#sliding door drapes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imaginedisish · 3 months ago

Text

Unchained Melody (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry again. Here is the *what if you and Logan went to a wedding together* request. Heavily inspired by "Unchained Melody." That is such a Logan song and you cannot tell me otherwise. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan decide to go to Rogue and Remy's wedding together, but you don't know what together means. Logan helps to clarify...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT, thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), softdom!Logan, praise kink, cocky!Logan (literally), multiple orgasms, aftercare, Logan will do anything for you, afab!reader/f!reader, reader wears a dress, reader has hair (length/color/texture not described), feelings, so fluffy and cheesy, cursing, Scott is a little shit, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,452 I wanna dance with Logan

Maybe this was a mistake. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning around and around. You scan your face, check your hair, and smooth out your dress. Everything is in its right place. But, maybe, just maybe, this is all a mistake.

You and Logan—somehow—came to the decision that you would go to Rogue and Remy’s wedding together. As in…

Together.

And yet, you weren’t entirely sure what together truly entailed. Was this going to be a date? Or were you two simply going as friends? Friends friends friends. That god-awful, misery-inducing word you’re all too familiar with. Its meaning and restrictions haunted you as you got ready, and they’re still plaguing you now. You are so incredibly sick of being just friends with Logan. You want more—want him, all of him. But you can’t tell him how you feel—you can never find the words or the courage.

So, you’re simply going to the wedding together, unlabeled out of fear of getting an answer you don’t want to hear.

You slip on your heels, straightening out your gown one last time before heading towards the door. You take a deep breath, nervous beyond belief. You twist the knob, pulling the door open.

And there he is on the other side, fist clenched like he was about to knock. Logan. He’s wearing a black suit, a bowtie tied perfectly at his neck. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Hi,” he husks, his eyes trailing up and down your body. He smiles softly as he meets your gaze. He shakes his head in awe. “You look beautiful.”

“Oh, please I—” But he cuts you off, his hand reaching out to rest in the crook of your neck. “Really, you look beautiful. You always do.” Your breath hitches as his hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You take a deep breath, suddenly overwhelmed by the contact and Logan’s words. “You look really great too,” you choke out, a slight tremble in your voice. “Perfect,” you say, and Logan tugs your hand, guiding you out the door and into the hallway.

Rogue had told you the wedding would be small—just her and Gambit’s closest friends and family on the grounds of the institute.

Logan leads you down the stairs and out the back door of the mansion. The first thing you see are flowers; an absolute abundance of flowers. There are lilies and irises, asters and chrysanthemums. Daises, tulips, every single flower one can imagine—adorning tables, white tents, and planted in pots and boxes. It’s beautiful—a rainbow of colors and fragrances. The lawn has been transformed into a secret garden.

Logan guides you down a cobblestone path toward a trellis covered in vines and wisteria. Surrounding the trellis on either side are rows of white, wooden chairs. You and Logan walk to the front row on Rogue’s side of the aisle and sit down next to Storm, Charles, and Jubilee. You wave as you sit down. “You look amazing!” Jubilee shouts, reaching over Charles and Logan to get a better look at your dress.

“You look beautiful too, Jubes,” you say, motioning in her direction. Logan sits back, slipping his hand from yours and draping his arm over your shoulder instead. Jubilee notices the movement, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, a small smile playing upon her lips. She winks at you and settles back into her seat.

Footsteps sweep through the grass as people find their chairs. You struggle to ignore the warmth of Logan’s arm around your shoulder and the way it makes you feel—the soft circles he’s drawing into your bare skin. It’s like he needs the proximity, needs the touch.

You can feel Logan lean in, his lips at the shell of your ear. “You are the most—”

“Wow,” a familiar voice interrupts Logan. You turn your head, and there’s Scott, with Jean just a few steps behind him. “Didn’t expect that.” He raises his brows and cocks his head to the side.

“You need something, bub?” Logan asks, annoyance and irritation heavy in his voice.

Scott swallows nervously as Jean chuckles behind him. He shakes his head and sits down next to you. “Nope, I just…” He trails off, looking towards the trellis.

Logan leans forward, his arm still around your shoulder. “You just what?”

Scott throws his hands up, feigning innocence. “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

Logan leans back, squeezing your shoulder gently as he settles into the seat. You turn towards him, catching his gaze. You need to ask him what this is, even if it’s clear to him. It’s obviously something to everyone else. You part your lips, finding the courage to finally ask Logan what you two are. “Logan,” you whisper so only he can hear. “What is—"

But the music starts up, a whimsical rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” filling the air as Hank walks down the aisle, stopping underneath the trellis. Next is Remy, in a cream-colored suit. He grins from ear to ear as he trails down the aisle, nodding to Charles as he steps under the arch. And finally, at the end of the aisle is Rogue. Her dress is bright white, lacey, and tight. She walks down, her bouquet of lilies of the valley and baby’s breath in hand.

She meets Remy’s side, and the music stops. “Friends and family,” Hank starts, smiling widely at the crowd. “We have gathered here today for the marriage of two people who should have been married long ago.” The crowd chuckles as Hank goes on. “But it is always better late than never…”

He continues, talking about their story, their love. Hank—naturally—finds a few Shakespeare quotes to scatter throughout his speech. It’s incredibly cheesy, but it’s beautiful. And, as Remy and Rogue exchange vows, you can’t help but well up. Their admiration and passion for one another is so undeniably clear. They’re committed, a team, partners until the end.

“I will always love you, chere,” Remy says, slipping the ring onto Rogue’s finger.

A single tear slides down Rogue’s cheek. “And I will always love you, sugar,” Rogue says, placing the ring in her hand onto Remy’s finger next.

You look up at Logan, and you notice that he’s looking down at you. There’s something in his eyes, but you can’t quite place it. He tugs you closer, his thumb still stroking your shoulder.

Hank sniffles. “With the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Hank says, his voice shaky, his eyes glossed over, holding back tears. “You may now kiss the bride!”

Remy wraps his arms around Rogue’s waist, and he dips her, his lips capturing hers. Everyone stands, clapping and cheering. You and Logan stand too, his arm falling from your shoulder, leaving you feeling cold despite the summer heat.

But as Rogue and Remy walk down the aisle, Logan’s arm wraps around your waist. Rogue’s smile widens when she spots you, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. She laughs knowingly. Finally, she mouths to you, and blows you a kiss. The couple finishes their walk down the aisle, and they head into a nearby tent.

Given that this is Rogue and Remy, the party starts right away. Music blares from the tent, and you can see the happy couple hitting the floor. You recognize the song immediately: “Take on Me” by Aha. Jean drags Scott across the grass to join them. Jubilee and some of the other kids trail behind. Charles, Storm, and Hank head over together.

You look at Logan and smile, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him towards the tent. You can’t remember the last time you saw everyone this happy. It’s rare that you get to let loose, to have a good time. It warms your heart to see all the students dancing, to see them having a normal childhood experience.

“Come on!” Jubilee calls. “Come dance!” She’s twirling around, dancing with Kurt and Morph, sparking her signature fireworks every now and then.

You squeeze Logan’s hand and pull him towards the dance floor. You’re shocked that he doesn’t drag his heels, that he doesn’t protest or tell you no—he lets you tug him onto the floor. You turn to face him, swaying to the synthy pop. Logan lifts his arm, twirling you around, laughing as you spin back to him. He grabs your other hand and bounces with you to the music.

“I didn’t know you liked dancing!” You shout over the song as Logan spins you again.

He smirks, chuckling softly. “I don’t!” He shouts back, pulling you in and out to the beat. “But I like dancing with you.” He draws you in closer, letting go of your hands as his arms wrap around your waist instead.

You can feel the heat rising to your chest, spreading up your neck. The song fades out, and a much slower one starts up. “Something” by The Beatles echoes across the lawn. Rogue and Remy take the center of the floor, and everyone steps off, watching from the side. Logan guides you off the floor and towards your table, his hand in yours again.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur. You see the way Remy looks at Rogue, the way they move as one, fluid unit. “Don’t you want something like that?” You ask, your gaze finding Logan’s. He has that look in his eyes again—all soft, relaxed, happy.

Logan nods, squeezing your hand. “I think I’ve found it already.”

Your lips part as you rack your brain for the right thing to say, your breath catching in your throat. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted—the words you’ve been waiting to hear. “Logan I—”

But Jubilee is grabbing your hand as the song changes. “If you’re not gonna dance with my girl, then I’m stealing her!” Jubilee calls out to Logan, pulling you onto the floor as “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli rings out.

“Jubes,” you protest. “Logan and I were actually talking about something kind of important and—”

“One song?” She begs, frowning, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. You look over at Logan, and he’s still standing where you left him, smiling widely. Dance with her, he mouths, arching his brows expectantly.

“Fine,” you say, still looking at Logan.

Jubilee cheers, taking your hands in hers, spinning you around. You jump with her, screaming the words. Logan watches from his seat. He loves the way you move, the way you shake your hips, the way you throw your head back and laugh. He can see how much fun you’re having, how happy you are. He can’t keep his eyes off you, can’t help but be mesmerized. And he knows—just by watching—that he wants to be with you forever. Longer than that. You’ve changed him, made him different. And all for the better.

You look over at him, his arms crossed against his chest as his eyes follow your every move. He’s smiling widely, clearly getting a kick out of you.

“He loves you, you know,” Jubilee says, twirling you. “I mean, just look at how he’s looking at you!” Jubilee smirks, nodding towards Logan. Her eyes widen. “I think he’s coming over here!”

“Jubes…” Logan chides as he steps closer to the two of you. “Think I can cut in?”

“I don’t know Logan,” Jubilee says sarcastically, grinning ear to ear. “We’re having a great time.”

Logan puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’d like my girl back now.”

My girl. His girl.

Jubilee lifts her hands, stepping away from you as the song fades out. “Fine,” she says, pretending to be heartbroken. “Guess I’ll just have to give her up.” Logan steps between the two of you, and you lean to the side to peer at Jubilee as she walks away. She catches your glance, thrusting two thumbs up, mouthing a You got this! as she wanders to her seat.

“Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers starts up, and Logan wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. The sun is setting in the distance, a honeyed glow washing across the lawn, painting the tent and the dance floor in golden light. Logan sways you from side to side, and you let your head fall to his shoulder.

His lips find the shell of your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers so that only you can hear.

“Lo, before, when we were watching Remy and Rogue…” you pause, lifting your head to look up at him.

The corners of his mouth turn up. “I meant what I said,” Logan rasps. “I want you.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Just you.”

“I want you too,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. Logan holds you tighter, his lips just inches away from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your face.

“Wanted you the whole time,” Logan husks, rocking you gently as the song plays out. “You’re all I ever think about. I can’t get through a day without seeing you, without talking to you.” He pauses as the music grows louder, the strings and piano echoing across the dance floor.

Woah, my love, my darling I've hungered, hungered for your touch A long, lonely time And time goes by so slowly And time can do so much Are you still mine?

“You feel like home,” he says, his eyes glossing over. “I’ve been alive a long time, and for once in my life, I finally understand what that word means. It’s you. This is what love is supposed to feel like.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath, his jaw working. “I love you, so goddamn much.”

“I love you too,” you confess. “More than anything.”

And then his lips are on yours, and suddenly everything is nothing. The people around you are gone. Your problems have long melted away. Every ounce of pain and every second of suffering you’ve ever felt—that he has ever experienced—are forgotten. It’s all warmth and comfort, languid and slow, but passionate. He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. It’s perfect. Beyond perfect.

His lips part from yours, and he looks down at you, taking you in, committing the moment to memory. “Pretty girl,” Logan mumbles, tugging you off the floor as the song fades out and a pop song starts up. “What if we slipped away for a few minutes?”

“O-okay,” you stutter as Logan guides you past your table and out of the tent. The bass of the music echoes across the lawn as you and Logan wander hand in hand toward the mansion.

He pushes the back door open, leading the two of you inside, and immediately pins you against the wall. “This okay, sweetheart?” Logan asks, holding your hands above your head, his fingers wrapping tightly around your wrists.

“Yes,” you breathe, your chest heaving against his. He closes the gap between you completely, his lips pressing to yours. It’s hurried now, hungry and frantic. His knee nudges between your legs, spreading you open. You can feel the fire burning in your core—the growing ache.

You squirm underneath him, your arms fidgeting against his hold, longing to reach out and touch him. “Wanna make you feel good first, princess,” Logan soothes, his grip on your wrists tightening. “Let me take care of you.” You can’t help but grind down on his thigh at his words.

“Lo,” you whine, searching for more friction. “Please, need you.” Logan swallows your moans with a kiss, his lips melting against yours. “I know, darlin’. I need you too,” he coos. “But I like watching you get off on my thigh,” he says cockily. “That feel good?” He pushes his thigh harder between your legs as you slide up and down.

“Y-yes,” you stammer, rolling your hips. “N-need more.”

“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Logan whispers, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw to your neck, softly biting that sweet spot underneath your ear. “Gonna make this pussy feel good.” He lets go of your wrists as he slides down your body, hiking your dress up above your hips as he kneels in front of you.

Logan yanks your panties down your legs, leaving your core bare in front of him. “Wanna taste you, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning against your heat as he settles between your thighs.

“Please,” you beg, his face just centimeters from where you need him most. His palms splay across your inner thighs, squeezing and nudging you open. You look down at him, hunger, desire, and desperation darkening his half-lidded eyes. “Lo—”

And then he’s licking a long stripe through your folds, his tongue flicking your clit. You shudder underneath his touch as he does it again, his tongue pressing harder this time.

“Tastes so fucking good,” Logan mumbles against you. “Knew you’d taste perfect.” He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your knees buckle at the sensation.

Logan pushes your legs further apart, one of his hands sliding up your thigh and toward your center. It’s teasing, achingly slow as his fingers finally reach your folds, toying with your slit and spreading your slick. He laps at your clit, and he’s desperate, ravenous, his mouth swallowing you hungrily.

He teases your entrance with two fingers—gentle compared to the way his teeth graze your clit, to the way he’s sucking every last drop you have to give him. You part your lips, ready to beg for him, but he’s thrusting his long fingers inside you—down to his knuckles—only to pull out and pump back in again.

You moan his name, your back arching off the wall, your thighs trembling as he fucks into you. Logan smiles against you. “That feel good, pretty girl?” He asks, his fingers pumping in and out of your entrance at a rhythmic pace.

“S-so good, Logan,” you say, your voice shaky and uneven. His tongue flits out, flicking your clit before his lips wrap around the bud. He sucks again, harder this time, longer, his face buried deep inside your cunt, like he needs this. Needs to feel every inch of you. To explore you. To remember you. Your heart thunders in your chest as he thrusts in and out, his fingers hitting that sweet spot deep inside every time.

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him, taking him deeper. Logan laughs against you, the vibration rolling through your body in waves. “I know you’re getting closer, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, lapping at you between sentences. He looks up at you under those dark, hooded eyes as he plunges into you. “Let me get you there, wanna taste it when you come.”

You flutter around him again, his words threatening to spill the heat building at the bottom of your belly. “Lo,” you whimper as he brings a third finger to your entrance.

“That’s it, pretty girl, say my name,” he demands, shoving the third finger deep inside on his next pump.

“F-fuck,” you stutter, your legs shaking as you chant his name. Logan Logan Logan.

“So fucked out that I’m all you can think about, huh?” Logan teases, edging you closer along. You moan in affirmation as Logan laves at you, stuffing his fingers deep inside. “So fucking beautiful,” he praises. “Doing so good for me.”

“L-Lo,” you choke out, clenching down around him. “I’m so close.”

You can feel yourself coming undone, melting into nothingness as he rams into you, sucking your clit roughly. “I know, princess. Let go for me, wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

Your hips buck and your legs tremble as you fall apart. Your orgasm crashes into you, pleasure coursing through your veins. Logan works you through it, his face still buried between your legs. His tongue laps at you softly, his fingers pumping slowly until they stall inside you.

His gaze meets yours as he pulls his fingers out of your cunt and brings them to his mouth. His lips wrap around his fingers, and he sucks, savoring your release. He pulls his fingers out with a pop as he stands up.

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “You know, there’s something else I want,” Logan says, his voice deep and raspy. “I’m not done with you yet.” He cages you in, a hand on either side of your head.

“W-we need to be careful,” you stammer, nodding towards the door. “Someone could come in and—” Logan cuts you off. “Locked it the second we came inside, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, grabbing your dress and bunching it up around your waist. “No one’s coming in here. It’s just you and me, princess.” Logan pushes his hips into yours, and you can feel his erection straining against the fabric of his slacks. “Need you, darlin’.”

