place on the coffee table, unfazed by the two of them, “We are paying for the pizza.” His voice oozed with pride at that. Steve was sure he had come up with the idea.

“Wow I’m a spoiled prince. Maybe ever think I wanted to stay in bed?” Steve raised a single eyebrow.

“Oh but my sweet prince, we know you rather spend this glorious day with us.” Eddie was confident, with confidence came the damn nicknames, and Jesus Christ—this blush of his was never going away. “Besides what else could you wish for!”

A kiss from you. Steve thought quickly.

Steve sighed deeply before saying, “Alright. Get down.”

Eddie seemed taken aback, like he hadn’t expected the rejection. “Oh yea man, of course. We will get out of your hair.” He scrambled off the table.

Steve giggled, “No Eds. I’m moving the coffee table. This couch is a pullout. We can all just lay on it while we watch movies.”

Eddie’s face lit up while Robin yelled, “Oh thank god, I’m exhausted.”

An hour later, when the sun was still barely risen and Grease blared in the background, Robin was bundled up in the blankets they dragged from his room, out like a light.

Eddie and Steve huddled close, but didn’t touch. The anticipation and want sat between them. “I actually have something for you.” Eddie whispered.

Robin snored beside them; Steve looked at her fondly. “You don’t have to whisper; she’s a heavy sleeper. Learned that the hard way.”

“Ah well, I have a present for you.”

Steve knows he should say that Eddie shouldn’t have, or insist he returns it. He knew it was the polite thing to do. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it, though. The idea that Eddie even thought to get him something beyond the amazing day they had planned (truly Steve couldn’t ask for a better day), but Eddie had spent his time to get something for Steve.

It was nice to have someone who would do something nice for you just because they can, not because they should. So, Steve waited patiently as Eddie reached into his bag beside the couch.

“Here.” Eddie spoke, placing the roughly wrapped package in his lap.

There was a tiny notecard with Eddie’s chicken scratch on it; Steve decided to read that first.

Stevie,

No adventure is the same without you, and this is the only one I have taken without you by my side. Thought it was about time we changed that. Hopefully we are not forever partners in crime (we’ve had enough of that) but instead, adventurers taking on then great unknown.

Together.

Yours,

Eddie Munson ッ

Steve smoothed over the card and tried not to cry. The poorly drawn smiley face stared up at him from the piece of parchment. Steve tucked it into his pocket for safe keeping; he might even frame it.

Eddie looked at Steve eagerly as he tried to open the package. He does it slowly to tease Eddie; his frustrated little growl made butterflies in Steve’s stomach.

Inside the package is a worn-out book, one he would recognize anywhere, considering he saw it every day on Eddie’s bookshelf. “Eds, this is your copy of Lord of the Rings. I can’t take this.”

Eddie put his hair in front of his mouth, suddenly shy, “Well, it wouldn’t be exactly yours. It’s just I thought it would be fun to, ya know, read it together? Like we take turns reading to each other. I know the kids always bug you to read it, and I noticed that it’s hard for you to focus sometimes, and I get that, so it might be easier if we like make it a thing? I know it’s probably not your interest; it’s my favorite book, not yours, so you know what? This is stupid—“

Steve cut him off by pulling him into a hug. Steve buried himself into Eddie’s neck before saying, “Thank you. It’s the best birthday present.”

“Really?” Eddie pulled back to look at Steve’s face. Whatever he found there must settle him, because he relaxed his shoulders. “I know it’s silly, but I guess I wanted to share this piece of myself with you…and maybe spend some more time together.”

Steve didn’t mention how they spent almost every day together, didn’t think he had to either. They both knew.

Steve decided to be bold instead. He pushed Eddie back into the couch and settled his back into Eddie’s chest. He snuggled into the warmth of his arms.

Steve put the book in Eddie’s hand. “Okay, you read first.”

Eddie laughed; Steve could feel the vibrations from under his skin. It was delightful; it was delicious. “Oh, you want to start now?”

Steve made an indignant noise while Eddie laughed again at him. His hands settled at the back of Steve’s neck as he played with hair that brushed it.

“When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventyifirst birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was …”

And once again, hours later, when Steve woke up, after drifting to Eddie’s soft, deep voice, Steve felt something settle in him. He felt Eddie lightly snoring beneath him, one hand still tangled in his hair. He felt Robin’s hand wrapped around his ankle, grounding the both of them. And there, between all of them, was the fallen book with no bookmark, signaling they would have to start again.

Maybe, sometimes. Steve thinks, birthdays could be good.

***

projecting. projecting. projecting. that’s me.

I hope you guys liked this one :) I did use my own bday for him, but the time he was born at is different than mine lol. I had a lot of fun writing it, it was just the softness I needed.

[shouyuus]

it's vi's birthday soooo what about a modern vi birthday sex request —

sry i LITERALLY had to look this up I HAD NO IDEA it was her bday today?!?!?!?

18+, mdni, switch/sub!vi bc she deserves to be pampered on her bday

bday!sex w/ vi in which she wakes up to the feeling of you between her legs in the morning, a soft, hoarse groan working out of her throat even as she glances down at you, her eyes still half-lidded from sleep, heat pooling in her stomach even as her fingers fist in your hair, her legs clamping involuntarily around your cheeks as you lap lazily at her sopping cunt, moaning when she hisses, head tossing back into the pillow --

"h-holy shit princess -- what's -- what's the occasion?" she asks, already breathless, and she's still not entirely sure if she's actually just dreaming or if you're really doing this, but the way you inch your fingers between your lips and her cunt just to tease at her clit makes her hips jerk up so violently, she's sure she would've woken up by now if this were a dream.

bday!sex w/ vi where you finger her slow, pressing in one finger, teasing her till she's whimpering, tugging at your hair, her other hand fisting in the sheets even as she tries to keep still, you pressing little kisses along her inner thighs, murmuring sweet nothings --

"so pretty like this vi... but honestly, who forgets their own birthday, hm?"

dragging your finger slowly along her walls, feeling her clench around at your words.

"f-fuck -- hah... ah -- p-please-- shit, shit, shit -- m-my birthday? oh fuck -- ngh --"

"yeah, y'know..." you pull your finger back till you're teasing just at her entrance, and her whole body arches up to chase the feeling, her muscles pulling taut, the shape of her making your mouth water as you lean back down to lick at her clit, "the thing that happens once a year? generally... people like to celebrate with like... cake and various levels of debauchery?"

bday!sex w/ vi where she can't quite make out a full sentence bc she's so lost in the way you're eating her out, alternating between slow and fast, sucking on her clit just the way she likes before fucking your fingers into her, curling them up into her g-spot till her legs are shaking, till she's basically fucking your mouth the way her hips ruck up against you --

"fuck fuck -- princess, 'm so fuckin' close --"

"yeah?" you grin, cheeky even as you pillow your face against her thigh, pushing a third finger into her just to watch her mouth fall open around a silent moan. you reach up to tweak at one of her tits, pulling yourself up the length of her body. her eyes, when she finally opens them to meet yours, are dark and glazed out, her expression taut with pleasure.

"gonna cum for me, violet?" you whisper against her lips, even as she whines, keening high in the back of her throat as you rut your fingers hard and fast into her, your thumb running tight circles around her clit.

"yes, yes, yes, yes --" she chants, tugging you down to muffle her words with a sloppy kiss, moaning as she presses her tongue into your mouth, the movements uncoordinated, her body arching into you as she cums, hard and long.

bday!sex w/ vi in which you gently fuck her through her first climax, sitting back to admire your handiwork as she pants, eyes fluttering shut as the aftershocks of the orgasm works its way through her body, and finally, when she's coherent enough to glance at you, she flashes you a lopsided grin.

"well shit, cupcake... that's one hell of a way to wake up."

you giggle, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

she tugs you down for one that's decidedly less chaste before tugging you over her hips, her hands settling on your thighs as she looks up at you with hooded eyes.

"happy birthday to me, i guess," she says, grinning, wide and unabashed.

you laugh, nodding, rocking your hips down so that your own slicked folds slide against hers. you gasp, electricity sparking through you at the contact.

"y-yeah -- happy birthday, vi -- oh --"

vi hisses even as she plants her feet on the bed and rolls her hips up into yours, eyes caught on the way your mouth falls open.

"t-that was a nice wakeup call but... now i think i wanna have some breakfast in bed -- hm?" she reaches up to tweak at one of your nipples, reveling in the way it makes your whole body go soft.

you bite your lips, letting her rock you slowly over her, letting out tiny moans and whimpers as your clits catch over and over, the friction coiling the all too familiar heat inside you as you let her fuck you slow.

"whatever --" you brace your hands against her chest, "whatever you want --"

"yeah? you promise, princess?"

you let out a tiny yelp as she presses you down hard and a jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine at the delicious, mind-numbing slide of her cunt against yours.

"p-promise! w-whatever the birthday girl wants -- ah -- hah... "

vi leans up, coiling her fingers into your hair as she watches you work yourself into a light frenzy over her, her own breaths coming in short staccato pants.

"mm... i do like the sound of that."

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚☀️・₊✧ 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴 & 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 ♡₊˚☀️・₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x baker 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 spoils the literal shit out of you 𖥔 mention of parental death 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content in vague details 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 super soft nanami 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔 he loves kissing the fuck out of you

: ̗̀➛ words: 7.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: you guys are so sweet for supporting my toji fanfic which is why i wanted to write another and this time its about my husband, the father of our children, the man who deserves every beautiful thing in this world. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami Kento entered your bakery at exactly six o' clock.  

You carefully observed the moments he dedicated to perusing the array of pastries, the vibrant mountain of macaroons, and the freshly baked, warm casse-croûte that you unfailingly prepared for him when he clocked out. There was a tender quality to his countenance, noticeable in the slight release of tension between his brows as the soft, buttery flakes dissolved on his tongue in your presence. Without fail, he consistently left a generous tip in your travel jar, dedicated to a solo trip to Malaysia.

"Did you know they've got this thing about not wearing yellow in Malaysia?" you mentioned during your initial meeting, eyeing the distinctive black-dotted tie worn by the stoic salaryman. "Well, not that your tie would get you in trouble; it's not entirely yellow. In fact, I think it's perfect as it is, just like your hair, which also has a touch of yellow.” 

Please cut your tongue off. 

Anticipating a polite nod and perhaps a slightly regretful five-dollar tip left in the jar, you were taken aback when he queried, “Why is that?” 

“Oh, uh . . . a bunch of protesters wore the color during a demand for their prime minister to step down," you stumbled, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for veering off into an unintentional crash course. Dropping trivia about Malaysia wasn't exactly the same as flirting. "So, it's kind of become a symbolism for protest and, well, threat. I read it in a book once. I don't know if it's a legitimate law, though."

“Do you like reading?” he asked, still interested in conversing with you. “Most people would Google information.” 

“I like reading. It’s easier to retain information that way.” 

Nanami acknowledged your gesture with a nod of gratitude as he accepted the casse-croûte and exited your bakery. Anticipating that he might not return due to his reserved nature and your awkward attempts at compliment-flirting, you were surprised to find that he was, in fact, full of surprises.

Nanami became a regular visitor. Day after day, for the past year, he arrived at precisely six o' clock. He continued his routine, whether he purchased a box of pastries, a pair of bagged bread loaves, or simply a casse-croûte and a small cup of milk coffee. You always prepared his order five minutes ahead of time, just in case you were occupied with other customers.

"Enjoy!" you chirped, casting a warm smile at the customer you just served as the bakery slowly emptied, leaving only Nanami browsing the delightful array of small cakes. "Good evening, Mr. Nanami!"

Nanami raised his head in your direction. "Good evening." He finally settled on the black forest cake from the open freezer and brought it to the counter.

"Special occasion?" you inquired as you rang him out, sneakily not charging him for the casse-croûte and coffee. There was a special occasion of your own that you were eager to share, hanging from the tip of your tongue.

"An intern's birthday."

"Sounds fun!" You had been saving up for your birthday present since summer, and Nanami had played a significant role. "When's your birthday?"

"July third."

Your eyes widened with surprise. "No way! Mine is July sixth. We’re summer babies."

“Happy belated birthday,” he said, fishing for his wallet, gaze barely meeting yours. 

"Same to you." Offering the sandwich and coffee, you extended them towards him. "Consider it a belated birthday treat."

Nanami’s brows crinkled. “I cannot accept.” 

"Why not? It's a gift." You slid the items closer with a subtle nudge, leaving him little room to refuse. "And you've given me a priceless gift, Mr. Nanami." Your eyes hinted at the tip jar's location, which now lay empty. 

“Were you robbed?” he asked, concern evident in his voice. 

“What—? No! Oh my god. You’re so funny.” A chuckle escaped behind your fist, and he observed you momentarily before glancing away. "I'm heading to Malaysia next week!"

Nanami gave a subtle nod. Although his lack of a more animated response disappointed you, you understood that shortness was his nature. "Congratulations.”

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami. Your generous tips really made a difference. They covered half of our trip.”

“Our? It’s not a solo trip?”  

You let out a little nervous laugh. Should you really be telling Nanami about your crippling love life? Would he even be interested? Well, he seemed to listen carefully when you talk. Maybe he wouldn’t care, but you really needed someone to talk to about this. Unfortunately, all your friends were too busy with their marriages to care.

“Well?” Nanami prompted. 

"Right, sorry. It's just—I've actually been seeing someone. Funny enough, we met in a Facebook group for solo travelers. He lives in a nearby town.”

Unexpectedly, Nanami's first question caught you off guard. "Can you trust him?" His concern surfaced, causing you to pause. "I'm only asking because you met this man online. You can't trust strangers on the internet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but I’m capable enough to know about stranger danger," you said with a funny smile, dismissing his parental concern. "Besides, we’ve gone on a few dates over the past month."

Nanami's frown remained intact. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you paying for him, too?"

"Yes."

“Why?” Nanami asked, firmly placing his palms on the counter, making it clear he wasn't leaving until he was convinced you wouldn't get in trouble during your Malaysian adventure.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

His mouth opened but then closed into a thin line, his forehead lines deepening. "It’s not my place to tell you what’s right and what isn’t—"

"Yes, you’re right about that," you interrupted.

"—but this is bordering on recklessness. You cannot use your trip’s money to pay for a man you’ve known for a mere month. Why is he even in the traveler’s group if he cannot afford to pay for himself?"

"Mr. Nan—"

"You are being scammed." 

Your teeth clenched together. You rarely got impatient. Years in the hospitality industry and dealing with misogynistic tenants didn't break you. Even setting up your bakery and almost draining your savings didn't dim your optimism. 

But getting scolded by someone who barely spoke more than five sentences to you in a whole year of being a regular? That's pushing it.

He didn't know you or Toji, the guy you're seeing. He didn’t understand how much you appreciated him accompanying you. So what if you covered his share of the trip expenses? Toji promised to pay you back, and he's been paying the bills for your dates. They might not be fancy, but it's the gesture that matters.

Sure, Nanami chipped in some money, and you're thankful for that. But he has no right to question you. Other people also contributed to your travel fund; it's not like he single-handedly financed the whole trip. You appreciated his support, but he was not in a position to lecture you.

With a sigh, you managed to contain your frustration and said, "Have a great rest of your night, Mr. Nanami.”

Nanami's frustration was palpable as he stood firm, his gaze piercing through the windows of your soul. “I suggest you take my advice into serious consideration. It would greatly upset me if you had the chance to visit one of your favorite countries taken from you.” 

You didn't bother watching him go. Instead, your discovery awaited you at the counter—the money for the coffee and casse-croûte lay there, accompanied by a crumpled yellow note that had slipped to the floor. Moving around the counter, you picked it up and smoothed out its wrinkles.

What greeted you was your own name scrawled across the sticky note, repeated around fifty times, the letters overlapping in a chaotic dance. Some were hastily scratched out, while others were executed with perfect cursive precision. You didn’t know what to make of it.

During your confusion, a new customer walked in. Quickly, you pocketed the note, focused on carrying on with your day despite the lingering frustration that Nanami's cryptic message had left in its wake.

Toji never showed up.

You waited for him for two agonizing hours, extending the torture even more after your flight had taken off. It dawned on you that he likely didn't bother getting a ticket. He probably pocketed the money you sent him and vanished into thin air. Every attempt to reach him failed miserably—your calls were forwarded, and the fifth one hammered the heartbreaking truth that he had blocked your number. To compound your misery, you sent him a string of text messages that refused to deliver your pain. You didn't even know where he lived, as your encounters were always in the obscure locations of your budgeted dates.

The thought of reporting him to the police crossed your mind, accusing him of theft, but the lack of photographic evidence left you helpless. To make matters worse, he hated taking pictures, and you were uncertain if the name he provided was even real. All that remained was a flicker of hope that you might cross paths with the bastard and unleash your pent-up rage with a hard kick to his dick. 

With a heavy heart, you gathered your strength, brushed away the tears until not a single trace remained on your lashes, and lugged your suitcase and carry-on outside the airport, hoping to hail a cab.

The idea of facing the upcoming days at work felt agonizing, goading you to spend them in the isolation of your shabby apartment. You were engrossed in a depressing routine—microwaved dinners, aimless hours on the couch, and a marathon of old cable TV shows.

As hunger struck again, you contemplated your options. Baking seemed like a possibility, but motivation had abandoned you. Pasta could be an option, but the lack of noodles and tomato sauce made it impractical. So, you settled for the one thing that required no ingredients: crying.

At least that was free. 

Despite the inner turmoil, you mustered the strength to shoulder your overcoat, sporting your fleece pajamas printed with candy canes and well-worn second-hand boots. 

The short walk to the corner store felt longer than usual, the biting cold making you clutch your threadbare coat tighter. Your teeth chattered in protest as you entered, and the rush of warm air was a momentary relief against the chill. Fingers numb, you mindlessly reached for familiar comfort snacks—chips, chocolate milk, anything to dull the ache.

A hand much larger than yours beat you to the last packet of croissants.

“Ah, sorry.” You let it go. “All yours—” You choked as you looked up, and up, at Nanami staring at you wide-eyed, his hazel eyes flickering at a rapid speed as if he were hallucinating your presence. Your face flushed with embarrassment, and the weight of the past five days crammed upon you—his uncanny prediction, your own naivety, and the sting of being swindled. “Mr. Nanami . . . ”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in—”

“Good night.”

With a dismissive shake of your head, you left the basket on the counter, mumbled a quick apology, and retreated back into the biting cold. 

You’ve faced tons of humiliating moments—slipping in front of customers, your purse strap getting snagged in a door and dragging you back, and that one unforgettable instance when a little boy labeled your eyebrows as caterpillars in front of a line of onlookers. Yet, none of those incidents could hold a candle to the awkwardness of bumping into the very man who had warned you about the ill-fated choice of paying for a stranger's trip—stranger now—when it was supposed to be your trip. 

You felt a firm grip on your wrist, making your restless pacing suddenly stop.

Startled, you turned around to find a pair of expressionless hazel eyes and a slightly out-of-breath figure. Now is not the time to ogle Mr. Nanami’s broad shoulders, you idiot!

Releasing your wrist, he handed over a white, plastic bag. With a raised eyebrow, you peered inside to inspect its contents. It held everything from your shopping basket, including the last packet of croissants. Even more unexpected, he had paid for it all. 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you assured, your eyes already scanning for the nearest ATM, just in case you forgot. "But for now." You pulled out the packaged croissants and extended them toward him. Your body was shaking, not because of November but because of how you were scammed after being forewarned by Nanami. “Please. Take it.” 

He took your small hand in both of his, the warmth immediately melting the tension in your body. “So cold.” 

A soft giggle escaped you at the obvious observation, and you placed your free hand on top of his. "So warm." Sniffling, tears welled up in your eyes. "You know what else is warm? The sun. And it's yellow. It's so yellow."

“Factually speaking, it is white.” 

You wiped an arm across your nose. “What?” 

“The sun. It’s white. It’s only yellow in children's books.” 

You weren't about to argue with the guy who vindicated your slip-ups. Still, given the circumstances, you wished he'd soften the bluntness and let you bask in the illusion that the sun was a simple shade of yellow.

"I've always loved the color yellow," you mumbled. "Maybe getting scammed was a blessing. I'd probably get fined for wearing yellow otherwise. I couldn't afford to mess up on my trip. Besides, it all depends on the shade, right? Imagine how many fines I'd rack up just testing which shade of yellow suits me—"

Nanami tugged you close, capturing your lips with his.

A sharp intake of breath filled your lungs, eyes widening in surprise. Instinctively, your hands pushed him away, fingers grazing your tingling lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay. Don’t—Don’t worry. About it.” You tucked your lips in and tasted chocolate and mint—two of your favorite combinations. Nanami always seemed like the kind of man who would hate both flavors independently and dependently. “You’re okay. I mean—You’re okay in general. You’re not okay with kissing. You’re probably great, I’m sure.” Your tongue traced the curve of your lower lip, and Nanami’s eyes followed the motion. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” 

You walked up to him, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and tugged him down a notch, your lips colliding with his. 

Nanami's touch was calculated, his hand sailing onto your cheek, feeding warmth to your cold ear before vanishing into the labyrinth of your hair. Simultaneously, the other serpentined to the small of your back, his magnetic energy drawing you snugly against his chest. His warm tongue delicately swept across your lower lip, an unspoken cue that encouraged you to part your lips in response.

Nanami deepened the kiss, your tongues stroking against one another feverishly as if it were your last kiss. Who knows? Maybe it could’ve been. But the way he kissed with such desperation, releasing soft moans, not allowing you a moment to catch your breath, made you think that maybe this was just the start.

And you kissed him back just as needy.

If your hands slightly released their hold on his lapels, you'd gently cup the sides of his neck, rising on your tiptoes. And if your calves protested, you'd draw him down, wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers entwining in his pale, golden locks. The taste of mint chocolate lingered on your lips, and a smile curved on your mouth as he stole a quick peck, pulling back just to gaze into your eyes for a moment before kissing you again.

You’re not sure how long you two stood and kissed there. Nanami was the one who always took the lead, savoring the taste of your pink, tender tongue, kissing your chilly cheeks and dewy eyes. The desire for each other made it hard to break away, yet the need for a breath of air was undeniable.

Finally, you decided to be the one to step back, signalling the end of your first kiss with him.

Your bottom lip tingled as you pulled it in, jaw aching from the infectious smile that had taken over your face. You couldn't help stealing glances at the tall man before you, who returned your gaze with a soft, almost imperceptible grin. Yet, in his eyes, under the gentle glow of the streetlight, you could see the excitement and joy of kissing you, twinkling brightly.

“I'm gonna—”

“I should—”

Both of you sighed; you with a soft chuckle, and him with a discreet throat-clearing.

“I've already missed quite a few workdays,” you said. “Gotta earn that dough if I want to make next month’s rent.” Nanami didn’t quite catch your bakery pun, but he nodded in agreement.

“Right,” you murmured, subtly veering to the side, putting on a little show as you started to walk away. You admitted it—you were a hopeless romantic. You secretly hoped for him to steal a kiss on your cheek and watch until you safely disappeared around the corner. “I’m off now.”

“Goodnight,” Nanami replied, subtly licking his lips for the sixteenth time. Yes, you were keeping count. 

“Night-night.” 

Nanami strolled down his end of the sidewalk. You followed suit, turning down your street. 

Luck had only sometimes been on your side when it came to men and their romantic gestures. Oh well. At least you experienced a passionate kiss from one of your favorite customers. Asking for more seemed a bit too much—

A hand gently pressed against your back, and as you turned, it gracefully curved around your waist, drawing you in. Nanami caught your gasp and kissed you with an urgency that doubled, holding onto you as if his life depended on it, lifting you off your toes. Three sweet pecks later, he released you, both of your faces flushed.

"Get home safely," he whispered, walking away without a second glance.

That night, you couldn't help but giggle into your mascara-stained pillow.

The morning after, you were a whirlwind of joy and light, twirling through the bakery with trays of freshly baked pastries, replenishing boxes and take-out essentials. You greeted customers with an extra dose of sweetness, and to top it off, you even handed out a tray of delectable chocolate jam cookies. And you wore a yellow bow in your hair. 

The oven beeped as the casse-croûtes finished baking, signaling their readiness for Nanami's arrival in just five minutes. You took special care in preparing his milk coffee, indulging in a quiet chuckle at your undeniable favoritism. Though the neighborhood bakery wasn't bustling with a large customer base, your attention was solely dedicated to him—your only regular as everyone else buzzed in the distant city an hour away.

With his coffee prepared and two casse-croûtes packed, you added a chocolate-mint cookie to the bag. Then, you decided to rearrange the shelves of gift baskets to pass the time. 

Setting up the ladder, you ascended the shaky steps until you were eye to eye with the fifth shelf. Heights were never your forte, which, in hindsight, was another reason why flying to Malaysia was out of the question. The more you thought about being scammed, the more your heart wrenched from your lost trip. You’d again brought out your tip jar and prayed the odds were in your favor. Hell, maybe you’d ask Nanami to join you if you decided to take your relationship to the next level. 

As you secured the bow on the basket, your gaze landed on the clock—6:30 p.m., and Nanami was a no-show. 

Anxiety surged through you in an instant.

Did he leave you hanging? Maybe that kiss was a turnoff, and he chose to disappear rather than be upfront about finding you too overwhelming. Did your breath smell bad? Were you a terrible kisser? Or, worse, did something happen to him?

A torrent of worries flooded your mind, breaking through like a burst dam. Each imagined scenario seemed more nightmarish than the last, causing your head to spin. Recent events, like Toji's betrayal, fueled this self-doubt, made you question your intuition. While Nanami was clearly wealthy, consistently tipping a twenty each day, you found yourself questioning whether he had plans to use you for something else. As if that weren't enough, doubts crept in about your appearance and your optimistic, extroverted personality.

It started to make sense, didn't it? Nanami led a tranquil life, sticking to a routine of work and home, while you were a whirlwind of spontaneity—constantly buzzing with new ideas and discussions, unable to sit still or resist laughter at the silliest jokes. Everything seemed to fascinate you, yet nothing appeared to faze him. How could you have been so naive to entertain the thought—

“Good evening.” 

“Ah!” you yelped at the sudden baritone intruding into your thoughts. Your foot, betrayed by the unexpected intrusion, lost its balance on the step. Your arms flailed in a desperate attempt to find stability as you teetered backward, the impending hazard of a severe concussion and potential spinal cord injury looming.

But just as you were prepared to shake hands with God, Nanami's powerful arms swooped in at the last possible moment. With a secure hold, he cradled you in a bridal style, and you clung to him like a shaking puppy, arms looped around his neck.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his breath slightly labored.

You gingerly peeled one eye open to peek at him. His expression was one of calm disorientation; eyebrows knit together while his lips maintained a straight, tight line.

"Yes," you whispered, soothed by his timely intervention.

Nanami steadied you back onto your feet but maintained a firm grip on your elbows. “Look at me.” As you did, he inspected each eye closely while keeping his hand steady on your left cheek. He checked below your jaw, down to your dusty palms, which he cleaned with his silk handkerchief. He also patted down your tousled hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"

“Mm-hmm.” You could cry from how gentle he was with you. “A-Are you okay?” 

“I am now.” He took a composed breath and effortlessly retrieved his suitcase from the floor, brushing off invisible dust. “I apologize for being late. My . . . car broke down.” 

"What? Oh my god! Do you need me to give you my mechanic's number? I promise he's not as bad as the Google reviews say. He's actually quite a sweet man. And he gives me a friends and family discount because my father was close with him." You beamed, and Nanami squinted his eyes as if the brightness of your smile momentarily blinded him, but he tried his best to reciprocate.

“Do your parents live here?” 

You shook your head. “They passed away a while ago.” 

“I apologize.” 

"Don't be." You quickly switched subjects by fluttering towards the counter to pick up his items. “Tell me how your coffee tastes.” You turned around, adding, “I switched to a new brand of milk—”

Nanami pressed his lips against yours, momentarily freezing you. His seamless transition afterward could have fooled an onlooker into thinking you'd been married for years. "Thank you.” He took a sip and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s great. Everything you make is great.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sudden shyness enveloping you. From the kiss? The compliment? Him? You didn’t know at all. “Do you still need me to give you the mechanic’s number?” 

“It’s all right. I had it fixed. Minor battery issue, that’s all.” 

“Ah, okay. See, that’s why I prefer to walk.” 

Nanami glanced elsewhere, nodding. “Then, would you like to walk with me after you’ve closed?” 

“Oh.” A subtle flicker of surprise crossed your features. Nonchalantly, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling warmly. “Of course, yes. I’d love to go on a walk with you. Where are we going? There are lots of cafés in a nearby shopping district. I know all the best places to take you to.” A grave thought struck you just then. “Oh, actually. Hmm.” 

Curious, he tilted his head down, meeting your worried gaze. "What is it?"

"Well," you began, your thoughts taking a cautious turn, "you probably have a set time to be home unless you live nearby. In that case, we could spend the entire evening strolling around. Only if you're interested, of course."

Nanami’s lips twitched. “I live nearby.” 

“Where?” You weren’t ashamed to have been so upfront. It was more of a precautionary measure. 

And he didn't seem bothered, quickly revealing the familiar neighborhood you instantly recognized. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your own place.

"May I step out momentarily to make a call?" Nanami asked, pulling out his phone. It was the latest model you noticed—one that came out last week and mocked your own that was five versions older. “It will be quick.” 

“By all means.” You had to fix your hair and make-up anyway. 

Nanami nodded and exited the shop, leaving you to flee behind the counter. As you crouched down to check yourself in the small mirror tucked away in the lower drawer, you couldn't help but feel a warmth on your face from the unexpected collapse, the sweet, brief kiss, and his impeccable navy blue suit decorated with yellow cufflinks. Maybe a café was too casual for him; a restaurant might have been a more suitable choice. An expensive choice. However, you were adamant about not letting Nanami cover the entire cost.