You wrap your arms around Logan’s back. “Need you too,” you pant. Logan’s lips find yours, crashing down needily, starvingly. He swallows your moans, one hand still collecting the fabric of your dress while his other tugs at his belt. He throws it to the floor with a clink and works at his button and zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs. He hoists you up, one hand gripping your ass tightly, pushing your back against the wall for leverage.

“Fuck,” Logan curses, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. Everything is rushed and frantic. He needs to be inside you, needs to feel you, needs to be as close to you as possible. His head slides through your folds, spreading your slick. “Wanted this for so long,” Logan huffs, his tip slipping into your slit. “My girl.”

With one thrust, he sinks himself deep inside you—down to the hilt. You’re suddenly so full, so whole. “Yours,” you answer as he pulls out and thrusts back in, somehow deeper this time. He’s everywhere and he’s everything. “All yours.”

Logan curses under his breath, panting your name as he sets a brutal pace. “Mine,” he growls between placing open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck. “All fucking mine.” His free hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit and drawing tight, rapid circles around the bud.

You dig your nails into his suit jacket as he splits you open. You want to feel him—to feel his skin, his chest pressed against yours. But this will have to do for now.

“Next time,” he mumbles, knowing exactly what you’re silently asking for. “You can have more of me next time, okay sweetheart?”

Next time. The words replay in your head as he fucks into you, taking everything you have to give. He knows you so well, already knows every curve and inch of your body, knows your dreams and desires. You fit, like two puzzle pieces, like magnets finally drawing together.

His thumb brushes your clit soothingly before pinching roughly, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. Logan thrusts in and out, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the foyer.

“Feels so good, pretty girl,” Logan groans. “So fucking perfect, so tight.” Your walls flutter around him, and he grunts as you squeeze him. “Taking me so well.”

You’re already close, every thrust bringing you to the edge, every flick of your clit sending you spiraling. It’s all too much. And it’s all because of him.

“Lo,” you whine, his hips rocking into yours, his cock dragging along your walls. “I’m so…” You trail off, squeezing him again, taking him deeper.

He moans your name, sinking inside you and pulling back out. “I know, princess, me too,” he murmurs, his pace faltering, his hips sputtering. “Come on my cock, wanna feel it,” he pants. “Wanna feel you. Forever.”

And then the tension snaps, heat spilling out of you as Logan thrusts again. He’s throbbing inside you, close behind. Pleasure pulses through your body, wave after wave. You wrap your legs tighter around Logan’s waist, keeping him close as he spills inside you, filling you up. He chants your name, his forehead pressing to yours, looking deep into your eyes as he comes undone.

Your chests heave together, sharing the same breath. His cock is still inside you. Everything is calm. Quiet. “So perfect,” Logan breathes, his lips finding yours again. “So fucking perfect.” He finally slips out of you and sets you down on the ground, keeping your dress bunched up around your waist.

He leans over to the side, grabs a paper towel from a conveniently placed nearby roll, and sinks down to his knees. He’s cleaning you up, taking care of you, wiping away the mess spilling down your legs. He pulls your panties back up and kisses each of your thighs before standing and tossing the paper towel into the garbage by the door.

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, letting your dress go. He fixes each of your straps, straightening them out, and smooths out your dress. “Beautiful,” he praises, swallowing harshly, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out and taking you again. Part of you wishes he would.

But he bends over and pulls his pants and boxers up, tucking in his shirt, zippering and buttoning his slacks, and securing his belt back in place. He’s still a little disheveled—sweat on his brow, his hair out of place. But he looks perfect. He looks just like him.

“You ready to go back out?” He asks, taking your hand in his. You nod and let him lead you outside and towards the tent.

You find your seats just as dinner is being served. “Where’d you two go?” Scott asks, arching a brow.

“Got a little too hot,” Logan says, smirking to himself. He finds your thigh under the table, squeezing gently, possessively. “Needed a break from the heat.”

You hum in affirmation, turning your head towards Logan. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “That’s one way to put it,” you whisper so that only he can hear.

He squeezes your thigh again, harder this time. His lips find the shell of your ear as the rest of the table starts up a conversation. “You’re coming back to my room tonight,” he husks. “Got it?” You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he separates from you.

You nod, his hand still on your thigh.

“Good, because I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @starfleetteddybear @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer @Movhoney.

#Logan Howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #Logan Howlett smut #Logan Howlett x reader smut #Wolverine x reader smut #Wolverine smut #James Logan Howlett x reader #James Logan Howlett x reader smut #James Logan Howlett smut #Logan Howlett x you #Wolverine x you #James Logan Howlett x you #Logan Howlett x you smut #Wolverine x you smut #James Logan Howlett x you smut #Logan Howlett smut imagine #Logan Howlett imagine #Wolverine imagine #James Logan Howlett imagine

3K notes · View notes

teaboot · 7 days ago

Text

Its been a rough couple days out here so I'm writing a list of things I love about my son

(who is cat)

His dumb little face

His pretty yellow eyes

Every day when I get home the FIRST thing that happens is I scoop him up into my arms like a big baby and he let's me rub his tumtum for a whole two minutes!! Before returning to Bite Mode

The SECOND thing that happens is he gets the zoomies! When his father returns from work he goes SNUGGLE! then zooooooom. Because he is excited for me to play with him!!

When I play computer games he likes to feel included so even though he isn't normally very touchy he lets me scoop him up in one arm so he can sit there like a toddler and watch the screen

He trusts me SO much like if he wants up on a shelf or down off something tall I can just walk over and kneel and he'll crawl up or down me like a ladder and I've never had a cat do that before

He'll ride around on my shoulders when I take him out for walks which van be tricky now that he's big but he's so brave even when we pass a dog

Sometimes when I go to run his chin he gets SO EXCITED he'll jam his nose into my palm and smush it hard like he's trying to burrow a hole in the ground and it's adorable

He loves water-appliances? Like sinks and toilets and baths and such. He gets SO excited every time I turn on a faucet, he'll rush over and get as close as he can to watch without getting wet.

His favourite part of the whole house is the bathtub and whenever I take a bath he'll drape himself over the side and lounge there until I get out. He's not allowed in when I'm using the toilet but once I'm done I open the door to leave and he rushes in to check if I've been taking a secret bath without him, goes straight to the tub

In trying to teach him not to bite me, he has learned that he IS allowed to bite blankets. So if he really, really wants to play and I'm ignoring him, he'll bite me blankets and whip them around like a puppy playing tug-of-war.

If I'm ignoring him because I am ALSEEP, this sometimes results in me waking up because he has successfully pulled my blankets off of me.

He likes watching trucks. He'll sit in the window and watch traffic but if he hears a loud engine he'll RUSH to check it out.

When he was a baby, my brother would visit in the afternoons to feed and play with him while I was working. As a result, he loves his uncle more than me, and will allow constant tummy rubs

Because my brothers and I do family movie night at my place, and because he loves his uncles so much, he lights up whenever the doorbell rings and MUST greet visitors at the door.

Sometimes he tries to climb up a door by hugging the edge and jumping as high as he can. It has never worked but he still keeps trying. I think he just likes sliding down like it's a firepole.

He is obsessed with the smell of McDonalds french fries. He doesn't try to eat them, he just wants the box. There us currently one under my bed that I'm not allowed to throw away. I can hear him jamming his face into it right now.

Sometimes when he's curious about something I'm doing- eating, drinking, washing up, whatever- I'll let him sniff, and I'll just hear two or three strongass HUFF. HUFF sounds before he goes back to chilling. It's the cutest shit.

He's soft like the luxurious wild mink

His littol baby FEETSIES

Sometimes he stops grooming himself and forgets his tongue is sticking out

His laser toy has a keychain attachment that jingles so whenever he hears a metallic jingle like that he thinks it's playtime

when I wash my face in the bathroom in the morning he hops on top of the toilet tank and starts grooming himself like "Oh hey I guess it's EVERYBODY'S bath time okay"

He's chatty and will meep back and forth with me

He has a round little wicker nest bed on a pedestal in my room and he likes to climb inside at night and make biscuits on the cushion while he sucks on the corner and it makes me wanna cry he's such a big baby

He will not wake me up for breakfast but as soon as I move in thevmorning he'll hop up onto my chest and stare at me. If I take too long to get up he'll meep in my face and then bounce back and forth between me and the door until I'm up.

Once I AM up, he will circle me and continue chirping until I ask him if it is time for dinner. Dinner, as far as he knows, is the only word for food. As soon as I ask, "is it dinner time?" He will zoom to the kitchen like a bat out of he'll and wait beside his bowl.

He genuinely seems to enjoy walkies and will climb into his carrier if he thinks we're going somewhere

Soketimes he'll pick up one of his toys and trot around with it like he's showing it off and I swear to God every time it makes me wanna make the most embarrassing noises

Him son ♡

#Ollieposting

2K notes · View notes

the-laughing-puppeteer · 1 year ago

Photo

Miami Transitional Dining Room Inspiration for a mid-sized transitional kitchen and dining room renovation with beige walls and no fireplace and white floors.

#kitchen #sliding glass door window treatments #sophisticated #sheer drapes #corner window treatments #cozy #beautiful

0 notes

bellaxdarling · 1 year ago

Photo

Kitchen Dining Atlanta Large transitional light wood floor kitchen/dining room combo photo with gray walls

#burlap drapes #industrial lighting #farm table #dining room #sliding barn doors

0 notes

ervotica · 6 months ago

Note

Imagine this: youre in college, and after all those boring classes you come to your job at the donaldsons that includes riding him in the couch for as long as your legs allow you.

Tashi just coming home to thats sight and just making herself a afternoon drink unbotherd.

Dbsnhxhsb

omg shut up???🥲

warnings; all smut not much plot, older!art, so much potential for this series aghhh

a/n; art is an ear freak i literally feel it in my balls he loves it when u suck on them ears (he did it to tashi so he likes doing it to others too <3)

the front door clicks and you wander through, in this teensy little white tennis dress that art told - no, commanded - you to wear when you came to work. the dress that shows the strain of your hard nipples through the fabric, swollen into points like diamonds, the one that slips upward and reveals the perky swells of your ass, the barely covered seam of your pussy when you trounce up to him, chirruping nonsense and smiling at him like he’s the only man in the world.

he murmurs something indiscernible - a pleased noise that reverberates at the back of his throat - and you lean over the back of the couch, sliding your manicured fingers across the expanse of his chest, chin tucked to his neck.

“hi.”

“hi, baby,” he murmurs in that low, rasping way that turns your insides molten.

fast forward no more than ten minutes, and you’re both bare, art’s thick fingers curled round your waist as he uses you as a fleshlight, lifting you up and down like a ragdoll and watching, entranced, as your cunt flares and parts for his thick cock; you sob and babble, slumped forward against his chest, nails digging into porcelain skin, teeth scraping along art’s cheekbone.

“i know, baby. i know,” he grunts, and you’ve never heard a sound like it. your cunt clenches, a soft silk wrap around his cock, and he’s turning his head to suck at the corner of your mouth, all spit and drool and tongue, so much of it that it drips from your chin, globs of it pooling between your tits.

the front door clicks and you’re both too lost in each other to care as tashi comes through the living room and enters the kitchen; art hooks one of his huge hands under the crease of your knee, lifting your leg until it’s draped over his forearm, bracing his feet against the leather of the couch as he jackrabbits up into you. you make a sound somewhere between a moan and a scream, and then tashi’s figure is crossing by you once more, drink in hand, lithe fingers nudging at your jaw to examine your expression. she bends at the waist, pinches your pert little nipple and rolls the bud between her fingertips, and smirks - fucking smirks - as your pussy clamps down on him like a vice; art lets out a stuttered breath, pulls you down onto him, and cums on the spot.

neither of you quit writhing against each other; he has at least another load in him, cock already chubbing back up encased in your spasming walls, no doubt an angry red and drooling precum. tashi settles herself on the armchair opposite you, already disinterestedly flicking through tv channels.

“want my mouth on you,” you whisper, face pressed just below his jaw, breathing hot air onto his neck.

“in a minute, baby,” he supplicates, grunting as he sheathes himself further into your tight warmth, balls heavy and swollen and slapping against your ass with every filthy rock of his hips.

tashi crosses one leg over the other, the picture of boredom, and says, “bite his ear. he loves that shit.”

you do just that, teeth rolling over his lobe as you suck the sensitive skin into your mouth.

he almost cums again, hands sliding up and over your back to still your movements so he doesn’t blow his load right there.

oh, tashi’s going to have fun with you. mould you into a perfect little toy for her husband, take some of his intense, fervent pining off of her, let you be the center of his world so she can focus on improving his game.

she might even keep you if you’re lucky.

4K notes · View notes

candy69gurl · 6 months ago

Text

Hmphh M' Sleeping !!

PAIRING Step dad!Gojo Satoru x f!reader, Step dad!Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, Step dad!Nanami Kento x f!reader, Step dad!Geto Suguru x f!reader, Step dad!Sukuna x f!reader, Step dad!Shiu Kong x f!reader, Step dad!Hiromi Higuruma x f!reader, Step dad!Kamo Choso x f!reader [seperate]

SYNOPSIS After a long day, when your step dad returns home to find you asleep, looking all innocent and tempting...They are unable to resist touching you!

WARNING stepcest, taboo, somnophilia, non/con (but you like it), pre-established relationship, comfort, nipple sucking playing & pinching, p in v, dirty talks (duh), pussy eating fingering, use of four arms for pleasure (sukuna), cock warming, clit rubbing, soft sex, clit rubbing with cock, blowjob, m!masturbation

NOTE I'm just a girl (with daddy issues) ... Some people may find the contents unpleasant. Simply block and move on; please do not make disparaging remarks about me; if you do, prepare to get trolled by my moots. Please read the warnings and do not do this at home (duh)

◈ SATORU GOJO

Gojo saunters into the house, a tired smile on his face, "Daddy's home!" he calls out, hoping to hear your voice in response, but, he hears nothing but silence. His footsteps carry him upstairs, concern beginning to creep in as he pushes open your bedroom door.

He pauses in the doorway, taking in the sight before him. The dim light casts shadows across your face, highlighting the soft curves of your lips and the delicate lines of your features. His steps are quiet and careful, almost hesitant, as he approaches you.

He gently brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, feeling the warmth of your skin under his fingertips. His heart skips a beat at your sight, looking so peaceful and innocent. But then he notices something strange - his shirt, the one he wore yesterday, draped over your shoulders, exposing your chest. His gaze drops to the hemline of the shirt, where it pooled above your waist, leaving your stomach bare.

He raises an eyebrow, his amusement warring with his confusion. "Wearing my shirt, huh?" he teases, trying to lighten the mood.

As Gojo continues to tease you, his fingers dance lightly across your lips, tracing the curve of your neckline, and then lower still, to the swell of your breast barely contained by his shirt. Your skin ignites at his touch, sending shivers down your spine. As he leans in further, his warm breath tickles your ear, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"You shouldn't wear my clothes, you know.. They are too big for you," he murmurs, his voice low and sultry, sending heat coursing through your veins. Without warning, his lips close around your nipple, drawing it into his mouth.

"Mmm, you're driving me crazy," he groans, suckling softly. His free hand reaches up to cup the other breast, his thumb grazing its peak. "I can't help myself, you know."

He pulls back slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. His hand slides down your body, tracing the edge of his shirt where it meets your shorts, lingering for a moment before moving back up again.

"Is this what you want, hm?"

His voice is thick with desire, his words heavy with innuendo. He doesn't wait for an answer, instead, he dives back in, his lips closing around your nipple once more. This time, he sucks harder, his tongue flicking against the tight bud. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to his touch despite your sleepy state.

"You're so responsive, always ready for me," he growls, his voice rough and deep. His fingers trail down your stomach, dipping into the indentation of your navel before continuing southwards.

As Gojo continues his exploration, his fingers brush against the thin fabric of your shorts, sliding easily between your legs. He moans softly, feeling how wet and ready you already are for him. He can't believe how responsive you are even in your sleep.

"Oh, baby," he whispers, his voice thick with lust. "You're so fucking wet for me."

His finger slips inside you, slick and smooth. You moan softly, your hips bucking involuntarily, seeking more of his touch. He chuckles low in his throat, loving the way you respond to him.

"So eager, so desperate," he says, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Always wanting me, even in your dreams."

He adds another finger, thrusting slowly but steadily, watching as your chest heaves with each movement. Your breathing becomes ragged, your body writhing beneath his touch.

As Gojo removes his clothing, revealing his hard member, his eyes never leave yours. There's a mix of excitement and mischief in his gaze as he positions himself at your entrance.

"That's right, sleep tight," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. "Let me take care of you."

He can't help but smile as he hears you mumble softly, calling him "Daddy." It sends a thrill of pleasure through him, knowing that you've accepted his presence.