Upon his return, five minutes later, you both settled at one of the three round tables in your bakery (he even pulled out your chair for you). Sipping on your coffees and enjoying the casse-croûtes and chocolate pastries, the conversation seemed somewhat one-sided. Yet, Nanami's aloof demeanor never made you feel inferior for dominating the dialogue. He listened to every word and vowel with his undivided attention, nodding alongside and adding in short sentences when he could relate to your childhood shenanigans. 

"Wait," he interrupted, causing you to halt in your tracks. The sun cast a warm glow on his face, making his eyes narrow into slits, but God did he look handsome. He extended his hand and brushed a thumb near your lips, discovering a small chocolate smudge. Swiftly, he licked it clean and tidied up the area around your lips with a napkin. "Beautiful."

“What?” 

Nanami was a deer in headlights. He sunk his head, beating himself up from murmuring his thoughts aloud—at least, that’s what you concluded. "You look beautiful," he declared with more assurance, his gaze on your face. "You are beautiful, Y/N."

Oh, my. 

Your heart was going to claw itself out of your chest. You could cook an egg on your face from how heated it had gotten. In fact, you were burning hotter than the sun, which continuously made him squint and blink. “Thank you.” 

He nodded twice, finishing the remnants of his coffee. Rising, he disposed of the cups and wrappers in the garbage bin, then extended a hand to help you stand. "I'll wait outside while you close up."

At a lightning pace, you ensured that everything in the bakery was safely unplugged and shut off. Grabbing your purse, you gave yourself a quick once-over in the mirror, adjusting your face and hair. Stepping outside, you meticulously locked the door and gates.

Without a word, Nanami entwined his fingers with yours, causing you to smile like an idiot at him. He maintained a straight, vigilant gaze, seemingly unresponsive as you wrapped yourself around his arm. A subtle smirk tugged at your lips when you felt his muscles flex.

You walked for hours, café-hopping and trying pastries, baked goods, and sweet drinks. Every time Nanami attempted to cover the expenses with his cash, you scolded him, insisting that since you had suggested the place, you should be the one to pay. It was a rule you had read about online, and all your friends stuck to it religiously. The thought of Nanami spending his hard-earned money on your interests made you feel incredibly guilty.

As a matter of fact, you were feeling guilty about tons of things. He told you he worked at an investment firm, which meant it was a nine-to-five, likely sporting a migraine he kept hidden, and now he was being dragged around the shopping district by you, forced to listen to you because he was a man who didn’t complain, wouldn’t complain, and long, story short, you wanted to die. 

“Kento,” you muttered, removing your hand from his, goosebumps rippling on your skin. 

“Yes, darling?” 

Your chest felt like it was being clenched in a fist. “I'm . . . I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” 

“For making you do all this. For making you pay for everything. For dragging you around when you're probably on the verge of exhaustion." Avoiding his gaze, you fixed your eyes on the concrete beneath you. “I know I can be too much sometimes—well, all the time.” A self-deprecating chuckle escaped your lips. "Exes in my past relationships have made it clear. I get overly excited easily, crave attention like one needs oxygen, trust people too easily to the point of getting scammed, and, well, I don't bring anything particularly special to the table. I'm sorry, Kento. Maybe it's best if we just stay friends?”

Nanami’s soft fingers lifted your chin up. Your words absolutely shattered his face, leaving you to feel worse than before. His lips were parted into a frown, his brows were scrunched up, brown irises flickering like he couldn’t believe you said that. This was the most reaction he had given you in the year that you’ve known him. 

“No,” he said. 

You blinked the tears gathered at your waterline. “No?” 

“No.” Nanami took a calming breath, closing his eyes. His forehead gently pressed against yours. “Please, let me be selfish for this once. For you. I can’t let you go—I won’t let you go."

"Kento—"

"I want to do this, Y/N. I want to pay for everything. I want you to drag me around because I’ll never be too tired for you.” Nanami drew back and cradled your sobbing face in his large hands. “I know I fail to show it, darling, but I love your excitement. I love paying attention to every detail of you because you’ve become my oxygen source. You’re a good, kindhearted woman, and anyone would be lucky to be seen by you. And you don’t have to bring anything to the table because there isn’t one dividing us, keeping us lengths apart.” His lips brushed your forehead, imprinting his words into your mind. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want us to be best friends. Lovers. In this life and the ones that follow."

You could explode. 

Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, seeking support as if the ground beneath you was about to crumble. Yet, you knew he would catch you, just as before. He was so real, embracing you wholly, both of you breathing in each other's scents to confirm a human like this could exist. How grateful you were he stumbled into your bakery that one rainy night, and how grateful he was that you offered him free coffee and a casse-croûte while he was freezing and trembling. His presence brought life to your bakery, gave you something to look forward to when you were at your lowest, and you gave him . . . everything. You were his everything since the first day. 

As the shared silence lingered, Nanami's phone shattered the moment, its noisy ring cutting through the haze. You instinctively stepped back, but he clung to your hand as if afraid you might slip away.

Never, Nanami Kento. You’re stuck with me. 

When he took out his phone, you caught a glimpse of the contact name: Satoru (assistant). 

Before you could process the fact Nanami had an assistant, he swiped right. “Yeah?” 

The voice on the other end resonated with loud cheerfulness in the quiet alleyway. Nanami half-rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Very well. Leave it there. I’ll be there when I want to.” 

The assistant chuckled and sang his goodbye, the cheerful tone abruptly cutting off as Nanami ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“Do all stockbrokers have assistants?” 

He tilted his head. “I’m not a stockbroker.” 

“Oh? I’m sorry. I assumed because you worked at an investment firm.” 

“Yes, I was a stockbroker.” He nodded, warming your hand in his, then casually added, “But I own a firm now.” 

Your brows hit your hairline. “That’s amazing!” 

“Thank you. We have several locations around the country. Kento Investments. Have you heard of it?” 

Heard of it? You were a client some time ago when you were starting your bakery. All you encountered were glowing reviews about their ethical practices, a refreshing leave from the scheming ways of most investment firms that had previously taken advantage of you. It stood out as the industry leader in your research, and the team was lovely in guiding you through the process, so much so that you even invited them to your grand opening.

"Ah, you have." Nanami grinned, gently tilting your chin upward and closing your gaping mouth. "Therefore, my darling, don't feel guilty about me covering the expenses. I'm quite secure in my position to support both of us for centuries."

All you could manage was a disbelieving chuckle as you rested your forehead against his chest. Taking it as an invitation, he embraced you, crowning you with kisses. 

Lifting your head, you said, "There's something I want to get for you."

"What is it?"

Hand-in-hand, you pulled him back toward the bustling district, the sound of his deep laughter echoing in the air. Your own laughter naturally joined in.

As you strolled past a vendor selling accessories, your attention was drawn to an item you had briefly noticed earlier in your walk. Although you planned to purchase it the following day and surprise him in the afternoon, tonight felt like the perfect moment.

Politely approaching the elderly vendor, you asked, "Could I please try those on?" He handed you a pair of round sunglasses with a green tint to the lenses. Standing on your toes, you carefully placed the glasses on Nanami's nose, adjusting them to sit perfectly on the bridge. The sides of the spectacles featured a stylish steampunk design that complemented his narrow, sharp features. "Handsome.”

"I'll take it.” Nanami reached for his wallet. However, you were one step ahead, swiftly bringing out the spare change you had set aside in your coat pocket. You had already calculated the price, ready to outsmart him in this little game of charity.

“Y/N.” 

“Thank you,” you said to the shop vendor, ignoring Nanami’s stare. 

“Y/N.” 

“Yes, darling?" You looped around his arm and began your stroll down the sidewalk. “Oh, come on. Let me be selfish and treat you once in a while.” You cut off his protests with a kiss. 

He surrendered instantly. 

Over the next four weeks, you didn’t realize how quickly you’d become comfortable with Nanami. Like clockwork, he would arrive at your bakery, patiently occupying a table until your duties with customers or decorating displays finished. Now resembling a vibrant florist shop, the bakery owed its transformation to Nanami's thoughtful gestures—bouquets of flowers in every shade of yellow, orange, and white became an amusing routine. As you arranged them in vases, you would burst into fits of giggles like a maniac. 

You and him were like a Venn diagram, overlapping in unexpected places. He enjoyed non-fiction, classics, and history books; you immersed yourself in the world of romance and mystery novels. TV nights were a compromise between his love for documentaries and your penchant for anything sappy on Netflix, occasionally spicing things up with a true-crime documentary. His fascination with astronomy met your fixation with astrology, and surprisingly, he didn't scoff when you read the lines on his palms. Instead, he appreciated it just as much as you cherished his nightly photos of the moon and his ability to name the stars above.

At least, you were both Team Cats.

Nanami introduced you to his friends, including his quirky assistant Gojo, who had a habit of shamelessly flirting with you, seemingly just to get under Nanami's skin. However, your boyfriend was secure enough not to let it bother him. Yet, a trace of possessiveness would emerge during sex—when the two of you were entwined in bed, bodies bared and bathed in the aftermath of shared sweat.

Exiting the restaurant after a delightful dinner date, Nanami turned to you and suggested, "I'd like to invite you to my home tonight."

Finally, you thought, resisting the urge to dip your toes into the topic of visiting his home, especially considering he had been a frequent guest at yours.

The fact that he lived nearby had always puzzled you; he mentioned it casually yet never extended an invitation for a simple coffee or a chat on his welcome mat. Weekends saw him working from your living room, staying overnight, but on weekdays, he'd only spend a brief hour or two with you before heading home, a practice that seemed counterintuitive given his closeness. Despite the confusion, you hesitated to jeopardize your relationship by fishing too deeply.

So far, Nanami hadn't given you any reason to doubt him.

"Are you sure?" you asked cautiously.

"Absolutely, darling.” Nanami took your hand and planted a small kiss on the back of it. "I apologize for the delay. I've been having it . . ." He casually flicked up his sunglasses that had slipped. ". . . renovated."

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I’d love to!” 

Nanami nodded and leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Thank you for being so patient. I know it was eating you alive. You're not exactly the master of hiding your emotions.” He gave you a small smile and kissed your cheek again. 

You responded with a smile that crinkled your nose. "Just a bit anxious, that's all."

"Understandable.” He guided you toward his neighbourhood, exchanging a warm smile as you nestled against his arm. Observing the goosebumps on your skin and the faint shivers, he realized you had forgotten your cardigan. Without hesitation, he removed his blazer and draped it around your shoulders, helping you slip your arms through the sleeves and buttoning it up.

You took a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent from the collars. "You always smell so good."

Nanami bent down, kissing the side of your neck right above your racing pulse. "As do you," he murmured against your skin. "Always."

“Gosh, you're so flirty,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his midsection and burying your face in his chest.

“Come on now.” 

You walked for another ten minutes, taking a five-minute pit stop to pet a stray cat before stopping in front of a towering residence building. It was one of those extravagant ones boasting a fountain in the lobby and a vigilant security guard who greeted Nanami with a two-finger salute.

Hand on your back, Nanami guided you toward the elevator with mirrors on all sides.

He exuded an air of sophistication in his neatly rolled-up black dress shirt, complemented by beige pants. His pale, blond hair was slicked back, a Rolex clasped his wrist, and veins corded his well-defined forearms. The sunglasses you had given him rested atop his head. 

As Nanami caught your eyes on the reflective surfaces, a sudden blush warmed your cheeks. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” you whispered, fingers idly playing with the golden butterfly bracelet he had given you on the night he asked you to be his girlfriend. “I was just . . . God, you’re so beautiful. Sometimes, I think I’m dreaming of you. And I don’t want to wake up from it.” 

Nanami released his grip on your hand, wrapping his arm around your waist. He tilted your chin upward and planted a lecherous kiss on your lips. As you stumbled backward, your back met the cool surface of a mirror, and you clung to his biceps. He continued kissing your jaw and nibbling at your neck.

“Ken—Wait, there’s a camera!” 

“I own the building.” 

Without allowing you to react, he kissed you fervently, his hands framing your face and his knee pressing between your legs. Your hips ground against the muscled surface, creating a heated friction that drew a moan from him.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, but Nanami was undeterred. He refused to break the kiss. Lifting you effortlessly, he cradled you with a single forearm beneath your backside and your arms encircling his neck. Laughter echoed as you entered directly into the main corridor of his penthouse.

“Your front door is an elevator?” You marveled with an open jaw. 

“Yes, it seems so.”

Oh, how you loved his monotonous replies. 

Nanami gently placed you onto the expansive white surface of his couch, smoothly moving over your body to continue. 

“I knew you were a clean freak,” you said between his kisses, “but your penthouse looks like it was bought this morning.” 

“Two weeks ago.” He kisses down your neck, sideways toward your left shoulder. “That’s why I waited to invite you. Gojo was having the place decorated. I've installed a library for you, too. We can go book-shopping this weekend.” 

"Wait, what?" You pushed him back by his chest, incredulous. "Hold on, hold on, hold on. You mean to tell me you moved in just two weeks ago?"

"Yes," he answered, tilting his head slightly perplexedly. "When you asked about my residence, I panicked and couldn't come up with a proper answer, fearing you might decline my invitation for a walk. So, I bought this building from the previous owner on the spot. There are also commercial benefits. Quite a strategic move, if you ask me." With that, Nanami resumed his attention, focusing on kissing your collarbones and skillfully lowering your dress, exposing your chest to him.

But you were still stuck on the subject like a pesky fruit fly. “But you don’t live here?” 

“I don’t.” His mouth brushed over the mound of your left breast. “I live in Shibuya.” 

“Shibuya? Kento, that’s an hour and a half away!"

"Hmm." He glanced up, mouth sucking at your nipple.

"You've been faithfully coming to my city every single day, all the way from Shibuya, for a whole year? You've been burning all that gas just to be with me?"

He broke away to say, "Gojo drives me occasionally," and switched to your right breast.

"Nanami Kento, are you out of your mind?"

Finally, he released you and sighed. "I fail to see the issue here." He appeared so innocent, with his moist lips, tousled hair, and a crumpled dress shirt. 

You hurriedly sat up, readjusting your dress, which seemed to displease him. "I'm at a loss for words." Your gaze caught the weariness etched on his face, the bags under his eyes, the slow, heavy blinks signaling his desperate need for sleep. "You haven't actually been living here, have you?"

Upon hearing that, Nanami let out a weary sigh. "I do it when I'm too drained to make the drive back on weekdays."

As the details of his schedule fell into place, you flinched inwardly. He would rise at the crack of dawn, dedicate endless hours to handling clients at the office, and then endure a lengthy drive to your city, only to spend his evenings with you before leaving around midnight to return to Shibuya. The only time he would stay overnight at your place was on Saturdays, and he would depart early on Sundays for work. And all this time, you had believed he had an office in your city.

Oh, God. 

You loved him. 

You loved him so much.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the realization of just how much he loved you. The man had gone so far as to purchase an entire building in your city just to be closer to you. He showered you with affection at every opportunity, devoted his alone time to you with undivided attention and mind-blowing orgasms, and his bank transactions were probably dedicated to you. 

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” you whispered. 

“Neither did I the night when we met.” Nanami’s words always had a comforting effect on you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, and you curled up like a fetus, planting a kiss on his cheekbone. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Y/N. I love . . . God, I love you so much. I didn't realize I was capable of feeling this much love for another human until I met you. It was all locked up inside me, and you held the key all along, darling." Leaning forward, he smoothly swept his blazer and delved into the pocket, revealing a small yellow box. With trembling hands, you accepted it and opened it to find a petite, golden key inside. “Our front door is an elevator.” 

Your breath hitched. “What?” 

“Move in with me.” 

“Kento—”

“I know. I know it's quite early to discuss this, and I want to give you the space and time to consider it. As you mentioned, your lease ends next month, and I'll officially be transitioning to remote work with a few business trips every other week. It would mean a lot to me if you decided to join me on those trips." He gently placed the key in your hand, kissing your fist. "I'm scheduled to travel to Malaysia next month."

Overpowered with emotion, you choked out a sob and immediately lunged at him with a hug, causing both of you to stumble backward as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He loved you. He wanted you to move in with him. He wanted to travel with you, starting with Malaysia. Suddenly, the tips he left in your jar took on a deeper significance, backing the idea that you weren't meant to journey alone, why you weren’t meant to go with that swindling bastard. As Nanami's gestures of kindness and service became increasingly evident, your tears welled up, choking him in a tight embrace that eventually had him laughing.

Last November, Nanami Kento had stepped into your small bakery, raindrops clinging to him, unknowingly marking his permanent presence in your life.

[aurorawritestoescape]

I KNOW BETTER THAN TO CALL YOU MINE

Pre outbreak Joel Miller x f!reader || 7k

Summary: Joel lets himself have a treat. You.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, slight age gap (reader’s in her early 20s, Joel is 30), sex work, idiots in love, soft Joel, praise kink, size kink, f/m oral, cum eating, alcohol consumption, m!masturbation, sex toy usage, bondage, protected/unprotected piv, creampie, light pussy spanking, somno, aftercare, mention of degradation, pet names (baby, sweetheart, honey). Reader has hair, wears dresses. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: this is for @janaispunk ‘s 1500 kisses challenge. My prompt was ‘first kiss’ with Joel Miller. Congrats again, Jana, and thank you for the fun challenge!😘 The pic in the m/b is from this post by @liminaltourist. Hugs and kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘🫂 dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 The title is from the lyrics of ‘Let’s fall in love for the night’ by FINNEAS. Hope you will enjoy this story! Love you all!💖

MASTERLIST

Joel met you at Tommy’s birthday party and was instantly attracted to you. You were beautiful, sweet, funny, a little shy which he found charming. You told him that you worked as a waitress, meanwhile looking for a steady job after graduating college. He spent the whole night talking to you. The whole night being a couple of hours when he had a sitter for Sarah. Joel noticed a trace of sadness in your gorgeous eyes while you two were saying your goodbyes and for a second he regretted the way his life turned out. A single father at the age of thirty, working tirelessly to give his daughter the best life he could. But all the regrets vanished into thin air the moment he returned home and saw Sarah, sleeping peacefully in her bed. He planted a gentle kiss on her temple and quietly went to his empty bedroom. She was his life and he was ok with it.

Next time when Joel went out with Tommy for a drink, he asked about you in passing. He tried to make it seem like a simple curiosity but his younger brother still gave him a knowing smirk. Joel really liked you but his life was hectic enough. Work and being a single parent took all his time and he couldn’t squeeze in a relationship. He wouldn’t be a good boyfriend, he thought, and you deserved only the best. But your image— your eyes, your smile, your body, was flashing behind his eyes again and again, reminding him that he had needs and desires.

After a few beers and tequila shots, their conversation circled back to you and Tommy blabbed out that you worked as an escort. Joel was astonished. You seemed shy and sweet. He had never been against sex work but he always imagined a different type of people in that business. He didn’t know what to make of it but he felt his cock twitch, thinking of how sexually liberated you were.

He thought about asking for your number, but Tommy would tease him to death and he decided not to.

The next time you met Joel was at another Tommy’s party. Joel agreed to come, wanting to see you again. You talked and laughed like before but the air was almost electric between you two. The glances were darker, your hand brushing his skin here and there made him want more— touch you, feel you close against his body. He could save up and do all that if you agreed. So he made a decision and offered to drive you home when the party was over.

As soon as Joel parked his car at your driveway, he cleared his throat and asked if he could see you sometime.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Your voice was soft and a shy smile tugged at your lips.

“Ehm… fuck, I —I know what you do,” Joel admitted, turning to you slightly in the driver’s seat, “Tommy told me when he was drunk. Forgive him and me, please, ok? And— I don’t know what you call that, but— can I meet you for an appointment?”

Your face fell and you were blinking at him with a mouth agape. Joel’s heart froze- what if Tommy had been fucking with him and you didn’t sleep with people for money.

After a few longest seconds of his life, you took a deep breath and gave him a little nod. Joel asked you about the details and you explained to him what he needed to do to book a session with you and though you were talking about sex, it sounded cold and dry. You gave him a little smile before getting out of the car and he drove off with the thought that he had made a mistake.

He really didn’t plan to call you, thinking he had killed whatever spark and connection you two had, but his thoughts returned to you again and again. He was hearing your laugh everywhere and your face was behind his eyelids every time he went to sleep.

One night after a few beers he imagined you in his bed and his hand flew to his already stiffening cock. He shut his eyes and saw you next to him, naked and ready for him. Pleasuring himself, Joel imagined your hand wrapped around his length, sliding up and down, then your mouth sucking on his tip and soon he was spurting his load all over his stomach and fist. He could have you, you already agreed to it, and he deserved to feel good, to treat himself once in a while. With those thoughts on his mind he texted you and booked a session.

Joel tried to be on time for your first meeting, but everything seemed to go wrong that day and when he arrived at a hotel, you were already waiting for him at the bar. He showered you with apologies for being late but you assured him that it was ok. He felt the flames of desire, when he took you all in. Your black dress was hugging your body perfectly and he couldn’t wait to take it off you.

You had already got a room for them so Joel followed you to the elevator. He had never been that nervous in his life. You must have noticed it, so you took his hand and gave him a warm smile.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this, Joel.”

“Never done this before,” he admitted when the elevator doors opened and you walked to the room.

“It’s ok, Joel. I’m sure we’re going to have a great time,” you said, smiling to him, and opened the door.

When Joel stepped inside, he saw a typical hotel room with one big bed. You turned to him and asked,

“Before we start, do you have any questions or suggestions about what you want us to do?”

Joel swallowed loudly.

“I want —, he scratched the back of his neck and continued, “just the usual, I guess.”

“The usual?” you repeated with a little smirk.

“Yeah, just sex.”

You pouted your lips in thought, then smiled with mischief in your gaze and slowly came up to him.

His breath hitched when your behavior changed in front of his eyes, like a little kitten turned into a panther in a matter of seconds. You looked the same but there was an allure in your every move, each glance was magnetic, as if you were calling for him to touch you, fuck you. You were irresistible. Your body was inches away from him, your perfume subtle but enticing, enveloping him, and you purred,

“I don’t think we want it to be ‘just’ sex, Joel. How about we make it special.”

Your tongue caressed your lower lip and he slowly leaned down. You swiftly swerved him and instead of tasting your lips, he nuzzled your cheek.

“I’m sorry, Joel— I don’t kiss on the lips during sessions.”

“Oh fuck, sorry.” Joel felt really bad and explained, “I got carried away... I’ve read the rules you sent me… I remember no kissing part, like in “Pretty Woman”,” Joel chuckled, rubbing his scruffy cheek in a nervous gesture.

You giggled, too, probably trying to make him feel more comfortable, “Yes, just like in “Pretty Woman.”

Without noticing it, he tried to memorize the sound of your laugh, how pretty it was. You slightly pulled away from him and tilted your head.

“How about I take the lead at first and then we’ll see how it goes?”

Joel nodded. He wanted to take your dress off, carry you to the bed and fuck you till you screamed his name. But he was afraid to do something wrong, he’d never been in that type of situation. You took his hand and gently caressed it, your fingers dancing over his hardened skin. Then he watched you bring it to your red lips and kiss his palm. You glanced up at him with your big beautiful eyes, not taking his hand away and his whole body reacted to your gentle touch. He was getting hard.

You led Joel to the bed, your fingers intertwined with his, and gently pushed on his shoulders to make him sit down. You slowly took your dress off and he tried not to start drooling like a cartoon wolf, seeing you in front of him in a black lacy set.

You stood between his spread thighs and bent over to tug at the hem of his dark tee. He helped you to take it off and when you kneeled in front of him, he almost moaned. Your beautiful face was so close, he wanted to kiss you so much but he couldn’t and he’d never do anything you didn’t want.

You unbuckled his belt and softly asked him to take his jeans off.

Soon Joel was sitting there in his boxer briefs with you on your knees between his spread thighs.

"You're so hot, Joel," you whispered, as your dark gaze slid over the expense of his broad shoulders and chest, and your nails slightly scratched his muscular thighs.

He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head. He wanted to tell you how gorgeous you look, wearing your lingerie and your high heel shoes, how much he'd been thinking about you since the day you'd met but his mouth was dry and he felt himself like a teenage boy who was trying to compliment a hot girl.

You weren't aware of his inner torment. As always calm and confident, you leaned closer to his torso and kissed a spot on his chest, right over his heart. Joel took a sharp breath and shut his eyes for a second, trying to calm down. He couldn't believe what just a gentle chest kiss from you was doing to him, but he was already painfully hard.

Your lips glided lower and you started leaving open mouth kisses, tracing a path down to the bulge in his boxers, and he opened his thighs wider to give you more space. When your face was close to his clothed cock, you rested your head on his left thigh and looked up at him.

“Fuck,” Joel cursed and growled at the sight of you so close to his already throbbing manhood. You were so pretty, so obedient but even on your knees he felt that you controlled the situation.

“Joel?”

“Yes, baby?”

You smiled hearing the pet name and asked,

“Can I take you in my mouth?”

His cock visibly twitched when he heard your soft voice and the words you uttered.

“If you want.”

You bit your lower lip and asked, rubbing your cheek on his hairy thigh.

“I do but would you like me to?”

Joel nodded eagerly, maybe too eagerly but he didn’t care. He wanted you so much.

With a content smile, you sat up straight and shifted on your knees, getting comfortable. Then you pulled at the waistband of his boxers and in a second they were on the floor and his cock was bobbing in front of your face. Your breath visibly hitched and you glanced up at him.

“You have a gorgeous cock, Joel Miller,” you whispered and he wanted to kiss you again, hearing the praise. But instead he brought his hand to your face and cupped your cheek. You purred into his touch but parted from his palm in a second when you lowered your face and kitten-licked the fat tip of his cock. Joel sighed and bucked his hips already impatient for more. You didn’t make him wait long.

Your lips soon welcomed his cock between them as you started taking him deeper, covering his length with your warm saliva as your hand was firmly wrapped around his girthy base.

Joel moaned loudly at the sensation, he didn’t care what sounds he was making, completely lost in the pleasure your soft lips and skilful tongue were giving him.

Your mouth was slowly caressing his cock as your curved up lips were sliding over his sensitive skin and your tongue danced around the fat head, now and then stroking the leaking slit. There was so much precum, he saw you swallow it again and again. Your hand was gently massaging his balls and his big palm was lying on your head, not pushing, just showing you how much he needed you at that moment. Joel was in heaven.

Soon you took all of him and your throat contracting around his length was the last straw. He was dangerously close to coming and painting your mouth creamy white. But he had other plans for you.

“Shit, baby,” he cupped your cheek and gently pulled you off his ready-to-explode cock, “you’re too fucking good at it. I won’t last. And I wanna..”

He lost his words as you were looking at him with sparkling eyes, full of understanding and warmth.

“Of course, Joel.” You slowly got up on your feet and took off your high heels. Then you padded to the nightstand and opened the drawer. Joel saw a few toys lying there and his heart started to beat faster when he imagined using them on you. Maybe he could suggest it, he mused inwardly, but when you started sliding your panties and bra off your body, he lost his train of thought.

Now completely naked you came up to him and placed your hands on his broad shoulders. Then you planted your knees on each side of him and got on his lap.

“You’re beautiful,” Joel said in a low voice as his hands found your hips and he rubbed your skin with his calloused thumbs.

You thanked him, smiling, and opened the package with your teeth. You brought the condom to his hard cock, slid it on and then got up on your knees, your pussy hovering over Joel’s tip.

You searched for his eyes and as soon as your eyes locked, you started sinking on his thick length.

Joel watched pleasure twisting your face while his cock was slowly parting your insides. He moaned at the sensation of your wet warm pussy welcoming him, grasped your hips tightly and when you took all of him, your ass was flush with his balls, you both loudly sighed.

“You feel so good, baby. So warm and tight.”

“Thank you, Joel. Your cock is so fucking big.”

He took a sharp breath, hearing you curse, and at the back of his mind he wondered if you said it to every client but he drove the thought away. He needed you too much.

Your breasts were right in front of his face and he asked, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess he was praying to.

“Is it ok if I kiss your body?”

“Yes, Joel, please. You can do anything to me.”

“Just not kiss your beautiful lips?”

“Joel,” you whined and he felt you clench around his hard cock.

He scolded himself for those words as soon as they left his stupid mouth. It was the thing you kept for yourself, he understood and accepted it but his desire drove him insatiable.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know it’s a rule. I understand it. It’s jus’ my brain doesn’t work properly, all the blood is down there.”

“Oh, right,” you softly giggled, “Let me shut you up then.”

You lifted your hips, making his cock almost leave the heaven of your cunt, but when the tip was close to slipping out, you sank back down on his manhood inch by inch, gliding your hands over his broad chest.

Joel’s mouth got slack and you both moaned at the ecstatic sensation of him, filling you up again.

With a groan Joel swiftly put his mouth on your breast and you whimpered when he swirled his tongue around your perky nipple. While he was gently sucking and licking your tits, you were languidly riding him, as soft whimpers were leaving your half parted mouth. At one point you nuzzled his forehead and your hot breath on his lips let him imagine you kiss him. His fingers dug into your hips but just for a second. Afraid to hurt you he glided them over your back and arms. He raised his lips to your neck and kissed your skin there.

Joel knew that he was getting close. His hand slithered to your pussy and he slipped his thumb between your folds. He found your clit hardened and throbbing for attention. He began stroking it slowly and you reacted immediately with the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

“Joel,” you breathed out and he clenched his jaw, trying not to explode right then and there.

“Want you to come on my cock, baby.”

You stopped bouncing on his member and he saw you furrow your brows in concentration.

He made his thumb dance faster over your bud and soon your pussy was pulsating around his cock. Your contracting walls sent him over the edge and he started coming, filling up the condom inside you. Oh, how he wished to paint your walls with his creamy load but rules are rules.

As you both started descending from your highs, panting heavily, Joel held you in his big arms and you rested on his broad chest. You were breathing into the crease between his neck and shoulder and at one point he thought you’d fallen asleep.

But the next second you sat up straight on his lap with a satisfied smile. You gently kissed his scruffy cheek and he tried not to purr like a happy cat.

You cuddled a little bit more but soon his time was over.

“Can I see you again?” He asked when you got out of the bed.

“I’d love to, Joel,” you replied, putting on your underwear, “Text me when you have a day in mind.”

You looked like you wanted to say something but stopped yourself. You put on your clothes, kissed his cheek again and left.

After the first time with you Joel knew immediately it wasn’t the last. The need to have you, to be with you again squeezed his heart as soon as that hotel door closed behind you. But he wasn’t rich. He couldn’t spend all his money on you. So he started saving up here and there, anything he could, without damaging the level of life of his daughter.

He texted you as soon as he had enough to pay you and you told him that your regulars got a discount which was a nice surprise for him.

Joel invited you to his place. Sarah was at a sleepover and he had the house for himself for a night. He needed just a couple of hours, no way he could afford a whole night with you.

When you arrived at his place, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a tank top, his mouth immediately started watering. He tried to be a gentleman and a good host and gave you a tour of the house, but when you stepped into his bedroom, all his decency came crashing down. Soon your jeans were discarded on the floor while his head was between your trembling thighs. Joel was licking up your juices straight from the source, grunting into your wet cunt and fucking his tongue into your clenching hole. He was fully clothed, grinding his hard cock against the bed and staining his gray sweatpants.

You were singing for him so beautifully when he began plunging his thick fingers in and out of your heat while his mouth was gently sucking on your throbbing clit. Your back was arched and your hands were clutching his dark curls. He curled his fingers, pushing on that soft spot inside your creaming pussy once, twice and you came, crying out his name, while your walls were fluttering around his digits.

When he parted from your puffy glistening cunt, he saw tears in your hazy eyes. Joel was happy he still got it but what filled his chest with pride was that he made you cry and writhe with ecstasy.

"I'm here, baby. You did so good for me," Joel praised you, climbing up the bed and taking you in his arms. You were trying to catch your breath and he gave you a respite, manhandling you so your head would be resting on his broad shoulder.

"Thank you, Joel, you didn't have to," you mumbled.

"Have to? Sweetheart, it was my pleasure."

He heard your giggle, followed by a content sigh. His hard cock was tenting his gray sweatpants but he didn't care. He was happy to hold you, breathe in the fruity scent of your hair, and when a few minutes later he saw you peacefully sleeping in his embrace, his heart almost burst with affection. He closed his eyes for a second and drifted off too.

Joel woke up in the middle of the night when he felt you move in your sleep. He must have woken you up as you started to shuffle next to him and then sat up straight.

“Fuck! I fell asleep?” You asked, eyes widened, covering your naked thighs with a bedspread.

“Yeah, me too.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel. It’s never happened before. Oh my god, it’s so unprofessional.”

He hastily sat up next to you, taking your hands in his.

“Hey, no. It’s ok. I loved sleeping with you— next to you.”

He smiled, leaning closer to you and rubbing your hands with his thumbs, trying to reassure you and it seemed to work because you gave him an apologetic smile but he felt you relax a little.

“I won’t take any money from you today.”

“No, you spent so much time with me. I owe you even more.”

“Joel, you ate me out, made me come, and then I fell asleep. I definitely don’t deserve to get paid,” you giggled. “The way I see it I owe you now.”

“I’ll think about the career change,” Joel chuckled and at the same time he felt his cock get harder when you talked about the oral. The arousal he had felt before falling asleep came back with a renewed force and swept him away.

He wasn’t smiling anymore, his gaze slid up and down your body and the air in the room got heavier.

“What did you like the most?” he asked as his eyes darkened.

Your breath hitched and even in the dim light of the room he saw your pupils dilate. You dropped your gaze for a second and when you raised your eyes, they were filled with need and desire.

“I loved how much you enjoyed it. How good you were. It felt amazing when your mouth was on my clit. When you were sucking it,” you bit your lip almost shyly and your words went straight to his cock.

You whispered, “Should I go or…?”

“I wanna fuck you,” Joel interrupted you, palming his stiffening bulge, and you quickly nodded before throwing away the bedspread and taking off your top. Your tits bounced as you straddled him and he wrapped his big arms around your naked body.

Joel let you take off his shirt and when your lips latched onto his neck he held you closer and flipped you on the bed, covering you with his body.

You gasped at the fast shift but then moaned when Joel pulled his cock out of his sweatpants.

It was already hard as a rock and wet with precum under his fingers. He gave it a few pumps to spread it over his heated skin.

“Shit, condoms.”

He hastily reached to grab a pack from the nightstand. He opened one, while your fingers were caressing him, dancing over his torso and arms. As soon as the protection was on, you pulled him closer and he pushed his length into you without any warning. He had already stretched you with his tongue and fingers so his tip easily slipped into your crying hole.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” Joel breathed out and started rolling his hips. His lips were caressing every spot he could reach and you were kissing his shoulders and neck.

Without pausing he braced his hands on the bed, hovering over you, his dark gaze locked with yours. He wanted to memorize every lip bite, every twitch of your brows when his cock was sliding in and out your needy cunt. You were so wet for him, he felt your juices on his balls and inner thighs and he closed his eyes trying not to come too soon.

“Look at me, Joel,” you purred and he immediately did what you asked. Your gaze slid from his dark eyes to his lips and it took everything from him not to kiss you right now.

He leaned down and instead gently kissed your heated cheek, leaving a wet spot on your soft skin. With a whimper you wrapped your legs around his waist and started grinding your hips, chasing your orgasm by rubbing your little clit against his pubic bone.

“Do ya wanna come, sweetheart?

“Only if you want me to, Joel,” you breathed out and he furrowed his brows, reminded of the nature of your relationship.

“ ‘course I do.”

With that he pulled away from you and sat up on his knees between your sweaty thighs. “Let me…,” he pulled out and you whined.

“Oh, baby, so impatient.”

You bit your lip with a sly smile but Joel quickly wiped it off your face when he took the condom off and asked,

“Can I slap your pretty pussy with my cock, sweetheart?” He gripped his cock at the base, squeezing it a little to postpone his climax and when you whispered a sultry ‘yes’ he slapped your clit with the tip of his throbbing length.

“Oh my god, Joel!” you cried out with a jerk, looking up at him with your brows pulled together and eyes rolling back.

“You like it?” He asked and when you nodded he started slapping your pulsating bud with his cock again and again until he saw some slick, seeping out of your clenching hole. He rubbed his red tip against it, coating his manhood with your juices, and began grinding it between your folds. His tip was bumping into your clit rhythmically and your taut muscles told him that you were close to your climax.

“Come for me, baby, please,” he asked softly and slapped your clit one more time. A jolt of pleasure made you shut your eyes and a loud moan escaped your lips. Wanting to prolong your orgasm and chasing his, Joel pressed his tip to your clit with his hand and started thrusting his cock, rubbing your twitching clit and at the same time massaging his whole length against your soft pussy and his own palm.

The overwhelming sensation, your sweet sounds and the sight of you coming in his bed made him explode and he began spurting creamy ropes of cum on your belly and sternum. He growled when a few drops landed on your bouncing breasts.

When you both stilled and the ecstasy started dissipating he sat down on his heels and watched you for a few seconds.

Joel wanted to remember that image- you, beautiful and satisfied, eyes shut, chest and belly heaving, was splayed on his bed, body glistening with sweat and cum. The happiness soon mixed with regret and the feeling of longing for more, wishing you were really truly his tightened his chest. But the reality was cruel. You didn’t need a single father in your life, you were free and your whole life was ahead of you.

Your curious gaze interrupted his thoughts.

“What are you thinking about, Joel?” You asked with a warm smile.

“I'm thinking my bed has never looked better than now.”

Your smile turned into a grin and you started to sit up but Joel stopped you with a raised hand.

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart.”

He went to the bathroom to get a wet towel and then gently wiped away his cum off your skin.

Before you left, he hugged you, breathing in the scent of your hair one more time and you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

You kept seeing each other for another month. Joel preferred his place to hotels and whenever he had the house for himself and got enough spare money, he would text you. In his own home it was easier to imagine you as his girlfriend, or even wife. He knew that it wasn’t healthy and he was getting a little delusional but it made him happy to think that you were his. If only in his dreams.

Sometimes Joel would literally dream about you. He’d wake up hard, yearning for your touch, your lips on his body, your gentle fingers running through his hair. It was easy to imagine you there with him. His hand would pump his needy cock and the image of you behind his eyelids was enough to make him come, groaning into his pillow.

As time passed Joel got more confident in expressing his desires. The possibilities were endless and you always looked excited whenever he suggested trying something new.

Like the time your eyes glinted with mischief when he asked if he could edge you the next time. Just the idea of making you beg for a climax made him rock hard. So during your next session he had you tied to his bed, as you were whimpering and pleading for a release, a vibrator in his hand pressed to your puffy clit. Though he caved in quite fast and finished you off with his thick fingers massaging your core, his teasing made you squirt and Joel lapped it all up with the wildest eyes and an aching cock. You returned the favor by drinking him till the last drop after he shoved his cock down your throat keeping you in place with his hands clutching your hair.

He loved experimenting with you, loved being rougher. But more often he craved making love to you, wanted you softly purring under his big body, as his cock was buried deep inside your heat, your pussy fluttering around him. He still couldn’t kiss you but your neck, your breasts, your cheeks were enough for him. Yet he couldn’t deny it— he was down bad for you.

“What is it, baby?” Joel asked you, pulling away from your neck that he was peppering with open mouth kisses a moment ago.

You were sitting on his lap, wearing a pretty summer dress and his only thought was to tear it off you but when his hands started roaming your body, you jerked and sniffed.

“Nothing. Everything’s ok, Joel,” you replied softly and nuzzled his neck. He knew something was wrong and you were hiding your pretty face. During the time he had known you, he learnt to read your body language and even feel your mood. So Joel stopped his ministrations immediately and kissed the top of your head.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. If you want.”

For a few minutes, he was holding you in his arms, rubbing your forearm with his thumb. Finally you took a deep breath, not raising your head off his shoulder, and opened up.

“I had a session with a new client yesterday. It was horrible.”

As soon as he heard your soft voice, saying that, his insides burned.

“Who? What did he do to you?”

He took your chin between his fingers and tilted your head up to face him.

When he saw tears in your eyes, he immediately wanted to rip that asshole apart. But your expression told him that you needed him to be gentle, to be there with you and he wanted to give you that.

“He was really degrading. Clients want it sometimes but it hadn’t been discussed and the things he said— made me feel like a cheap hooker. He didn’t hurt me though,” you added hastily but Joel saw that he had. Not physically but that fucker had made you really upset.

“I should talk some sense into the asshole. Can you give me his name?”

“No, no,” you were shaking your head, “I can’t. It’s all confidential. I’ll get over it and won’t see him again of course.”

You took a deep breath before mumbling,

“I’m sorry for ruining the mood.”

Then you reached for his belt buckle but Joel’s hand stopped you and he placed your hands between his big palms.

“No, you’re not in the mood. It’s ok. Can we just cuddle?

“But— I will be in a second. I’m professional, Joel.” You shot him almost a fiery glance and pouted your lips.

“Hey, baby, your client here—,” Joel pointed a thumb at himself with raised eyebrows and a sly smile, “wants to role play a big spoon tonight. Can we do that?”

“You’re so kinky”, you said with a giggle and lay down on the bed. In a second he was holding you, his chest pressed to your back, his strong arms embracing you, giving you comfort.

He was semi hard and surely you noticed it. He felt the warmth of your skin through the thin material of your dress and it drove him insane but the way you flinched at his touch, your tears, your shaky voice told him you wanted him to just hold you. For the second time you fell asleep in his arms and he woke you up with a kiss on your soft cheek the next morning.

Another month passed. As weird as it might have sounded, you became a huge part of his life. He knew every crevice, every curve of your body, knew every hope and dream. He kissed every spot on you, except for your beautiful lips. He tasted them a million times in his imagination but with time it stopped being enough. So he decided to invite you to celebrate his birthday with his family and the closest friends and finally ask you out on a real date.

Joel was nervous when you stepped into his house that day. Tommy raised his eyebrows, surprised to see you there, but fortunately didn’t ask or say anything. You seemed anxious as well at first, but after introducing you to everyone, Joel was happy to notice you chatting with the other guests, giggling with Sarah about something and when his daughter pulled you upstairs to show you her drawings, warmth spread in his chest. He was glad and relieved that you two got along. He wasn’t looking for a mother for his child, he would never ask you to take such a responsibility, but it was important to him that you two could be friends.

Just before dessert you asked him if you could talk privately. Tommy gave Joel a wink, lips twisted in a smirk, when you two headed upstairs, and the older brother just rolled his eyes.

When you stepped into Joel’s bedroom, his cock twitched in his jeans. It was a Pavlovian reflex at this point. He was used to seeing you there naked, your gorgeous body wriggling in his bed, whimpers and moans escaping your mouth.

But Joel told himself to calm down when you came up to him with a serious expression on your pretty face.

“Joel…,” you started and dropped your eyes, fumbling with your fingers.

“Yes, baby?” His heart started pounding in his chest. Always calm and self assured you seemed really nervous and the change scared him. What if you decided to break off whatever weird relationship you two had, what if…

You interrupted his thoughts when you raised your face to him and a little shy smile tugged at your lips.

“I want to give you your birthday present.”

He opened his mouth to say that you hadn’t have to do it, seeing you there was enough but he paused when you inched closer, your big sparkling eyes staring right into his soul. Then your gaze slid down to his lips and Joel seemed to stop breathing. He felt your palms on his forearms and then you slightly pressed your lips to his. They were barely there at first, hesitant, waiting for him to react.

He had been imagining that moment, dreaming of it for so long, so his hands immediately flew to your waist and he pressed his body closer to yours, welcoming your kiss with his whole being.

Joel’s lips started moving against yours, gently and slowly as if he was afraid to scare you away, to ruin the moment. But when he heard you sigh happily against him and your body relaxed into his, Joel wrapped his arms tightly around your torso. He wished that moment to last forever, wanted to never have to let you go.

His tongue brushed your lower lip, asking for permission to breach the last divide between you two, and you graced him by opening your mouth and letting him taste you fully. His tongue was caressing yours while his hands were gliding over your back. Then Joel gently cupped your cheek and tilted his head to give you the best kiss he could. You were so sweet and soft, so warm and lovely on his tongue and he didn’t care that you could probably feel his cock swell against your belly. Your ability to make him hard in seconds was not a secret to the both of you and he bucked his hips against your body with a soft groan.

Joel felt your smile on his lips and playfully squeezed your ass cheeks.

You giggled, your mouth parting from his.

“Happy birthday, Joel,” you whispered, putting your head on his shoulder and nuzzling his neck.

“Thank you for the best birthday present, baby.”

Joel kissed your forehead and you fluttered your eyes shut with a happy smile.

“Sweetheart?” he called.

“Yes.”

“Will you have dinner with me?”

You lifted your head and your eyes locked.

“Like— on a date?”

“Yes.”

Your lips twisted into the widest grin he’d seen on you and you nodded.

“Really?” he asked, making sure that he was really that lucky, “Fuck, I know I’m not a catch. My life is chaotic and I’m a single dad and…”

“Shh,” you placed your finger on his lips and said softly, “I’d love to date you, Joel Miller.”

Joel beamed at you and embraced you in a tight hug.

“I quit escort,” you murmured against his chest and Joel furrowed his brows.

“Is it because of me? Sweetheart, I’d never ask you to quit your job. If you like it I won’t …”

“I don’t. I don’t like it anymore. After that guy I realized I wanna do something else.”

“Ok. Whatever you decide, baby,” he said and then added with a little smile, “I can still pay you though.”

You laughed at him and playfully punched his shoulder. “Shut up, Joel.”

He took your face between his big palms, marveling at your beautiful face, and whispered, “You know how to shut me up, baby.”

You smiled and pressed your lips to his.

Joel opened his eyes to see the early morning sun peeking through the blinds and your face twisted in pleasure just before his. He soon realized that your wet warm pussy was wrapped around his hard cock and you were slowly grinding against him, lying on your side, face to face, your leg thrown over his waist.

He moaned at the sudden pleasure and you noticed that he was up.

“I’m sorry for waking you up, honey. I just— I wanted you so much I couldn’t stop myself.”

You were breathing heavily and he wrapped his arms around your naked body and began rolling his hips, helping you to reach your high and chasing his.

“Never apologize for this, baby. I woke up in heaven thanks to you.”

You smiled and kissed him while his hand slithered between your slightly sweaty bodies and he slid his thumb between your folds to stroke your hardened clit. He was swallowing your moans and tried to get his own ecstatic growling under control, not wishing to wake up Sarah.

Soon you both exploded in each other’s arms and Joel flooded your pussy with his warm cum while you were writhing and trembling with euphoria against him.

When your climax subsided, you rested your head on his shoulder. He was drawing patterns on your back until you lifted your head to give him one more kiss.

“Sarah wanted pancakes for breakfast. I’m gonna go make some batter,” you said, getting out of bed and putting on your robe.

“I’ll help you. Be up in a minute.”

You smiled at him and bent over to give him a peck on the cheek but he swiftly pulled you back into his embrace, searching for your lips. You giggled and soon melted into his arms, while he was kissing you, passion and love in every stroke of his lips and tongue.

You were his, fully and completely, and all the fears evaporated when he realized that you were the final puzzle piece, missing from his life. He would do anything to make you happy.

“I love you,” Joel whispered against your lips.

“I love you too,” you murmured back.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic, it motivates me to write more stories for you, lovelies!❤️

Masterlist

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[shellshocklove]

wet nights | joel miller

pairing/AU: bfd!joel miller x female!reader – no outbreak

summary: getting beer spilled down your dress at your best friend sarah’s birthday party might not have been so bad– not when her dad can help you clean up.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 25 and joel is 47, reader is described as wearing a dress, swearing, use of pet names, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, exhibitionism, praise with a dash of degradation kink, one small touch of your clit, soft dom!joel, use of sir, cum play, no use of y/n

a/n: mom said it was my turn to write bfd!joel lol. basically this is just me wanting to write joel getting his cock and balls sucked bc it's what he deserves 😌 as always thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this for me! and happy reading <3

main masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Nodding your head to the beat of the music you gulped down a cooling sip of beer. The bar was stuffed to the brim tonight for Sarah’s birthday. Every chair and booth occupied, large groups huddled together against the walls, and a growing crowd of brave, seemingly deep enough down their drinks, dancers moved across the makeshift dance floor. Leaning against the bar right at the end, you were shielded from the continuous line of people looking for a drink to sate their thirst on this hot summer night.

You’d missed Sarah since graduation. She’d moved back to Austin to be closer to her father – a man you had still to meet even after all these years of knowing Sarah. You’d met in undergrad where you’d had a couple of overlapping classes the first year. She’d been one of those people where you’d just clicked, like a hand in a glove, you two just fit together.

Now you had moved to Austin. It wasn’t exactly planned, but you’d applied to a postgraduate program at the University of Texas, not necessarily thinking you’d get in– but then you had. Sarah had been ecstatic when you’d told her. You hadn’t seen her in person in over a year, but you couldn’t wait to live in the same city as your best friend again.

But first, her 25th birthday party.

Tonight would be your first night out as a new Austinite. Sarah had invited all her closest friends and family to her favorite bar to celebrate. You’d dreaded it a little, you weren’t gonna lie. That nagging anxiety had bubbled under your skin all week at the prospect of being the only one at the party who didn’t know anyone already. Sarah had told you not to worry though when you’d voiced your concern to her a few days ago – she’d introduce you to everyone – nothing to worry about, and she’d been right.

All Sarah’s friends had been extremely friendly and nice, and you’d been taken under their wing immediately. Quickly, your anxiety had melted away, condensing into nothing as you’d started to have a good time.

It was deep into the summer, and Austin had shown itself from its hotter side the last few days. Inside the bar everything ran hot, even with the AC on blast and with the amount of people who’d made their way inside in the last hour, looking for a good time on a Saturday night, it never stood a chance.

Trying to cool off you’d excused yourself from your new group of friends to order yourself a cold beer. One of the ACs blew cold air directly towards the bar, keeping the frantic bartenders cool as they pushed out order after order of drinks. You watched them from where you stood perfectly in the wind of the AC, glass raised to your lips when you felt a hard bump against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” you cursed as your full glass of beer spilled all down your front, staining your white summer dress.

“Shit– sorry, sweetheart.” You didn’t have time to react as your beer was lifted out of your wet hand and placed on the rough wood of the bar.

Looking up from your ruined dress you took in your beer thief as he reached across the bar for some napkins. He was older, forties maybe, maybe older if you were to take the sprinkle of salt and pepper in his hair into consideration, but he was gorgeous. A strong jaw and sculptured nose. Clad in a t-shirt and a dark pair of jeans, you thought he looked casual– not like he belonged to the rest of the birthday party. The material of his t-shirt strained against his bicep as he leaned back from over the bar – a stack of napkins now in his hand. Standing to his full height before you, you noticed just how broad he was, and it made a drop of desire pool in your core. 

The man’s previous frantic movements came to a halt as he took you in for the first time; his dark brown eyes rolling down your body and leaving a trail of heat. His fist full of napkins stalled when his eyes landed on your dress, quickly diverting them with a loud clearing of his throat.

“Um– here,” he said, voice strained as he handed you the napkins.

Pulling your eyebrows together in a frown, you looked down at yourself again. The fabric was completely soaked through, and you felt a prickling heat tickle your cheeks as you realized you now looked like a walking ad for a wet t-shirt competition.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, taking the napkins from the man as you tried your best to cover yourself.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart– bumpin’ into ya like that.”

Pressing the napkins to your dress you shook your head at him, “It’s fine– eh,” you looked up from your body.

“Joel,” he introduced himself.

“It’s fine, Joel. It was an accident. I’ll just go to the restroom and try to get the stain out,” you said with a grimace, and reached for more napkins.

“Let me help ya,” he offered as he placed a friendly hand on your elbow.

As Joel guided you through the crowd towards the toilets, hand hovering at a polite distance behind your back, he continued to apologize.

“I feel terrible– let me at least pay for it if it ends up needin’ replacin’.”

Inside the bar’s toilets, you jumped up on the stone countertop lining the wall, turning the closest sink on.

“It’s okay,” you repeated as you busied yourself with trying to clean yourself up, “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten beer spilled all over me,” you said with a teasing laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Standing beside you with his hip leaning against the stone and a knee popped, Joel huffed out a strained laugh, a laugh somewhere between embarrassment and relief.

“Yeah?” He questioned, eyes falling to your working hands.

“Tell you this much– I’ve had plenty of wet nights.”

A sound escaped Joel at your words, one he quickly tried to cover up with a cough, and you realize your innuendo a second too late. When you looked up from your hands, eyes wide, you noticed that Joel’s cheeks had flushed slightly, like he was embarrassed that he’d even caught onto the innuendo you hadn’t meant to make. 

“Oh! No, not like that–” you rushed, tone slightly mortified as your eyes met his, trying very hard not to stutter through the rest of your sentence, “I–uh... I only meant that I uh–... I‘ve had plenty of situations in which I’ve gotten wet–” 

At this sentence, Joel raised his eyebrows in a look that seemed half-surprised, half-amused, and your stomach dropped even further into your ass in embarrassment. 

“–with water!” you clarified quickly, before you scrunched up your nose in embarrassment, closing your eyes as you huffed out a laughing sigh, “There’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully, is there?” 

You heard Joel’s chuckle to your side, deep and syrupy, like the stuff you’d liked to pour over your pancakes in buckets when you were a kid.

“You’d have gotten away with it if you hadn’t started explainin’, I think,” Joel told you, his tone joking, and you chuckled bashfully, nodding before you looked up at him. 

There was a moment in which you exchanged a look, before you felt the smile break over your face and you dissolved into embarrassed laughter, shaking your head as Joel laughed, too. 

“Off to a great start,” you muttered in between chuckles, “First week in Austin and I’m already making passes at handsome strangers in bar bathrooms.” 

“I never said I was complainin’,” Joel said jokingly, and you let out a chuckle, “First week in Austin, hm?” 

“Yeah,” you said with a nod, “Here for a postgrad.” 

“Smart and beautiful,” he mused, “Reckon I should spill beers more often if this is what I get in return.” 

Delicate wings fluttered in your tummy at his words as a feeling of excitement filled your chest. Looking up at him with a raised teasing eyebrow you said, “Not sure spilling beer on someone is the tried and tested formula.”  

“Well, that depends, really,” Joel answered back in a teasingly contemplating voice, “‘s it workin’ on you?” 

Your stomach dropped slightly at his words, and when your eyes moved to meet his, he was looking at you with a look that made your insides burn. 

“Maybe,” you told him with a teasing smile pulling at the corners of your mouth. 

You were never usually this bold, but there was something in the way he was looking at you and the syrup-y tone of his voice. You could tell he knew what he was doing, knew exactly what to say, and you wanted more. Biting down on your bottom lip coquettishly, you leaned backwards on your arms, giving Joel a full view of the soaked front of your dress, and more specifically, everything he could see underneath. 

“And what works on you, Joel?” 

You watched with some satisfaction as Joel's eyes ran over the length of your chest, before he quickly redirected them to your eyes.

“You’re making it very hard to be a gentleman here, sweetheart,” he almost whispered, his eyes as dark as the Austin summer night sky. You gave a noncommitted shrug as a teasing smile tugged at your lips. Then, you leaned forward so that you were closer to him, feet dangling slightly.

“I never asked you to be,” you told him, your voice low but not quite a whisper as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

Behind your rib cage your heart quickened with excitement as Joel’s darkening gaze bored into yours, and you knew you him right where you wanted him. His eyes danced over your face for a moment, before they flickered down to your lips. It almost made you stop breathing for a second, the tension in the air between you so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was just something about this man, something about Joel – and in this moment you wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone before. 

Maybe it should’ve scared you, the speed at which you’d fallen under his spell (or was it the other way around?), but right now, with Joel’s darkening eyes staring into yours, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any fear. You could only look at him, could only feel his breath fanning over your lips and the intensity of his gaze on your face.

“You’re trouble, aren’t ya?” Joel’s voice was low, not quite a whisper, but full of deep bass. 

You felt the expanse of his hand fall on your bare knee, rough and calloused over where your sundress had ridden up. 

“Nothing you can’t handle.” You batted your eyelashes semi-innocently, spreading your thighs slightly, which made Joel’s mouth twitch in amusement. 

“’s that so, darlin’?” He asked, taking his place between your legs, your face now only inches from his as he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm,” you nodded slightly, your hand falling over his to guide it slowly up your thigh, “Don’t you wanna find out?”

As Joel’s index finger made contact with the side seam of your underwear, he closed the space between you and pressed his lips against yours. The hairs of his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow as he dove deeper, lips rolling over yours. You sat up slightly when his other hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, your core rubbing up against his growing bulge. You whimpered against his lips at the contact, and Joel inhaled it, consuming every breathy moan and whimper.

His hand slid slowly downwards to your ass where he gave it a nice squeeze, pulling you even closer when your legs came up to wrap around his waist. He licked at your lower lip hungrily, and you opened yourself up to him to allow him to deepen the kiss. It was hot, and suffocating, and all-consuming, all at the same time. He was a great kisser, probably the best you’d kissed. His lips moved expertly over yours, soft and firm at the same time as he guided you through it.

The grip on your ass tightened again and soon you were half-way to hanging off the counter as he rocked his front steadily against your core, where your arousal had started to pool. The kisses turned needier then, shorter and desperate between quiet whines. You could feel the shape of him against you, hard and thick, and big. A wave of tickling arousal washed over you as you imagined yourself on your knees before him, the weight and taste of him on your tongue. He was so fucking hot, and you wanted him so fucking badly.

“Can I suck your cock?” you panted through frantic kisses.

Joel pulled back slightly, head tipped back to find your eyes. 

“You wanna suck my cock?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. You only nodded, head tipping slowly with the bite of your lip.

Joel tsk-ed, “Dirty girl,” he said and rocked his hard bulge against your core, which earned him a moan. It made a wicked grin spread across his face, like he’d just proved a point.

His hands left your body as he slowly stepped backwards – that same cocky grin adorning his features as he nodded towards one of the stalls. Jumping off the countertop, you almost tripped over your feet to follow him inside.

“Relax, baby– ain’t no need to get on your knees until after we’re inside,” he teased, holding the door open for you, bicep bulging against the fabric of his t-shirt. Fuck, he looked so hot.

“Ha-ha,” you fake-laughed at him with a teasing roll of your eyes as you stepped past him and into the bathroom stall. When the door clicked behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning, you felt a pair of strong hands land on your hips as he pressed his body against your back.

“I’m only teasin’,” he reassured you in your ear, his breath fanning over the shell and sending a tingle down your spine. Turning around in his hold, your own teasing smile spread across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yeah?” you queried with the raise of an eyebrow, “Well two can play that game, sir” you teased as you slowly sunk to your knees, missing the way Joel reacted to the title you’d assigned him.

From above Joel watched you, body relaxed and composed like he wasn’t about to get his dick sucked, but the lust in his eyes gave him away. Your teeth caught on your bottom lip as you fumbled with his belt, the sound of metal clinking bouncing off the tiles as you focused on popping the button on his jeans and pulling the zipper down. You couldn’t take your eyes off the shape of him hidden behind the denim, and it made your mouth water, your thighs squeezing together. You were mesmerized as you let your pointer finger run over the covered length of him, the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs soft under your fingertips.