He responds with a low, rumbling laugh, "That's right, baby. Daddy's here." He gently pushes inside, feeling you clench around him. He coos softly, urging you to keep sleeping as he starts to move.

Each thrust is slow and deliberate, designed to awaken your senses without fully awakening you. It feels like a dream, yet at the same time, it feels so real. You can feel every inch of him, every push and pull, and it's driving you wild.

Gojo watches you closely, his expression a mixture of desire and tenderness. He knows you're not fully awake, but he can't resist giving you pleasure, even in your sleep. Each time he moves, he watches your face, gauging your reactions, making sure you're comfortable.

"Daddy's gonna make you feel so good," he promises, his voice gravelly with desire. He picks up the pace, pounding into you, his movements strong and purposeful.

You moan softly, your body responding to his touch even though you're still half-asleep.

Gojo watches you closely, his expression a mix of desire and tenderness. He takes his time, savoring every moment of this intimate connection. With each thrust, he sees the emotions flashing across your face, the pleasure and trust that you're giving him.

"You're so beautiful," he groans, his voice thick with passion. "And mine.. all fucking mine to claim.."

He can't help but speed up, driven by the need to give you as much pleasure as possible.

As Gojo continues to move, you begin to overcome slumber, whispering lazily, "Daddy, I missed you so much." His heart swells with warmth at your words, and he responds with a low, reassuring growl, "I know, baby. I'll make it up to you."

His thrusts grow stronger, more demanding. He nuzzles your neck, leaving a series of tender kisses and love bites, punctuated by gentle nibbles. Then, he sinks his teeth into your skin, marking you with a passionate hickee. His mark is a mixture of pain and pleasure, a testament to the connection between you two.

With each thrust, Gojo can feel your body tightening around him, drawing him deeper inside you. Your moans become louder, more urgent, signaling your impending climax. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his back, your desire mirroring his own.

Finally, you reach your peak, your body convulsing around him, releasing a wave of pleasure that shakes you to your core.

As you continue to tremble in the aftermath of your orgasm, Gojo groans, "Shit, baby, keep squeezing me like that... Ah!" His own release is near, the tension building within him reaching its peak.

Your eyes drift shut, your words slurred as you mumble, "Daddy, m' sleepy." Despite your words, your body continues writhing, still responding to his touch.

Gojo grins, his heart swelling with affection for you. "Alr, baby, just a few more minutes," he promises. His thrusts become more insistent, filling you completely with each powerful stroke.

As he thrusts, he watches the emotions play across your face - pleasure, exhaustion, and contentment. His own release builds, and finally, he feels it burst forth. He groans, pouring himself into you, sealing the bond between you two as you both collapse into each other's arms.

"Sleep, baby," he whispers, cradling you close, protecting you from the world outside. And as your breathing steadies, he knows that nothing will ever come between you two. Nothing and no one.

◈ TOJI FUSHIGURO

The darkness outside is eerily silent as Toji returns home, his eyes scanning the surroundings as he walks, trying to shake off the lingering scent of death. The bloodstained clothing clinging to his body seemed to weigh him down, and his mind racing with thoughts of the deed he have just committed. He needs to wash the evidence off his hands, and there's only one person, he knows he can find solace from- you.

With cat-like steps, Toji creeps into your room, his eyes adjusting to the dim light within.

As Toji approaches the bed, he gently props himself up beside you, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber. With a soft whisper, he scoops you into a gentle embrace, wrapping his arms around you tightly. The tension in his body begins to dissipate as he inhales deeply, taking in the sweet scent of your sleep-warmed skin.

His lips brush against yours, showering you with tender kisses. "Ah, I missed ya so much," he whispers against your ear, his breath hot and labored. "Just being near you calms my soul." He nuzzles against your shoulder-space,, his lips tracing the contours of your features as he speaks. "Your body is so warm," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "It's intoxicating."

He pulls back slightly, gazing at you with an adoring look. "You can't imagine, how much I love you.." he speaks, his voice trembling with sincerity.

As he speaks, his hand drifts down to cup your breasts, his fingers gently kneading the soft flesh, " Ah I missed these too."

You stir slightly at his touch, your eyelids fluttering, but your deep slumber stops your movement soon.

Your body responds instinctively to his touch, your nipple growing stiff beneath his fingers. Toji's eyes gleam with excitement as he notices, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly.

"S-shit," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so responsive, even in your sleep."

Toji wraps his arms around you, his sweaty and bloody scent wafts up to fill your nostrils, carrying with it the heavy weight of his guilt. Despite the overwhelming aroma, your subconscious seems to crave the comfort of his presence, and you exhale deeply, embracing the sensation of being wrapped in his arms.

With a gentle tug, Toji pulls you closer, shifting his position so that you slide onto his chest. Your body molds to his, and you settle into the curve of his torso as if you were sinking into a cloud. Your small frame rests comfortably on his chest, and his arms wrap around you, holding you close. The softness of his clothes provides a makeshift mattress, and you seem to instinctively snuggle deeper into his embrace, your head resting on the crook of his neck.

As Toji's hands move down your body, his fingers deftly sliding your panties off your hips. The fabric whispers against your skin as it's removed, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to his touch. His clothed cock presses against your bare pussy, the friction generating a subtle tremble in your loins. Wetness seeps from your center, staining the fabric of his pants with its warmth.

Despite the sudden intimacy, you remain entranced in a somnambulant state, your body responding instinctively to the stimulation.

"Mmm...ahh..." you mumble sleepily into his neck, your breathing growing heavier as your body trembles with pleasure. Toji's grip on you tightens, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

"Oh, you're so wet," he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "You are making me so hard, mhmm. "

He continues to stroke himself against your pussy, the pressure building with each passing moment. Your sleepy eyes begin to flicker open, but you don't seem to fully register the situation, instead simply reacting to the sensations being inflicted to you.

Toji's fingers wrap around your hips, lifting your ass upward as he frees his swollen cock from his pants. The tip of his penis glints in the dim light of the room, slick with precum. He pauses for a moment, his gaze locked on your sleepy face, before slowly guiding himself into your waiting heat.

As he pushes deeper, his movements deliberate and slow, your sleepy eyes gradually open, taking in the surreal scene unfolding before you. Your pupils dilate as you process the reality of the situation, your breath catching in your throat.

"A-ah!" you moan softly, your voice barely audible above a whisper, as Toji's cock slides deeper into your depths. Your gaze remains fixed on his, a mixture of confusion and arousal etched across your face.

Toji's eyes burn with intensity, his face twisted in a mixture of passion and desperation. "Ohh~ you're so tight," he gasps, his voice strained with effort. "So perfect."

As he withdraws, his cock slips almost entirely out of you, leaving only the swollen head nestled within your entrance. Your muscles contract reflexively, squeezing him.

Toji's grip on your hips tightening as he plunges back into your depths. The motion is slow and deliberate, each thrust building upon the last as he seeks to claim every inch of your body.

"I missed fucking ya, so much," he growls, his teeth bared in a fierce snarl. "I needed ya so badly."

The words are spoken against your ear, his breath hot and rank with the scent of blood and sweat.

As Toji continues to thrust into you, his pace steady and deliberate, your initial moans of pleasure begin to fade away. Your body relaxes, succumbing to the gentle rocking motion, and your eyelids droop once more.

Soft, contented purrs escape your lips, harmonizing with the rhythm of Toji's strokes. Your breath grows deeper and slower, your body swaying in time with his movements. The tension in your limbs eases, replaced by a sense of relaxation and surrender.

Toji's eyes burn with intensity, his gaze locked on your face as he reads your reactions. He slows his pace further, allowing himself to become lost in the sensation of being buried deep within your warmth.

"Ah, yeah... you're so relaxed, aren't ya?" he whispers, his voice low and husky. "You're letting go, giving yourself over to me."

He pauses, his cock still deep within your depths, and gazes down at your face. Your eyelids flutter, your breath slowing further as you continue to purr softly.

"Good girl," he whispers, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're so good for me."

Toji's hands dart up to your chest, grasping the hem of your top and pulling it upwards. The fabric strains against your skin as he tugs it over your head. His own shirt follows suit, peeling off his torso to reveal his chiseled physique.

Your nipples, previously softened by your sleep, now re-harden as they graze against Toji's chest. He wraps his arms around you, his palms pressed against your back as he draws you in closer. The friction between your nipples and his chest creates a tantalizing sensation, sending shivers down your spine.

"You feel so good against me," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "Like you were made for me alone."

Toji's hips pick up speed, his cock bruising your gummy walls as he rocks his body against yours.

As Toji's movements intensify, your hands unconsciously reach up to grasp his hair, tangling your fingers within the dark strands. Your sleepy moans grow louder, your body beginning to tremble with pleasure.

The sound of your moans sends a wave of excitement coursing through Toji's veins. His eyes blaze with intensity as he gazes down at your face, his grip on your hips tightening as he buries himself deeper within your warmth.

"Ahh, yeah... you're loving this, aren't ya?" he growls, his voice low and husky. Toji's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he drives himself deeper into your depths. Your nails dig into his scalp, your hands pulling his hair down as you arch your back cumming all over his cock.

As your walls clamp continuously against his shaft, Toji's climax builds, his movements becoming more erratic and urgent. Your body flexes beneath him, your nails digging deeper into his scalp as you writhe in ecstasy.

With a final, brutal thrust, Toji pulls out of you, his cock spurting forth a stream of semen that splashes against your back. The fluid arcing through the air, coating your skin with its sticky warmth.

"Ahhh, yes!" Toji bellows, his body convulsing with release.

As the adrenaline begins to wear off, Toji's movements slow, his chest heaving with exertion. With a gentle push, he guides you backward onto the bed, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber.

Once you've settled into the blankets, Toji curls his body around yours, wrapping his arms tightly around your shoulders. His chest presses against your back, his warm breath rustling against the hairs on the back of your neck.

As the silence washes over you, your eyelids drooping with exhaustion, Toji's grip on you tightens, his big fingers intertwining with yours.

◈ NANAMI KENTO

Nanami sighs heavily as he enters the living room, kicking off his shoes and tossing his jacket onto the couch. "Ugh, Gojo..." he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. Working with the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in history isn't exactly easy, especially when the man seems to enjoy pushing his buttons.

After removing his tie and undoing the top buttons of his shirt, Nanami heads towards the bathroom to wash away the stress of the day. As the warm water cascads over his body,

He lets out a small groan of relief. The hot water seeps into his tense muscles, helping ease some of the soreness from his long day at work. He runs his fingers through his wet hair, ridding himself of any product, before rinsing thoroughly.

Stepping out of the shower, wrapped only in a towel, Nanami decides to pay a visit to you in your room before heading to bed.

You were fast asleep, your hair slightly disheveled and your features relaxed, looking almost peaceful.

Nanami approaches your bed softly, watching you sleep. He feels a pang of affection for you, and can't help but lean down to place a kiss on your forehead. Your skin feels warm against his lips, comforting.

Suddenly, your arms wrap around him, trapping him there. At first, he stiffens, surprised by your sudden movement, "What's this?" he asks softly, his voice laced with amusement. "Trying to keep me here?"

As Nanami stands there, caught in your embrace, you pull his head further into your chest. He feels a slight resistance at first, but soon relaxes, letting his cheekbones press gently against your skin.

He balances himself on his two hands, leaning into you and resting his body weight against your chest.

The cold water droplets from Nanami's damp hair fall lightly onto your warm chest, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. You tighten your grip on his head, reveling in the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

Nanami tries to shift and wiggle free from your hold, but quickly realizes that it's futile. With a soft chuckle, he gives up and allows himself to remain in your embrace.

Despite his best efforts to resist, Nanami finds himself becoming increasingly aroused. Your scent fills his nostrils, sending a wave of desire through him. He tries to ignore it, knowing that he should not indulge in such thoughts, especially given your current sleepy state.

But as your warmth envelops him, and your heartbeat syncs with his, it becomes harder and harder for him to fight the urge. He can feel his arousal growing stronger, straining against his towels begging for release.

Nanami lies there, trapped in your embrace, you mumble his name in your sleep. He responds with a muttered curse under his breath, his frustration mounting, knowing he shouldn't, he can't help but reach down and remove the towel that covers his body.

With his arousal growing stronger, he rubs his hardened cock against your thigh, seeking relief. You stir slightly in your sleep, but don't awaken fully. Nanami continues to rub himself against you, the friction sending shivers down his spine.

Feeling guilty for using your body while you're asleep, he whispers a soft apology, "Sorry, baby." Despite the remorse, he can't bring himself to stop. The sensation of your skin against his erection is too intense, too pleasurable.

Nanami continues to move slowly against your thighs, his breathing becoming heavier with each passing moment. He wants nothing more than to bury himself inside you right now, but he knows he can't do that to you while you're asleep.

You unconsciously rub your thighs together, catching Nanami's dick in between. This motion causes his arousal to peak even higher, and when your grip on his head loosens, he takes the opportunity to get off your chest.

He positions himself closer to your core, feeling your wetness through your panties. A low, primal groan escapes his lips, "Shit," he murmurs, unable to contain his excitement any longer.

In one swift motion, Nanami pulls your panties to the side, revealing your swollen bud. Nanami touches you intimately, you keep sleeping, completely unaware of his actions. He watches your face carefully, searching for any sign that you've woken up, but your expression remains peaceful and serene.

Then he starts to rub his dick against your clit, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. You squirm slightly in your sleep, your body responding to his touch despite your unconscious state.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he inhales deeply, taking in your sweet scent. He continues to rub against your sensitive bud, his movements slow and deliberate. He wants to savor this moment, to make sure you feel everything he's feeling. His breaths become ragged and uneven, his body trembling with anticipation.

Eventually, he can't take it anymore. He lifts his head, trailing kisses down your neck and chest, pausing briefly to suck on your clad nipple, causing you to stir in your sleep. You instinctively arch your back, pressing yourself into his touch.

Nanami smiles, pleased with your reaction. He gradually increases the intensity of his movements. Your body jerks in response, and he can feel your arousal building rapidly. Moaning softly against your neck, he can barely contain his own excitement.

Your eyes slowly flutter open on hearing him groaning and whimpering in pleasure. Noticing his movements, you decide to keep quiet, choosing to enjoy the pleasure he brings without interrupting him.

His climax approaches soon, he pulls your top up and finally releases with a loud moan, coating your stomach with his seed. You close your eyes again, relishing the sensation.

Once satisfied, Nanami rests for a moment, still hovering above you. After a few deep breaths, he climbs off of you and settles beside you, wrapping his arm around you protectively. He kisses the top of your head gently, whispering a gentle 'sorry' again. You stir slightly in your sleep, but don't wake up entirely. Instead, you snuggle deeper into his embrace, feeling content and safe in his arms.

As you both lie there, wrapped in each other's arms, Nanami can feel your rhythmic breathing slowly soothing him. The last remnants of his stress and fatigue melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment.

Slowly, he drifts off into a deep sleep, his body finally able to rest after the long day he's had..

◈ GETO SUGURU

Over the years, your relationship with Suguru, who you refer to as your stepfather, had grown complicated. On the surface, he appeared to be a caring and attentive guardian, providing everything you needed. But beneath the façade, you knew that he detested non-sorcerers, including yourself.

You decided to take extra care in ensuring that you didn't provoke him. You maintained a distance, avoiding any actions that might anger him. Despite the knowledge of his disdain, you still loved him dearly and appreciated his efforts to care for you.

Unbeknownst to you, Suguru harbored more than just an affectionate bond for you. He had developed a deep love - almost possessive - towards you, the only non-sorcerer he cared for. This complex emotion manifested itself in a more physical manner than he intended.

As you moved around the house doing chores, you often caught a glimpse of him watching you from a distance. A chill ran down your spine as you felt his eyes on you. You tried to shake off the feeling and continued with your tasks.

Today, he is out again, committing mass slaughter of mankind, but you cannot say anything, you don't have the power to.

Night fell upon the house, and as slumber begins to settle in your eyes, your thoughts drift to Mimiko and Nanako, the two girls Suguru treats like daughters. You envy their close bond with him, wishing for a similar connection of love and care.

But... Somewhere in the dark, shadows dance, and footsteps crept softly across the floorboards. Suguru... His figure moves silently, as though he's haunting the space. His eyes are dark pools of secrets, reflecting the moonlight that trickles through the windows. He approaches your bed with calculated steps, his gaze locked onto you, his eyes dark from the guilt he commited a while ago.

The distance he's kept all these years felt unbearable, and he could no longer suppress his desires. With guilt pressed on his chest, he slips into your room, closing the door softly behind him. Maybe today's the day he will finally show you, how much he loves you in a different way of course. How much different you are than other non sorcerers. The moonlight cast an ethereal glow on his face, revealing the turmoil within him. Swiftly and with great care, he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself beside you.