For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do – suck a man you’d just met less than an hour ago off in the bathroom stall of some dingy bar? But then again, something excited you about it. 

Maybe it was Joel? Or maybe it was the thrill of it all– of maybe getting caught?

“Go on, darlin’, it’s okay– be a good girl n’ take it out f’me,” Joel ordered from above, his voice dropping an octave. You looked up at him, caught the way he studied you, gauging your every move and reaction.

Then something shifted in his eyes, a flash of insecurity making its presence known, “Or don’t– we can stop f’you want– if you ain’t feelin’ it anymore.”

You shook your head before he’d even finished his sentence. God, no! You sure as hell didn’t want to stop.

“I wanna keep going, Joel,” you smiled, your fingers hooking into the elastic band of his boxer briefs.

A genuine smile bloomed across his face then, his rough hand coming down to cup your chin, “That’s good, baby,” he said, swiping his thumb slowly over your skin, before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Know you’ll be good f’me, won’t you?” he whispered against your lips, drawing a breathy whine from you at the praise.

“Yes,” you sighed, almost breathless as he kissed you again quickly before he murmured against your lips, “Yes, you will, darlin’– you’re gonna choke on my cock ‘n thank me for it, won’t ya?”

He was driving you mad with all these questions. In just a few minutes, this man had turned you inside out, pushed every button to turn you on– you were practically swimming in your panties, your mind clouded in hazy arousal. 

You didn’t know what to do, and not thinking clearly, you chased his lips.

“Nuh-uh,” Joel chuckled, pulling away slightly, “lemme hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you sighed again, “thank you for giving me your cock.”

“Thank you for giving me your cock, what?”

This manwas relentless.

“Thank you for giving me your cock, sir?” you tried, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.

Pleased, a satisfied grin pulled at Joel’s lips. He rewarded you with a quick kiss before he pulled away, standing to his full height again.

You couldn’t wait any longer, you needed to touch him. Hooking your fingers into the elastic band of his boxer briefs again, you slowly pulled them down, revealing inch by inch of the base of his fat cock.

He was big, and the sight made your mouth water, but what excited you the most was the weight of his heavy balls.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes wide with fascination.

His hand found the back of your neck in a grounding hold as he guided you closer, your lips bumping against his tip. “Give it a kiss, baby… just like that,” he praised as you did exactly what he wanted, placing a kiss to his cock the same way you’d kissed his lips.

Over you, you could hear Joel release a content breathy chuckle, “That’s so good, baby, such a good girl.”

Egged on by his praises, you shifted a little on your knees, steadying your hands on his thighs as you pooled a blob of spit in your mouth that you let drip down the head. Joel watched you intensely as you used your dominant hand to slowly work the spit over his length, earning yourself a strained grunt. He grew even harder in your hand as you familiarized yourself with the weight and size of him in your hand. 

“Wanna taste it, sir,” you said and placed another soft kiss to the head, swiping your tongue over the slit to taste the precum that had started to pearl.

“Yeah?” he taunted, almost degrading, “You wanna taste my cock that badly?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, looking up at him through your lashes.

Joel watched you for a beat before he tapped at the hand wrapped around him, shooing it away as he fisted himself. “Open wide then, honey, ‘f you want it that bad,” he said, slapping his cock against the side of your face.

Your mouth dropped open in an instance as Joel stuffed his cock inside your mouth slowly. You opened up as wide as you possibly could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate the size of him in your mouth. It was a wide stretch, and the tip touched the back of your throat far too soon, making you gag around the head.

He pulled back to let you breathe for a moment, before he sunk back down your throat again, a large and grounding hand resting at the back of your head. The second time you were more prepared to take him, holding him in your throat for a few moments longer before you started to gag. Over you, Joel let out a strained grunt; the noise sending a bolt of arousal straight to your core.

After that, Joel let you take the lead.

You started out slow, taking the head into your mouth as you let your spit-covered fingers glide over his shaft in an experimental tug. Under your fist, a slick sound echoed off the tiles with every jerk of his cock. You made sure his cock was thoroughly coated in your spit as you set a steady rhythm. You let your tongue glide over the underside of his tip, his hips bucking when you dipped your tongue into the slit.

It was sloppy, and wet, and the noises coming from your throat were entirely too obscene as you started bobbing your head, taking him down your throat.

“That’s a good girl,” Joel praised you, helping guide his cock down your throat with the hand resting at the back of your head. “You love suckin’ cock, don’t you? Love havin’ a big cock fill up that tight throat?”

Suddenly, you heard the muted music coming from the bar grow louder before dying again at the sound of the door slamming shut. You stilled your movements in panic as you heard someone slip into the stall to your right. Your eyes met Joel as you slipped his cock out your mouth, but to your surprise he looked far from concerned about the new audience. 

Stretching his neck he turned his head in the direction of the occupied stall, while he wrapped his fist around the base of his cock. Even in his hands it looked big, and you started to wonder how you’d ever managed to fit it down your throat. A beat passed before he turned his head to look at you again, a wicked grin coating his lips as he bobbed his cock in your face, rubbing the head over your closed lips before he slapped it lightly against your cheek.

“Open up,” he mouthed with another light slap to your cheek. His actions made a tingle of arousal spread throughout your body, and you realized in shock how much the thought of getting caught turned you on.

You did as Joel said and opened your mouth for him to feed you his cock again. He watched you very closely this time, letting you ease yourself down his cock at your own pace, trying your best to be quiet. When the very tip of your nose made contact with the thatch of coarse dark hair at the base and your lips were snug around his cock, Joel couldn’t help himself. The grounding hand at the back of your head held you down as he shoved himself as deep as he possibly could down your throat, his balls bouncing against your chin at the movement.

To your right you heard the unmistakable sound of a toilet being flushed and a lock being twisted. Your eyes welled up with tears, your vision fogging over as you tried your best to fight against your gag reflex. Over you, Joel watched you with a proud smirk on his lips. When the sound of the sink turning on echoed through the restroom, you allowed a whimpering gag to escape you as you squeezed your eyes shut.

It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but the thrill of getting caught choking on an older man’s cock, a man who was essentially a stranger, made you wonder if you could come untouched. You were so close already, just a flick of your clit would send you off the edge of bliss.

Your eyes were about to roll back into your head when Joel finally pulled back. You gasped violently for air at the exact moment the door opened, filling the toilets with loud music for a moment before you and Joel were locked away again in your own little world. Like you were on autopilot, your hand slipped between your thighs to find your clit, and soon you were withering with your orgasm.

“Oh, there you go, honey, come all over those fingers f’me, just like that,” you heard Joel say, though the force of your orgasm made it seem like he was far away, like your ears were filled with cotton.

When you finally calmed down, you steadied yourself with a tug at Joel’s jeans – the fabric rough under your fingertips. Over you Joel fisted his cock as he watched you with a wild look in his eyes.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so fuckin’ hot comin’ like that just from gettin’ your throat fucked.”

“Thank you, sir,” you managed to let out, your voice strained and hoarse.

Realizing he must’ve been close, you sat up straighter on your knees, ready to pull him off the edge too. Leaning forward, you stuck out your tongue, licking a fat strip up the seam of his balls to the underside of his shaft. His cock jumped in his hand as Joel let out a breathy laugh.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, “Look me in the eyes honey– look me in the eyes when you lick my balls.” Joel jerked his cock above your face as you continued to lick at his heavy balls – your eyes locked with his.

“Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he choked out through groans, “Suck on ‘em, baby, suck on my balls.”

Blinking up at him you tried your best to fit one of them in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking greedily and lapping at the skin, before you moved on to treat the other with the same amount of love.

Joel’s mouth dropped open in a gape, his breath coming out quicker and more staggered. He squeezed himself harder at the base with each jerk before skating his thumb over the swollen head, massaging it. 

“Fuck,” he panted, “I’m gonna come, baby, I’m gonna fuckin’ come.”

Popping his balls from your mouth you hurriedly sat up in front of him, the tip off his cock brushing over the plump of your bottom lip with every thug of his cock.

“Please, sir,” you begged, “Please, come in my mouth.”

Joel wasn’t one to deny your request, especially not when you were sat so pretty in front of him with your tongue sticking out.

A second later, Joel shoved his cock in your mouth and came – balls drawn tight as he shot his load down your throat. The force of it made you gag a little at first, the restriction around his sensitive cock only making him come harder. He groaned above you as you sucked him dry, before he pulled back when it was too much, and caught his breath.

“Say Ah,” he said, a gentle but firm hand cupping your jaw. The squeeze of his fingers made your mouth drop open to reveal the cum coated on your tongue and where it pooled at the back of your throat. “Don’t swallow– Let me see, darlin’.”

Your smile fought against his grip. Sticking your tongue out the best you could, you let him see the state he’d left you in; chin coated in saliva, tears starting to dry on your cheeks, mouth puffy and fucked, and marked in this stranger’s cum.

“Pretty as a picture,” he tutted before he let go of your jaw, and with a pat to your cheek finally gave you permission to swallow.

After that it was like the spell had broken between you. Joel helped you to your feet, both of you giggling when your legs wobbled like a foal unsteady on its feet. He held you upright with a strong hand to your waist, while the other one traveled up the length of your body to cup your face, and bring it closer to place a slow and sensual kiss to your lips.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’d never done anything like that before?” You asked him a moment later as he helped you clean your face by the sink.

Joel gave you a look in the mirror.

“You don’t?” you exclaimed.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly casual shrug, “It ain’t your first time suckin’ dick that’s for sure,” he teased with a pinch to your side which made you jump.

Giving him a playful shove, you said, “I’m not lying! I’ve never had a one-night stand.”

“Well, the night’s still young,” Joel joked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and dipping his head to place a soft kiss to the column of your neck.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the soft grip of his hands on your body, and the soft presses of his kisses as you watched the two of you in the mirror. You found that you liked the reflection looking back at you, and if you were lucky, you hoped he liked it too; maybe enough to want to see you again.

“I can’t go back out there like this,” you said after a moment.

Your dress had finally dried, but so had the beer – staining it yellow.

Joel lifted his head from your neck to rest his chin on your shoulder as his eyes scanned your body in the mirror. 

“I have a flannel in my truck I can borrow you?”

“More layers in this heat?” you questioned, already sweating at the thought.

A wide grin spread across Joel’s face, full of mischief, “I guess I’ll just have to take ‘em off of you later, then.”

Turning around in his hold, you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers toying with the hair curling at his neck as you met his eyes. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” you whispered, painfully aware of the wet stain of arousal soiling your panties and sticking to your cunt.

“No, it doesn’t,” Joel hummed, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. 

“Wanna get out of here?” you asked and brushed your lips over his.

A moment later Joel guided you out the restrooms with a protective hand resting at the small of your back. Weaving through the crowd, you’d made your way almost to the exit when you heard a shout of your name over the music.

“There you are!” Sarah shouted again as she moved through the crowd towards you and Joel, arms reached out to the sky.

“Oh! And you’ve finally met my dad!”

i hope this was okay and that someone liked this? as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3 i'm very curious to hear your thoughts about this! <3

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[artjiayi]

I was drawing my illustration for Azul's birthday and I suddenly felt the urge to draw a laid-back Azul because I just wanted him to feel totally secure and peaceful in his environment. Behind this all evil controlling mafia boss, there must be a soft Azul well hidden 🥺

I just imagine Azul sitting on a couch and crossing his legs in a very relaxed way because I noticed he usually crosses them in a "formal" way. Of course he cannot resist reading one of his last contracts and he's holding his favorite coin. I assumed these are items that make him feel in his comfort zone. Ok the open shirt and the loose straps I added them for the pleasure of the eyes. Evil Azul as well...

As he seems to control every aspect of his life in order to look impeccable mostly in front of people around him, I just assume this must be an exhausting lifestyle to keep up on long term.

Through this illustration, I just wanted to express that performing and being at the top all the time is mentally exhausting (and yes I might be referring a bit to myself as well…) and enjoying life just the way it is without planning or controlling everything is also important for your mental health. Anyway, I am going very deep in the meaning of this drawing but as weird as it might sound, it made me feel better drawing Azul with all this in mind. These are quite the things I’ve been dealing with lately and I needed to share it.

Another version of Azul with a different gradient map I like and a small animation I created with Azul feeling a bit alone after an exhausting week:

Through this animation, I assume Azul might have his moments where he can relax a bit more but would do it hidden from the others even the twins. So what’s better than your own Tsum appearing and giving you the love you deserve. Yes Azul, you’re enough as you are without performing all the time you precious baby boy.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

pink unicorn

inspired by this adorable video of drew

words: 600

warnings: dad!rafe, mom!reader, very soft and fluffy

“rafe.” you sigh, rubbing your forehead with your fingertips, eyes flicking between his hunched over frame and your daughter. “she doesn't even want it anymore! she's moved on.”

you watch as rosie occupies herself with your phone, giggling every time she presses the button to turn the screen on and off, looking at the picture of herself and rafe on your lock screen.

“she said she wanted it, im going to get it.” rafe grunts, putting more coins into the claw machine. he tries for a fifth time to get the pink unicorn stuffie that your three year old became obsessed with having for an entire minute before moving on to the next sparkly thing. 

“baby, come on.” you groan. you knew when you married him that rafe was stubborn, thankfully it didn't rub off on your daughter, who is the happiest and most agreeable little girl you've ever seen.

“my princess deserves whatever she wants, including this stupid-” rafe jerks the claw machine “fucking- stuffie.”

he groans when the claw machine grips the unicorn, only for it to fall before he can navigate it back to the shoot.

“rafey, please. you've been at this for like five minutes. we can just buy her a unicorn stuffie.” you don't point out that she already owns probably twenty similar ones.

“one more try.” rafe glances at your daughter, frowning when she really is completely disinterested in the toy.

“okay. then can we keep going?” you question. you were supposed to be walking around the mall to look for a present for a birthday party rosie got invited to, of course also getting distracted by everything along the way, rafe bending to whatever store rosie wanted to go into, whether it was candy or video games, anything bright that looked exciting.

“mama.” rosie whines, your phone now sitting on the floor. 

“come here, baby.” you pick rosie up, grabbing your phone at the same time and slotting it into your pocket. some people try to tell you not to baby your toddler so much, but you love being able to carry her around and keep her close, dreading the day that she's too big for you to lift easily.

“daddy, wheres my unicorn?” she pouts as the claw drops the stuffed animal again. rafe just gives you a look as he loads more coins in.

“for real, babe, last try or we are going to the toy store and leaving you here.” you know rosie is just going to find a million things she wants inside of the toy store anyways, probably another five pink unicorns.

rafe nods, concentration overtaking his features. rosie cheers him on from your arms as he hooks the unicorn around the center, claw raising up and bringing it over to the shoot. it falls perfectly down, both rosie and rafe shouting in excitement.

rafe gets the pink unicorn out, holding it out for your daughter to hug into her little arms. “thank you daddy!”

“anything for you my little princess, come here.” rafe opens his arms as rosie practically launches herself from you to snuggle into his chest.

“i wanna introduce pinky to my other unicorns.” she babbes about having a big tea party as rafe glows just looking at her.

“of course.” rafe nods. “let's go home right now so me you and pinky can play together.” you don't point out how all of rosies pink toys share the same name.

“babe!” you call out, following rafe out of the mall towards the exit. “we still haven't gotten our gift!”

“ill order it on amazon!” he calls out as you catch up to him and his long strides. 

“come on, mommy, i wanna play.” rosie pouts, face mimicking her expression with big pleading eyes.

“fine.” you sigh, unable to say no to either of them. “but you have to clean up your tea party when it's over!”

“yesss!” rafe pumps his fist in the air, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips.

“and no real food! you’ll spoil your supper!”

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs

[buckets-and-trees]

When He First Got Me

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 2200 Summary: Prequel in the Exiled Nomad Series. July 3, 2017. Steve sees you at a city festival for the Fourth of July, but he's not content with only seeing...

Content/Warnings: explicit smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, rough sex, emotional unavailability, a broken Nomad who thinks he's fine but definitely is not

Author Notes: IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO READ ANY OF THE REST OF THIS SERIES. True stand-alone prequel. A little something for Steve's birthday weekend... This will be a bit of a darker indulgence for @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar challenge: mint chocolate chip (involving a loner), sprinkles (birthday and 4th of July), cherries (meet-cute), and we'll even say some caramel (because Steve is not quite in a great headspace if we're being honest). AND I'm entering this for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer writing challenge: carnival/fair, slight stalker (but not fully), and I bolded the dialogue prompt that I used.

Steve didn’t feel like he could breathe easily, but he did feel like he could breathe here. Nothing like New York or DC. A place small enough not to be noticed but big enough to blend in without drawing attention as a stranger.

Being invisible somewhere had been easier than carving out the opportunity to do so solo over the 4th of July – less because it was America’s Birthday and more because it was his. Steve had suggested Wanda finally reconnect with Vision (they’d been on the run long enough, it should be safe for her to reach out and discreetly stay off the grid). The case he made to Sam was that he’d been on the run for over a year, and the 4th was less expected for a sentimental return to stop in on family but would still afford a holiday’s community celebrations and to give him reasonable cover to slip in and out. Nat hadn’t needed convincing. She saw, asked if he was sure, but understood without him needing to explain, and said she had things of her own that she’d take care of.

He just didn’t want any of the fuss of them trying to make him feel better on his birthday.

Steve was sitting on a shaded grassy knoll in the city park, hundreds of people around him, all weaving in and out of booths with games, vendors, and food, a vibrant temporary set up for a few days around the 4th, and on the far side of the park the sounds of carnival rides underscored it all.

He hadn’t come to this place to find someone.

But the moment he first noticed you, the plans started forming in his head before he could stop them.

And why should he stop them?

As he alternated between sketching in his notebook and people-watching, people watching turned into watching only you – you wandering this place clearly alone. Must be on your own in this city.

It would be so easy to harmlessly bump into you.

So he did.

When you recognized him, he could easily use the moment to draw you into keeping his presence in such a public place secret, getting you to trust him by him “trusting you” with his secret.

And he did.

He could easily ask if there were any good places to eat in town, then ask if you would join him.

He did, and you did.

After walking you home, it would be so easy to get you to invite him in, an afternoon and evening of conversation, compounding moments, and more and more casual touches on your arm, your shoulder, the small of your back, the back of your hand, having your body attune to him.

And it worked.

You hesitated, but invite him in you did.

And he tried for a moment to convince himself that being invited in had been all he wanted – to be someplace that wasn’t a stolen moment or a hotel room or a safe house that itself wasn’t very safe, just to be someplace private, someplace normal, someplace that felt like home.

But that was not the only thing he wanted.

And why shouldn’t he take the rest of what he wanted? After everything, didn’t he deserve it?

You didn’t notice that he locked the door behind him. You’d been apologizing for the state of your place, though after a quick glance around, he assured you it only looked lived in, not a mess.

Not like the mess he was so eager to make you into beneath him.

After insisting you didn’t need to get anything for him, he sat on your couch. He told you how nice it was just to sit there, nowhere to be, no reason to hide, how tired he was of running. You listened; you soothed him. He leaned in and kissed you.

You kissed him back.

All he did was kiss you until you leaned back on the couch and urged him along with you.

He let his chest press into your deliciously soft body. He groaned into the kiss, and you opened your mouth to his. This kisss grew in fervor, tongues exploring and tangling with each other. His hand ran up and down your thigh, slowly coaxing you to hitch it up around his waist. You moaned when he ground gently against your core – gentle only to test the waters. His need was mounting exponentially, and he knew the damn would break soon. He intended to let it.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your shoulder, kissing there before teasing his lips and teeth and tongue along your collar bone to the sensitive point of your neck. You sighed in bliss, and he moved his hand back up your thigh, over your hip, across your stomach, undid the top button he found there, and started to reach into your jeans.

Your breath hitched, and your hands flew to his.

“Steve, wait,” you said.

But you didn’t say stop.

He waited.

He could hear the wild racing of your heart beneath him.

The pressure of your hands on his body didn’t change, no part of you shifted to move away. Your eyes closed, the only sign of your reticence were your teeth worrying your bottom lip.

Steve slid his hand down to cup your pussy and his fingers found the wetness growing there that he expected. You let out a shuddering breath as his fingers worked your labia, but he didn’t linger there. He pulled his fingers out and then pushed them into your mouth.

“Neither of us wants to wait,” he snarled as you licked your slick from the pads of his fingers. “And it’s summer, we’re supposed to be having fun.”

Super soldier serum running through his veins, Steve picked you up with ease, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, legs around his waist, while he held one of your thighs and pressed his other hand at the base of your spine, pinning you securely to him while he captured your lips to kiss you again.

He easily found your bedroom, and he lowered you to the bed in a kneeling position. He didn’t relent in his kissing, devouring you, demanding your supplication. He only broke off the kiss once you were breathless, moaning, and pulling at his clothes. Then he stepped back and told you to undress. Steve quicky removed all his own clothing while keeping his eyes on you. You only removed your shirt and jeans, leaving you in your underwear, but he could work with that for now. He’d have you willing to shed the rest soon enough.

Steve got up on the bed with you, pleased that he could see your eyes darkening with the lust and the want. He recognized exactly the kind of want he was dealing with – it was how he imagined he would have behaved before living the harsh life of denial he’d lived while exiled and on the run for the past year. The old him would have wanted but been hesitant, gone slow, paid attention to more of the dance before even getting into bed.

He didn’t have the luxury of time or the patience for that.

He only had an insatiable need that he’d pushed down and ignored – ignored for years even before becoming Nomad. He’d denied himself so many things, sacrificed for others, for missions, too many legitimate and imagined reasons holding him back.

He wouldn’t hold back now.

But he would coax you into needing him as much as he needed you.

You only glanced at his naked groin with a moment of hesitance as he pulled you into his lap, but you still let him. He resumed your kissing, and you were quick to continue making out with him. He allowed you take the reins to steer the kissing, letting you lap up at the pace you wanted. He let his hands roam over your back as he eased you along, seemingly unhurried. But his hands soon made their way to your hips, and he secured his grip there and began grinding you down against his hard cock. He moaned unabashedly into your mouth as he adjusted the angle of your hips and continued rocking your core against him.

He was insistent on torturing you where your most intimate parts met until, clinging to his shoulders, you threw your head back, gasped for air.

“Steve,” you keened his name, clearly in the early stages of sweet ruin that he wanted.

He smirked against your neck and laid you down on your back with deceptive sweetness. He kissed slowly down your chest, between your breasts, down over your belly button. His fingers hooked into the top of your panties just as his lips arrived at the top of that fabric, and he peeled them down and fully off your legs. Your fingers worked anxiously over the sheets beneath you as he made you wait for him to touch you more.

His hands opened your legs back up, pushing at your knees to splay you open like a butterfly beneath his attention.

He worked both of his thumbs up and down over your labia, smearing your cunt with your juices, studying what he was about to claim and ruin. Then he looked up at your face and said, “This is mine now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” your voice was soft, nervous, but also eager.

It hadn’t actually been a question, but he wanted you to say it out loud.

The only question was how he wanted to take you first.

Since he planned on taking you in every way, he went with the most convenient first, easing his cock into you slowly, but with no apologies for how thick he was, pressing into you despite the resistance – not that of a virgin, but of a cunt that had never taken a cock so big before. You cried out – but he knew the tone of it was pain drenched with bliss, he could hear it. What’s more, when he was fully sheathed inside you, he waited, unmoving. He watched your chest rise and fall with a few breaths. When you finally shifted your hips against his, he knew he had won. You wanted more. The beast inside of him surged in satisfaction, and then he began to aggressively thrust in and out of your tight channel.

He leaned forward, and your knees hitched up around his waist to urge him on. You clawed at his back, and when he reached between your bodies and found your swollen clit, he rubbed furious circles over it until he was rewarded with the clenching of your cunt around him, the seizing up of every muscle in your body, as he delivered your first orgasm of the night.

He continued pumping in and out of your spasming cunt until he was right at the edge, then pulled out and fisted his cock with only two more strokes before releasing hot ribbons of cum over your stomach.

Your fingers inched hesitantly toward the mess, and he put his hand over yours and pushed your fingers and his through the mess, pressing it into your skin. Then he moved your hands away and lowered his body down onto yours, the sticky spend between your skin and his there.

“I…” you started, but then paused.

He slipped his other hand beneath your head, cradling it in his palm. “Mmm?” he hummed against the spot behind your ear.

“I’m clean and have an IUD.”

He groaned and nipped at your neck. “You want me to continue to fuck you more. You want me to cum inside you.”

“Yes, Steve,” you simpered.

“Mmm, such a good girl,” he pressed a hot kiss against your neck, then rolled off being on top of you, and to his side next to you. “Best give you what we both want, then,” he said as he turned you onto your side, back pressed to his chest, and felt below to press his dick into your hole again.

Hours later when its far past midnight, you’ve passed out from exhaustion.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

But when he slipped back onto your bed after taking a piss, you scooted your body in next to him, put your hand on his chest, and muttered the sleepiest, “Happy birthday,” to him he’d ever heard. He almost wondered how you knew switching from the third to the fourth meant it was his day, but then he remembered the time when seemingly everyone knew it was Cap’s birthday.

While he wasn’t Cap anymore, it still struck something in him and made his chest warm.

But he didn’t feel like you would make a big deal out of it or make him feel bad and that maybe it would be nice to be with someone on his birthday, so he decided to stay. He told himself it was to be distracted chasing more bliss with your body. He ignored the other thoughts working through his mind. He only wanted – only needed – the distraction. Nothing else.

NEXT: July 4, 2017. read more Exiled Nomad Series

I'M GLAD Steve's POV won in the poll I ran earlier this week... clearly since I made the poll my muse was leaning heavy towards it anyway, but this was certainly illuminating to see more of where Steve's head is at in this ... situationship.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[ssa-dado]

The Metaphysics of Love - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluffy fluff, sapiosexual fluff and - brace yourself - SOFT SMUT LET'S GO SPICY GOYALS!!! Summary: On a rare day off, you planned a quiet morning for Aaron's birthday. But he surprised you instead, taking over the kitchen revealing one of his hidden talents. Caught between banter and intimate teasing, you both savored the depth of your connection, blending banter and desire. One thing is certain though, luck is never by your side. Warnings: +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, or at least do out of your parents' sight - SEX, ORAL SEX ALLUDED (fem receiving because we live in a patriarchal society, we deserve it), lots of dirty talk. Aaron 'how am I a whore' Hotchner, he's just a whore. Word Count: 8.8k Dado's Corner: So, this is the first remotely sexual thing I've ever written. I love reading some good ol' smut, but for some reason, I cringe a lot while writing it. It took me excruciatingly long. I don't know what I'm doing; I don't even know if it's any good or even half-decent - let me know? AAAAA I'm very insecure about this and on posting it eheheheh life is fun isn't it? Is it even smut? Who knows. I need theraphy after this.

masterlist

Greek philosopher Plato wrote, “If only there were a way to start a city or an army made up of lovers. Theirs would be the best possible system of society, for they would hold back from all that is shameful, and seek honor in each other’s eyes.”

On rare days off, there was one thing you allowed yourself unapologetically: to be entirely unproductive.

You took these days like a blessing, where sleeping in was less a luxury and more a necessity - a chance to let your mind drift, to refuse the call to be anything more than just here, in this restful solitude.

And when Aaron came over the night before, both of you embraced that same ritual.

It felt almost like a paradox that two people so fiercely devoted to the relentless precision of your work - two minds honed to confront humanity’s darkest edges, always willing to answer the call, no matter how ungodly the hour - could find such deep, sweet solace in those private mornings together.

Days when, for once, you weren’t bending yourselves to crises or sacrificing the next moment’s peace to duty.

You and Aaron, who could spend hours in a rare, intellectual love, a bond built on respect, shared virtues, and an admiration for the other’s mind, a connection that didn’t rely on words, but on understanding each other’s essence.

Yet when the door was closed and the world locked out, all that intellectual reverence between you replaced by something untamed, something driven by pure, aching desire.

The slide of his hands over you felt reverent yet urgent, mapping each line and curve as though rediscovering familiar territory for the first time.

Each kiss, each touch held the thrill of exploration, a deliberate pace that turned gentle caresses into an unspoken plea. The way he whispered your name, his breath hot against your ear, sending sparks down your spine as he drew you closer, as if he could never be close enough.

In that bed, the world ceased to exist, its demands fading into oblivion as you lost yourselves in each other’s bodies, moving and meeting in rhythm, a silent language spoken only between you.

You felt his every shift, every unhurried stroke, savoring the taste of his skin, his weight, the feel of his hand tangled in your hair.

Every time his hands began their journey over you, it was as if he were memorizing you anew, mapping each curve with a reverence that made every touch feel essential. The way his lips would trace a languid, heated path down your neck, over your collarbone, and linger to each of your breasts, then lower to your stomach – always precise, always teasing, always patient.

Each time, he would pause with that infuriating, electrifying smirk, glancing up at you just as his mouth left warm, wet trails along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, each mark a whispered claim, each gentle bite igniting a spark of wild, irrational hunger.

Then, he’d slow, letting his touch turn soft, his movements deliberate, every kiss a careful mark of possession as he inched closer, closer, until he hovered right where you burned for him most.

The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, stirring an ache that felt endless - and yet he always held back, drawing out each second to a tantalizing, almost torturous eternity.

Time itself seemed to dissolve, stretched and redefined by his restraint, bending beneath his control until it became something ungraspable, a vast chasm of unfulfilled need. In that suspended tension, everything beyond the heat of his touch blurred and faded, the world reduced to the exquisite ache of his nearness.

Every nerve felt poised on the brink, strung tight between the agony of waiting and the edge of release. It was an ache that deepened with every restrained second, until every part of you ached for him to finally give in - to end the slow, maddening tease and take you over the edge you so desperately craved, to just let you combust.

Every time, you knew there was no getting out of that bed.

But today, you needed to try.

Today was Aaron’s birthday.

It was his tenth birthday as your partner.

His second as your boss.

His first as… your boyfriend.

The word still felt novel, strange to say aloud, as if acknowledging it might make it slip away. Months in, and it hadn’t yet lost its surreal sweetness. So, despite already knowing he would brush it off, you wanted this day to be special.

Not big, not loud, just enough to quietly tell him how much he meant to you.

And how much you loved him.

He had given up on his own birthdays long ago, weighed down by the memories of being called away, the guilt of leaving pieces of himself with every mile, the reason of the failure of his marriage, the strain of missing out on Jack’s moments he could never relive.

But you knew his aversion went even deeper than guilt and regret.

Because Aaron Hotchner, the man whose presence could command a room with a single look, who possessed a physical authority in his stature, his voice, and his steely gaze, was nothing like that in private.

In his job, he could pull strings in hidden places, command respect from even the most powerful, yet, in private, Aaron Hotchner was anything but the center.

He instinctively yielded that space to others, always giving, forever considering his own worth secondary to his duty. For him, the spotlight was an obligation, a necessity he wore well, but not one he sought.

He instead lived with an unshakable humility that, in his own mind, made him unworthy of the small graces most would take for granted.

He was the center for so many others, to let the world turn around him, even for a day, felt almost undeserved.

This was the man you loved.

The man who, in every part of his life, had chosen to orbit around others rather than himself.

But today, you wanted to change that.

If there was one battle you were determined to win, it was this one: slowly chipping away at Aaron’s stubborn sense of self-denial, proving to him that he deserved the care and quiet adoration he so freely gave everyone else.

You’d make it your mission, spoiling him however you could in those rare, fleeting moments he allowed.

Especially today.

Today, you wanted everything to be about him.

You wanted him to let you give him a birthday that revolved solely around him, a celebration in the purest sense of the word.

So, you concocted a plan.

One of your more mischievous fool-proof “evil” plans, as you’d call them.

You’d set your weekday alarm to go off at an ungodly hour, sacrificing your own precious sleep for a just cause. When the alarm blared, you’d pretend it was a simple mistake, and then, under the guise of getting some water, slip out of bed.

Now, Aaron, being Aaron, would try to keep his eyes open, struggling to wait for you to come back to bed, but you were betting on his recent run of sleepless nights to wear him down. He’d have no choice but to let sleep drag him back under.

And while he slept, you’d slip into the kitchen to bake him a birthday cake, filling the apartment with the warm, sugary smell of freshly baked sweets.

But not just any sweets - because Aaron’s idea of a “sweet tooth” was as delightfully twisted as the man himself.

He liked desserts that weren’t cloying, desserts that had just the right balance of sugar and subtlety. You’d stocked up on his favorite ingredients earlier in the week, quietly stashing them away like a stealthy confectionary hoarder.

You wanted the process to take time, to show him that he was worth the hours of sacrificed sleep, that he was worth the care poured into each meticulous step.

Call it love.

You could picture it perfectly, or at least you thought you could: the early morning quiet, just you in your cozy sanctuary, stealing away precious minutes of peace to bake for the one person who had come to mean more to you than anyone else in the world.

You’d sneak out of bed and create something special, something full of quiet love. That was the plan, the picture you’d carefully composed in your mind.

But reality had other plans.

Because, instead, you woke up alone, which wouldn’t have been unusual months ago, back when solitude was your morning routine. But lately, you’d grown a little too used to waking up next to Aaron, finding him there in those rare, lazy mornings, seeing his face softened by sleep.

So, yes, waking up without him startled you.

And that wasn’t the strangest part.

But what truly threw you off was the unfamiliar noise that filled your apartment – the sounds foreign and unexpected, loud and unmistakably upbeat.

Music.

Not just any music, but the kind that seemed plucked from a pop radio station’s Top 30 - those catchy, bubblegum-sweet songs that played over and over, each one sounding like a new but familiar hit. You recognized the song immediately, a few of its lyrics sneaking into your consciousness.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone…”

The music filled the entire space, and the distinct melody grew louder as you slowly pulled yourself out of bed. You quickly washed up, threw on Aaron’s shirt - somehow conveniently draped over the chair beside your bed from last night - and crept toward the source, trying to make sense of the scene awaiting you.

The closer you got, the louder the music became, and as you moved down the hall, another noise reached your ears. A full octave lower, slightly offbeat tune, blending into the chorus.

You stopped.

This new melody was unmistakable - a deep, familiar voice humming along.

You rounded the corner, holding your breath as you peeked around the door frame, and there he was: standing at the counter, 6’2” of pure FBI stoicism, humming and even softly singing along to Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” as he flipped pancakes, completely absorbed, almost…at peace.

Aaron, your Aaron, was singing.

And he was singing on key, to a Taylor Swift song, of all things.

This was Aaron “blues and classic rock” Hotchner, the man who’d first revealed he could play the guitar with quiet pride, a piece of his world he’d shown you like an offering.

This was the man who once played you a perfect riff from Eric Clapton’s “Layla” to win a bet, who could talk about the origins of every Beatles riff and knew exactly which blues chord matched which heartbreak.

You’d seen him pour himself into those riffs and solos, even negotiate an occasional strum in exchange for something even as stupid as a kiss or him asking you to sing along. That was thrilling enough, it was something special he shared with you, revealing his private passion for music.

You’d always thought he kept his own voice hidden somewhere deep.

You’d gone a decade without hearing it and almost expected never to, half-convinced he didn’t even know how to sing. If he did, it was probably as flat as his deadpan humor.

Yet here he was, in his element - or maybe in your element - singing along, his voice low and smooth, threading into the melody as if he’d been doing it all his life.

He wasn’t putting on a show, no spoon-as-microphone dramatics, no fake dance moves. Just the smallest tilt of his head in time with the music, his voice like his presence - restrained, yet always intentional. It was almost as if he was singing to keep himself company, like he’d done this a hundred times over, alone.

It was strange, maybe surreal, to see Aaron singing the words to one of the most unabashedly sentimental pop songs, lyrics he’d usually flip the station over without a second thought.

But what truly was more shocking - was the calm, almost methodical way he sang. It wasn’t the typical poppy, upbeat rendition, he was deliberately bending the melody, drawing out the notes, giving it a weight and richness that felt… sincere.

Even thoughtful.

“Romeo, save me,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, layering over the lyrics with that warm, low cadence that made you feel he was singing a ballad rather than a radio hit. “I’ve been feeling so alone” The lower octave turning the song into something more heartfelt, the kind of warmth you’d find in an old love song.

You barely dared to breathe, your hand resting on the doorframe as you took in the scene, each step bringing you closer, yet you stood still, just watching him.

There he was, perfectly at home in your kitchen, flipping pancakes in time with the song, a bowl of batter at his side, and those neatly diced apples - your apples, the ones you’d hidden for the cake, already sliced and ready on the counter.

He moved with this calm certainty, like he knew exactly where every spoon and skillet was, as if he’d done this a hundred times before, like this was his kitchen, his place.

And watching him, the weight of it settled over you, soft and unassuming, like it had always been there, only waiting for you to notice.

You wanted to see this every morning.

This sight - him in your kitchen, in your space, humming along to a cheesy love song.

You could already imagine so many more mornings just like this - waking up to the quiet sounds of him in the kitchen, maybe later to the faint patter of little feet, to quiet laughter, to moments of warmth and ease you hadn’t dared to let yourself picture.

Right there, it hit you, the thought rising naturally, with the same certainty as breathing: you wanted to marry Aaron Hotchner.

You wanted this morning, and every morning, and every rare, precious moment he’d allow you to share, for the rest of your lives.

It was so startling, it almost scared you - the sheer weight and clarity of it, something you’d never even let yourself imagine until now.

And as if he could read your mind, he sang on, unwittingly echoing the thought you’d just had, the words falling from his lips with this surprising tenderness, so soft you barely heard it over the sizzling pan,

"He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring…”

And in perfect time with the lyrics, he turned, reaching for something on the counter. His gaze met yours, and he froze, his eyes going wide.

Caught.

Caught like he was a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, his cheeks tinged pink as he stammered, “It’s… catchy.”

You couldn’t even form a coherent reply. All you managed to say, a little dazed, was, “Last time I checked, this was my kitchen.” It seemed only fair to mention, because he looked entirely too comfortable, like he belonged there. Which, of course, he did.

Without missing a beat, he smirked, still flushed. “Last time I checked, that was my shirt.” There was a glint of humor in his eye as he nodded at the oversized button-up you were wrapped in.

Touché.

But you couldn’t let him off so easily.

“So, Hotchner’s finally embraced pop?” you teased, moving closer. He gave you a look that was half-fond, half-exasperated.

“Are you going to tell the team?” he asked, lips twitching in a barely suppressed smile.

“Oh, you mean that you know the lyrics to Love Story by heart?” You reached for a piece of apple, savoring the sweetness, both of the fruit and the moment.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms in a way that was both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. "And how exactly are you going to tell them?" he countered, his voice low and amused. "Considering we’re still keeping this whole thing," he gestured between the two of you, "a secret?"

You arched an eyebrow at him, a smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. “Oh, don’t worry, I’d find a way to tell them. Especially after finding my plan completely sabotaged.” You gestured toward the crime scene he’d made of your countertop, the diced apples mixed with flour dust and cinnamon smears, reaching out to pick up a perfectly diced slice. “What kind of monster butchers my last apple?”

Aaron chuckled, crossing his arms in that familiar way that made him look both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. “Well, I got here first, so I have dibs on breakfast duties,” he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned in just a bit closer.

“Admit it, you’re just miserable that I’ve now beaten you not only to the office every morning but also in your very own kitchen.” With a playful smirk, he reached out, fingers grazing yours as he took the slice of apple from your hand, popping it into his mouth.

Your hand instinctively reached up, brushing a stray smear of flour from his cheek, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your fingers lingered against his skin, warm beneath your touch, your thumb brushing over the roughness of his stubble. “Believe me, Aaron,” you murmured, your voice softening, “I’m hardly miserable. But if there was ever a day for you to be spoiled, it’s today.”

A subtle shift crossed his face, he tried to play it off with a shrug, but you caught the way his eyes softened. “Since when are Sundays such a big deal?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

You smiled, your voice dropping just as low. “Since a certain FBI Unit Chief turned 43 today.”

He paused, something deeper flickering across his face, gratitude, maybe even a hint of wonder. But his lips curled into a small smile as he teased, “So you’re saying you’re obsessed with me? Is that why today’s circled on the calendar?”

You laughed softly, leaning in until the warmth between you was almost overwhelming. “Maybe I’m just a thorough planner,” you murmured, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. “Not that you’d know anything about that, Mister Show-Up-Unannounced-To-Ruin-Everything.”

His chuckle was low, rich, and his hand slid from the counter to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb traced small, warm circles just above your hip, sending a thrill through you that made your pulse quicken. “Oh, so I’m the one to blame now?”

His forehead pressed against yours, his lips only inches away, his voice a warm murmur that made your breath catch. “I thought I’d get some credit. I put my heart into this, you know.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingertips brushing gently along the nape of his neck as you closed the space between you. “Maybe a little credit,” you whispered softly in his good ear, your voice low and warm,

“But only if those pancakes are as good as the cake I was going to make for you.” You leaned back just enough to see your reflection in his light chestnut eyes. "Happy birthday, Aaron. I love you."

Six words, and that’s all it took.

Six words and the universe seemed to gather itself, suspended in a moment that transcended language itself.

It was a truth so elemental, it resisted adornment, a declaration distilled to its essence, timeless and immutable.

An affirmation that existed beyond expectation, a vow as ancient and constant as the stars themselves.

There is a metaphysics to love, you realized - it stands outside the linear bounds of time, touches the eternal.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice serious thick with emotion, “I love you, too.”

As he leaned in, his lips met yours with a tenderness that felt timeless, like the merging of two notes in perfect harmony. The kiss was neither hurried nor tentative - it lingered, unbound by time, a communion in which words would only lessen its meaning.

It was as if the essence of all things - of breath, heartbeats, even thought - collapsed into a single, quiet rhythm, a pulse shared between the two of you, steady and enduring.

His hand on the small of your back was grounding, tethering you to the warmth and certainty of his presence, yet it held the weight of something deeper, an invitation to transcend the ordinary, into a realm that felt almost timeless.

His fingers traced gentle paths along your spine, each motion a quiet pledge, a reminder that this moment - this suspended eternity - was as real as anything either of you had ever known.

There was something purely metaphysical about it, a union that philosophy itself would struggle to pin down, though it tried - oh, how it tried!

There were passages in Aristotle, in Plato, that hinted at this feeling, words that beckoned yet somehow fell short of translating this precise depth, this shared infinity.

How perfectly absurd, yet fitting, that the ancient words you’d studied your whole life only now truly resonated, here, in his arms.

It was probably a blessing that he couldn’t read your mind, or he’d surely tease you mercilessly, forever, about finding existential truths in the simplicity of a kiss.

Yet philosophy was the only thing that could try to capture even a fraction of what he made you feel. You would have likely confessed that, at this very moment, he seemed to hold all the secrets of the universe in the softness of his gaze, in the press of his hand.

If he knew, you could already hear him laughing, promising with that faint smirk to remind you every day for the rest of his life: ‘that you were the one waxing poetic, hopelessly undone by his touch.’

But perhaps you’d take that trade-off, if it meant he’d keep looking at you just like this.

Or maybe he already suspected, because as he pulled back slightly, that familiar sparkle was in his eyes. His voice dropped to that low, warm timbre that always seemed to melt you. “You know, I’m the luckiest guy in the world having you as my girlfriend,” he murmured.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, a reaction you couldn’t seem to help, especially when he was the one reminding you of that fact.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your blush. “I love how you keep doing that every time I call you my girlfriend,” he said, savoring each word, his grin only widening.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” you nudged him playfully, pulling away just long enough to pour yourself a glass of water.

He leaned against the counter, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Maybe. It’s the little pleasures in life, you know?” He paused, and you caught the mischievous edge to his voice. “Like watching that blush climb all the way down your neck every time I’m close to you.”

You took a sip of water, trying to keep your cool, but he leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “And I can think of a few more ways to keep you flushed like that,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur.

You nearly choked, sputtering as you looked up at him with a mock glare. “If you say one more word, Aaron Hotchner, I swear I’m dumping this entire glass of water on you.” you warned, pointing to the water for emphasis.

But he didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he raised a playful brow, his smirk only deepening. “Now, that’d just give me an excuse to get closer to you. Which, I’d say, isn’t a bad way to spend my birthday.” He paused, eyes trailing over you in a way that sent warmth radiating from your cheeks down to your very core. “Or… maybe you’d rather see me get out of this shirt? I mean, it’s your call, sweetheart.”

The room suddenly felt too warm, and from the glint in his eyes, you knew he could see how thoroughly flustered you were. You searched for a comeback, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine.

But the words caught in your throat, entirely out of reach, and he noticed - of course he noticed. His grin widened as he leaned back, folding his arms, looking smug and entirely too pleased with himself.

“What’s the matter, Professor?” he continued, a grin playing on his lips. “Don’t tell me the great philosopher herself is speechless?” His voice dropped even lower “No ancient texts to rescue you from this one?”

The challenge in his eyes held you captive, and you knew there was no witty comeback that could save you from the truth: he had completely undone you.

But you managed to pull yourself together just enough to respond, leaning forward as you raised your chin with a defiant smile.

But he didn’t budge, his eyes sparkling with that familiar, infuriating confidence. “Oh, I think I’ll stay right here. Watching you like this?” His smirk grew wider. “This is the best birthday gift I could ask for.”

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down, and turned to the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water and holding it up with a knowing look. “You know,” you said, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “there’s a whole bottle of ice-cold water here. Just waiting to be used.”

He chuckled, unfazed, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Judging from that blush,” he murmured, stepping closer, “I think you’re the one who could use the cold water.” He leaned in, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Or do you want to bet I’ve already got you wet down there?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips as you took a small step back, pretending to consider his words. “Oh, you’re bold today, aren’t you?” you teased, uncapping the water bottle and tilting it slightly in his direction. “I wouldn’t test me, Hotchner.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, though his gaze stayed fixed on you, steady and full of challenge. “But I’d love to see what you’d actually do with that water,” he added, crossing his arms and leaning back with a smirk. “Go on, show me.”

You lifted the bottle just enough to let a single drop slip down, watching as it slid down the bottle’s edge, intentionally drawing it out. “You sure about that?” you asked, your tone daring. “Because once I start, there’s no going back.”

He grinned, holding his ground, eyes dancing with intrigue. “Try me,” he whispered, his voice rough, daring you, his gaze locked on yours.

With a smirk, you tilted the bottle in one swift motion, letting a stream of cold water pour down his neck, catching him completely off-guard. The shock in his eyes was priceless as he gasped, shivering as the icy water spilled over his collar and down his chest, soaking into the fabric of his shirt and clinging to his skin.

You watched, heart pounding, as rivulets of water dripped from his hair, tracing paths down his jaw and across the hollow of his throat.

His breath came shallow, and for a brief moment, he just stared at you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and something else - a heat that went far beyond the playful spark in his gaze moments before.

Slowly, he brushed his fingers through his wet hair, sending droplets flying as he shook his head in mock surrender, chuckling under his breath. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, “I’ll give you that one.”

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, the water still trickling down his neck, clinging to his skin. “But you do realize,” he said softly, a glint of challenge and mischief in his eyes, “now it’s my turn.”

Your fingers threaded into his damp hair, tugging him closer as you pressed your body against his, deepening the kiss with a need that went beyond words.

His mouth moved over yours, hot and unyielding, each kiss more consuming than the last, igniting a fire that pulsed through every inch of you. You let out a soft moan as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you against him, until the lines between where he ended and you began were blurred.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you with ease, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you steadied yourself, your legs tightening around his waist. He walked with purpose, each step deliberate as he moved you away from the puddle on the floor.

Reaching the counter, he set you down, his hands sliding to your hips to keep you anchored to him. You pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist, feeling his hard bulge pressing against you, right between your legs, sending an excruciating wave of heat that made you ache with need of wanting every inch of him.

His lips trailed down to your neck, finding that sensitive spot that made you gasp, arching your back and tilting your hips against him in response, desperate for more contact through all those unnecessary layers of clothes.

That made him chuckle against your skin, his breath warm and teasing as he pressed his hips forward, letting you feel more of him. His hands roamed over your body, one slipping down between your thighs, his fingers sliding over the fabric of your clothes to press gently against your folds. You let out a shuddering breath as he teased you, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric under his touch.

“Shit Aaron,” you whispered furrowing your brows, the sound escaping as a mix of plea and need. He let out a low, satisfied sigh, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes along your folds, applying just enough pressure to leave you breathless.

"Told you needed that cold water too," he murmured, his voice rough and dark with desire as his fingers continued their slow, teasing movements, each touch lingering longer than the last, setting every nerve in your body on fire. "You’re so wet, love."

His lips found yours again, his kiss searing and consuming, swallowing the soft gasps that escaped you as his hand worked in a steady rhythm that left you trembling, every touch building the ache that spread through you.

Your hands found the hem of his soaked shirt, unable to resist the need to feel more of him. You gripped the fabric, slowly peeling it up over his torso, your fingers tracing over every defined line of his abdomen and chest as the shirt lifted, clinging to his skin, heavier from the water.

He shuddered at your touch, his muscles taut under your fingertips, and his breathing hitched as you struggled to work the fabric up over his shoulders. With a quick, impatient movement, he pulled it the rest of the way off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, where it landed with a wet, heavy thud.

The unexpected sound made you both pause, sharing a breathless, shared chuckle that broke the intensity for only a moment.

Then his gaze met yours, dark and blazing with an almost unrestrained hunger. His pupils were blown wide, breaths shallow and quick, matching your own.

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable, every second weighted with anticipation " Let's cut this shit and just fuck me, Aaron," you said firmly locking eyes with him, your tone was thick with need.

 "So eloquent," he replied, his voice so low that it made you even more wet than you already were.

"If you don’t have me quoting Plato," you breathed, voice unsteady, “then it means you’re doing it a good job."

He let out a low, throaty chuckle. "Trust me, that's the last thing I want to hear right now."

False. But he wasn’t about to let you know that just yet.

Keeping his gaze fixed on yours, he dipped down slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs, his grip firm yet gentle, holding you open in a way that left no room for resistance and filled you with a breathless anticipation.

His lips brushed softly over your knee, then trailed upward in maddeningly slow, deliberate kisses along your inner thigh. Each touch of his mouth felt like a spark on your skin, the heat pooling within you growing with every inch he covered.

The roughness of his stubble scraped deliciously over your sensitive skin, heightening the sensation and leaving you craving more with every slow, deliberate movement.

“I could stay here all morning,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough, lips lingering at that spot on your inner thigh that made your head spin. “Fuck, your thighs drive me crazy.” He sucked gently at the sensitive skin, and a dizzying wave of warmth coursed through you, making you clutch the edge of the counter beneath you.

“You sound so much better when you’re talking between my legs,” you managed, your voice a whisper. “Almost makes me want to actually listen to what you’re saying.”

A smirk played on his lips as he moved inward with torturous slowness, each kiss deeper and more lingering than the last, his mouth exploring every inch with an intensity that only stoked the fire inside you. “Can’t wait to eat you out,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that made you shiver. “You always taste so damn sweet.”

Just hearing him made your cheeks flush, heat spreading across your skin, and he looked up briefly, catching the blush on your face.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your thigh, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body. “There it is,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to your skin as if savoring every reaction, “and I’m not even close.”

“Fuck you Aaron,” you muttered, rolling your eyes at the nerve he had, but unable to mask the need building inside you.

“Just give me a few minutes,” he whispered, a wicked smile tugging at his lips, “and you won’t be able to say a word.” Without giving you time to respond, he moved his hand, his fingers brushing over your throbbing, clothed core, drawing a soft, needy moan from you.

“Oh, Aaron,” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as the warmth of his touch sent a shock of pleasure through you.

“Better, but next time just say my name”, he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as his mouth continued to explore every sensitive spot, each kiss igniting fresh waves of desire.

He savored every second, each shiver, each breathless sound you made, keeping you on edge and drawing out your need until you were trembling with anticipation, every nerve alive and straining toward him, aching for the moment he’d finally close that last, agonizing bit of distance.

A soft, breathy moan escaped your lips as his mouth reached the very end of your inner thigh, lingering there with maddening intent before, with one swift motion, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and discarded them, leaving you exposed to the cool air that instantly sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hand flew to his, squeezing his left hand resting on your thigh, seeking an anchor amidst the building tension. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding you there, his grip firm and grounding.

What a gentleman.

As he moved closer to where you ached for him most, the warmth of his breath contrasted with the coolness of the air, sending another wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

Your skin was hypersensitive, every inch of you on edge, the cool air brushing against your slick, exposed core making you tremble with need. You could feel yourself wet, the evidence of your desire trailing down, and he noticed, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he took in every reaction.

Slowly, he leaned in, and just when you thought you couldn’t bear the wait, he let out a soft, cool breath against your sensitive center, the contrast making you gasp, your hips instinctively arching toward him.

The sensation was electric, his teasing touch only building the tension to a fever pitch, leaving you breathless and desperate, every nerve alive, craving his next move.

Every inch of you ached for him, and the faint chill of his breath against your heated skin only made you more sensitive, heightening every sensation as you waited, breathless, desperate, for the moment he’d finally close the distance and give you the relief you craved.

And just as you felt yourself entirely lost in the moment, fully immersed in his touch, your phone rang – your work phone.

Aaron, sensing the urgency of your vibrating work phone, let out a reluctant sigh and leaned down, resting his head between your legs for a lingering moment before handing the phone to you.

His hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he straightened up and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He knew it had to be important if you were getting called on your day off - especially since your last case had barely wrapped up a day ago.

With a sigh, you brought the phone to your ear, feeling Aaron’s hand slide down to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles over your skin. “Agent Y/L/N,” you answered, keeping your tone professional despite the unmistakable warmth of Aaron’s presence beside you.

The voice on the other end chirped brightly. “Oh, don’t worry, Teach, this isn’t a case.” It was Garcia, her usual exuberance coming through, immediately putting you at ease.

Aaron’s head shot up, his expression sharpening as he registered Garcia’s voice on the line. His unit chief instincts kicked in immediately, a hint of concern flickering across his face - he knew as well as you did that Garcia wasn’t supposed to make personal calls to your work phone.

His gaze shifted to meet yours, silently questioning, his eyes searching for an explanation.

But you quickly gave him a reassuring nod, your eyes conveying, ‘It’s fine. Just Garcia being Garcia.’

He studied you for a moment, then sighed, the tension easing from his face as he accepted your silent assurance. She was his favorite on the team, after all – you knew he’d let this slide simply because it was her, and only her.

His tense posture softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he relaxed. But his hand stayed firmly on your leg, his thumb moving in soothing circles, silently grounding you as you continued the call.

“So… what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Well, I’m just outside your door!” Garcia chirped, and you froze, a sense of dread pooling in your stomach. “I came by to return that umbrella you lent me! And as an apology for taking so long, I brought homemade cookies! But not just any cookies - these are made with your recipe. I had to know your secret, oh wise cookie guru.”

You exchanged a panicked look with Aaron, who widened his eyes, clearly just as surprised as you were. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, mouthing, ‘What?’

The kitchen was a disaster - a puddle of water glistened a few feet away from where you were, his shirt and your discarded underwear lay crumpled on the floor, and a forgotten stack of pancakes sat on the opposite counters, cold and untouched.

You tried to focus, clearing your throat. “Did you, um, brown the butter?” you asked, forcing a normal tone as Aaron’s lips returned to your cheek, planting feather-light kisses along your jawline. You brought your hand up to his chest, gently pressing to stop him just before he reached your neck.

If he kept going, there was no way you’d keep quiet.

“Oh, obviously, I browned the butter! Gourmet tip of the year, right?” she replied with dramatic flair. “But seriously, why haven’t you opened the door yet? Don’t tell me you’re still in bed!”

“Oh, Penelope, uh,” you hesitated, your voice wavering as you shot Aaron a helpless look. He simply leaned back, crossing his arms with an amused grin, watching you squirm. “I’m… uh… a little tied up right now.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then she gasped, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Teach,” she said, drawing out the word as if savoring it. “Did you get laid?”

Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your cheeks, and you avoided Aaron’s gaze. “I, uh…” you stammered, glancing at Aaron, who raised both eyebrows, clearly entertained by the direction the conversation was going. ‘Lost for words, again?’ he mouthed, with a smirk.

“Oh my God!” Garcia squealed. “Spill! Where did you meet them? Was it romantic, thrilling, a slow-burn kind of thing?”

Thinking quickly, you stammered, “Uh… met him at the supermarket, actually.” You glanced over at Aaron, who was watching you with a barely contained grin.

“The supermarket?” Garcia’s tone was incredulous, then turned approving. “Well, look at you, turning errands into escapades! What was it about him? I mean, Teach, this is you we’re talking about, and you have that five-date rule before you even consider any ‘extracurriculars’!”

Aaron barely held back a laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He mouthed, ‘Five dates?’ with an exaggerated look of mock surprise, clearly referencing the fact that it had taken you much fewer than five dates to get there with him.

Grabbing a pen and sticky note from the counter, you quickly scribbled, *It took us ten years, I think we waited enough.*

He read it, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous grin that seemed to say, “Still a win.” He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, and you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile.

“So?” Garcia’s voice came through again, jolting you back. “What made him so special?”

You cleared your throat, keeping your answer vague. “He was… just nice. Nothing too remarkable. We just clicked.”

Garcia paused, as if processing that. “Clicked, huh? Not the most exciting answer, but I guess it’s better than nothing.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially, “Well, Teach, between you and me - how was it?”

You blinked, struggling to keep your composure. You knew answering in detail would only encourage her. Shooting Aaron a quick, apologetic look, you took a deep breath and answered, trying to be as nonchalant as possible “Honestly? Not memorable.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up, a look of playful offense crossing his face. You grabbed the pen again, quickly scribbling, ‘She’d have asked for specifics. It was the only way to end it.’

But Aaron wasn’t letting it slide.

He smirked, taking the pen from you and jotting, “If I were you, I’d start writing your incident report now.”

You mouthed a playful “Come on, Aaron,” but he didn’t relent, writing again, ‘You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you. Trust me on that.’ His eyes gleamed with a mixture of humor and something darker, and he added, ‘Consider it a favor to your Unit Chief.’

The moment he pulled rank - even in jest - you knew he wasn’t kidding. A thrill shot through you, as, you realized: oh, you were fucked.

Meanwhile, Garcia was still on the line, sympathy dripping from her voice. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Teach. I hope the next one is better! But hey love, you’re a catch, you’ll have a line of suitors soon enough.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, grinning as he traced lazy circles along your arm, clearly entertained and waiting to see how you’d handle the situation. Just as you were about to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking the conversation with Garcia might finally be wrapping up, she added, “But one last thing… how big was he?”

Your eyes flew to Aaron, who pressed his lips together, struggling to keep from laughing outright. His brows lifted, an expectant glint in his eyes as he waited to see how you’d handle this new level of interrogation.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, hiding your face behind your hand for a second before answering.

“Oh, Penelope,” you began, doing your best to keep your voice steady as Aaron’s expression practically sparkled with mischief. “Size… let’s just say he was… more than enough.”

You gave Aaron a pointed look, as if to say, ‘Happy now?’

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye, and picked up the pen to scrawl on a sticky note, “At least you said something true this time.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms with a smirk and that unmistakable, self-satisfied gleam that only made him more infuriatingly irresistible.

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to wipe that smug grin off his face. He was lucky you loved him, even when he was this cocky.