You stir slightly, sensing a presence in the room, but it's not enough to wake you up. Unaware of his intentions, you remain oblivious to the events unfolding.

Gently, he reaches out pulling down your panties, exposing you to his gaze. His fingers caressing your inner thighs, sending shivers down your spine. The tenderness of his touch contrasted with the sternness he displays towards others, creating an intoxicating mix of emotions within you.

His gaze lingers on the glistening folds between your legs, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself before leaning forward. His lips brushes against your inner thighs, a feather-light touch that sent shivers through your body.

You stir slightly, but sleep keeps its grip on you. You don't wake up, allowing him to continue. His tongue slides against your sensitive nub, causing a wave of sensations to wash over you.

As he pleasures you, his whispers filled the air. "I've waited for so long, Y/N. I can't wait anymore..."

The words are a testament to the torment you both have endured, the passion of him for you that has built up over time. His cravings are no longer hidden, and he allows himself to indulge in the pleasure that you offer.

His every touch, every lick, is a declaration of the love he holds for you. Despite the disgust he feels towards non-sorcerers, you are the ONLY exception. You are his forbidden fruit, the one thing he can't resist.

As his pace quickens, you feel the tension mounting within you. His dirty words echoing in your dreams making you wetter, intertwining with the pleasure he is providing. And though you sleep, your body responds to his touch, yearning for the release that awaits you both.

His mouth never leaves your sensitive flesh, his tongue dancing in a rhythmic pattern that draws you closer to the edge. The cool night air seems to vanish, replaced by a wave of heat that envelops the room.

As he tastes you on his tongue, he can't resist stroking his own erect member. With every movement of his hand, he gets closer to his own release. The friction creating a symphony of sounds that adds to the ambiance. His breath hitches his body tensing, a clear indication that he is nearing his climax.

Meanwhile, your body responds to his touch with fervor. The sensations overwhelming you, pushing you further into the realm of pleasure. Your breaths becomes uneven, your moans soft yet audible.

He keeps stroking himself. His thumb circling your nub, as his tongue delves inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire being. His groans blending with your moans, creating a melody filling the once peaceful room.

In that moment, your eyes flutter open, catching sight of the unusual sight before you. There he is, kneeling between your legs, his eyes locking onto you with a strong determination. Seeing him like this, so intimate and vulnerable, sends a jolt of surprise coursing through you.

Unable to process what you're witnessing, you simply stare at him. He offers you a sheepish smile, as if asking for your understanding. Though the situation is confusing and unsettling, the tenderness in his gaze commands you to stay silent. You allow him to continue, surrendering to the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

His movements become more frantic, the intensity increasing as he nears his climax. His moans against your sensitive skin intensify, his efforts to hold back dwindling. The anticipation builds within the room, thick and palpable.

In that moment, curiosity gets the better of you and you muster the courage to ask, "Daddy... do you love me?"

The question hangs heavy between you, as if testing the boundaries of their unspoken agreement. To your surprise, he answers without hesitation.

"Yes, of course I do, darling," he whispers, his voice raw and full of emotion. Before you can process his response, he shifts position. His member now brushes against your slit, the contact sending sparks flying through your body. He kisses your jawline, his lips tender against your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

The sensation of his kisses and licks combined with the pulsing of your now throbbing clit against his member pushes you over the edge. Shuddering under his touch, your clit pulses wildly against his member, messing all over his cock.

At the same moment, his control snaps. With a guttural roar, he finds his release. Hot streams of liquid paint your stomach, marking you with his essence. The last remnants of his restraint slip away, and he collapses onto you, panting heavily.

In that moment, as your heartbeats synchronize, you're reminded of a certain truth. Despite everything, the love between you and Geto, the complexities that bind you together, remain unbroken.

◈ RYOMEN SUKUNA

Uraume stands before Sukuna, bowing their head in reverence. "My lord, how did it go?"

Sukuna's grin grows wider as he begins to recount his tale. "Ah, Uraume, it was glorious! I slaughtered the humans by the hundreds, reveling in their screams and pleas for mercy. Their fear was intoxicating, and their blood was sweet nectar to my palate." He chuckles to himself, remembering the thrill of the hunt.

As Sukuna finishes his tale, his gaze turns to Uraume. "And where is she?"

Uraume bows their head. "My lord, she is deep asleep, and I did not think it wise to disturb her."

Sukuna's eyes lit up with excitement. "Ah, my little girl is asleep, is she?" Sukuna steps into your room, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. The moonlight filters through the window, casting an eerie glow on the scene before him. His eyes land on you, and he is taken aback by what he sees.

You are lying on the bed, one of your hands buried deep within your panties, your breathing heavy and labored. Your robes are barely containing your body, and Sukuna can see the outline of your breasts underneath. His eyes narrow, and he can sense the desperation emanating from you. He approaches you, his four arms flexing as he moves closer.

As he reaches you, he gently grabs your wrist, pulling your hand out of your panties. Sukuna's eyes remain fixed on you as he gently kisses your forehead. He takes off your robe, and you stir in your sleep as the cool air caresses your skin. He adjusts you in his lap, and your eyes open slowly, his two members pressing against your back.

Sukuna's eyes gleam with excitement as he thrusts one of his members into you. You moan loudly, while your body adjusts to his size. His other member rubs against your asshole, sending shivers down your spine. Two of his hands grasp your hips, holding you in place as he continues to thrust. Your body starts to move with his, and you feel yourself getting closer to climax.

You lean onto his chest, and your breathing becomes slow and steady. The whole day you did nothing but annoy Uraume, now you are resting on Sukuna's chest, while he thrusts inside you. Sukuna's eyes never leave your face, watching you with a mixture of desire and tenderness. His thrusts become slower and more gentle, holding you close to his chest.

You start drifting off to sleep again, mumbling softly, "I missed you, daddy." Sukuna's heart skips a beat, and he smiles. He whispers back, "I missed you too, brat." His member continue to move slowly inside you, while you fall asleep in his embrace.

Suddenly, you feel Sukuna's big abdominal tongue stroking your tummy. It's soft and warm, and it sends shivers down your spine. You jolt awake again, moaning in pleasure as Sukuna's member continue to move inside you. Your body begins to respond to his touch, and you feel yourself getting even wetter. Sukuna's eyes gleam with excitement as he watches you squirm under his ministrations. His tongue continues to stroke your tummy, and you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him deeper inside you.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Sukuna says, his voice low and husky.

You nod, unable to form words. All you can do is moan and squirm against him, desperately moving your hips for release.

"I knew you'd like that," Sukuna says, his smile widening. "You always did enjoy my special touches."

His tongue continues to slide against your stomach, moving in slow circles. You feel yourself getting closer to orgasm.

As you approach orgasm, Sukuna suddenly pulls out his member and inserts another one into you. You gasp in surprise, feeling the sudden change in pressure. But Sukuna doesn't stop there - he begins to grind the first member between your abdomen and his own abdominal tongue, creating a sensation unlike any you've ever experienced before.

You writhe beneath him, your body trembling with anticipation. The combination of sensations is almost too much to bear, and yet...you crave more. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your senses heightened to the point.

Just as you're about to reach your peak, Sukuna's other two hands come into play, fondling your breasts and tweaking your nipples. You mewl in pleasure, your body bucking against his.

And then...he pinches your nipples.

It's too much. You explode into orgasm, your walls tightening around his member as you squirt all over him. His own climax hits him, his dick slipping out of you, and you feel the warmth of his fluid splashing across your face and his chest. You collapse against him, panting heavily.

Sukuna chuckles lowly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hmmm.. You did great," he says, his voice rough with desire. His abdomen tongue gives a long lick on your oversensitive clit, you shudder against him, whining and panting.

After your orgasm, you drift off to sleep, your body still twitching occasionally as you fall into a deep slumber. Sukuna, however, does not join you. He sits there, his chest heaving slightly, his eyes never leaving your sleeping face. He smirks, satisfied with the sight of you sleeping peacefully after the intense moment you just shared.

As the night wears on, he lays you on the bed and stands up, stretching his muscular frame. His members are still slick with your juices, glistening in the moonlight. Sukuna walks out of the room, leaving you alone in the dimly lit chamber.

He pauses at the doorway, to gaze at your sleeping body before speaking softly," Uraume will be coming soon to check on you." The sound of the door creaking shut, soon audible. You're left alone in the silence, your body still humming from the intense experience, your breath coming out in short spurts. Wave of slumber washes over you, and you snuggle into the bedding, your mind replaying the moments of you and your step daddy together <3

◈ SHIU KONG

As you lay in bed, half-asleep, you could hear the distant sound of the front door creaking open. The sound of footsteps made its way up the stairs, and you knew your stepdad was home from another long day at work.

Stepping lightly onto the floorboards to avoid making any noise, Shiu tiptoes towards your bedroom door, catching a glimpse of you in your sleep. You are sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep, lips slightly parted, your chest gently rising and falling with each breath.

He hesitates for a moment, considering whether to wake you or simply watch you from afar. His gaze lingered on your lips, imagining how soft they would feel under his own.

Shiu finally makes his decision, pushing the door open just wide enough to slip inside. He walks towards your bed, and leans down, brushing his lips against your cheek, a faint smile on his face as he whispers softly, "Hey, kiddo, how are you doing?"

You could feel the stubble of his moustache against your skin and catch the distinct smell of his cigarette smoke.

Your response to his presence ,barely audible - a soft, almost imperceptible purr. Your hand reaches out unconsciously, gripping his hair gently, holding onto him for a brief moment, acknowledging his presence.. This small display of affection catches Shiu off guard, causing a warm feeling in his chest. He reluctantly pulls away, ready to leave your room.

But as he turns to go, he can't help but notice the way you lick your lips and bite your bottom lip in your sleep, an innocent gesture that sent a wave of desire through him. It's more than he could handle..

As he watches you, he notices your lips tremble slightly, adding another layer of complexity to the situation. Something about this sight compels him to trace the edge of your lip with his fingertip, watching as it responds to his touch.

His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, sending shivers down your spine. Before either of you can stop it, he slips his finger into your mouth, feeling the warmth and softness enveloping his digit.

His breath hitches at the sensation of your warm mouth around his finger, desire coursing through him like an electric current. This intimate act is both enticing and unsettling, causing him to harden despite his relationship to you. The lingering stress from his work melts away, replaced by a raw, primal need.

Feeling his erection growing stronger under his trousers, Shiu struggles to maintain control. This unexpected turn of events, coupled with the stress of his demanding job, has left him caught between desire and duty.

His finger slides in and out of your mouth, eliciting small moans from you in your sleep. Each movement brings him closer to losing control, yet he finds himself unable to look away. His chest rises and falls rapidly, every deep breath fueling the fire within him.

With great difficulty, he pulls his finger from your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. He can't deny the arousal pooling within him, but he also understands the gravity of what just happened. The line between duty and desire has been blurred.

Shiu swallows hard, acknowledging the evidence of his arousal pressing against his trousers. His mind races, torn between relief and embarrassment. His thoughts jump from the implications of his reaction to the fact that your saliva still coats his finger.

Without warning, he reaches into his trousers, using the slippery digit to stroke himself through his boxers. The sensation is intense, made all the more potent by the imagination of your lips wrapped around it.

His fingers glide over his erection, matching the rhythm of your breathing. The contrast between your innocent slumber and his explicit actions adds an element of taboo.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he whispers hoarsely, his voice raspy with desire. Despite his words, he continues to stroke himself, drawing circles around the head of his penis.

His gaze lingers on your face, searching for understanding or forgiveness. The lines of anxiety etched into his own face soften slightly as he watches you sleep, oblivious to the turmoil unfolding next to you.

"But I can't... I can't stop." He murmurs, speeding up the pace of his movements.

Unable to resist any longer, Shiu climbs onto the bed, positioning himself above you. He rubs the tip of his erection with your cheek, the moisture from earlier creating a slick surface on it.

As he presses down, your lips part involuntarily, the head of his penis slipping past them effortlessly. You adjust instinctively, your tongue darting out to taste him. It's an erotic dance of sorts, with both of you responding to primal urges without conscious thought.

His hips rock slowly, guiding you around his body. The sensation is foreign yet exhilarating; he can feel your warm mouth engulfing him inch by inch. He winces slightly, a low groan escaping him.

Despite his efforts to remain silent, the sound reverberates throughout the room, filling the space with a heavy silence. He stares at the ceiling, his heart pounding wildly, desperate not to wake you.

Your sleeping form moves unconsciously, your throat bobbing over its shaft as you continue to explore its length. His grip tightens reflexively, your actions pushing him closer to release.

"Oh God..." he breathes out, his breath ragged.

The intensity builds, and without realising it, he begins thrusting into your waiting mouth, moving faster and harder. His moans become louder, no longer containing the growing passion within him.

Despite his efforts to be discreet, the sounds carry across the room. They're uneven, bordering on frantic, painting a picture of unrestrained desire.

In the midst of it all, you finally wake up from your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, blinking rapidly in the dim light. The scene before you is shocking, but it doesn't deter you. Instead, you wrap your lips more firmly around him, sucking harder.

He jolts upright, eyes flying open wide, when he registers your consciousness. He freezes momentarily before resuming his erratic thrusts. Apologies echo softly in your ear, muffled by your actions. In spite of everything, you continue to serve him, your teeth grazing his shaft gently.

His apologies dissolve into pleas as he grasps your hair, tugging lightly. "Daddy needs your warm mouth so bad. Please forgive me." His words are thick with emotion, betraying the turmoil within him.

Your sleepy eyes flutter again, meeting his pleading ones. Your slow, drowsy movements were replaced by increased suction, setting a rhythm that matches his movement.

He releases it into your mouth suddenly, cum spilling hot and thick into your throat. A strangled cry escapes him, his entire body shaking with release. As he comes down from the high, he pulls out of your mouth, giving you time to adjust.

Gently, he scoops you into his arms, cradling you tightly against his chest. His heart pounds heavily in his chest, guilt and gratitude battling for dominance.

"I'm... I'm so sorry," he mumbles, closing his eyes tightly. "Thank you, Y/N." His words are mumbled into your hair, an admission of relief and regret.

You hug him tightly, whispering "It's okay. No problem" into his shirt. His scent surrounds you, grounding you in the surreal experience.

As the adrenaline fades, he drifts off to sleep, holding you close. For now, at least, everything seems to fall into place.

◈ HIGURUMA HIROMI

Hiromi spends long hours at work, tirelessly chasing justice for his clients. He's known for taking on challenging cases others might deem hopeless, often putting in extra hours to ensure he leaves no stone unturned in his pursuit of truth. As a result, he rarely has time to spare for anything else, leaving little room for leisure or relaxation.

When he isn't in court or meeting with clients, he's buried in mountains of paperwork, pouring over every detail meticulously. Even at home, you often find him poring over files or discussing strategy with colleagues late into the night. His dedication to his profession knows no bounds, and it shows in the relentless pace he maintains daily.

Thus, instead of finding his little girl sleeping in her room, he arrives home to find her curled up on his bed. What could you do? You missed him so much; it's like you rarely get to see him.

"You shouldn't be here," he repeats, his voice low but firm. A mix of worry and disapproval fills his eyes as he gazes down at you. "Why aren't you in your own room?"

His fingers brush gently against your cheek, the touch surprisingly tender despite the seriousness of his tone. He seems concerned for your safety and comfort, wondering why you chose to sleep here instead of your own room. His brow furrows further in confusion and concern.

You shift slightly, reaching out in your sleep and grasping his hand, pulling it closer to your breasts. The words "please stay with me" escape your lips, soft and uncertain. Your action catches him off guard, and for a moment, he stands frozen, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

His eyes flicker between your face and his hand, now resting lightly upon your breast. This unexpected contact sends a wave of heat rushing through him, confusion mingling with arousal. He tries to process the sudden shift in dynamics between the two of you.

Very slowly, he removes his hand from your breast, feeling each curve beneath his palm before reluctantly withdrawing it. His gaze lingers on your face, turbulent with a myriad of complex emotions - part protectiveness, part confusion, and undeniably lust.

"My sweet girl..." he murmurs, running a hand through your hair, "I am here now.."

Hiromi hesitates, then carefully lies down beside you, wrapping his arms around you gently. Despite the shock of your actions, he can't deny the vulnerability in your request for his presence. His heart rate slows as he holds you, feeling your warm breath against his chest.

For several minutes, he simply lies there, stroking your hair and whispering soothing words into your ear. Then, he starts kissing your cheeks, then your neck, providing comfort through touch and warmth. Each kiss is deliberate and slow, filled with affection and care

As his lips trace along your skin, you feel a surge of warmth spreading across your body. You cling tighter to him, not wanting him to leave.

Hiromi pauses, his lips hovering above your collarbone. "I am here, don't worry" he promises softly, his voice husky with unspoken desire.

With careful fingers, he lifts one of your legs and places it across his hips, using the other hand to massage your calf gently. As he works his way up, he notices the dampness of your shorts, the fabric clinging to your thigh. His heart skips a beat, and he freezes mid-stroke.

Swallowing hard, he leans closer to your ear, his voice barely audible. "Why...are you wet, sweetheart?" His tone is cautious, a mix of curiosity and concern. He's unsure how to interpret this new development, but the tenderness in his voice remains unchanged. He's still trying to provide comfort, yet his mind races with questions and uncertainty.

"Is everything okay?" he asks softly, his fingers tracing delicate circles on your inner thigh, hesitant yet unable to resist touching you. He needs answers, but more importantly, he needs to make sure you're safe.

Your silence hangs heavy in the room, the weight of the situation palpable between you both.

In response to your silent plea, you scoot closer to him, pressing your damp core against his half-hard dick. The friction is deliberate, seeking relief or perhaps some form of comfort. As you move against him, he starts to stiffen, feeling your insistence through his clothing. The friction ignites a fire within him, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. His breath hitches, and he grips your waist tightly, struggling to contain his reaction.

His mind swirls with conflicting thoughts - desire, confusion, guilt. This unexpected turn of events leaves him speechless, torn between stopping you and giving in to his primal urges.

Despite the unexpected turn of events, he doesn't push you away. Instead, he wraps his arm around you more tightly, guiding your movement subtly, matching your rhythm.

Hiromi's voice is hoarse when he speaks, his words thick with emotion. "Are you...in heat?"

Hiromi's question hangs in the air, heavy with implications. In response, you hum softly in your sleep, the sound both affirmative and inviting. It confuses and excites him simultaneously.

With a deep breath, he reaches for your shorts, slowly peeling them down along with your panties. Your wet core is exposed to the cool air, glistening under the faint light. He stares at it for a moment, conflicted but undeniably turned on.

With trembling hands, he pulls you closer, his tongue darting out to lick at your clit. The salty taste of your arousal electrifies him, and he groans quietly against you.

As he continues to pleasure you, you moan sleepily, bucking your hips for more friction. His movements become more confident, his tongue exploring every inch of your swollen flesh. He watches your reactions closely, amazed by the powerful effect his touches seem to have on you.

"Oh god, Y/N..." he breathes out, his voice thick with desire. "You're so wet..."

His fingers dig into your hips as he continues his tongue invasion, your moans growing louder with each pass of his tongue. He can't believe how responsive you are while you are sleeping, your body arching beneath him willingly.

Hiromi's brings his fingers to your folds, his fingers slide effortlessly into your wet heat, causing your eyes to flutter open in surprise. You gasp softly, your muscles clenching around his digits as he pushes deeper.

He smiles to himself, his fingers curling upward to stroke the front wall of your pussy. You let out a sleepy moan, your hips rocking instinctively against his hand.

Without hesitation, he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his pants to lubricate his already-erect shaft. The motion is swift and efficient, his eyes never leaving clenching hole as he frees his hardness.

Hiromi plunges his tongue into your hole, his strokes becoming more urgent as he stimulates both your pussy and himself. The sensations are overwhelming, and you moan softly, your eyes half-opening to meet his gaze.

Hiromi's eyes lock onto yours, his pupils dilated with desire. He's mesmerized by your sleepy, aroused state, his fingers tightening around his shaft as he continues to pleasure you. The sight of you, responding to his touch like this is both thrilling and confusing, but he can't seem to stop.

Your hand wraps around his hair, gently pulling his head closer to your center. The pressure forces his nose against your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your breathing becomes labored, your moans growing louder as you rock your hips against his face.

Hiromi's eyes flutter closed, his nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply, drinking in your scent. He's completely absorbed in the moment, his senses overwhelmed by the intimacy of the act. His fingers continue to stroke his erection, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chases your release.

His tongue darts out, tasting the sweet nectar of your arousal. He sucks gently on your clit, his fingers pumping his erection in time with the motions of his mouth. The combination of sensations is intoxicating, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of climax.

The pressure builds to a crescendo, and you shatter around his tongue, crying out in ecstasy. Your walls contract, trying milking his tongue for every last drop of pleasure. He licks and suckles, coaxing out every last tremor from your climax.

As you ride the aftershocks, he brings his cock closer, rubbing the tip against your still-sensitive clit. He moans loudly, his hips jerking in response to the stimulation. The sensation is too much for him to handle, and he releases on your thighs, coating your skin with his seed. The pleasure is intense and sharper than any legal victory he's ever experienced.

After his release, Hiromi takes a few deep breaths, his body trembling with exhaustion. He collapses next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your head.

◈ CHOSO KAMO

The sound of moans and the mention of his name stop Choso in his tracks like a bullet hitting a target. His heart races and his breath hitches. Is this real? Could it really be you, making those sweet noises?

He slowly moves closer to the door, trying to listen better. The sound comes again, "Choso.. mhm- daddy." it seems softer this time, almost like you need him. His cock grows hard in response, throbbing painfully against his pants. He's never thought of you this way before, but now the image of you, pleasuring yourself while calling out his name, is burned into his mind. His dick twitches in his pants, straining against the fabric. He looks down, seeing a wet spot forming there.

"This isn't right, you're not supposed to want your stepdaughter like this." But the taboo nature of it only makes the desire grow stronger. Slowly, he reaches down and adjusts himself through his pants, trying to ease the pressure building up.

Choso hesitates at the door, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. You're asleep, peaceful and innocent looking. Your cheeks are flushed against the pillow, and another pillow is nestled between your thighs, mimicking the motion of being fucked moving gently as you make soft, sleepy moans.

With a deep breath, he steps into the room, shutting the door gently behind him. He approaches your bed, looking down at you as you sleep. The sight of you, even in sleep, is arousing. Your face squeezed on to the pillow, those soft moans escaping from your lips. He feels like he shouldn't be here, watching you, but he can't help it. As much as he tries to fight it, he can't deny his curiosity.

"I am here baby, do you need anything?," Choso asks quietly, his voice barely audible.

His eyes trace over your form, taking in the sight of you. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your thighs clamp around the pillow. He swallows thickly, feeling the heat rush to his face. He should leave, shouldn't he? But he can't seem to tear his gaze away from you.

"Hey.. Is everything alright?" he asks again, his voice barely above a whisper. He wants to reach out, to touch you, to make sure you're alright. But he knows that would be wrong. Still, he can't stop himself from reaching out, lightly brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You reply in your drowsy state ,"N-need Cho daddy so bad", Choso's breath catches in his throat. He had heard you correctly. You need him, Daddy, so bad. Heat floods his cheeks, but he can't look away. You move restlessly in your sleep, your legs shifting apart slightly. His eyes follow the movement, catching sight of your dampened panties.

He swallows hard, his voice rough as he asks, "Do you need my help with this?"

Your response is a soft hum, and he sees your lips part slightly. You're so vulnerable, so exposed in your slumber. Choso's hand trembles as he reaches out, gently pulling your panties down, revealing your glistening slit. He takes a moment to admire the sight, the wetness glistening in the moonlight filtering through the window. His cock throbs painfully at the sight, aching to be inside you.

"Baby, do you want me to help you feel better?" he whispers, his voice shaking. He knows this is wrong, but he can't resist the temptation any longer.

Slowly, Choso slides his finger into you, marveling at how tight and wet you are. He can't believe this is happening. You're so responsive, even in your sleep. He pulls back his finger, coated in your wetness, and brings it to his mouth. Tasting you sends a thrill through him.

Undressing hastily, he discards his pants and boxers, revealing his erection. It's throbbing, desperate for release. He positions himself above you and gently circles your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. Your eyes start to open, but you're still lost in the haze of sleepiness. You nuzzle your face into the pillow, a soft whimper escaping you as he begins to thrust into you.

"Shhh, it's okay, baby," he murmurs, trying to calm you. "Just enjoy it. Let me take care of you."

Your eyes focus on him, wide with confusion and desire. "Daddy..." you mumble, not quite understanding what's happening.

"It's okay, just relax," he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "I'm going to make you feel good."

He continues to thrust into you slowly, gently at first, letting your body adjust to him. Your moans become louder, more distinct, as he increases the pace. You arch your back, meeting his thrusts, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

As he fucks you, you start to come alive. Your hips buck against him, urging him deeper. You're so responsive, so eager. He can tell you're close, your breaths quickening, your nails digging into the sheets.

"That's it, baby," he whispers, his voice ragged. "Let go for me."

You let out a cry, your orgasm washing over you. Your inner walls clench around him, milking him as you climax. Choso groans, unable to hold back anymore, he quickly pulls out of you, watching as you collapse back onto the bed, gasping for air. He can't wait any longer; his release is imminent. He strokes himself a few times, aiming for your back.

A hot stream of cum lands on your skin, followed by another. He keeps cumming, covering your back in his seed. His breath hitches as he finishes, collapsing next to you. His heart pounds in his chest, his breaths shallow.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he mutters continuously.

You turn to face him, your eyes full of gratitude. "Thank you, Daddy," you say softly, reaching out to touch his face. "That felt so good."

Without waiting for a response, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. He protests weakly, but he doesn't struggle. You snuggle against him, feeling his heartbeat under your ear.

5K notes · View notes

simpleesong · 1 year ago

Text

Farmhouse Living Room

Example of a mid-sized country loft-style medium tone wood floor living room library design with white walls

#americana #wood plank #reclaimed wood #ceramic wood tile #floor to ceiling drapes #sliding barn doors

0 notes

midnightarcheress · 8 months ago

Text

stress-relief

husband!Simon helping his wife!reader with her stress <3 cw: nsfw. mdni. fem reader, masturbation, squirting, a lil overstim.

you shuffle through the bag to find the keys to your home, only to drop it the minute you raise it to unlock the door. great. it’s one of those days where everything goes wrong, and you want nothing more than to shut out the world and curl up in bed, silently praying for the next one to be better.

you pick up the keys from the doormat and swing open the door of your flat, hoping that the familiar scent flooding your lungs will help you ground yourself back to a more serene state. tossing your coat and bag aside, your gaze falls on the tall man quietly reading on the sofa, sweetly mouthing a “welcome back, love.” that you dismiss with a grunt, stomping your way to the bedroom.

‘uh-oh.’ Simon thinks, siren already buzzing and red light blinking in his brain, making him pull up to his feet at god-speed and quickly follow you to your shared room, being met with your clothes scattered around and the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. he promptly puts away your discarded attire and sits on the edge of the bed, patiently waiting for you.

you stay in the shower for some good thirty minutes, allowing the water to wash away your stress as you massage your scalp. the weight finally falls from your shoulders and flows down the drain, leaving you alone with the tiredness that’s been brewing in your tense muscles since you stepped out of the house. with a long, weary sigh, you drape the towel around your body and walk out the bathroom, tiny droplets cascading from your hair to your chest, descending on the swell of your breasts and stirring your husband’s cock in his pants.

“gonna tell me wha’ got you so cranky, dove?” he asks with the slightest of teasing, knowing he’s staggering on the thin line of your temper.

“‘m sorry, jus’ a hard day.” you mutter sheepishly, turning to get some well-deserving comfy clothes on the dresser

“c’mere,” you barely have time to react before Simon pulls you by the wrist onto the bed, positioning your body between his legs as he rests on the headboard, “talk to me, lovie.”

his hands brush your arms delicately, fingers running up and down your skin as you start addressing the misfortunes of your day. how a jerk cut you off in traffic, how a client screamed at you on the phone after you explained it wasn’t possible to fulfill his request, how your long awaited sweet treat after lunch fell straight to the floor, how your mother called just to raise hell at you for not visiting enough, how your boss scolded you for a mistake that wasn’t even your fault.

“hm, she said tha’?” he murmurs, massaging the knots on your shoulders and slowly drifting his hands downwards, opening up the lightly damp towel that’s clinging to your frame as you ramble. his rough, calloused skin finds its way to your soft tits, gently kneading the fat while his lips plant small kisses all over your neck.

“i swear that woman’s out to get me, don't know how i haven’t been fired yet.”

“she knows tha’ place would fall apart without ya, doll. you’re the only one with a brain there,” he coos sweetly in your ear, fingers traveling down your stomach and reaching your mound, making your breath hitch in your throat. Simon smirks at your reaction, feeling your head tipping back to rest on his shoulder and your still wet hair soaking his shirt, “let me help you decompress, eh?”

you, too tired to resist the offer, let him spread your legs with ease, compliant to the touch of your loving husband. his middle finger smears the hasty arousal leaking from your cunt through your slit, softly caressing your folds as you melt into his arms. “so wet f’me, love.” he chuckles, slightly rubbing your clit as you hum.

his moves are tame, gradually pooling the warmth in your belly, taking his time to shape your tension until it’s the right moment to set you free. his finger toys with your entrance before sliding in, feeling the familiar walls of your cunt clenching around it, causing you to breathe heavily at just the beginning.

“you like tha’?” he whispers, introducing another finger on your tight hole as you turn to bury your face on his neck, mewling with pleasure and pain while he stretches you, digits hitting all the right spots. by the time he speeds up the thrusting, your moans are erratic, gasped, barely leaving your throat as you grasp his forearm in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, even with your brain reaching the fucked-out point by a simple touch.

his thumb lazily strokes your swollen nub as he continues to be knuckles-deep inside of your velvety walls, curling his fingers just enough to earn a squeal out of you. the coil on your lower stomach tightens, fibers threatening to snap at any second as Simon murmurs sugary praises in your ears whilst nipping the skin where your neck meets your shoulder, the love bite’s stings only intensifying the pleasure coursing through your bloodstream.

“Simon, ’m gonna-” you don’t even have the energy to complete your sentence before your juices flood on his hand, the god’s nectar gushing from your pussy and dripping from his wrist onto the long forgotten towel, as he bullies your clit to overstimulation. you cry out his name like a prayer, begging whatever higher power out in the universe to let you keep that sensation forever.

“looks like someone really needed tha’,” he laughs and you feel the deep rumbling from his chest on your naked back, only driving you closer to the edge as your legs convulse at the overwhelming thrill of your nervous system. your frantic moans echo in the room when Simon raises his free hand to your nipple, rolling the hardened tip between his thumb and index, painting twinkling stars in the ceiling, the scintillation being too much to keep your vision clear. “think ya got another one f’me, princess?”

he doesn’t wait for your answer; he knows how to treat his precious wife and can cite by heart the prescription to get you to sleep better than any pill would. tears prickle in the corner of your eyes when he starts again, just barely giving you time to recover from the near out-of-body experience.

his new rhythm is harsh, pulling your thighs - fully covered in slick and arousal - over his to keep you spread open, and fiercely pounding two digits inside you. you squirm and press yourself harder against his broad chest, babbling incoherently as he pumps his thick and scarred fingers somehow even deeper than before.

“Si, ‘s too much, i can’t-” you choke out, streams rolling down your cheeks as he builds another orgasm out of you. half-lidded eyes meet his hazel irises in a lustful gaze, pleading in agony for another release before your body gives out.

it doesn’t take much before a jolt of electricity tingle beneath your skin and makes you cum, getting you blissfully drunk by finger-fucking only while your peak ripple through your core. your hands sternly grip on the sheets under your limp body, the frenzy running its way through every corner of your being, clouding your vision and leaving you in a divine peaceful haze.

your limbs twitch slightly as you come down from your high, Simon holding you tight in his burly arms and pressing kisses on your pretty face. “you did so good, lovie,” he praises, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your belly, “could’ve given ya s’much more but your eyes are so droopy already,” his quiet laugh almost lull you to sleep right there and then, “feeling better?”

you nod, eyes tempting to close as the fatigue washes over you, weariness creeping up your mind after a hell of a day and a celestial end to it. “thank you, Si.” you mumble with nothing but affection in your voice, utterly elated by the sight of your devoted husband cradling you.

“anything for ya, my wife.”

just a little something i thought of while procrastinating my other works lol

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost imagine #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod smut #nyx writes ☾#midnightarcheress

4K notes · View notes

dekuneho · 12 days ago

Text

sober ☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) mdni | suggestive — liquid courage failed you before, too many times to count. this time, you're staying sharp.

mature content, alcohol/drinking, getting together, katsuki is such a boyfriend for someone who isnt your boyfriend, whipped katsuki my favorite, pov switching, 4k words

Katsuki grunts, scowling at nothing in particular. “Stupid.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Katsuki, pissed enough as he is, shoves a hand to squint at the message.

where r u???? hurry the fuck up. pleasee omfg

It’s from Flat Face. Figures.

eat shit and die im almost there

Without Katsuki to play the adult supervision, Sero remains the sober friend in outings, mostly because he can handle his liquor well. Sero badgers on with his texts, begging for Katsuki to hurry before they’re permanently banned at their favorite karaoke bar.