Garcia hummed, clearly intrigued. “Alright, alright, keep your secrets! But I’ll be needing a coffee date soon to get all the details. And I’ll make sure to bring a tape measure!”

Aaron’s smirk only widened, thoroughly enjoying every second of your discomfort. Determined to take back some control, you grabbed the pen, furiously scribbling, “If you don’t stop smirking, I’ll make you wait a week.”

He arched an eyebrow, clearly unfazed, and took the pen, writing back with a smug confidence, “I don’t think you’d last a week.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in close, his mouth brushing your ear. “In fact,” he whispered, voice low and challenging, “I’d bet you’d be begging in less than a minute.”

Just as he pulled back, you caught yourself, remembering Garcia was still on the line. You shook yourself out of the daze he’d left you in, quickly bringing the phone back up. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later. I’ve got a bit of a… mess here to handle.”

“Ohhh, say no more,” she replied with a knowing giggle. “Go handle your ‘mess,’ teach! I’ll swing by later to drop off the cookies.”

“Sure thing,” you replied, hoping to end the call before anything else slipped. “Talk soon!”

Finally, she hung up, and you let out a sigh of relief as you placed the phone back on the counter.

Before you could even process the call, Aaron wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back toward him. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss along your jaw, trailing slowly down to the sensitive spot on your neck, his touch igniting that spark of need all over again.

“‘Not memorable,’ huh?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed his lips along your collarbone, his voice thick with amusement and challenge. “Guess I’ll have to change that.”

You smirked, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug as you met his gaze, your eyes gleaming. “Consider it a challenge,” you whispered, voice heavy with anticipation.

“Oh, I intend to,” he replied, his voice low and filled with a promise that sent a thrill through you. His hands slipped down to your waist, gripping firmly as he lifted you effortlessly back onto the counter.

His fingers traced along your thighs, pulling you close until there was no space left between you, his warmth flooding over you as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was anything but forgettable.

The intensity of his lips left you breathless, his mouth moving with a need that always made you ache for him.

But just as you were melting into the kiss, he pulled back abruptly, leaving you gasping.

Without a word, he turned and walked toward the entry room where he’d left his briefcase the night prior.

You sat there, still dazed, watching as he rummaged through it with purpose. When he returned, he handed you a piece of paper and a pen, his smirk widening as you looked down and realized he’d handed you an incident report form.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “An incident report, really?”

He grinned, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You file this,” he said, voice rich with amusement, “and in the meantime, I’ll clean up this kitchen disaster we made. How’s that sound?”

“You’re serious about this?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face as his fingers slid teasingly up and down your sides, his touch setting your skin on fire even through the fabric.

He leaned close, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Think of it as a precaution,” he murmured, his breath tickling your skin. “Can’t have you running to HR with ‘not memorable’ complaints, now can we?”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing at the cold pile of pancakes beside you. “Fine. But if I’m filing paperwork, I’m at least entitled to a last meal,” you teased, reaching for one of the now slightly stale pancakes.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers brushing along your jaw as he looked at you with mock sincerity. “Of course. I’m not heartless,” he said, sliding a hand possessively down your thigh. “Wouldn’t want you complaining that I wasted your ‘last apple.’”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as you took a bite, savoring the taste with exaggerated satisfaction just to get a rise out of him.

As you took a bite, he leaned in, his lips trailing a slow, heated path down your neck, each kiss sending sparks across your skin. “Finish up,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with promise. “You’re going to need a lot of energy later.”

You smirked, picking up a pancake and handing it to him. “I think you’re the one who’ll need it more,” you teased, eyes glinting. “Wouldn’t want you throwing out your back, old man.”

He raised an eyebrow, biting into the pancake you offered, then leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Old man?” he echoed, his tone low and challenging. “We’ll see who’s begging for mercy first.”

You chuckled, unfazed. “Just looking out for you,” you replied innocently. “Can’t have my Unit Chief all sore and out of commission, can I?”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening around your waist. “Sweetheart, by the time I’m through with you, the only thing you’ll be looking out for is a place to catch your breath.”

“Oh?” You leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Big talk. Hope you’re not all bark and no bite.”

He tilted your chin up, his gaze darkening as he smirked. “Oh, you’ll feel the bite.” His lips brushed over yours, slow and teasing. “And trust me,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve got more than enough stamina to keep you… occupied.”

You grinned, meeting his dark gaze with a defiant spark in your eyes. “More than enough stamina? Now that’s a bold claim,” you murmured, your voice laced with playful challenge. “But, if you’re looking to impress, I’d expect nothing less than an all-night performance. Think you can handle that?”

His smirk grew as his hands slid up your sides, pulling you even closer. “Oh, I’m not just handling it, I’m guaranteeing it,” he replied, his voice a low, rumbling promise. He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, just close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “In fact, sweetheart, I don’t plan on letting you sleep at all tonight.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept up the game. “Guess I’ll have to cancel my morning plans,” you replied, pretending to sound disappointed. “Here I thought I’d be waking up fresh and ready to tackle the day.”

He let out a soft, amused chuckle, his fingers slipping down to grip your hips firmly, pressing you against him. “Oh, you’ll be plenty ready to tackle something,” he teased, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head, giving you a slow, purposeful once-over. “But the day? Probably not. You’ll be too busy trying to remember how to stand.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smirk never left your lips. “Big words, Hotchner. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He leaned closer, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Challenge accepted,” he murmured, his tone dripping with intent. “And just so you know,” he added, his mouth ghosting over your skin, “the only thing I’ll need all night… is you begging for more.”

“Confident, aren’t we?” you teased, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug. “But confidence only gets you so far, you know. You’ll have to back up all this talk.”

He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, his eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips brushing over yours. “By the time I’m done, the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name.”

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet”, Plato.

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

Hope you liked it :) Happy birthday old man

[navybrat817]

Anything special for Bucky's birthday?

Something small, nonnie.

For Years or for Hours

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is the love of your life and deserves to have a peaceful birthday.

Word Count: Almost 1.2k

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, implied explicit sexual content, being in love, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I wanted to do something more, but today got away from me. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun had just risen outside of Bucky’s hut in Wakanda, the rays peeking in and beckoning you to wake up and venture out into the world. You weren't ready to rise and meet the day quite yet. Not when Bucky was beside you, holding you in his sleep like you he’d lose you if he loosened his grip. You wouldn't dare disturb his slumber. Not when he more than anyone deserved to rest peacefully.

So you decided to count the freckles on his nose.

“My beautiful man,” you whispered, placing your left hand on his cheek. “Love of my life.”

The wedding band on your ring finger matched his in design, symbols of the never ending love you had for each other. Time stood still and moved all at once when you said “I do”, but forever didn’t start with your wedding day. It began the day you met. Every moment after that paved a path that entwined, neither of you having to walk alone again.

“One,” you whispered, kissing a freckle on the tip of his nose. You’d never get over the sight of him. “Two…”

You didn’t know Bucky had freckles until he was in your face during a training session, the definition of up close and personal. It was right before you shared your first kiss, which was ages ago and felt like yesterday. He rolled on top of you and pinned your arms above your head, his breathing heavy and eyes stormy as you gazed up at him. Instead of trying to break free of his strong hold, you went lax underneath him and smiled.

“Are you yielding?” He asked, releasing one of your wrists when you made no attempt to move.

“Wow. You have freckles,” you exhaled, brushing his soft brown hair back that fell in his eyes. “I never noticed them before.”

It was as if Bucky removed an invisible mask and allowed you to see his true self for the first time before he pressed his lips to yours. It sparked a flame inside of you that no one could ever put out. And if being in love with him taught you anything, it was that masks hid your true selves and built walls to keep others out. You helped each other knock them down.

He was your partner in every sense of the word.

“Mmm. Tickles,” he mumbled as you kept kissing his nose, his voice throaty and low as he opened his eyes. His broad torso rolled as he arched his back and you had to suppress a shiver when he groaned. “Were you counting my freckles again?”

“You caught me,” you whispered, pecking his nose once more and not embarrassed in the slightest. “I can’t help it. You’re so pretty.”

Amusement filled his eyes as he slid a palm down your ribs to your hip. “I thought you were the pretty one in this relationship, Mrs. Barnes.”

Your cheeks warmed at the reminder that you were his wife. “We can both be pretty, Mr. Barnes,” you teased, tilting your head back so he could brush his scruff against your neck. You joked once that people called him the White Wolf because he liked to “scent” and leave his mark on you. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

“Why should I go back to sleep, hmm?” He asked, placing an open-mouthed kiss over your racing pulse. It was enough to make you whimper when you tried to find your words. “Cat got your tongue?”

“You menace,” you moaned, tugging on his hair for good measure, which only made him let out that lustful groan you loved. “Because it’s your birthday and you deserve to sleep in, old man.”

His first birthday as a married man.

“And we won't say how old I am today,” he said, his hair falling in his eyes as he pulled back and smirked. “And I was kind of hoping I'd wake up with my cock in your mouth.”

“Bucky,” you breathed out, fighting the urge to laugh at his admission as the tingle between your thighs grew. Whatever thought was in your mind went away. It didn't matter. All you could imagine were his eyes staring down at you in wonder and ecstasy as you took him in your throat. “You know what? Fine. Your wish is my command.”

You’d please him with whichever hole he wanted to use.

“But I’m awake,” he teased, chuckling when you silenced him with your lips. He didn't let you pull away, feeling as if the hut tilted on its axis as he deepened the kiss you started. It was like your first kiss all over again. The promise of something more.

A lifetime together.

“Pretend you're asleep,” you suggested when you grudgingly pulled away from his sinful lips. “But if Steve and Sam ask, we woke up to watch the sun rise.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed when you smiled, your heart rate picking up. “Don't talk about those punks when you're about to go down on me,” he half growled.

“Yes, White Wolf,” you teased. They would no doubt message him birthday wishes, along with Natasha and a few others, once they were awake. He deserved all the love today and every day.

Before you could kiss down Bucky's body, he stopped you with a gentle grip. “Wait,” he whispered, his eyes searching your face. You didn't know a gaze could be so soft until he looked upon you. This was a man who knew your hopes, dreams, fears.

And loved you all the while.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked when he reached for your left hand.

“I just love you so much, doll,” he said, running his thumb over the ring as your eyes filled with tears. You blinked them away quickly enough to catch his tender smile. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

When you got home, you’d celebrate his special day in regular fashion. You’d take him to the new science exhibit that he mentioned wanting to see. The two of you would cuddle up to watch his favorite movie after dinner with the gang. He’d eat the cake you baked just for him. And there would be a present or two for him to open before you went to bed.

But the gift he wanted most was to have a day without a reminder of the fight. Where he could breathe in the air, take in the quiet, and feel a sense of peace with the person he loved beside him. You knew the only way to give him that was to get him out of the city and back to his hut. Even if it was only for a short time.

In his sanctuary, he’d find tranquility on his special day and you’d show him how much you loved him. Memories the two of you would carry for a lifetime. Because he gave you the world by asking you to be his and you’d spend forever making him happy. Just like he deserved.

“I love you, too, Bucky Barnes,” you promised, kissing the freckle again on the tip of his nose. “Happy birthday.”

Oh, Bucky. We love him. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[act-nat-ural]

Gifts (And Feelings) Exchanged

When the Karasuno boys’ volleyball team decided to organize a Secret Santa, you were initially excited. You love the players and your fellow managers, and you were looking forward to picking something out for them. That was, until you picked Tsukishima’s name out of the hat.

You gulp and give a nervous smile before walking back and sitting down next to Yachi. She gives you a sheepish smile.

“Do you already have an idea of what you’re going to get him?” she asks.

You groan internally. “Zero clue.”

She raises her brows in surprise. “Really? I would’ve thought otherwise, considering you’ve been on the team longer than me. N-Not that I meant that in a bad way!” She starts to apologize, but you cut her off.

“It’s okay—it’s just…” You groan. “I don’t even know what he likes.” She hums thoughtfully. “Wanna see who I got?”

“You don’t have to show me—” she starts, but you hand over the slip of paper.

She lets out a quiet “Ohhh.”

“Yeah, I see the dilemma.”

You and Kei had a… certain relationship, to say the least. You provide him with minor feedback; he calls you rude names. It’s all very pleasant. The worst part of it all is, you love the banter. At first, you dreaded practice, but over time, you started looking forward to seeing his stupid, gorgeous face. You think Tadashi might be onto you, too, because last week, when he and Kei started to walk off, he turned and gave you a thumbs-up for some reason. Weird.

You sigh again and stare at Kei’s name on the paper. “What to get you?” you mutter.

Kei hated buying gifts for people. It felt much too personal—especially when it was for people he hardly knew. He could stomach buying a birthday present for his family or maybe Tadashi, but his teammates? No thanks. When he drew your name out of the cheaply made Santa hat, he frowned. He crumpled the paper and immediately walked back to sit next to Tadashi.

“Who’d you get, Tsukki?” Tadashi asked.

“That would defeat the whole purpose of the ‘secret’ in Secret Santa, Tadashi,” Kei replied snarkily.

As Tadashi starts rambling on about what he’s thinking of getting Hinata, Kei’s mind begins to drift—specifically, to his favorite manager. While he would rather die than admit it, he truly enjoyed the banter between the two of you. At first, you were a bit shy and didn’t want to talk back to him, but over time, you started giving him hell. And he loved every second of it.

“Tsukki? Are you thinking about—”

A quick smack shuts Tadashi up.

“Shush,” Kei mutters.

As the days go by, both you and Kei find yourselves with a bit of a problem. Trying to find the perfect gift for each other is harder than either of you expected, especially since you’re both determined not to go the predictable route. You’d die before giving him something as generic as a water bottle or some volleyball gear—Kei deserves something personal, even if he’d never admit to liking it.

Finally, after a lot of thought (and some input from Yachi and Tadashi), you settle on a gift: a small, framed photo of the team celebrating their last win, with Kei in the background, a hint of a smile on his face. You remember catching that rare moment and thinking how nice it would be to remind him of it. You also throw in a mini potted cactus, with a tiny note that says, “Even prickly plants can grow if you give them some light.” You can’t help but laugh at the idea, knowing he’ll probably roll his eyes at the cheesy note, but maybe… just maybe, he’ll like it.

Meanwhile, Kei is just as stuck. He considers a sarcastic, borderline rude gift but somehow can’t bring himself to go through with it. Instead, he finds himself at a music store, almost embarrassed as he searches for something you’d like. Finally, he picks out a simple pair of high-quality earbuds, with a note that says, “For when you need to block out annoying people.” He cringes at his own softness but tells himself it’s fine. It’s practical, he reasons. Nothing more.

The day of the Secret Santa gift exchange arrives, and you’re doing your best to act casual as you hand Kei his present. He takes it with an unreadable look on his face, his usual cool and indifferent expression firmly in place.

As he opens it, you see his lips twitch upward for just a second at the sight of the cactus and the note. But he quickly clears his throat, trying to play it off as uninteresting. “Very… thoughtful,” he says, not meeting your gaze. His eyes linger on the photo frame for a moment, and you’re almost sure he’s touched, even if he won’t say it.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, crossing your arms and looking away to hide your own embarrassment. “Don’t get too sentimental on me, Tsukishima.”

“Please. I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, though you both know he’s trying not to smile.

Then, it’s your turn. Kei hands you a small box, and you open it to find the earbuds. At first, you blink in surprise, then read his note and can’t help laughing. It’s such a Tsukishima thing to say, and somehow, that makes it all the more endearing.

“Thanks, Kei,” you say, softening a bit as you look up at him. “I’ll make sure to use them when you’re being especially irritating.”

He smirks. “That’s probably wise.”

There’s a beat of silence, and both of you look away, unsure of what to say next. Practice is wrapping up, and everyone else is getting ready to leave. You clear your throat and try to act nonchalant.

“So, uh… do you want to grab something to eat after this?” you ask, trying to sound as casual as possible. “I mean, since we’re… already here and all.”

Kei’s eyebrows raise, and for a split second, he looks genuinely surprised. But he quickly regains his composure, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Sure,” he says with a shrug. “I guess I could tolerate your company a little longer.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “How generous of you.”

As you both head out together, walking a little closer than usual, you feel a warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with the winter cold. You both can’t help but be happy with what your secret santa got you- somebody to be with.

note: i know it’s early november but i want it to be christmas already 😭

[reidmania]

Hiii, I’m sorry if this is super awkward, I’ve never sent a request before. (If this has been done before please ignore it). A reader who is really, really clumsy. Like walks into walls, drops everything, constantly having bruises that they dong know how they got there, and they’ve been made self conscious of being clumsy because lots of people have made fun of them? Reader falls down the stairs, or something like that, while carrying something of boyfriend!Spencer’s, maybe a gift for him or something to do with doctor who that he really likes? Like a figurine or something like that. It gets broken slightly, it can be fixed easily, but reader freaks out thinking that Spencer will be super upset and angry with them? But ofc Spencer just cares that reader is okay and not hurt?

If this is a really bad idea please ignore it, I’m not very good with ideas lol. Thanks :)

CLUTZ | spencer reid

summary; reader is shattered when they accidentally breaks the gift they got for spencer, while spencer only cares about them.

warnings; gn reader, mentions of being clumsy, crying, mentions of being insecure, mentions blood and bruises, grazes and injuries, hurt x comfort

an; you didn’t specify a gender so i just made it gender neutral i think but i saw this right before going to my birthday dinner and was ACHING to write it. this is so cute thank u so much for requesting

You think you stopped breathing.

There was a rough thumping in your chest, so you knew you were still alive — as much as you wished you weren’t in this moment — but you think you stopped breathing.

The ground held the pieces of the plastic figurine. The one you had spent waiting in line all morning for the minute Spencer said he wanted it — unfortunately he had to work so he wouldn’t be there and would likely miss out.

You wouldn’t have that when you saw how badly he wanted it.

Only in this moment you couldn’t stop thinking about how if he had been the one to get it, there wouldn’t be broken pieces of the figurine all over the floor right now.

You were making it a bigger deal in your head than what it was, it wasn’t in many pieces, the plastic head had just fallen off, but built up guilt and insecurity made its way through your veins and buried themselves right behind your eyes pushing the tears forward.

You always did this.

No matter what it was, spilling coffee on yourself, tripping up stairs or over your own feet, dropping things or walking into desks and doors. No matter what — you were constantly covered in bruises, no matter how much you tried to be careful its like your body never alined with what was in front of you.

“Baby?” You looked up from the floor where the broken figurine laid. You hadn’t realised you were in fact breathing — although it came out uneven and harsh as you struggled to calm the build of anxiety in your blood stream.

Your eyes landed on Spencer as he looked over you worryingly. Maybe you should’ve stood up from where you had tripped, landing on your knees which were now bleeding with grazes.

You had messaged Spencer to meet you outside, however you had not expected to trip over your own feet in excitement sending the figurine out of your hands and your body to the ground.

You suddenly felt the pain coursing through your legs, a small sound of pain ushered your lips as the tears lining your eyes began to cloud your vision, causing Spencer to be covered by blurry vision.

“Im sorry” You ushered out as your hands sprawled open and closed as you tried to calm yourself down but it wasn’t working. Spencer didn’t say anything for a moment as he bent down to your level, offering a hand to you.

“What happened angel?” His tone was so soft, so gentle, so sweet. The tone you couldn’t feel less deserving of. You took his hand as his other pressed gently under your other arm to help you out as his eyes scanned over your body, lips parting as his eyes settled on the blood pooling a little around the graze on your knees.

“Im so sorry — I am such an idiot! I don’t even- I was just walking, Spence Im so sorry, I know how bad you wanted this and I just completely ruined it, i ruined the entire thing and they’re all sold out I got the second last one, Im so sorry.” You rambled as hot tears fell from your eyes as you blinked, they burnt their trail down your cheeks leaving their residue aflame.

“What?” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as his eyes looked down to the floor to the figure that was in two parts. He looked back at you as his eyebrows furrow deepened. His hands gracing over your side in the gentlest touch, just allowing their comforting presence to be known. “Who cares about that— How about you come inside and I’ll clean you up yeah?” He said softly, eyes dropping back down to your knees.

“I care!! And you do!! You wanted this, Spence — And - and i wanted to do this for you. You do so much for me and I couldn’t even get you a bloody gift without completely ruining it.” You ushered out in a broken sob as your hands rose to your face to provide somewhat of a soothing sensation to your skin that felt like on the verge of ashes from the tears that grazed them — but it made no difference.

Spencer frowned as he listened to you speak, his hand paused softly on your hips before rising your face, replacing your hands with his own as he cupped your cheeks softly. “I care about you angel. I care that you are bleeding right now. I care that you are obviously in pain and you are more worried about something that we can fix” He said softly, his thumb rubbing over your cheek softly.

You didn’t say anything as you leaned into his touch instinctively. “Im sorry” You repeat gently as your hands frail by your side. The tears don’t stop but they fall more silently as they continue to fill your eyes no matter your attempt to blink them away.

He coos, “Theres nothing you have to be sorry about sweetheart. You did nothing wrong. Can we get you inside and clean you up?” He speaks so gently and softly it makes your stomach tighten and your chest clench as if someone is holding it in a death grip. — how you deserved him was beyond you.

“I always do this” You mutter, shaking your head. His hands are brushing hairs away from your face and thumbs are brushing the hot tears that fall, his hands providing a cooling sensation over the burning paths of the tears. “I suck” You laugh out, but it’s not all that funny.

He shakes his head as he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, before he leant down to pick up the figurine that landed on the floor between you and him. You watch his hands work and in moments the head is reattached, theres a little bit a scrape on the plastic of it, but nothing big.

“Easy fix honey. I love it, and don’t get me wrong I am so insanely grateful for you and that you went out of your way to get it but i’m more worried about you” He said, his hand coming to the back of your head to softly drag you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a soft hug that he knew you needed.

You bury your face in the warmth of his sweater vest, his lips kissing your hair softly repeatedly. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up.. Can you do that for me honey?” He almost whispered as his fingers smoothed out your hair gently.

You finally nodded into his chest as the tears subsided, your breathing came out shaking but less heavy and throaty than it was previously. His comfort providing you a the resemblance of a lifeline.

He thanked you softly as he took his hands in yours, leading you inside the figurine tight in his other hand as he looks over every few steps to make sure you were okay, he could see the pain evident in your face in every step you took and he wanted nothing more than to scoop you up and carry you to his desk but he knew you would just be embarrassed by the attention from other people looking, so instead his hand squeezed your hand gently.

Finally you relaxed against the wall of the elevator and Spencers hands were instantly tucked under your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. “Spence” You whisper out as your face goes red.

“It’s just my team, baby. Id rather you not in pain” He said softly as his hand pressed against the small of your back softly. You did nothing more than sigh in response as your head rested against his shoulder softly.

He was bringing you to his desk and placing you gently in his chair only moments later. He was on his knees in seconds, fingers searching through his draw for antiseptic wipes that he kept in there constantly for two reasons.

1, because the world was gross.

2, because you were always getting yourself hurt.

“Gonna sting baby” He said softly, hands working to peel over the individual wrapping. You felt the burn when the wipe hit the graze on your knee, a quiet wince left your lips as your face screwed up.

Spencer frowned as he leant up to the top of your knee over the skin he had just cleaned and pressed his lips softly against it, as his hand continued wiping over the graze gently. “I know darling, Im sorry.” He whispered quietly.

You let the feeling of his lips against your skin take over the pain. His hand scrambled softly back in his draw for bandages.

“Im sorry” You muttered again as he places the bandaids gently across the scarred skin. He looked up at you with eyes filled with nothing but admiration and love, the look making your stomach drop in a way you couldn’t explain if your life depended on it.

He tsked slightly, shaking his head as he pressed his lips gently over your knee again, “No apologies, cmon” He said softly as he used a new wipe to clean his hands before taking yours in his own. “It was an accident. You couldn’t control it and you have no reason to apologise for it, as long as you are okay, I don’t care about anything else” He spoke clearly with so much intent you felt in piece through the insecurity that build up your body.

He leant up to place a gently kiss on your lips. “Are you okay?” He asked softly, once his lips separated from yours he stood up properly, hands remaining in yours as his thumb rubbed over the soft skin on the back of your hair softly.

You wondered how he put up with it, how he put up with you — but then he would looked at you with eyes full of admiration and his hands would graze your skin so softly as if you were something so delicate. He would talk to you as if his entire world depended on protecting you, and then there was no room for insecurity or doubt in your mind when it was all too consumed with him.

“Im okay.”

[aphroditesmoon]

the look of love, the rush of blood

clarisse la rue x aphrodite's!daughter hcs

warnings: none, fluff.

---

• It wasn't exactly rare to see an Ares kid with an Aphrodite's kid getting along. Logically, it made sense that they would prefer eachother's company, with context of their parents are together.

• But what was rare, is to see Clarisse La Rue being soft with anyone at all.

• The two of you have a reserved kind of relationship. Everyone knows you two belonged with eachother, but you kept the details to yourself and almost never publicly show off your relationship.

•There are certain moments excluded of course. Many campers would say that they've seen you out with her, holding hands and all. Or during social gatherings like parties and feasts where anyone attending would find you attached to her hip at all times throughout the whole night.

• But intimacy and gentleness was often kept aside for times in private.

• While other people are gathered for dinner in big tables around eachother, youband clarisse would either use the currently empty cabin 10 to enjoy eachother’s company. It was a sight to behold, her sitting with her back to your front as you braid er hair.

• Or if you're both feeling lazy, she's laying on your lap as you tell her about your day, indulging her in the latest gossips and tales that passes through aphrodite's cabin.

• She could listen to you talk forever, and she also feels that you're the only person she could talk out of her ass to. You're always on her side no matter what, but you're also not afraid to counsel her on her actions, keeping her grounded.

• If the cabin has people over, then you'd would find solitude in between the trees, a bit further from the cabins. With a picnic mat set up, you'll enjoy the food that Clarisse have grabbed from her cabin earlier that's enough for the both of you, under the glow of the moonlight.

• Her love language is acts of service and quality time. yours is gift giving and words of affirmations.

• She has a box filled with love letters you wrote her, and also some trinkets and gifts you found that reminded you of her.

• Clarisse is the queen on remembering anniversaries.

• It's easy to think that it should be the opposite, but you're not really good with dates.

• Meanwhile with her, there's always an occasion that deserves celebrating.

• There's a monthly anniversary for when you first started dating, and then there's a yearly anniversary for that.

• There's a first kiss anniversary, first dance anniversary, first date anniversary.

• The two of you understand eachother in ways others can't.

• She's grateful for how you can understand her rage and need to impress her father and be the best at everything, and she understand the way you view your worth on what you're able to give others because of how misunderstood aphrodite and her children are with all the internalised misogyny that comes with it.

• For your birthday she got you a rose quartz necklace in the shape of a heart.

• You got her a matching golden bracelet for hers.

• After a lot of pleading, Clarisse finally agreed to teach you how to fight and the two of you spar a lot.

• Though you don't really notice that she lets you win and go easy every time.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

a small gift

tags: Stan x fem!reader x Ford, birthday, humour, fluff, just had to write this wholesome little fic for them because they deserve to be happy, singing, awkward Ford, sfw, inspired by Lana del Rey song

Stanley Pines leaned back in his old armchair, glancing at the calendar on the wall. His eyes landed on the circled date — June 15th, their birthday. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of his brother, hunched over his never-ending stack of research papers, buried in his makeshift lab. Typical Ford. Always with his nose deep in some crackpot science theory, instead of, you know, enjoying life.

"Yeah, no way I’m lettin’ him get away with that this year." Stan muttered to himself. This time, he thought, Ford’s gonna get outta his damn cave and actually have some fun for once.

Stanley strode towards the stairs, stopping at the basement door. He gave it a sharp, rhythmic knock. "Hey, Poindexter! You better not be down there doin’ more of your ‘save-the-universe’ mumbo jumbo! It’s our birthday, ya know!"

There was a brief pause before a muffled voice responded. "Yes, Stanley, I’m fully aware of the date. Just let me finish these calculations—"

"Calculations, schmalkulations! You been finishin’ calculations for forty years, Ford. Trust me, that last decimal point ain’t gonna make a difference to the end of the world or whatever. Now c’mon!" Stan rapped the door again, growing impatient. "I got somethin’ special planned for us tonight. And don’t even try pullin’ that ‘I’m busy’ crap on me this time!"

Ford’s face appeared at the door, peeking through his glasses, which were just a little too smudged from the constant tinkering. "Stanley, I’ve told you, I’m close to a major breakthrough with this—"

“Yeah, yeah, ‘major breakthrough,’ like I haven’t heard that one before." Stan cut him off, grinning as he leaned against the doorframe. "Newsflash, nerd, we ain’t gettin’ any younger, and you’ve barely stepped foot outside since you got back from that other dimension. So, guess what? I’m takin’ ya out tonight!"

Ford frowned. "Out? To where exactly?"

Stan waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, you’ll see. Let’s just say it ain’t the library."

Ford looked at his brother with disbelief. "Stanley, I have absolutely no interest in your usual haunts, whatever dive bar or—"

"Whoa, whoa, slow your roll, Stanford! It’s our birthday! You’re actin’ like I’m draggin’ ya to a strip club or somethin’." Stanley chuckled, already imagining Ford’s awkward reaction if that was the plan. He slapped a hand on Ford’s shoulder. "Nah, I’m takin’ ya to a place with some class. . . and somethin' that'll remind ya why the real world’s worth livin' in, instead of buryin’ your head in books all the time."

Ford adjusted his glasses, still hesitant. "Stanley, I really don’t think—"

“Ah, save it! It's out of the question, buddy, tonight’s gonna be a birthday to remember! Trust me." he turned, heading towards the door, already sensing his twin following behind reluctantly. "And don’t forget, you owe me for all the times I’ve bailed your six-fingered butt outta danger! So, tonight, you’re gonna relax, have a drink, and maybe even talk to someone who ain’t made of equations or alien technology."