Sero follows up on a recent message with an image attached. Katsuki slows his steps to glare down at his phone. Sero’s real shitty at taking pictures, or it could be someone’s jostling him from the side. None of it matters — Katsuki’s eyes zero in on you lying on Mina’s lap, where the camera had captured you mid-laugh.

“Stupid,” Katsuki repeats, unable to tear his eyes away from your glee for a moment too long. He only snaps back to reality when his phone dims. He must’ve painted a manic picture, staring at his phone like a damn creep. Fuck.

He’ll see the real deal in a minute, but still, he saves the image in his phone gallery. That’s between him and his phone.

Katsuki ignores the crisp breeze brushing his bare face. His nose twitches, growing numb; he feels his hands ache in traces of pain that come to bloom when it’s met with a sharp chill. This feeds his irritation further, yet it’s telling that he continues to walk down the road, as if turning back home was never an option in his head.

The attendant appears relieved to see him; whether it’s from recognition of the #5 hero or the acknowledgment of this establishment’s savior from rowdy pro heroes, Katsuki will never know. Katsuki doesn’t even need to ask — she just hurries him to the far corner room where his shitty friends are situated. He mutters his thanks. She just tells him good luck. Damn.

Katsuki pulls the sliding door open and is instantly greeted by the stench of alcohol. Sero’s picture hadn’t done enough justice; seeing it in real life is worse. It’s like the aftermath of a nasty villain attack if it came in the form of piles and piles of beer and alcohol puddles and bar snacks all over the table. Kirishima’s knocked out on Sero’s shoulder, drooling. Jirou is also fast asleep, taking an entire couch, leaving Sero to huddle uncomfortably on the edge of a corner. Mina’s holding the microphone, but nothing’s playing; she’s just singing shit. You’re laughing at Mina, clutching your stomach.

He nearly stumbles over a leg belonging to Kaminari, who’s sprawled on the floor for some fucking reason.

“The fuck happened?” he hisses, narrowly missing Kaminari's arm swinging to latch onto his ankle.

Cheers erupt from all around the table when they register Katsuki’s arrival. Sero looks like a single parent of five — which may just be the case.

Sero sighs. “It’s like I blinked and was left with this.”

Katsuki snorts. At least he knows how it feels. He's felt that way since year fucking one.

He steps over Kaminari's body, ignoring his cry, heading straight towards you. Raccoon eyes is talking to Katsuki — something about him being a jackass for bailing on tonight, not that Katsuki gives a single fuck.

“Killjoy. Boring. You’re getting boring, old man!” Mina yells at his face.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says reflexively. “We’re celebrating again next week anyway. Don’t start with me.”

You beam at him, hands reaching out like a fucking child or something. He begins to pry you off Mina’s lap, but his hold under your arms gives notice to how you’re shivering.

Katsuki shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. Looks like he’ll have to take you home himself.

“Sero,” Katsuki voices in a bite, glaring over his shoulder.

Sero rushes to service as Katsuki shifts to his back, leaving Kirishima to sag beside Jirou, their snores harmonizing. Sero drags you to settle on Katsuki’s back, where Katsuki quickly hunches over and shifts his palms under your thighs. You mumble happily, burrowing your nose into the nape of his neck.

Katsuki slings a heated warning in Sero’s direction before the bastard can laugh about it.

“Call a cab,” he grunts out. “Wake Shitty Hair up; he can help you with those shits.”

Sero flicks a hand in a mock salute.

It was a tedious process, but everyone managed, eventually. They all crash at Kirishima’s house. They’ll be fine. And if someone’s house burns down — well… they’re heroes, they’ll still be fine.

Katsuki adjusts his hold, exiting the bar as the cab drives off. He walks, the cold billowing a soft cloud in each breath.

“You awake back there?” he asks, staring ahead.

“Mm, you take such good care of me, Katsukiii,” you coo in his ear, your lips brushing over the shell of his ear.

He shivers, feeling warmth creep up the back of his neck. You laugh irritatingly, grating his nerves and fluttering his stomach. He bristles at the sensation, snarling nonsense that you don’t even listen to, too busy giggling over damn who-knows-what.

“Walking me back to your home, huh? What are you, my bodyguard? You big, strong … hunk of a man…”

Katsuki huffs in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Katsuki,” you drawl, your hand sliding over his bicep. “You’re so good to me. You take care of me, y’know?”

“I know,” Katsuki says, devoid of its usual snark. “‘s ‘cause you can’t do it yourself.”

“Ha-ha!” You lean your chin on his shoulder. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Wish you could … take care of me like this … forever.”

“Idiot,” Katsuki says, mostly to himself. You don’t respond either way.

Katsuki can fucking smell the alcohol reeking from your mouth. He’s about to tell you off, complain about your goddamn stink, but you’ve gone limp in his hold.

“Do you mean that?” Katsuki starts, and it’s met with silence. Then, snoring.

Katsuki doesn’t smile, but the by-passers would argue otherwise.

This is bad. Starting to get bad.

You got somewhat shit-faced drunk in hopes of making a move on Katsuki with liquid courage, but he’d taken care of you so well that you didn’t even have a hangover as an excuse the moment you jolted to consciousness. Your head is starting to clear up, losing its fog and illusion of confidence, and your brain is running off at full speed.

This isn’t the first time you’ve sobered up while in the warmth of Katsuki’s bed, an hour or so after he whisked you away from your shared friend group.

What the fuck am I doing? You want to punch something and scream, ideally where Katsuki can’t see you throwing a tantrum.

You turn to your side where Katsuki’s still in deep sleep, shoulders rising and falling at once like a decrescendo, slow and steady. It’s a heart-aching sight — achingly bare.

He has his back turned. You hold your breath and peek over, hands catching an inch away from Katsuki’s face, catching a view of his mouth open just a tiny bit for quiet snores to come out. It’s unbearably cute. He must’ve been tired, having to take care of your careless drunk ass all night, and it’s not even the first time.

This isn't anything new either — sleeping on the same bed. You remember it from the first night. He shrugged it off, saying he didn't want to carry your ass anymore. You're already makin' me take care of your dumb ass every time this shit happens — you expected me to go 'n sacrifice the bed I bought with my own money?

"Scandalous," you said, at the time, reeling from how defensive Katsuki had been.

"Not like I'm gonna do anythin' to you." Katsuki stared you down. "Why? You wanted me to?"

How embarrassing to resort to liquid courage and still fail.

This has to end. You are definitely not aiming to become a drunkard just to have a chance with your crush.

“Morning,” a gravelly voice mutters, breath hot on your face.

You come to the startling realization that you've been hovering over Katsuki for longer than you intended. His intense gaze arrests yours, tension hanging in the hair. Like doused in a bucket of cold water, you jerk away and flounder, half-baked syllables spilling as some attempt of an excuse. There is no other explanation for that — you were ogling Katsuki in his sleep.

Katsuki doesn’t smirk, but the mirth lighting in his eyes comes very close to it. He pulls you to his side, gripping one of your wrists and positioning it on the other side of his head. He adjusts your hold until you’re pinning him down.

You choke on your breath. “What—”

This time, Katsuki grins. “You're gonna strain your shoulders, idiot.”

Dangerous man, the primal instincts of your brain scream, flinching away, hissing. The hormonal side begs you to pounce on him and wipe that smug expression off his handsome face.

You quickly pull back, recoiling away, only to find yourself back up to the firm surface of Katsuki’s thigh, where he had lifted it in his wake. The shock sends a sharp jolt of aching pain at your violent reaction. You whimper and clutch at your head, dizziness inciting a pathetic: Owww.

“Don’t move so much, fucking dipshit,” Katsuki hisses, easing your hips down on his other thigh that’s laid flat on the bed. “Don’t you fuckin' dare throw up so goddamn early. Shit, it’s like, what, four AM?”

You sag against him, feeling at ease without the strain of your muscles holding your weight up. Katsuki’s like a mountain mass furnace — how nice. You don’t even register that you’re all but straddled on his thigh; if anyone were to walk in, they’d be well within their rights to assume the worst.

Katsuki cranes his neck as he reaches for a glass. You jostle at the movement, grumbling, and Katsuki mutters a quiet ‘sorry,' holding the water to your lips. You take gulps of water slowly, careful not to spill and ruin Katsuki’s strangely soft mood.

“Thanks,” you say. Katsuki’s actions and the weight of his tone — everything is off-kilter with the mood that’s just set. He’s really… “Sorry for the trouble,” you say in a hushed whisper, guilt settling in.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t,” Katsuki snaps, frown deepening. His eyes don’t convey the same ire.

“Yeah.” You nod, fond. “You don’t do anything you don’t want to, huh?”

Katsuki’s expression shifts. Just slightly, before it melts back into practiced blankness. “So?”

Everything’s straightforward with Katsuki. But even then — even then, he might not mean it in the same way as you’re hoping.

“I wasn’t that drunk, you know.” You want to look away, but you’re finding it difficult to even try. “I never was. I — I know this is the third time this happened.”

Katsuki lifts a brow. “You remember the first time you threw up in my car then?”

Your face erupts in flames. “I’m so sorry.”

Katsuki pushes you by the small of your back, closer to him. You swallow back an embarrassing noise, somehow quick enough to balance yourself on his chest before you plant your nose to his face. Katsuki’s ruby gaze pins you down, even when you’re the one on top of him. Dangerous, dangerous, leave, your brain yowls. Your body, your heart — stays incredibly still, obedient in the face of the man who's got you weak.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” Katsuki asks, several octaves deep. Roused freshly from slumber.

You squirm. His skin feels hot to the touch, even through his fucking black tank top. “I said a lot of dumb shit, Katsuki.”

“Do you mean them, then?”

You file through your memories, trying to pinpoint precisely what he’s talking about. Katsuki’s patient, seemingly content with keeping you on his lap, staring. You’re the humiliated one here.

“What did I say?” you demand, nerves constricting in your chest.

Katsuki pushes his torso up with a hand, inching his face impossibly close. The heat of his gaze spreads through your entire body. You’re sure he can feel it, too — hard to miss when you’re a lapful of a flighty cat perched on him.

His nose brushes against yours, eyes flickering down. Your breath hitches, caught in the hush of the moment.

“Katsuki?” you ask in a fearful whisper. Katsuki’s eyes snap back to meet your gaze.

“‘m hungry,” Katsuki mutters, leaning back.

Your face burns, his warmth lingering on the space before you. Your hands touch over your face, winded. Still aware of Katsuki’s intense gaze, you pull off from his lap, ignoring the scream of your headache as you dash to the kitchen.

You really thought he was going to kiss you.

No, maybe it's more accurate to say you were hoping for it. You almost pleaded for him to. Had he lingered, you would’ve thrown yourself all over him, begging, Please, please, Katsuki kiss me — I need you. How embarrassing is that? To need someone so badly that he's your waking thought, and yet you hate seeing him around?

Instead, the morning ended with Katsuki lending his shirt and driving you back to your apartment — a set routine — the third time. You talked to ease the tension, but it was a fruitless attempt at the question hanging in the air, dangling in front of both your faces. Katsuki doesn’t bring it up, so you hang onto the sliver of mercy he’s granted.

The week passes, and still, you aren't quite ready when another chance comes again.

You wonder if he’ll bring it up tonight.

This time, the party is in honor of celebrating Katsuki’s — Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight — ascension to the Top 5 in the Pro Hero ranking. Katsuki’s not surprised, but most of the class is; he hasn’t laid off on the crude language, so it’s a wonder he even got into the Top 10 at all.

Most of your former classmates are busy with their duties and patrol, and Katsuki isn’t keen on inviting more than five people to his house. Unfortunately for him, Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Sero, Jirou, and Kaminari wouldn’t miss this celebration for the world — Villains be damned, it’s Bakugou Katsuki’s big day. It’s an unspoken agreement that you tag along. Katsuki also texted you that you were late an hour ago, so it’d be no use for anyone to upset Katsuki.

Of course, parties go hand-in-hand with alcohol. You had been avoiding Katsuki since that night, fleeing at every glimpse of blond hair. No one has noticed, except maybe Katsuki, whose eyes linger on you for five seconds longer than usual when you knock on his door.

His gaze sends a lick of heat down your spine, and the night’s just starting.

There needs to be a change of plans. If trapping him drunk doesn’t work after three failed attempts, then you have no choice but to do it sober.

That scrap of interest Katsuki had shown last week was more than enough encouragement. If you don’t end up confessing your feelings tonight, then that just means you’re never meant to do it at all — which would’ve been the easiest way out if Katsuki didn’t make it so hard.

“Hey,” you say. "I'm here."

“Finally,” he mutters. Your lips quirk up in humor.

Katsuki’s gaze slips from your collarbone to your thighs before flicking back up. A flame of interest makes itself known to you, to your chagrin. You’re no better: Katsuki’s dressed in low-hung jeans and a black fitted tank top under a striking red button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. How can he make a simple nothing look so sinful?

Katsuki steps back, presenting the surprisingly neat get-together your friends have set up. There’s a buffet of food spread across Katsuki’s dining table — and because you know Katsuki well enough to be privy to his skills in the kitchen, you can tell he cooked all of them. There are banners spelling his name out beside Congratulations!, which must be Katsuki’s limit, seeing the lack of confetti.

“You’re here!” Mina shrieks, bounding over to encase you in a tight hug.

Air knocks out of your lungs as she squeezes your neck. You tap Mina’s back in distress. The room lights up with laughter, greeting you in turn. Kaminari moves to ruffle your hair, but his eyes catch on something behind you, and he pales and hides behind an amused Kirishima.

Katsuki heads to the kitchen island, alcohol lined up in a neat pile. You decide firmly that you are not getting drunk — you will power through with your plan, and that’s your mission for the day.

You pump your fist once and exhale roughly. Plus Ultra! Mina says you look stupid, dragging you off to the living room.

You’re squished between Kaminari and Mina, who throw their heads back for a shot.

True to your word, you denied any shot glasses offered, instead busying your mouth with the food Katsuki cooked. It's too bad you can't shut your brain the same way.

It’s tempting — really, really tempting. You haven’t been able to approach Katsuki, feeling too much like you should just forget about whatever plan you had for a confession and ride the tide back to normalcy. To get shitfaced drunk and leave it for you to deal with in the morning. But whenever you meet Katsuki’s eyes — it’s like you’re back on his bed, he’s too close for comfort, and you're reminded of all those mornings you wished was so much more last night, and the itch for alcohol is swept away.

Mina rests her head on the curve of your shoulder, her hair tickling your cheek. She asks, too nonchalantly for your liking—

“Have you and Katsuki fucked this week yet?”

You’re fortunate enough to have decided to skip alcohol for tonight, or else you would’ve died from choking on it. You glance over, hoping Katsuki hadn't been paying attention, but to your relief, he was absorbed in a discussion with Kirishima. “I’m — Have we — What?!”

Mina barrels on obliviously. “Had sex. Gotten busy. Under the covers. Hands-on learning—”

“No, I — What the fuck!” You shove her off. Mina sways in place; you'd feel sorry if you weren’t so scandalized. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Oh.” Mina tilts her head and watches your reaction thoughtfully. “No wonder why. Katsuki’s looking all tense lately.”

What the hell. “So?!”

Your shriek disturbs the peace of the party.

Kaminari chimes in to add to the blow. You lock eyes with Katsuki from across the room — must be the ninth time this evening — while Mina and Kaminari crowd in on you, relentless with probing curiosity. “I also thought he was acting like he was lacking some action—”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you rip your gaze off Katsuki’s questioning stare. Then, in a low whisper, “Katsuki and I have never — we aren’t even—”

Kaminari turns his head, presumably to eye Katsuki. “Why does he look like he’s about to eat you up?”

“Do I look like I can read his mind?” You feel irritation like a blade on your nerves. “If he’s all tense, then he should get his dick wet — and I’m not involved in any of that.”

Mina gapes, disgusted. “What? You’d just let him fool around with someone else?”

“Why would that be my issue?”

Mina and Kaminari share a look. “Oh my god.”

“You’re actually not together? Not even, like — just fooling around as friends?”

“No, Kaminari.” You hate how you sound defeated admitting that. “No, we’re not.”

“Fuck,” says Mina emphatically. “Fuck! You’ve got to fuck!”

“What — Why is this my responsibility? If he’s happy fucking someone else, let him be — You want him to loosen up, don’t you?”

Mina’s face shifts into a devious little thing. “You look like you want him to loosen you up.”

"That's so gross, Ashido."

Kaminari grins knowingly. “You jealous? Why’s that, huh?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to confess to him for two months now, and my liquid courage is nothing but a fucking cock-blocker!” you hiss in a frantic whisper.