***

Stan grinned smugly as looked at Ford’s face. Neon signs flashed ahead, but this wasn’t one of those rough, rundown places Ford hated. It was something fancier. Classier, at least by Stan’s standards. From the open door came the low hum of jazz, mixed with the clink of glasses and soft chatter.

Stan slapped Ford on the back, ushering him forward. "Don’t make that face, Ford It’s nothin’ crazy, but it’s got live music, good drinks and a whole lotta people who don’t speak in alien gibberish. It’s a start, huh?"

Ford blinked, looking genuinely surprised for once. "This. . . isn’t what I expected."

"Yeah, I bet it ain’t!" Stan chuckled. "thought I was gonna take ya to some cabaret joint, didn’t ya?"

Ford didn’t respond, but his silence said enough.

“Look, Ford, I know you’re allergic to fun, but tonight’s our night. No weird science, no alternate dimensions. Just you, me, and a stiff drink. Let’s enjoy it while we can, alright?"

Ford hesitated, looking at the customers sitting at candlelit tables with soft jazz swirling around them. He slowly nodded, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Alright, but only because you’re my brother."

Stan clapped his hands together, beaming. "That’s the spirit! Now, come on, let’s get some drinks in us. You might even get lucky and find someone who actually understands all that nerdy crap you talk about."

Ford smirked, adjusting his coat. "I highly doubt that, Stanley."

Stan winked. "Well, let’s hope so, Sixer. Let’s hope so."

Stan and Ford made their way deeper, the soft jazz filled their ears. The place was packed, but not in an overwhelming way. Couples sat at small round tables, sipping drinks, while a few loners nursed their glasses at the bar, heads swaying to the music.

Stan led Ford to an empty table in the corner, claiming it like he’d been there a hundred times before. He slid into his seat with a satisfied grunt, slapping the table lightly with the palm of his hand. "Alright, Poindexter, sit your six-fingered butt down. I’ll go grab us a couple drinks."

Ford eyed people with a mixture of curiosity and discomfort, still adjusting to the unfamiliar scene, a little anxiety crept into his head. "Stanley, I really don’t think this is—"

"Ah, none of that thinkin' stuff tonight, Ford. You’ve done enough of that for ten lifetimes." Stan got up, heading for the bar with a mischievous grin. "Just sit back and let me handle the drinks. Somethin’ a little more exciting than your usual black coffee or whatever sludge you drink."

Stanford couldn’t help but observe the people around him. They were just different. Lively. Engaged in conversation. Present. It was strange to him—an entire room full of people who weren’t obsessed with solving the mysteries of the universe. They were just living. He sighed, running a hand through his graying hair.

Stan returned a few minutes later, balancing two glasses of amber-colored liquid. He slid one across the table to Ford with a satisfied smirk. "There ya go. Whiskey. Nothin’ fancy, but it’ll do the trick."

Ford picked up the glass, inspecting it with confused face. "Stanley, you know I’m not much of a drinker—"

“Yeah, well, tonight you are." Stan raised his own glass in a toast. "To another year of not gettin’ ourselves killed, huh? And maybe to you actually takin' a break from savin’ the world for once."

Ford hesitated, then clinked his glass against Stan’s and finally smile appeared on his face. "Alright, to surviving another year."

They both took a sip, though Stanford immediately winced, the burn of the whiskey stronger than he’d expected. Stan, on the other hand, downed half of his glass in one go, letting out a contented sigh.

"Ahh, now that’s the good stuff, that's what I call life." Stan leaned back in his seat, eyeing his brother with a knowing smile. "So, how’s it feel to be out in the real world again, Poindexter? A little better than starin’ at equations all night, huh?"

Ford looked around again, enjoying the warm golden glow of the place. It was nice, he had to admit. The music, the atmosphere. . . it was different from his usual solitude. "It’s certainly a change of pace," he said, chuckling softly.

Stan smiled, shaking his head. "I swear, Ford, you could be sittin’ in a room full of clowns on fire and you’d still be playin’ it cool."

"I’ve seen stranger things, Stanley."

"Yeah, yeah, I bet you have. But look around!" Stan waved a hand at the room. "All these people? They’re just livin’ life. No wormholes, no time anomalies. Just fun, just drinks and music. And trust me, you could use a little more of that."

Ford stared into his drink, swirling the liquid around before taking another small sip. "You’re probably right," he admitted, though his tone was still a little stiff. "It’s just difficult to switch off sometimes. My work, it—"

“Your work ain’t goin’ anywhere. You’re always gonna have some world-endin’ thing to worry about. But that don’t mean you gotta shut yourself off from everything else." he leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. "I mean, you spent thirty years away from here, Ford. I’m just tryin’ to make sure you don’t spend the next 30 stuck in your own head."

Ford was quiet for a moment, listening to his brother’s words. He knew his brother was right. As much as he valued his research, his wish to understand the universe, he had to admit—there was something refreshing about being out here. With real people. But much better, with his family. With Stan.

Stanley must have noticed the gears turning in Ford's head, because he suddenly slammed on the table, breaking the silence. "Alright, enough of this sappy crap! Let’s get you another drink and maybe we’ll even see if there’s a lady in here who’s crazy enough to listen to you talk about multiverses for more than five minutes."

Ford nearly choked on his whiskey. "Stanley, I’m not here to—"

"Ah, come on! It’s your birthday too, ya know. And don’t pretend you ain’t lonely down in that lab of yours. I saw the way you looked at those nachos. Pretty sad, Poindexter. And frankly, disappointing.”

Ford thought he was imagining it. “I didn’t—“

***

Their evening was going great. Stan entertained himself by cracking jokes at the expense of the room’s more eccentric patrons, while Ford watched, occasionally interjecting with his dry wit. They argued about everything from the proper way to run a business to the existence of life on other planets.

Stan leaned back in his seat, nursing his third glass of whiskey, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. "Y’know, I gotta admit, It’s good havin’ ya back."

Ford looked at his brother and a genuine warmth was reflected on his face."It’s good to be back, Stanley."

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything because they simply didn’t have to. The jazz band played on and the low murmur of the bar filled the silence between them.

Then, just as the moment threatened to get too sentimental, Stan ruined it in classic Stan style.

"Now, let’s see if we can’t find you a nice gal who can keep up with all that crazy stuff in your head."

Ford groaned, rubbing his temple. "Stanley. . .”

Just as Stan was about to say something to embarrass Ford once more, the lights in the room dimmed slightly, drawing everyone’s attention toward the small stage at the center of the club. A soft spotlight illuminated the area, casting a golden glow over a lone figure standing in front of a vintage microphone. There you were,breathtaking, wrapped in a dark red dress that shimmered in the light like velvet. The fabric hugged your form perfectly, falling to the floor in gentle waves that wrapped around your legs. A high slit revealed a teasing glimpse of your leg as you stood with one hand resting lightly on the microphone stand.

The dress was luxurious, dark crimson in color, like wine aged in the shade. It clung to you in all the right ways, that made you look like something out of a classic movie, a femme fatale come to life. There was something called old-Hollywood glamour about you.

You scanned the audience, searching for faces in the dimly lit room, but two figures near the front caught your attention. Mysterious twins, two men, were both staring straight at you. Their eyes widened, and in unison, as if connected by the same thought, they spoke under their breath.

“Wow.”

But Stan continued. "Well, I’ll be damned. Now that’s somethin’ you don’t see every day."

Your lips curved into a small smile as you began to sing, letting your voice fill the room and as you sang, their attention never wavered.

"I've seen the world, done it all, had my cake now,

Diamonds, brilliant, and Bel Air now,”

Stan couldn’t stop admiring, resting his arms on the table, his grin spreading wider with every passing second. “Well, look at this. Ain’t she somethin’,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. He tipped his head slightly in your direction, his eyes trailing the line of your dress. “Charming girl, isn't she, Ford?”

Stanford sat frozen, his eyes never leaving you, completely entranced by the way you moved, by your voice, dress, face, by everything. He swallowed hard, shifting awkwardly in his seat, his mind racing but his body still, as if locked in place.

“You hearin’ that, Ford?" Stan nudged his brother without taking his eyes off you. "That voice. Like honey, huh? Bet she’s got every poor guy in here wrapped around her finger."

Ford finally said something. “She’s. . . remarkable.” he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

Stan, of course, couldn’t let it go. “Remarkable?” he gave a short laugh. “C’mon, Poindexter. Don’t be shy. You can’t tell me you’re not feelin' that.”

You let the lyrics spill from your lips, your voice rising with the music. “Hot summer nights, mid-July, When you and I were forever wild,”

As you sang, your gaze drifted back to them, and you caught Ford, he stared at you dumbfounded, biting his lip. God, he was flushed, was it really that stuffy here? His fingers tapped lightly on the table. He was hooked and he didn’t even realize how obvious it was.

Stan, on the other hand, couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “Just look at that,” he said, shaking his head in admiration. “This girl’s got it, yeah? Ain’t often you see a performer like that. It’s the whole package - looks, voice, everything.”

But Ford’s compliments weren’t loud, weren’t teased out like Stan’s, but they were there, written all over his red face. The way his brow furrowed slightly, the way his lips parted just a bit when you hit a particularly emotional note, it was clear that he was just as captivated, if not more so, than Stan.

"I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will, Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?" as you hit that line, your gaze settled squarely on them, locking eyes with both brothers, one after the other.

“Now that’s a question, huh?” Stan said with a smirk, leaning closer to Ford. “You think she’s askin' us that? 'cause, uh, if so, I ain’t complainin'.”

Ford’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes fixed on you. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t.

You moved into the next verse.

"I've seen the world, lit it up as my stage now, Channeling angels in the new age now,” you didn't just perform, you lived every note, every lyric.

“Look at ya, Poindexter. You're sittin' there like a deer in headlights. Ain't you ever seen a girl before?" he chuckled under his breath, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Hell, you’ve seen aliens, damn demonic triangle! this should be easy for you.”

Ford tried to hide it, to look anywhere but at you, but useless, his gaze kept drifting back. He was still speechless, lost in your performance.

Then came the line that took both twins' breath away.

“Dear Lord, when I get to Heaven Please let me bring my man,”

Here, the crowd melted away. It's just you, the music and these two mysterious men. Your voice softened, and you sang with all your heart, with all your soul and love. You looked directly at them, first at Stan, whose grin widened even more, then at Ford, whose breath caught in his throat. You held both their gazes and you smiled at them. It was playful, teasing, what made both brothers mutter another “wow” at same time.

Stan almost spilled whiskey on himself.  “Well, darlin’, I sure as hell hope they’re lettin’ me in, ‘cause if you’re up there, I’m signin’ up early.”

But Ford still couldn’t find his voice. He tried, opened his mouth, closed it again, then opened it again. You had him completely disarmed, and he didn’t know how to handle it. As you continued to sing, you knew their attention locked on you. Stan’s gaze was open, unashamed, drinking you in with every word, while Ford’s was more cautious, but no less intense. They were both falling and you could see it plain as day.

Ford glanced at Stan, then back at you, clearly wrestling with himself. He finally managed to speak, but his voice sounded shaky. “She. . . she has a beautiful voice.”

“A voice? Told ya, she got the whole damn package, Ford! Look at her!”

You smiled, even if you didn't hear what they were talking about as the song drew to a close. You hit the final note, letting it linger in the air, and when the applause came, it felt like a distant sound compared to the connection you’d felt with them, both of them.

The stage lights dimmed as you walked off, your dress sweeping behind you like a crimson river. The applause rang out across the room and you slipped behind the curtain, disappearing from view. Back at the table, Stan and Ford sat frozen, their eyes still locked on the now-empty stage.

Stan was the first to speak, his usual swagger returning full force. “Well, that was somethin’. Hell, she practically dedicated that song to me.” he smirked, tapping his fingers on the table in satisfaction. “She’s got good taste, I’ll give her that.”

Ford shot him a side glance, his expression annoyed a bit. “Stanley, she doesn’t even know you,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Calm down.”

“You jealous? ‘cause I’m pretty sure she was lookin' right at me when she sang that whole ‘Dear Lord’ line.”

Ford stiffened. “I’m not,” he replied quickly. “I’m just pointing out the facts.”

“Sure, sure. No need to get worked up, Ford.” Stan laughed, watching his brother’s obvious discomfort. “Looks like she’s got both of us good, huh? don’t you worry, Poindexter, I’ll let you have a shot. Maybe.”

Ford muttered something under his breath, avoiding Stan’s teasing gaze. He couldn’t shake the image of you, standing there in that dress, your charming voice echoing in his mind. It was magnetic. He wasn’t one to get distracted by things like this, but something about you had hit him hard. Harder than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

Stan, meanwhile, was already planning his next move. He stood up, all cocky swagger again. “Alright, Ford, let’s go. We’re meetin' her.”

Ford blinked in shock. “Wait— what?”

“You heard me!” Stan’s grin was all confidence. “we’re gonna find her dressing room. Gotta congratulate the girl on a performance like that, right? Besides,” he added with a wink, “she might want a closer look at the Stanley Pines himself.”

Ford shook his head, already regretting this, but deep down, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to see you again. “This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Nah. It’s genius.” Stan patted Ford on the back as they made their way toward the backstage area. “C’mon, Ford, live a little. Believe me, she’ll be all over us. And hey, if you get nervous, just let ol’ Stan handle it. I’m great with the ladies, y’know.”

Ford sighed, not bothering to respond. His heart was already racing in his chest, his mind replaying the song over and over.

And then they reached the dressing room.

Stan took a deep breath. “Alright, here we go. Follow my lead.”

He knocked on the door and then there was a moment of silence before it slowly creaked open. You stood in the doorway, your stage dress still clinging to your figure.

For a second, neither of them said anything. Stanley suddenly found himself at a loss for words, his usual cocky grin faltering. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mind scrambled for something to say, but all he could think about was how stunning you looked up close.

Ford, standing behind him, wasn’t much better too. His eyes met yours, which took his breath away. Every thought he had prepared vanished the moment he saw you again. Oh god.

You looked at them a bit confused, but tried to hide it with curious smile. “Can I help you?”

Stan blinked, finally snapping out of it. “Uh— yeah, we— uh, just wanted to say,“ he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “That was, umm, one hell of a performance!”

Ford nodded. “Yes, it was really beautiful.”

Stan gave him a quick glance, then forced a grin, trying to recover his usual confidence. “Yeah, what he said. You were amazin’. Best thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

Ford shot him a glare, but said nothing, still too flustered to form a coherent sentence.

You raised an eyebrow, amused by their obvious struggle to compose themselves. “Thank you,” you said softly, stepping aside to let them in. “I didn’t expect to have such enthusiastic admirers.”

Stan’s grin returned, a little more confident this time. “Well, y’know, when a girl sings like that, it’s hard not to be impressed.” he winked, but it was so obvious he wasn’t as sure of himself as usual.

The room felt smaller now, air not enough, the three of you standing in this intimate space and this damn silence isn’t making it any better. Stan shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling strangely out of place for the first time in decades. Hell, they were both pushing sixty, damn sixty, and yet, standing here in front of you, they felt like awkward teenagers all over again.

Stan glanced at Ford, mentally asking for support, but his twin looked equally as lost.

For all the things they had seen and done over the years, monsters, mysteries, the paranormal, nothing had prepared them for you.

Surprisingly, Ford spoke up. “What we meant to say is—” he paused, realizing he was rambling, and cleared his throat again. “It’s rare to find someone with such talent. And, um, charisma.”

Stan nodded. “Ya know, we’re not exactly the youngest guys in the room, but damn, if you didn’t make us feel like a couple of teenagers again.” he chuckled awkwardly. “Never thought I’d be this tongue-tied at my age, y’know?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at their awkward flirts, it was clear they were both trying hard to impress you, even if they were struggling to find the right words. “You guys really don’t have to flatter me like that,” you said, feeling your cheeks turning a little bit red. “but I appreciate it.”

Stan looked at his brother and then at you. “See? Even Poindexter here’s smitten,” he teased. Ford flushed, shooting his brother a glare, but didn’t protest. If he was being honest, he couldn’t deny it. Being around you, he felt awkward and unsure.

You took a step closer, smiling gently as you regarded them both. “You two are adorable, you know that?”

After that, the room felt lighter now, like the tension had eased into something more comfortable. Stan and Ford, for all their differences, were in this moment, together, both stunned by you, equally out of their element, but somehow, that was okay. You had them both wrapped around your finger without even trying.

Then Stan leaned closer to you, whispering. “If anything, choose me, not this weirdo, he has a fetish for triangles.”

[witchywithwhiskey]

a gift for the bar owner

pairings: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader, soft!dark bar owner!curtis everett x female reader

summary: for curtis's birthday, ari gives you to him for the night.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, drunk sex, intoxication, rough sex, oral object insertion (f receiving), masturbation (m), cumshot, exhibitionism, sadism/masochism, painplay, rough body play, biting, free use, heavy objectification, heavy degradation, humiliation kink, salirophilia (kink for ruining someone's appearance/dirtying them up), somnophilia, cock warming, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink (only with ari), pet names (bambi, baby, kiddo), possessive behavior, aftercare, a couple mean hot men—let me know if i missed anything!!!

word count: 7.9k

a/n: ok so i have no excuse for this except i saw a gif of a girl getting wine poured over her face/chest and i wondered who of my characters would do that. and apparently the answer is dive bar owner curtis. so here we are. also please note that this little fic takes place after the chapter of trucker king where curtis and lloyd will be properly introduced so no, you're not supposed to know what exactly reader's tattoo is and yes, i will be revealing that in due time.

trucker king masterlist ● trucker au masterlist

Since Curtis Everett was one of Ari Levinson’s oldest friends—and one of the few people he trusted—your trucker decided that the perfect gift to give his friend for his birthday was you. A whole night where you were nothing more than Curtis’s free use fuck toy. 

The only condition was that Curtis had to follow the same rules Ari had set the last time he’d let his friend use you—no kissing, no permanent marks, and no coming inside you. Curtis had quickly agreed, and the plans were set.

Ari hadn’t asked you whether you wanted to be gifted to Curtis for his birthday, but you still thought it was a great idea. 

After all, Curtis worked so hard running Everett’s Roadhouse, the dive bar just off the highway that was frequented by Ari and plenty of other truckers, and he deserved a night of having his own personal fuck toy to use however he wanted. It was his birthday, and he didn’t have a girl of his own, so you didn’t mind stepping in for the night.

In fact, after the evening you’d spent with Curtis and Ari’s other oldest friend, Lloyd Hansen—when your trucker had given them permission to use you however they wanted in exchange for some favors—you were excited to be Curtis’s birthday gift. You’d liked the big, grumbling bar owner, and you wanted to make his birthday special. 

As part of his gift, Ari had let Curtis pick out what you’d wear. So you strolled into Everett’s Roadhouse on the night of Curtis’s birthday wearing the sweetest little sundress you owned—and nothing else besides the shoes on your feet. 

The dress was a bright white cotton with little flowers dotted all over it, and short enough to swirl around your upper thighs. The sweet little garment was at odds with your surroundings in the dive bar, which were grimy and dirty, lit by dim lightbulbs and flickering neon beer signs. It made you stand out immediately.

As soon as you entered the bar, every man in the establishment turned to look at you, their gazes ranging from drunken interest to greedy hunger. Even with Ari at your side, his posessive hand on your lower back, they couldn’t seem to drag their covetous eyes away from you, like you were an oasis in the desert.  

It took you a moment to understand the attention, but when you did, a delicious tremor of excitement raced down your spine—you were the only woman in the whole building. The bar was closed for Curtis’s private party, and the only people in attendance were his friends, who were all rough-looking men that you presumed were mostly truckers or old friends like Ari. 

You wondered, not for the first time since Ari had told you his plans for his friend’s birthday, what exactly Curtis would do with you. You knew Ari’s rules would save you from anything too unpleasant, but there was so much they didn’t cover. The possibilities of how Curtis might use you made your pussy tingle with anticipation.

Ari’s hand was firm on your lower back as he guided you further into the bar, your wedge sandals sticking slightly to the filthy wooden floors of the roadhouse. The gazes of all the men you walked past slid over your bare skin like oil, the sensation settling heavily between your thighs, where a sensual warmth bloomed. 

That warmth only grew the closer you got to Curtis, who stood half a head taller than any man in the bar. The imposing bear of a man was leaning against the bartop, talking with someone about something, his broad shoulders and thick biceps stretching the limits of his black t-shirt. Curtis’s blue eyes were bright in the dingy lights of the bar, contrasting against his pale skin, dark beard and shorn hair. 

When you finally arrived at the circle of men gathered around Curtis, Ari gave you a shove through the crowd and you stumbled toward the bar owner. It was only when Curtis fumbled to catch you in his arms—the stench of beer thick on his breath—that you realized he was already so drunk, he could barely stand, and that was why he’d been leaning against the bar. 

“Hey there, bambi,” he slurred, his arms loosely circling your waist. His hands slid down to grope your ass, but Curtis must’ve forgotten he was still holding a beer, because you felt it tip. A second later, cold liquid spilled over the plush curves of your ass.

Instinctively, you squealed his name, “Curtis!” The cold beer was running down the valley between your cheeks, making you squirm in his arms. You tried to get away from the spilling liquid, but you ended up pressing closer to Curtis’s massive, burly chest, practically climbing the tall man with your fingers fisting in his t-shirt and your body plastering to his.

Thankfully, Curtis didn’t mind in the least. He managed to right his beer and chuckled, looking down at you fondly, his mouth curled in a devastating smirk even as his eyes were hazy with drink. The alcohol seemed to have softened Curtis’s rough edges, and he appeared almost warm—nothing like the grumbling man you’d met previously.

“Damn, bambi, ya just got here,” he said, loud enough for the men closest to him to hear. “And yer already trying to jump on my dick like some kind of slut, huh?” He chuckled darkly and his friends joined in, making heat creep up your neck and fill your cheeks. 

But you didn’t deny it.

Instead, you recovered yourself quickly, forgetting the beer still plastering your dress to your ass and pressed closer to Curtis. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your tits against his broad chest, you enjoyed the way his eyes dipped lazily down to your low-cut neckline. 

“I’m yours for the night, big man,” you purred, your body warming and responding to being pressed so tight against Curtis’s muscled chest. It wasn’t difficult to let a seductive smile curl your lips. “You can do anything you want with me.” 

A grin spread slowly across Curtis’s face, the expression lecherous on his handsome features as he leered down at you. 

Before he responded, though, his gaze shifted over your shoulder, and he gave a quick nod. You knew without looking the gesture was meant for Ari—an acknowledgement that Curtis remembered your trucker’s rules and understood he couldn’t do anything. But close enough. 

Curtis’s free hand groped your ass hard as he turned to the crowd, taking a swig of his beer before calling out to his friends.

“Didja hear that fellas?” he crowed, his excited energy riling up the throng of men, all of whom seemed to be as drunk or drunker than Curtis. “Ari’s little cock slut said I get to do anything I want with her tonight!” 

A cheer rose up from the crowd, men all around you raising their glasses in the air while they yelled so loud it felt like a physical cloud of excitement. The energy was infectious, an eager grin curving your lips as you looked around at all the truckers and degenerates who were celebrating your objectification as a free use fuck toy.

Out of curiosity, you turned to look for Ari among them. You found your trucker standing still and quiet, watching you, a glass of amber liquid in one hand. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and he wore a devious little smirk on his face that had your body warming with arousal. Even though he wasn’t joining in on the deafening cheer, you knew he was just as excited by the prospect of seeing you used by Curtis as everyone else.

Before Ari could direct you to look back at Curtis, the big man you were plastered against got your attention with his next words, shouted to the crowd.

Curtis had waited until the cheering died down a little to ask, “So what should I do with her first?”  

Obscene suggestions were hurled at you and Curtis, men’s voices blending into a cacophony of depravity. The things the crowd wanted Curtis to do to you ranged so wildly from nearly tame to absolutely vile that it made your head spin. Ari’s rules would prevent the worst of the suggestions, but not everything that Curtis’s friends were calling out, and you wondered with a twisted shiver of excitement what your trucker’s friend would pick to do to you.

“POUR YOUR BEER ON HER!”

Curtis’s whole body turned to the voice that had called out that last suggestion, dragging you along with him since your arms were still looped around his neck, his hand still holding your ass. Curtis pointed at his friend with his beer, some of it sloshing onto the floor with the fervor of the gesture.

“Now that’s an idea,” he shouted to the man in the crowd you couldn’t see. Curtis tipped his beer in his friend’s direction then took a swig. He looked down at where you were still pressed against his chest, your body hanging from where your arms were holding onto him. “Get on your knees, bambi.” His voice was rolling thunder, so deep and dark, it sent tiny, pleasurable zaps of lightning through your nervous system. 

The speed with which you detached yourself from Curtis and dropped to your knees had the men all around you whistling in appreciation. You heard more than a few of them mutter things like, “What a good, well-trained slut,” and “Gotta get me a girl like that.”

You preened and beamed with pride at the praise, finding Ari in the crowd again and hoping your behavior reflected well on him. He’d been the one to train you to follow orders so well, after all.

Your trucker gave you a small nod of recognition that made happiness burst in your chest, and you turned back to Curtis with a happy bounce of your hips. You couldn’t help but notice the low groans that came as a result of the little movement and you smiled wider.

The wooden floor was sticky beneath your bare knees, but you paid it no mind. You suspected—and you’d turn out to be right—that you’d be dirtier and filthier than even the floor of Everett’s Roadhouse before the night was through. The excitement you felt made you bounce again, making your sweet little sundress flutter around your thighs.

Curtis’s eyes watched the hem of your dress hungrily, seemingly distracted by the movement until he shook himself and remembered what he was doing. Raising his beer, Curtis let the crowd cheer for a moment while you waited with anticipation. From your spot on the floor, Curtis looked even bigger and more intimidating, which made something low in your belly quiver with excitement, heat gathering between your thighs as your thoughts skated away.

A growled question from your trucker’s friend brought you back to the moment.

“Ya ready, bambi?” 

Your hands were laying lightly on your thighs, your knees spread on the floor. You were more than ready, and at Curtis’s question, you tossed your head back and pushed your tits out, giving him a challenging smirk as you purred, “Gimme what ya got, big man.”

A half feral grin spread across Curtis’s face, and then he was tipping his bottle toward you, cold beer splashing over your face mere seconds after you shut your eyes. The pungent liquid rolled down your cheeks and slid down your neck, soaking the front of your white dress. 

You could feel the fabric clinging to your skin, the white cotton no doubt becoming see-through as it was soaked in beer. Your nipples puckered and hardened against the flimsy material, putting on a show for Curtis and the crowd of men around you.

The bar owner emptied the bottle over your face and the front of your body, the beer getting in your mouth and nose, rivulets streaming down over your tits and between your spread thighs. It dripped to the floor beneath you, creating a small puddle on the sticky wooden boards. 

All around you, men cheered loudly and lewdly, urging Curtis to degrade you as the filthy slut you were. You grinned at the attention, loving every second of it and knowing that the men were only allowed to witness what Curtis was doing because Ari allowed it. Because Ari had given you to his friend for his birthday, and this was what Curtis had decided to do with you.

When the beer stopped flowing, you fluttered your eyes open, blinking the alcohol from your vision as you stared up into Curtis’s darkened blue eyes. You knew you must look a mess. You’d worn makeup that wouldn’t hold up to such an onslaught, and you had no doubt that your black mascara was streaming down your cheeks and adding to the wreckage of your face. But the way Curtis looked at you made you think he liked it—a lot.

“Edgar, gimme another beer!” Curtis called, keeping his gaze locked on you, his blue eyes dipping down to take in the sight of your beer-stained dress. 

The slip of fabric was sticking to your skin and it had become see-through where it had gotten wet. But it wasn’t drenched yet, and you could tell from the glint in Curtis’s eye that he wouldn’t stop until it bared you entirely. Excitement fizzed through you, and you bounced your hips while you waited impatiently for Curtis’s command to be met.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the bartenders open a new bottle of beer and pass it into Curtis’s big, waiting hand. Neither you nor the bar owner took your eyes off each other, and it made the moment all the more intense. For all that you had an audience to your degradation, in that moment, you were there for Curtis, and only Curtis. You were his, if only temporarily, and he seemed to relish that knowledge just as much as you did.

“Ya thirsty, bambi?” he asked, some of the drunken slurring leeching out of his tone as he grinned lecherously down at you. His gaze broke away from you and he looked around at the men gathered close but not touching you, his eyes sparkling with depravity when he met yours again. “Ya want some more?’

Your heart was racing with excitement, the awareness of having so many men watching you thrumming deliciously beneath your skin; you couldn’t help the way your hips bounced with eagerness as you nodded quickly. “Yes, please,” you said sweetly, biting your lip to stop from grinning too wide up at your trucker’s friend.

Curtis’s eyes darkened with sinful intent and you felt yourself growing wet. But the dampness between your thighs had nothing to do with the beer Curtis had poured on you, and everything to do with the fact that you were so turned on by the way he was treating you. And all the while, you could feel your trucker’s eyes on you, a reminder that you were Ari’s and he’d given you to Curtis as a gift. 

“Stick your tongue out,” Curtis rumbled, a thread of steel in his voice that made you shiver. In that moment, he reminded you of the grumbling man you’d met when Ari first introduced you to his friends, and you realized you’d missed that side of him. “Show all my friends what a good little slut you are.”

If you could’ve followed the order and smiled at the same time, you would’ve. Instead, you had to settle for submitting to Curtis’s command, sticking your tongue out as far as possible and tipping your head back, letting him see down your throat.

It was an invitation for him to give you more, to give you all he had, and the entire bar knew it. The men surrounding you roared their approval while Curtis offered you a pleased little smirk. It was the nicest he’d ever looked and it nearly made you smile, but you held your position.