“We’ve got to fix this!” Mina says, the hero that she is. “We need you to get laid!”

“Please tone it down,” you plead.

Kaminari tugs you down in a mock of a team huddle. You squirm uncomfortably; you can taste the liquor in their breaths. “What’s your game plan?” he asks. “Seduce him? Lock him up in his room, maybe?”

“I guess? I just want to do it sober.”

Mina suddenly leaps to her feet, yelling like a soldier. “Isolate him, then force your love!”

“Sober and preferably not unhero-like.”

Mina squeals, cupping your cheeks. “Do it tonight. He’s ready, I can feel it. He’s looking at you.”

Everyone in the room is casting glances at the three of you, but thankfully, Sero, Jirou, and Kirishima are respectful enough not to approach and disrupt the troubling conversation for your dignity’s sake.

“Of course he’s looking at me,” you wallow in mortification. “You’re making it too obvious. I’m going to get bullied.”

Mina smirks, her gaze trained ahead. “Yeah, you’re going to get bullied alright.”

You splutter, “What do you mean—”

Katsuki hovers over you three. “Let’s talk,” he demands, glaring hotly.

You’re back in Katsuki’s room, this damned space — the source of all your longing dreams and fantasies. The music from downstairs dials up, though it seems like it’s more out of consideration for you both. You’d been whisked away by Bakugou Katsuki once again, both of you blatantly disregarding the obscene gestures Mina and Kaminari were making as he pulled you upstairs. This time, however, you’re as sober as ever. It feels so different, like you're pulled out after submerging in the water for too long. Everything is so loud and clear.

Katsuki cages you against his door, never one to mess around.

“If I made you uncomfortable, punch me,” Katsuki says out of nowhere.

You’re speechless. “What?”

“Just — yell at me or some shit. Don’t start avoidin’ me, and don’t just move on to some other extra,” Katsuki mutters, deliberately averting your wide eyes. Move on to another— "I'll leave you alone."

"Why would I…" Move on to someone else? That's almost disrespectful to all the pining that's fucked with your head since this crap started. Move on? From Bakugou Katsuki?

"You were talking about it with those assholes."

Oh. He overheard all the wrong parts.

"I'm not gonna hook up with anyone else!"

The tension that has coiled tightly around his shoulders eases. Yet, despite this, he still hadn't made any bold moves to lead you to his bed, holding onto a fragile thread of hesitation that lingered in the air between you. Like you didn't just admit you're exclusively waiting for him.

His face twists up. “And, about that night, I wasn’t gonna — fuck, I’m not gonna do shit you don’t want, but I can’t read your mind. I don't wanna fuck this up.”

“What are we talking about?”

“The kiss, dammit — shit. Get it straight before I get the wrong idea.” Katsuki groans, resting an arm above your head. Is it wrong to be so endeared by someone clearly struggling to get his point across? “Do you mean it?”

You furrow your brows, arms crossed. This again. “What did I say, Katsuki?”

“When you said you wanted me to take care of you forever.”

What the hell? Did you really say that? Screw the exclusiveness of sex, that was basically a proposal!

Katsuki hooks a finger on your chin and forces your gaze back to him. Pay attention to me. Your eyes drift away for a second, catching on his ears, tinted ears — in contrast to his fierce scowl.

Your shoulders relax somewhat. Then you can't help but laugh.

Right, this is still just Katsuki. Your best friend, crush since forever; the guy who took care of you without even asking for anything in return. The guy who apparently has been considering your boundaries even though you've been seducing him drunk too many times.

“Why are you laughing,” Katsuki hisses; his frustration sounds more agitated than furious.

“So you did want to kiss me that morning?”

“No shit,” Katsuki huffs in a humorless laugh. “But, fuck, I’m not shitty enough to force you—”

“Katsuki,” you interrupt, “you should’ve.”

He falls silent, red eyes piercing yours searchingly.

Dangerous, your mind whispers, but you’ve never wanted to experience a thrill like this in your life. “I really wanted you to.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re lucky you took good care of me before I pounced on you drunk,” you say, and you mean it too. Your hands snake over his shoulder, tugging him down.

Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat, looking caught off guard. Wide-eyed and unsure. Cute. “Are you drunk right now?” he asks carefully.

“Never been more sober in my life,” you breathe.

He dives in for a rough kiss, one hand on the back of your head to push you deeper into him. You tilt your head to the side and — yeah, that’s better. Katsuki pries your mouth open, coaxing noises out of you that he each answers with a groan.

He smells like alcohol in his breath. It mixes with the scent of smoke — a dizzying, cloying scent that screams Katsuki. You want this more than Katsuki realizes. You want to sleep with it, to wake up to it.

“How much did you drink?” you ask.

“Just two light ones,” Katsuki says, and then one side of his lip quirks up. “Thought I had to take your ass home again.”

You smile coyly, tracing a finger over his bicep. “We can skip the foreplay — I'm already in your home, aren't I?”

Katsuki goes very, very still. Staring blankly. You hope you can convey it — you hope he doesn’t back out and pull away. You know he’ll get it. Katsuki is smart enough to pick up on your pleading gaze. His eyes burn; clearer, now, bright with understanding.

I want this, too. You’re not sure if you or Katsuki said it.

You take his daze as a chance to push him to his bed, with you straddling legs as his eyes devour every inch of you.

“Get the fuck out of here if you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” Katsuki says seriously.

You settle over his thigh, mimicking that morning, hands splayed on his chest. Katsuki wheezes out a breath that sounds like he’s been slammed onto a wall, his grip latching onto either side of your hips right away.

“Take care of me again?” you ask.

“Holy fuck,” Katsuki says.

if you read my previous drabble ik i recycled it… but in my defense this one came first. thanks for reading mwa

#ᥫ᭡ dekuneho #&katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki smut

1K notes · View notes

furuu · 10 days ago

Text

∘ʚ ♡ You hear the tapping on the glass again, and this time it’s unmistakable. Sukuna sits perched just outside the sliding door, his crimson eyes focused with laser intensity on you. Draped in morning sunlight, his fluffy face is utterly blank, but the bright colorful bird in his mouth is hard to miss, and he watches you like he’s expecting some grand reaction.

With a sigh, you slide the door open, and Sukuna pads in without hesitation, holding his “gift” with careful precision. He sits down, tails swishing in slow, deliberate arcs as he places the small bird at your feet, staring up with an unreadable expression. To anyone else, it might look like nothing more than a blank stare, but you know the slight twitch of his ears, the ever-so-slight narrowing of his eyes; he’s awaiting approval, maybe even the smallest hint of admiration.

“Kitty...” you say softly, doing your best to keep your tone gentle as you crouch down. “You can’t just go around killing birds. Poor thing…”

He doesn’t even blink, instead leaning forward to nudge the bird a little closer to your feet, his expression unchanging. It’s obvious that to him, he’s just presented you with the finest treasure in the world, and his eyes watch you intently, as if to say, Look. I brought this for you.

You chuckle softly, reaching out to give him a light scratch behind his ears. “Alright,” you murmur, smiling. “Thank you, Sukuna. I appreciate the thought.”

His ear flicks, but he keeps his gaze resolutely fixed on something in the corner, clearly trying to play off his satisfaction with a haughty air. But the tell-tale rumble that vibrates from his chest gives him away, and the second pair of his eyes flutter closed in contentment, clearly soaking up the affection even as he tries to pretend otherwise.

Just when you think he’s done, he prowls around the room, circling, casting occasional glances your way like he’s assessing whether his “gift” has truly pleased you. And each time he looks over, you feel a warm flicker of affection. In his own strange, sometimes intense way, Sukuna’s just trying to show he cares—just as any other cat might with an unfortunate, feathery offering.

Finally, he stops, tails flicking with contentment as he settles at your feet, looking rather smug, as if his job here is complete. And despite the unusual nature of his gesture, you can’t help but feel a warm gratitude, reaching down to pat his head.

“Thank you, tiger,” you say again, and he gives a tiny, almost invisible nod before closing his eyes, sinking comfortably beside you, his massive form nearly curled protectively around you. ・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

#ᡣ꒰ᵔ⠀𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓅ℯ𝓈⠀𝒶𝓃𝒹⠀𝒲ℴℴ𝓁⠀.ㅤ ও #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff #anime x female!reader #anime x chubby!reader #၇୧ ⠀ᅟ𓈒⠀ ɓɑɓɓᥣes⠀⠀( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ ⠀⠀⁺#. . ˚˖𓍢ִ

1K notes · View notes

rafecameronssl4t · 17 days ago

Text

Mind, body, and soul || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @mad3lyncline

Summary: in a rare moment of vulnerability, Rafe voices his need for you and you only.

Warnings: angst galore 😍😍

Word count: 2,371

A/n: guys this acc had me giggling, smiling, and kicking my feet bc I love it when Rafe is so lovestruck by reader and being vulnerable to her and her only.

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

As you reverse park your car, the bass-heavy thrum of trap music vibrates so intensely you can feel it reverberating even from your car. Sarah, lounging in the passenger seat with a tipsy grin, shakes her head. “I can already tell I’m going to be horribly hungover tomorrow.” You chuckle, flicking her a sympathetic look as your finger hovers over the button to raise the convertible roof.

“Me too,” you agree with a laugh. But just as you press it, a blinding light floods the car, making both of you instinctively shield your eyes. “What the hell?” you mutter, squinting as you try to make out the source of the glare. Across the parking lot, a truck idles with its high beams aimed right at you. You narrow your eyes, recognising it immediately.

“Is that your brother’s truck?” you ask Sarah, already knowing the answer. She groans. “It is.” With an exaggerated sigh, you roll your eyes and flip him off, watching as he laugh. “Yeah, real funny, dickhead!” you call out, your voice carrying over the pulsing music just as the roof finishes closing.

Shaking your head with an amused grin, you hop out of the car, the cool night air washing over you as you look back to see Rafe, still sitting behind the wheel with that signature smug grin, clearly pleased with his little stunt. “Of course my brother’s here,” Sarah mutters under her breath as she steps out and shuts her door, the headlights casting long shadows across the driveway as you hit the lock button.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder. “It’s a party loaded with booze, drugs, and girls—where else would he be? Rafe wouldn’t stray too far from that scene,” you say, a knowing smirk playing at your lips. As you round the car, you throw a pointed glance his way, catching his eye for a brief, charged moment.

His grin widens, like he’s daring you to say something, but you roll your eyes, dismissing him as you turn back toward the house. The heavy beat from inside grows louder with each step, the thumping bass promising a long, wild night ahead. Behind you, you can still feel Rafe’s gaze, lingering with a mix of mischief and something unspoken.

“Finally, you’re here,” his voice murmurs close to your ear just as his arm slips around your waist, pulling you into him. The familiar warmth of his body and the scent of his cologne makes you melt, and you can’t help but grin as you look up at him. “Miss me that much?” you tease, rising onto your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips, savouring the brief contact.

“Get a room, please,” Sarah mutters, rolling her eyes as she heads off, leaving you both laughing softly. You’re still smiling into the kiss when his hand slides to grip your waist, then dips lower to give your ass a playful squeeze. Biting back a laugh, you take his hand in yours and lead him inside, weaving through the crowd toward the kitchen, where bottles line the counters and red cups litter the island.

Just as you reach for a drink, you hear Rafe’s voice behind you, casual yet somehow authoritative. “Hey, man,” he calls out, extending a hand. You turn in time to see Topper clasp his hand, pulling him in for a quick bro hug, their easy familiarity apparent. Rafe glances over Topper’s shoulder and gives you a subtle wink, a smirk dancing on his lips. You take a slow, steady sip of your drink, trying to ignore the flutter that Rafe’s wink stirs up.

He gives you a curt nod, voice cool as he says your name—“Y/n”—playing it off casually, fully aware that Topper’s watching. Then, as if on cue, Topper drapes his arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. You lean into his touch, holding Rafe’s gaze with a challenging glint as you cock an eyebrow at him, feeling the tension sparking in the space between you. Rafe just smiles, but you can tell by the tightness at the corners of his mouth that he’s bothered, the calm facade masking what you know to be a prick of jealousy.

Leaning in, you press close to Topper, your lips brushing his ear as you murmur, “I’m gonna go find Sarah. I’ll be back.” You punctuate the words with a soft kiss to his jaw, aware of Rafe’s intense gaze on you, reading every movement. With one last glance over your shoulder, you slip away, feeling the weight of Rafe’s stare as you blend into the crowd, a mix of satisfaction and anticipation simmering in your chest.

“Took you long enough,” Rafe’s voice comes out in a lazy drawl, each word dripping with barely concealed impatience as you shut the door softly behind you. His eyes are locked on you, tracking your every step as you make your way across the room, his posture relaxed, yet there’s a simmering intensity beneath it.

“Yeah, well, I was having my fun,” you say with a playful pout, savoring the way his gaze darkens slightly, jaw tightening as he registers your words. You take your time, letting each step toward him linger, the tension between you building with each inch of distance closed. Rafe’s expression flickers with something unreadable as you stop a couple of feet from him.

“What do you want, Rafe?” you ask, voice soft but steady, holding his gaze with a hint of challenge. His eyes drag slowly over you, a touch possessive. “I don’t get why you’re still with him,” he says, his voice carrying a quiet edge. The statement hangs in the air, daring you to defend it. “Topper?” You shrug casually, though you can see the slight twitch in Rafe’s jaw as you say his name.

“Well, he’s my boyfriend. And…” You pause, watching his reaction, leaning into the charged silence before continuing, “I love him.” Your voice is confident, but you’re aware of how close you are now, of the heat radiating from his body as you step between his legs, close enough to feel the subtle tension in him. Rafe’s pupils dilate, his breathing shallow as he lifts his gaze back to yours, dark and intense.

Slowly, his hand reaches out, resting on the back of your thigh, fingers tightening as he guides you a step closer, his touch firm, sending a shiver through you. The distance between you vanishes, and you bring your hands up to his face, cradling it gently as you tilt his head back, forcing him to look up at you. His usual confidence is flickering, replaced by something raw, vulnerable.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, laced with a desperate edge. His eyes search yours, seeking the truth, his unspoken desire crackling in the air between you, daring you to deny it. His words hang between you, heavy with something you’re not ready to name, his eyes searching yours with a mix of longing and frustration that makes your heart race.

ou hesitate, fingers brushing over his jaw, feeling the tension in him as he waits for you to say something, anything, that confirms what he so desperately wants to believe. A soft laugh escapes your lips, and you arch an eyebrow at him, letting the weight of his expectation settle for a beat before saying, “I don’t get why you’re acting like this just because I let you go down on me at that party.”

Your voice is teasing, the words edged with a playfulness that you know will only stoke his frustration further. Rafe’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening as he processes your response. He lets out a short, mirthless laugh, his grip on your thigh tightening just enough for you to feel the heat of his frustration. “You think this is a joke?” he murmurs, voice low, but there’s a vulnerable edge beneath the words.

You let your hands fall from his face, crossing your arms as you look down at him, still standing between his legs. “What am I supposed to think, Rafe? You’re acting like one night means forever.” You raise an eyebrow, challenging him, but the way he’s looking at you—intense, possessive, almost pleading—makes your own resolve waver. Rafe’s gaze sharpens, his frustration giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable.

“You think I just go down on anyone?” he mutters, his voice barely concealing the hurt simmering beneath his irritation. His hand tightens on your thigh, pulling you that much closer as he speaks. “I wouldn’t do that if you didn’t mean something to me, if this didn’t mean something.” You feel his words settle over you, heavier than you expected. His eyes are locked on yours, unflinching, his expression raw and open in a way that catches you off guard.

He’s never looked at you like this, not with this intensity, this strange mix of frustration and honesty that threatens to crack your own defenses. Rafe’s hand slides up to rest on your hip, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that sends a shiver through you. “That night, it wasn’t just a game for me,” he says softly, voice rough with the weight of the confession. “Don’t pretend it was for you, either.”

You want to say something, anything that will take the edge off the tension thickening between you, but as you look into his eyes, you realize there’s nothing you can say to downplay what happened. The unspoken connection between you is real, and the way he’s holding you now feels dangerously close to a promise. “He’s your best friend, Rafe,” you whisper, your voice softening as you move a strand of his hair away from his forehead.

The gesture feels intimate, yet the weight of your words hangs heavy in the air, a reminder of the precarious line you’re both walking. Rafe shifts slightly, moving his head aside, the warmth of your touch lingering as your finger hovers just above his skin, caught between wanting to reach out and the realization of the boundary you’re skirting. After a moment’s pause, you let your hand fall back down beside you, the distance between you feeling impossibly charged.