“That’s it, open wide, slut,” Curtis encouraged in a low, roughened voice, depraved delight sparking in his blue gaze as he degraded you on the floor of his bar.

The look in his eye and the tenor of his tone made you quiver. Your pussy throbbed more insistently with need the longer you stayed on your knees and submitted to the degradation the bar owner offered. But you channeled that desire into opening your mouth wider, sticking your tongue out a little bit further, catching the approving smirk that flickered at the corners of Curtis’s mouth.

The bar owner nodded at you, took a sip of his new beer, and then, with no other preamble, he tipped the brown bottle over your face, showering you in the bitter liquid. 

With your lips open and tongue out, plenty of the beer splashed into your mouth and you swallowed it down as best you could. Despite your best efforts, you choked and gagged a little, tears slipping from your eyes to join the rest of the mess on your face as you endured Curtis’s treatment.

The men in the crowd jeered as you struggled beneath the degrading pour of Curtis’s beer, but he shifted his hand, the cold liquid moving to pour down the front of your body. The stream seemed endless and you could feel the beer soaking into your dress until the entire front of the garment was drenched.

By the time the bottle was empty, you felt half drowned, gulping down air as the beer you’d swallowed sloshed around in your belly. Your head was a little dizzy, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the lack of air, but you swayed a little on your knees, glancing down to find that the entire front of your dress was see-through, your tits and puckered nipples on full display for everyone to see.

At the sight of yourself, your pussy throbbed, your inner walls clenching pathetically around nothing as desire blazed through your body. When you looked up at Curtis, you were certain he could see your arousal in every line of your expression, and he smirked, the expression sharp on his handsome face.

“Y’know, bambi, your dress is a little dirty,” Curtis rumbled, as if he hadn’t been the one to sully it in the first place. But you didn’t care about that, you only cared about the anticipation building in your body. You knew Curtis was leading somewhere and you couldn’t wait for him to get there. “I can’t let you walk around my bar like that, dripping beer everywhere.” 

It escaped no one that Curtis’s dive bar was plenty dirty already and a few drops of beer wouldn’t make it much worse, but a cheer rose from the crowd as they caught on to the fact that Curtis was planning something. You bounced slightly on your knees, pouting up at the bar owner and trying to look abashed, biting your lip against a grin. 

“What’re you gonna do about it, big man?” you asked sweetly. 

Curtis gave you a half-feral grin, the expression more snarl than anything else, and it was your only warning. 

Faster than you would’ve thought possible for the big, drunk man, Curtis stooped down and slipped his hands into the neck of your dress, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. You let out a quiet little moan that you were certain only Curtis could hear, making him pause for a brief second, his eyes fluttering closed. But then his hands were moving again, yanking on your dress.

In a split second, Curtis ripped your dress right down the center. You gasped loudly as your tits were bared to the crowd of men in the bar, the sound loud in the moment of stunned silence. Your breasts bounced free of their confines, your nipples hardening and revealing to the whole room how much you were enjoying Curtis’s rough treatment.

The cheer that broke out at your nakedness was so loud, it made your ears ring. It also drowned out the sound of rending fabric as Curtis tore the shredded garment from your body, flinging it into the crowd. His eyes were heavy as they trailed down your body, your skin prickling everywhere he looked—your nipples tightening into desperate peaks and your pussy weeping from where it was nestled between your parted thighs.

Curtis’s eyes flared at the sight of the tattoo just above your slit, a reminder of who you belonged to. But you hoped it also reminded Curtis of the first night you’d met him—the night Ari had given you to both Curtis and Lloyd to use how they wanted. Your pussy dripped at the memory, and it seemed Curtis was just as affected, the big man pausing for a moment before he shook himself. 

“That’s better,” Curtis muttered, his gaze lingering on your weeping pussy like he wanted to bury his bearded face against your soft cunt. Instead, he dragged his eyes back up your body, the blue of his irises darkened to the color of the midnight sky as he murmured for your ears only, “Look so fucking pretty, bambi.”

You smiled and ducked your head at the compliment, which meant more to you than the obscene catcalls and lewd cries from the crowd around you. It was a reminder of the friendship that you and Curtis shared. You may have met because he was one of your trucker’s oldest friends, but you hoped Curtis knew you thought of him as your friend too.

“Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at the bar owner from under your lashes. “Are you enjoying your birthday?”

Something resembling a grin curved the edges of Curtis’s mouth, the expression nearly hidden in his beard. His eyes slid away and looked up, and you knew without having to check that he was looking at Ari again. Before you could discern what the glance meant, though, Curtis was chucking you under the chin and saying, “I am, thanks to you, bambi.” 

Your heart gave a happy little flutter, but before you could respond, Curtis was standing up and waving his arms to get the crowd to quiet down. “What d’ya think fellas, is Ari’s little cock slut dirty enough yet?” 

The beer that had already been poured on you was starting to dry into a sticky, tacky layer on your skin, but your pussy dripped at the thought of Curtis wanting to make you even filthier. And it seemed his friends liked the idea as well, because they cheered so loud, it felt like the floor was shaking beneath your knees. 

Edgar the bartender already had a beer open and waiting for Curtis when the big man turned to grab one. That time, the bar owner didn’t even need to command you to open your mouth and stick out your tongue—you did that all on your own. Curtis’s smirk was pleased and his blue eyes glimmered with fondness as he tipped the beer over your face, pouring the liquid down your throat and over your body to the cheers of all his friends.

For the better part of the next hour, Curtis took his time defiling you while you sat, naked and on your knees, in the center of his bar, enduring it willingly as the free use toy he’d been given for his birthday. A good amount of the alcohol that didn’t run down over your tits and splash over your pussy went down your throat, and it wasn’t long before your head began to swim. 

Still, your body felt heavy with desire, your nipples tight and desperate to be played with, your cunt pulsing and aching to be filled. It was only because Curtis seemed to be having so much fun, his friends urging him on to make you dirtier and filthier, that you didn’t break down and beg him to fuck you. 

But you couldn’t help the way your body was responding, your mouth falling slack at the teasing slide of liquid over your puckered nipples. If you arched your body just right, and spread your thighs wide enough, you could feel the trickle of beer over you clit, and it made a low moan slip from your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

Curtis’s dark chuckle from above was your only warning. At that moment, he shoved the neck of his beer bottle into your mouth, pushing your lips wide and making you gag as your eyes flew open in surprise. 

“That needy little mouth is begging to be fucked, bambi,” the bar owner growled, quickly unzipping his fly and wedging the bottom of the beer between the zipper’s teeth so he could hold your head in both hands and fuck you with the glass bottle. “Take it, cock slut, fucking take it,” he grunted obscenely. 

All you could do was choke and struggle, the remainder of the beer sloshing down your throat and joining the rest in your belly. Your fingers fisted in the denim jeans encasing Curtis’s thick thighs, but you didn’t push him away. It felt good to finally have one of your holes used, even if you were being fucked by Curtis’s beer bottle instead of his cock like you’d wanted. 

Your jaw hurt by the time he pulled away, your lips swollen from being wrapped around the wide glass. Your body swayed unsteadily on your knees, arousal dripping down between your thighs and joining the mess of beer on the floor. The cheers of the crowd had faded into a constant rumble, and you smile dazedly when they urged Curtis on. 

Suddenly, a big bear paw of a hand was wrapping around your upper arm and you were being hauled to your feet. Blood rushed to your legs, your head swimming and lolling to the side as you tried to find your footing. But standing seemed impossible—and unimportant as arousal burned through you, making you whimper and whine desperately. You hoped someone would fuck you soon.

Curtis chuckled at your pathetic noises, the husky sound sending shivers down your spine as his lips grazed your ear. “You’re not too drunk to fuck, are ya, bambi?” he asked in a low, growly voice as he pressed his hips against you, his hard bulge digging into your belly. 

When you’d first walked into Everett’s Roadhouse that night and saw the state of the bar owner, you’d thought there was no way he’d be able to fuck you with how drunk he was. But the hour spent pouring so many bottles of beer over your body instead of drinking them had sobered Curtis up enough to get hard. He was stiff and twitching and pressing into you through his jeans and you wanted him to bury his cock in you.

Your dazed smile widened into a giddy grin and you tipped your head back, blinking your eyes a few times to get your vision to focus enough to see Curtis’s face. “It’s your birfday, big man,” you said, your voice more slurring than sultry, a hiccup interrupting you and making you pause. “I’m use to yours.” Your expression scrunched into a confused pout, knowing your words weren’t right, and tried again. “I’m yours to fuck.”

Curtis was laughing as he hauled you over to one of the pool tables off to the side of the bar, and tossed you down on the green felt. You lay limply on your back, staring up at your trucker’s tall friend while he glared at the guys who’d been playing a game on the table. Their grumbling quickly cut off and Curtis returned his attention to you. 

The crowd shifted to gather around the pool table while Curtis pulled out his cock, which was just as massive as the rest of him. The thick length lay against your mound, the girth covering much of the tattoo there, the tip nearly reaching your belly button. Your inner walls clenched in anticipation of taking Curtis inside you—you couldn’t wait.

“Gimme, gimme,” you mumbled, spreading your thighs wide and pushing your pussy up against the stiff, velvet-wrapped steel of Curtis’s cock. It twitched against your mound, precum dripping onto your belly and joining the mess on your skin. 

Curtis chuckled at your antics, rumbling, “Alright, bambi.” The bar owner grabbed your thighs, pushing you wide as he pulled his hips back, lining up the tip of his big cock with your entrance. Without any warning or preparation, Curtis barreled into your cunt, burying his big cock to the hilt with one thrust. 

Instantly, stinging pain and scorching pleasure cut white-hot through the core of you, overwhelming your mind and leaving your body to react however it wanted. Your head was thrown back, and your lips parted to let out a piercing scream that shattered through the noise of the dive bar.

“Fuck yeah, bambi, scream for me,” Curtis groaned, his big hands kneading your thighs, fingers digging into your plush softness hard enough to hurt. He pulled your body into his, managing to grind his cock even deeper into your pussy, wrenching another, surprised shriek from your lips.

You felt like you were being split in half, pain and pleasure ricocheting through your body fast enough to make you dizzy, your drunken mind unable to tell the difference between the two. All you knew was that it was so much, so overwhelming, and your hands reached out above your head, searching for something to cling to as your mind splintered and your body trembled from the sensation of being split open on Curtis’s cock.

Two warm hands wrapped firmly around your wrists, pinning them to the rough felt of the pool table, leaving you powerless to Curtis’s massive cock. He was rocking his hips in tiny little thrusts, the tip of his length battering against your cervix and wringing helpless little whimpers from your lips as your hazy eyes searched above you for the man pinning you down—somehow knowing before your gaze collided with the familiar blue of your trucker’s eyes that it was Ari.

His face was hovering above you, upside down as he leaned over the table to catch your gaze. The edges of Ari’s features were blurred, but you would’ve recognized your trucker even if you were blackout drunk—even if you were so intoxicated you were more unconscious than not. 

Ari’s face was like a star, familiar and steady, and you smiled happily up at him, your heart warming when you noticed the pride in his gaze. 

“You’re doing well, baby,” Ari rumbled, his features sharp and his expression hard. But deep in the blue depths of his eyes, you could see the affection you knew he felt for you. “You’re being such a good fuck toy for daddy’s friend on his birthday.”

You giggled, squirming happily on the pool table, your face upturned to your trucker, your attention completely diverted from Curtis and his cock, even as he still fucked you. You were having fun with the bar owner, but nothing and no one would ever be able to come between you and Ari. You were his, always, and he knew it.

Ari leaned down, and you thought for a moment he was going to kiss you, but you should’ve known better. Ari’s teeth nipped the soft lobe of your ear, making you moan, before he spoke words meant only for you.

“When Curtis is done, I’m gonna fuck your filthy little cunt, kiddo, so don’t pass out,” he rumbled, the twisted promise making your cunt clench around his friend’s cock. “Or do, it doesn’t matter to me.” Ari sank his teeth into the bone at the corner of your jaw, biting you hard enough to make you cry out. “I’m gonna use your holes whether you’re awake or not.”

A helpless moan slipped from your lips, your legs spreading wider instinctively at the thought of your trucker using your cunt to get off while you lay unconscious in his bed. You smiled adoringly up at Ari, blinking your eyes slowly. It took you a moment before your swimming vision could focus on Ari’s face, and when he saw he had your attention, he jerked his chin sharply at his friend, commanding you wordlessly to look back at Curtis.

You did, following your trucker’s order immediately, finding the massive bar owner watching you and Ari with a look on his face you couldn’t quite identify. The only way you could describe it was…openly gluttonous. Curtis looked like he wasn’t merely jealous of what you and Ari had, he looked like he would’ve stolen you away from his friend if there was any chance in the universe you’d look at him the same way.

But there wasn’t, and Curtis’s expression shifted as he resigned himself for having the piece of you that Ari had given him for his birthday. It would have to be enough, because even though his cock was inside you, you were still Ari’s and Ari’s alone. 

Curtis grabbed a beer off the edge of the pool table and chugged half of it. As he set it back down, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and leaned over you, his big hands grabbing your thighs again, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. 

The pain only made your arousal flare hotter and you smiled up at your trucker’s friend, murmuring, “Happy birthday, big man.”

“Thank you, bambi,” he muttered, low enough that you knew it was just for you. Then a smirk spread across Curtis’s face, his eyes lighting with filthy desire. “Now, scream if my dick’s too big for your tight little cunt, ya filthy slut.”

With that, Curtis pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained in your grasping channel, then he slammed inside you. Even with your body having adjusted to the sheer size of him, his hard, brutal thrust pulled a scream from your throat, your back arching up off the table and your wrists pulling against Ari’s hold. 

Curtis laughed loudly as the crowd cheered, the big bar owner setting a ferocious pace as he fucked you hard enough that you knew you were going to be sore for days. But you loved it. You loved the pain and the pleasure and the roaring of the crowd as Curtis fucked you in front of all his friends. 

You loved the way Ari’s hands held your arms pinned above your head, how it bared your tits to Curtis, who bent over your body to finally suck on your aching nipples. You loved the way Curtis’s beard rasped against your skin, making you shiver as your pussy clenched hard around his thick cock.

Your mind floated deliriously through the waves of pleasure and pain crashing over your body. You felt drunk on cock and alcohol, not knowing how much time passed as Curtis fucked you, but it seemed to go on forever. Your body was wound so tight for so long, you reached a point where you didn’t know if you were even going to come, or if you were simply going to hover on the edge for the rest of eternity.

“Look at me, bambi,” Curtis growled, dragging your attention back to his handsome face. 

It was only then that you realized you’d been staring up unseeingly at the ceiling of the bar, the golden and neon lights swimming through your vision as you lay limply beneath your trucker’s friend. 

Curtis’s blue eyes were dark and his mouth was twisted into a desirous snarl, his beard making him look like a feral beast as he pounded into you. 

“You’re gonna come on my cock, d’you hear me?” 

Words escaped you, your tongue simply lolling out over your bottom lip when you opened your mouth to respond. All you could manage was a frantic whine as you bobbed your head in a nod. 

“Good slut,” Curtis grunted, one of his hands falling to your lower belly, his thumb finding your clit between your slippery folds. “Come on my cock, bambi, c’mon, come on my big dick like a good little cock slut.” The rough pad of his thumb rubbed your slick, puffy clit unrelentingly, and suddenly, you were tipping over the edge.

Your mouth fell open wider and your spine arched up off the pool table as you screamed, your release crashing over you, wave after wave of pleasure hurtling you closer and closer to a darkness that wanted to claim you. But you clung to consciousness, your scream turning into a high, keening whine that could’ve been a sign of pain or pleasure. 

Your release seemed to spur on Curtis and he rutted into you, fucking your clenching pussy as he watched pleasure contort your face and body. Then, with a final grunt, Curtis pulled himself free from your body. He jerked his cock in a big fist until he spilled all over your belly, making sure none of his come fell anywhere near your pussy or the tattoo there.

Curtis’s chest heaved, his eyes distant and dazed with pleasure as he wrung every last drop of come from his cock, and you watched him with the satisfied smile of a job well done. 

When the last rope of his come had splattered, warm and sticky, against your belly, Curtis finally sucked in a deep breath and grabbed the beer handed to him from the crowd. He took a deep swig while he tucked his cock away with the other hand. 

“Thanks, Levinson,” Curtis rasped, tipping his bottle to your trucker, who just nodded. Ari’s hands were idly massaging your wrists and you melted onto the rough felt of the pool table, knowing your trucker would take care of you. Curtis turned his blue eyes on you, and he tipped his bottle to you as well. “Always a pleasure, bambi,” he said, a genuine look of appreciation on his face. 

You were about to respond, but then Curtis turned his beer over and he used the alcohol to wash his come from your skin. You squealed loudly when the cold liquid rushed over your heated skin, instinctively bringing up your legs to curl into yourself, making the crowd laugh and jeer. 

When the beer was empty and his spend was cleaned from your skin, Curtis stumbled away into the crowd, the big man being swallowed up by the well-wishers and revelers congratulating him on fucking you good. Since you knew Curtis was done with you, you looked up at Ari, twisting your hands to wrap your fingers around his arms.

“Can we go now, daddy?” you asked softly.

Ari nodded and gathered you up from the pool table, setting you down on the edge while he pulled off the flannel shirt he’d worn over a white t-shirt. He tugged it over your head and helped you get your trembling arms in the sleeves, then ducked down to brush a kiss to your lips. The events of the night were catching up to you, and you were drunk and exhausted, but you sighed into your trucker’s mouth.

“You did good tonight, baby,” Ari murmured against your lips, and your heart felt like it was suffused in the warmest sunlight. Ari’s praise made you feel lighter than air, even as he pulled away.

You smiled up at your trucker as he straightened, staring at Ari like he was your whole world, which he was. His eyes were the softest you’d ever seen them as he stared right back at you, the tiniest smile curling the corners of his mouth. 

Just then, Lloyd materialized out of the crowd and Ari finally looked away from you to exchange a loaded glance with his other oldest friend. Lloyd seemed to be much more sober than Curtis, and he helped your trucker lead you to the bathroom, where Ari cleaned you up a little and let you relieve yourself after all that you’d had to drink that night. 

Then, Lloyd cleared a path through the drunken crowd while you and Ari followed. Between the two men, no one dared to try to touch you, and you sank into Ari’s side, feeling safe with your trucker as you looped your arms loosely around his waist. He smelled familiar and wonderful and you didn’t even try to hold yourself back from burying your face in his chest even as you kept on walking.

Lloyd pushed open the door of Everett’s Roadhouse and you sighed happily when the cool night air brushed against your heated, still slightly sticky cheeks. Gravel crunched beneath the soles of your sandals, and you blinked your eyes in the darkness until they focused enough to see Ari’s big, black truck looming in packed parking lot surrounded by other long-haul rigs.

“Drysdale’s gonna have a lot of business tonight after that show your girl put on,” Lloyd commented, casting his gaze across the expanse between Everett’s Roadhouse and Diesel Dolls, the strip club on the other side of the parking lot. Lloyd snorted and adjusted the front of his pants, and it was only then that you noticed the sizable bulge there. “Including me,” he muttered.

Your hazy thoughts strayed to the strip club, and you couldn’t help but imagine Lloyd getting a lap dance from a beautiful stripper. The tattoo artist sitting back on a plush couch while a gorgeous woman gyrated on his lap, his fingers twitching to grab her and touch her and defile her the way you knew Lloyd liked.

You didn’t even think to picture yourself as the stripper. Instead, in this little fantasy, you were sitting on Ari’s lap, your trucker’s cock buried in your cunt. Maybe he’d even let you get your own lap dance from Lloyd’s stripper, your body pressed between Ari’s and the other woman…

Your body lurched forward and if it wasn’t for Ari’s firm grip on your waist, you would’ve gone sprawling across the parking lot. For the rest of the walk to Ari’s rig, you tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not let your mind wander so you wouldn’t end up feeling more sore than you already were. 

When the three of you came to a stop beside the driver’s side door of Ari’s truck, Lloyd let his eyes slide to you before moving quickly to your trucker. 

“I hope you had a similar gift in mind for my birthday, Levinson,” Lloyd said with his usual oily charm, his mouth curling into a smirk beneath his well-groomed mustache. 

“We’ll see,” Ari rumbled, but his tone was good-natured. You couldn’t help the way your body clenched at the salacious, and somewhat victorious smile Lloyd shot your way.

But the events of the night were weighing heavily on your shoulders, exhaustion creeping into your bones, and you didn’t have the brainpower to wonder what Lloyd might do with you if you were gifted to him on his birthday. Even if you knew you’d have just as much fun with Ari’s other friend as you’d had with Curtis.

“Daddy,” you whined softly, burying your face against Ari’s beefy chest. His hand squeezed your hip possessively and he said his goodbyes to Lloyd, then helped you into the truck, making sure he was the only one who could see the way your pussy flashed as you climbed into the cab.

Ari followed you up and locked the door behind him while you crawled into the cot in the back, laying down on top of his soft blankets despite the sticky residue still clinging to most of your body. Ari pulled off his t-shirt and kicked off his pants, then joined you in the narrow bed. 

Your body melted at the familiar comfort of his weight behind you, and you began to relax as sleep tugged at the edges of your awareness. But when Ari’s cock pressed hot and hard against your bare ass, you remembered his promise from inside the bar, how he said he was going to fuck you whether you were awake or not. You moaned softly while he bunched up the flannel shirt you still wore around your waist. 

Your face was already pressing into the soft pillow on Ari’s bed, your eyes closed, but you arched your back and pushed your ass against Ari’s hard length, inviting him to slide inside your slick cunt. You were sore from Curtis’s fucking, but wet again for your trucker. You were always wet for him, your body craving the feeling of his cock filling you up in the perfect way that only he could. 

“Ya gonna stay awake for me while I use your messy cunt, cock whore?” Ari rumbled into the back of your neck. The flat of his tongue swiped up the column of your throat, wringing a soft whine from you as he licked the beer from your skin. It felt so good, sending shivers down your spine and raising goosebumps all over your body. “Or did my friend wear you out?”

All you could manage was an unintelligible mumble, the sound muffled by the pillow crushed beneath your face, as sleep pushed more insistently into the border of your wakefulness. Ari’s deep chuckle rumbled against your spine, making you even wetter for your filthy, perfect trucker.

“Go to sleep, kiddo,” Ari murmured in your ear, his hand sliding over your hip to press against your lower belly, his fingertips grazing the tattoo that was branded into the skin of your mound, just above your pussy. His touch moved your body slightly, arching you enough for the head of his cock to find the slit of your cunt. “Let daddy use your tight little hole while you get some rest.” 

Ari slid inside your pussy slowly, pressing the air from your lungs as he took his time impaling you on his cock. Your aching inner walls clenched around him desperately, pain and pleasure flaring to life and zinging through your exhausted limbs. A rough, greedy grunt rumbled in Ari’s chest, the sound softening into a warm, satisfied groan once he was fully seated inside you.

It hurt a little to be stretched out around Ari’s cock so soon after taking Curtis’s pounding, but when your trucker wrapped his arms around you, holding you cocooned in the cage of his broad chest while he rocked his hips almost gently against your ass, you felt yourself melting into him. Ari’s lips and tongue worked against your neck, licking sticky beer from your skin, his beard deliciously familiar while he set an almost soothing pace as he fucked you.

Despite the soreness between your thighs, and the tiny zings of pleasure thrumming through your body from Ari’s cock rocking into you, your exhaustion was too great and it wasn’t long before you were slipping into the warm comfort of sleep. That night in Ari’s truck, you fell asleep with a blissed out, cock drunk smile on your face, happy as could be to be in your trucker’s arms.

You may have spent much of the night as a gift for the bar owner your trucker called a friend, and you were glad you could be part of making Curtis’s birthday special, but you would always belong to Ari. And you would always end your nights in his arms, because that was where you wanted to be and where you belonged—with your trucker, Ari Levinson.

trucker king masterlist ● trucker au masterlist

[lyrefromthesea]

how would the pillars celebrate the birthday of their S/O? :P

Male pillars x Reader - Happy Birthday

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

• just like him, he makes it flashy

• invites multiple people, variety of food and drinks

• will make sure to put you in the spotlight

• only gives you one or two presents, but they have a deep meaning

you swore your social batteries had died down an hour ago, not sure when this party would end. you had been happy upon coming home and seeing the people you loved congratulate you, but everything needed to end.

right before you were about to tell Tengen that you were exhausted and needed to excuse yourself, you could see him come towards you with a gift in hand.

it was.. weirdly simply. it wasn't presented like the rest of his flashy party for you, but put in a small black box.

"for you, beautiful." he said, gently placing the box in your hand. glancing up at him, as if you wanted reassurance, you slowly removed the lid of the small black box.

your eyes widened upon seeing a small necklace, a beautiful gem attached to it. you knew what it was, he had precisely picked your birthstone.

"Tengen.." you murmured, taking the necklace out with the outmost care. would it be embarrassing to cry now? yes. did you still do it? yes.

"i'm glad you like it, beautiful."

Obanai:

• hates his own birthdays and now hates them in general

• against big parties and multiple people entering his private walls

• still appreciates you and wants to show you his love

• almost embarrassed when he hands you his present

"happy birthday.." he mumbled, head tilted down. he wasn't used to giving people gifts - especially not the people he liked most.

you awed silently, your fingers brushing against his when you took the present out of his hand.

he had probably wrapped it up himself, much better than one would have expected, but you could still see small flaws - not that you would ever care.

you wanted to open it, but his shy demeanor held you back. he had done something incredible sweet, you wanted to thank him.

"this is so sweet, thank you, Obanai.." you answered, placing the gift down to hold his hand affectionately. he flinched lightly, almost as if he was falling out of a trance.

"it's not sweet, it's what you deserve. if i didn't show you how much i love you, would i really deserve this? you're the serpent of my heart.." his words were clearly spoken with love, making you place a soft kiss against his cheek.

you would've kissed him on the lips, but he unfortunately wore his mask. nevertheless, a small chuckle escaped you, finding his cheesy formulation endearing.

"that was quite cute of you, sometimes i forgot that you're such a softie.."

Rengoku:

• completely against not celebrating your birthday

• doesn't know how to organize a grand party, wouldn't do it anyways

• invites the people closest to you

• probably collected a series of gifts over the months because they reminded him of you

"and here! these are all for you, i hope they'll bring you pleasure!" he beamed, carrying a small load of presents in his arms. you watched with wide eyes as he placed them on the table in front of you.

naturally, you looked at the other guests, knowing they must've been as surprised as you. however, when none of them even batted an eye, you seemed even more confused.

"he would ask us if you'd like them. you're the only one that didn't know.." one of them chuckled, eventually turning into a shared laughter.

of course this was unusual, but with the man you loved and the people you treasured the most, you couldn't complain at all.

Sanemi:

• doesn't celebrate his own birthday, will not celebrate yours either

• still shows you that he knows it's your special day

• good morning kiss + congratulations, small acts of service

• will possibly bring you to some place he thought you would enjoy

"do you like it?" he asked, not staring at you, his eyes were focused on the landscape in front of him. he had brought you to a hill outside town, which held a breathtaking view.

"i like it because you're here with me." you teased, watching his eyes narrow slightly and his lips press together. he didn't like admitting it, but your teasing always managed to get a reaction out of him.

"stop being so cheesy, dumbass." he grumbled, yet his hand reached out towards yours, grabbing it and interlocking your fingers.

you smiled at him, scooting closer and placing your head against his shoulder. "i mean it though. i like being with you."

"thank you for bringing me here" you said, feeling his head slowly rest on yours.

no, he wasn't good with words, nor did he know how to properly celebrate a birthday, but he made you feel special in his own way.

Giyuu:

• another person that doesn't celebrate his birthday, he had no one to celebrate

• was in awe when you celebrated his birthday for the first time and wanted to do the same for you

• asked for help - likely Tanjiro or Shinobu - on how to celebrate your birthday

• eventually bought you a present and cake

"Giyuu?" you asked, tilting your head at the man standing in front of you. you had instantly noticed the small cake on the table and the way he held his arms behind him.

he cleared his throat, as if he wanted to swallow down his insecurities. if you weren't so worried, you would've propably chuckled. but right now, you could only focus on the way he looked so unsure of himself.

"i.. happy birthday.." he finally said, stepping to the side. you looked at the cake, now in full view - it was your favourite. "i thought you would like it.. i also got you this.."

your eyes followed his hands, seeing him take out a small present. it was wrapped in blue paper, a small smile forming on your lips.

"thank you, Giyuu." you responded, but instead of taking the present out of his hands, you wrapped your arms around him. mildly confused, he placed the gift down, returning your hug.

"i want to celebrate all of your birthdays from now on, love.."

Gyomei:

• definitely likes the idea of celebrating your birthday

• truthfully a bit clueless about where to start, decides to ask for help

• ends up planning your birthday together with a few people you know and like

• calm party, somehow makes you feel at home every time.

"you didn't have to..!" you gasped, your eyes widening when Gyomei brought you into the garden. the sun had already set, but small lights were drenching your surroundings in a homely light.

"do you like it?" he asked, hearing your hair sway lightly as you turned your head in different directions. people were congratulating you from different corners, warm smiles on their faces.

after a moment of pure fascination and a throbbing heart, you looked at him in awe. "i love it."

"i'm glad, we've prepared a few other things for you.." he answered, his warm hand grabbing yours softly and bringing you closer to the others.

another gasp escaped you when you saw your favourite food on the table, a few side dishes making everyone gather around the table.

"there are a few presents for you too." he continued, nodding to the side. your gaze followed, wide eyes watching a dozen of packages sit patiently on another table.

feeling lonely is normal, but it is impossible when you experience this kind of love.