“Yeah, and I don’t care about him,” he replies, his voice low but steady, an edge of defiance creeping in. “What matters is how I feel about you.” There’s a moment where his expression flickers—vulnerability giving way to defensiveness. Your heart races at his admission, the honesty in his tone sending a thrill through you. “So you think that just because we had one moment, I should throw everything away?” you challenge, your voice firm, yet tinged with uncertainty.

Rafe’s expression hardens, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability beneath the surface. “You make it sound like I should care about Topper,” he says, the annoyance creeping into his voice. “I don’t. All I care about is you.” The weight of his words hangs in the air, thick with tension. You take a breath, feeling the gravity of what he’s saying. “But it’s not that simple, Rafe. You can’t just ignore everything else.”

“Why not?” he replies, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, filled with intensity. “Why can’t I want you? Why can’t I want more than what we’ve settled for?” Your pulse quickens, caught between his gaze and the truth of your own feelings. Rafe’s intensity is captivating, and as he searches your eyes for answers, you realise that the boundaries you thought you had are blurring, the desire between you too strong to deny.

“Because you can’t have me,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but the words land with a finality that makes his jaw tense. Your hands lift to cradle his face, fingertips brushing against his skin as if trying to commit every line and angle to memory. Your gaze flickers to his lips, the urge to close the distance almost overpowering.

Rafe’s eyes darken, his breath hitching as he studies your face, searching for any trace of doubt. “Says who?” he murmurs, leaning into your touch, his hands coming up to rest gently over yours. He’s holding you there, grounding himself in this moment as though refusing to let it slip away. You swallow, feeling the intensity radiate off him. “Says the part of me that knows you don’t always get what you want.”

The words feel heavy, but there’s a tremor in your voice that betrays your resolve. Even as you speak, your thumb unconsciously traces the curve of his cheek, lingering with a tenderness that contradicts the distance you’re trying to impose. Rafe’s gaze drops to your mouth, a flicker of longing crossing his face. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he whispers, his voice rough and unsteady, his eyes meeting yours with a determination that makes your heart race.

“I can’t help wanting you. Mind, body, and soul,” he murmurs, the words heavy with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His voice is low, almost reverent, and as he leans in, his lips hover just inches from yours. His breath fans over your skin, warm and inviting, the space between you crackling with electricity.

His hands slide down, settling possessively on your waist, fingers pressing into you as though anchoring himself in this moment. He pulls you in closer, his gaze locked on yours with a raw vulnerability that you’ve rarely seen. “And I think you want this too,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes searching your face for any hint of hesitation.

You feel your resolve wavering, the intensity in his words and the weight of his touch making it impossible to ignore the desire building between you. There’s a pause, a beat of silence where the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you, caught in this fragile, electric moment. You feel the pull, the undeniable truth in his words.

Your fingers tighten slightly against his skin, and you lean in just enough to brush your lips over his, tentative, testing, but unable to hold back. It’s a whisper of a kiss, a surrender, and as his grip on you tightens, you know there’s no turning back.

1K notes · View notes

salingers · 1 month ago

Text

october's end.

dbf!joel miller x f!reader summary: a filthy halloween night with your dad's best friend, joel miller. [you get him to briefly wear a ghostface mask]. [enjoy that! i did]. warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap. alcohol. au. begging. cream pie. dirty talk. dom!joel. fingering. jealous!joel. language. masked!joel. no outbreak. no use of 'y/n'. praising. smut. use of 'good girl'. use of 'slut'. unprotected piv. word count: [about] 3,800. a/n: hi! debut, written for @mermaidgirl30's halloween writing challenge. cover by me, divider by @saradika. @saradika-graphics.

Everything’s bigger in Texas, including Halloween. Your childhood neighborhood is locally televised each October’s end, due to every home’s enthusiastic participation. There’s an annual stoppage of traffic for the singular evening’s festivities, permitting only costumed bodies to roam the gated community’s residential roads.

Branches draped in gauzy webs. Yards engulfed in artificial fog. A beloved holiday tradition, predating the tailend of the seventies, when Dad and Joel were elementary aged and wielding pillowcases of candies. Now, they’re fifty-somethings, bemoaning mutual back pain and cursing pesky lawn decorations.

“Here,” Joel gruffs, while individually sliding Dad two Reese’s pumpkins, from across the kitchen’s counter. “Protein break. ‘S four grams.”

Dad swipes them both up, before confirming that statement by thumbing one’s wrapper, “That ain’t bad.”

You’re quietly laughing at their supposed refueling, while stooping behind the fridge’s door and scanning the moistened shelves. There. A seasonal beer, from your favorite brewery in Austin. It’s comfortably predictable, returning home for Halloween; From Dad purchasing your favorite autumnal ales, to Joel Miller’s ruggedness.

You properly right yourself. Then, using your waist, nudge the appliance’s door shut, “Dad, where’s your bottle opener?”

Dad’s phone abruptly drones, reverberating against granite and interrupting your question; He grimaces at the caller’s illuminated identity.

You guess, “Ghostface?”

Dad laughs, before emphasizing, “Worse. My neediest client.” He abandons his barstool, continuing, “Actin’ like buildin’ up in Waco makes ‘er Joanna Gaines.” Dad apologetically nods toward you, “Joel. Will ‘ya?”

Joel’s scruffy chin tips upwards, directing you, “C’mere.”

Something’s brewing, once Dad vacates the vicinity. Your forced proximity to Joel is newly palpable; Tonight’s different. You’re obedient, in approaching him. Joel doesn’t stop staring. The bottle’s neck is being strangled, under your dominant hand. You can’t completely ward off an image of taking him into your palm.

Your minimal passage to his barstool seemed slow-motioned, almost. You’re not sure. Time’s just apparently lengthier, under Joel’s browned gaze.

Joel grunts, fingering his carabiner of keys, attempting to sift out his bottle opener keychain, “You playin’ Michael Meyers, ‘gain? ‘Round one night, only?”

You amusedly scoff, “Keepin’ track?”

Joel shrugs, “Eight days, in eight years.”

You’re genuinely surprised that Joel’s noted your absence. Maybe, Dad revealed that specific number, correlating to your sparse appearances in Austin; Well, it could’ve been that Dad mentioned to Joel about how since your high school’s graduation, you’ve only managed to visit home yearly. That’s just basic math. Right?

You stammer, “Uh huh. ‘S my favorite holiday.”

Joel hums, before abruptly wrapping his calloused palm around the entirety of your hand and the beer bottle’s width, “Hm. ‘N that your favorite beer?”

You’re momentarily silent, muted by Joel’s warmth. A sizable hand, roughened from decades of hard labor. The tips of his delectably thick fingers begin tightening at your wrist, securing his hold as he’s standing himself up.

Even fully seated, Joel’s intimidating in size. Him standing toe-to-toe with you? That’s another story. His construction boots are weathered and worn; They would be comically large, in comparison to your measly-sized sneakers, but nothing’s funny about Joel Miller’s body mere inches from yours.

You reply by mustering an eager nod; And, whether that’s in response to Joel’s prior question pertaining your liking of the beer, or merely an approval of his nearness to you? You haven’t decided.

Joel rasps, “Anythin’ else?” He’s pulling your combined hands downward, to his waist. The carabiner’s remained attached to his belt’s loop, “That ‘ya favor?”

You’re struggling to think of something witty to retort. Because, the frayed seam of Joel’s zipper is right there. He’s deftly notching the bottle’s cap inside of the opener’s teeth; The beer crisply hisses, releasing any contained pressure.

Joel whispers, “What, darlin’? Bat got your tongue?”

You defeatedly laugh, “Somethin’ like that.”

He grins, carefully releasing you, “Taste it.”

You harshly gulp, “S–Sorry? Oh, right. T–The beer.”

Joel agrees, “That’s right.” Then, darkly teases, “Y’know, that pretty mind ‘a yours is boundin’ for the gutter.”

He crosses his arms against his broad chest, the canvas fabric of his Carhartt jacket drawing taut. Joel’s now cocking his head, sending his gaze along the pathway from the glass vessel that you’re feebly holding, to the lower lip that you’re inadvertently biting; Daring you.

You’re feignedly bold, “Meet ‘ya there.”

You drink, even if it’s primarily to keep yourself from further stuttering. At first, it’s an adequate enough distraction; The alcohol’s frigid in temperature, soothing to the high-strung tendons of your throat, from the inside-out. Then, you’re curiously drawn to Joel’s own gulping throat, and that transient composure of yours is gone.

Joel’s devotedly watching you, his glare heady and sensual. His Adam’s apple jerks, moving atop the clenched muscles and corded veins of his neck. You’re somewhat tipping back, gathering your final mouthful, for now; You’ve drained three-fourths of it, by the time that you’ve halted your sipping.

Then, Joel’s thumb darts out, before smoothing against your glistening mouth. He drawls, “Got it lookin’ real good. Let’s see.”

You’re only narrowly audible, “Oh? Joel.”

Joel’s tongue, deliciously large and scrubbed pink, strokes his finger. He groans, “Mm. Ain’t sure. Need ‘t sample it from the source.”

You inwardly whimper, “Yeah?”

You’re foolishly tempted to extend him the ambered bottle itself, because surely Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, would identify that as the ‘source’. Not your parted, wanting lips. Like Joel’s read your hesitant mind, he reassuringly pins your hands behind your back, easily dismissing the beer; A singular hand of his own, dwarfing the pair of your wrists.

Joel’s ghosting your lips, “Yeah.”

For good measure, Joel lightly moans, sucking his dampened digit. Humming around the pumpkin spiced suds, lapping up any residual taste from his finger. Arms restrained, spine straightened; Your chest’s rising urgently.

Joel’s own chest, delicately hairy below his threadbare t-shirt, is an odd inch away. A desperate heat’s begun permeating your lower abdomen; Achingly unfurling, taking up residency in your cunt.

Of course, it’s then that Dad’s barrelling over, having withdrawn from his nearby office, “Sorry ‘bout that, kid. Get ‘er open?”

You’re coughing out, “Y–Yep.” Then, “Thanks, Joel.”

Dropping your wrists, Joel winks, “Oh. ‘M pleasure.”

Your incriminating closeness to Joel goes unrecognized by Dad; Seeing as, Joel’s wide shoulders completely obscure you from view.

Dad sighs, “Gee, there ain’t no escapin’ this shiplap.”

Joel immediately laughs, casually reclaiming his prior barstool. The jarring segue from Joel’s flirting with you, to his joking with Dad, is absolutely disorientating. You’re fidgeting, repeatedly and silently tapping your foot. You can’t do Joel here; You’ll settle for doing last-minute Halloween preparations.

You blurt, “Goin’ to start organizin’ the candy. ‘S all in the garage, Dad?”

Dad assuredly nods, “Sure is. ‘Cept these.” He chuckles, gathering the forgotten wrappers from his earlier ‘protein break’ with Joel.

You remind him, “Don’t forget to refill the fog tanks.”

Dad, who seemingly had forgotten, regretfully snaps his fingers, “What would I do without ‘ya?” He’s bragging to Joel, “Look at ‘er.”

Joel agreeably nods. Eyeing you, “Good girl.”

Because, Dad and Joel are career contractors, who are simultaneously life-long friends and next-door neighbors, it’s only right that they’ve done an elaborate, joint Halloween for three decades; Locally dubbed the ‘Construction Fright’.

A (questionably) age-appropriate spread of horror, featuring thrifted tools that bludgeon and dismember an assortment of plastic skeletons. Hard hats, faux-bloodied and stabbed with rusted nails. Construction tape, riddled in spiderwebs.

A half-dozen, battered wheelbarrows, brimming with chocolate candies; Three brown ones, carrying Hershey’s, Rolo, and Tootsie Roll. Three orange ones, containing every imaginable variant of Reese’s.

You’ve already been working for nearly an hour; Arranging the color-coordinated barrows of candy. You’re jamming the recycling bin’s lid shut, overtop the cardboard and plastic wrappings of king-sized bars, when the entry door’s opened.

Dad’s entering the garage, “Sun’s settin’ soon, kid. ‘Oughta get dressed.” He lazily squeezes you in an impromptu side-hug, “Thanks, for helpin’.”

You breathily sigh, “Mhm. Oh, I need ‘t light the Jack-O-Lanterns.”

Joel appears, insisting, “Go on, darlin’. I’ll get ‘em sweatin’ for ‘ya.”

You’re thinking, ‘That’s ridiculously slutty of him to say’, when Joel continues, this time addressing Dad, “Hey. Phone’s ringin’ over ‘gain.”

Dad sighs, “Got ‘t be kiddin’ me.” Then, grumbles, “Sure hopin’ it’s Ghostface.” He grins, lightly pinching your elbow.

You giggle, “C’mon. She can’t be that bad.”

Dad shrugs, smiling before swiftly jogging up the garage’s concrete steps; When Dad’s fully retreated inside, and the door’s naturally swung shut, Joel doesn’t waste any time pinning your body against it.

Joel whispers, “Bet ‘ya find that this pussy’s wet ‘f me, when you’re undressin’ it.” His jeaned, muscular thigh’s nudging your legs ajar.

You airily groan, “P–Please. Fuckin’ kiss me.”

Joel grins, wedging his ample thigh’s sturdy surface against your beating cunt. He kisses you; Joel Miller fuckin’ kisses you. He’s grabbing your face, thumbing your cheekbones. His lengthy fingers, scraping your skull.

His tongue’s deeply delving, eagerly exploring your mouth’s every crevasse. You can’t breathe efficiently or think coherently. Everything’s Joel. His graying beard, raking your chin; A woodsy scent, like that of the hardware store’s lumber aisles, exuding from his clothing.

You’re moaning, “Ngh.” Then, ripping at the silvery hair that’s curling against the nape of his sun-freckled neck, “More.”

Joel’s grunting, “Fuck. Need ‘t stop.” He can’t stop, and sucks your bottom lip, once more. Then, “H–Hear ‘im? He’s gainin’ on us.”

Sure enough, Dad’s approaching. It’s damn-near impossible to quit rutting along Joel’s denimed, upper leg. You’re whining, “Need ‘ya.”

Joel’s panting, “T–Tonight, darlin’.” He arousingly whispers, “All night. When the porch light’s out, sneak over.” Then, darker and deeper, “Repeat it.”

You repeat, “Tonight. When the porch light’s out, sneak over.”

You’re admittedly distracted, during the evening’s trick-or-treating segment. You understand that nothing’s allowed to appear awry around Dad, but Joel’s playing casual too well. You shouldn’t overthink, but it’s torturous; That he’s apparently unaffected. Drinking with Dad and Tommy. Never really staring at you.

Joel’s (conveniently) costumed as himself every Halloween, but himself during working hours; A leathered tool belt, cinching his tender waist. A backwards Filson hat, tamping his unkempt curls. His dirtiest ‘white’ t-shirt; The neckline’s absurdly tattered and torn, an array of holes displaying his body’s coarse hair.

Midland’s country cover of ‘Wicked Game’ is emitting from neighboring speakers. You can’t resist likening the song’s drumming pattern to your own heart’s pulsating rhythm; Yearning for Joel’s attention. Then, Dad’s whistling for your attention.

Dad’s pointing, “Look, kid. Your ‘ol boyfriend, Nick. He’s fuckin’ Ghostface.” Dad humorously roars, standing, “See ‘im? H–Hold on.”

You’re avidly protesting, but Dad’s already approaching Nick, who’s not wearing, but holding his hooded mask; Fingers cupping the elongated, rubbery chin. There’s nothing inherently wrong about him; He (morally) should be your holiday hook-up, not your dad’s best friend. It’s too bad.

Joel snipes, “Dick?”

You tut, “It’s Nick.”

Joel’s feigning understanding, “Oh, Prick.”

You’re unsure what’s initiated this potent sexual tension, but it’s consumed your every thought this Halloween; While, Joel’s every word is loaded. His irritated sarcasm’s gunned your way. Any bickering’s uncommon, for the pair of you. You’re hoping that Tommy’s too busy proffering candy to notice.

Dad’s returned, towing Nick, “Weren’t we just talkin’ ‘bout him, kid? So funny.” Dad, and his dorky penchant for inside-jokes.

Nick cluelessly smiles, “Hi, you.”

You politely reply, “Hi, yourself.”

Nick’s extending his hand, summoning you from your designated seat, “Got ‘t see this costume.” Then, he’s declaring you, “Stunning.”

You’re incredulously laughing, “They’re bloodied overalls.”

Nick grins, persisting, “Love ‘em. Also, this apron’s awesome.” He’s thumbing your accessory’s front, tracing the logo, “Carhartt girl, huh?”

You’re aiming to get under Joel’s skin with, “Scream girl, too.” You inspect Nick’s black robe, feeling his arm’s draping sleeve.

Oh, Joel Miller’s jealous. He’s rolling his earthy-toned eyes; Aggressively peeling his beer’s damp label, while instigating Dad, “Hearin’ this?”

Dad’s indifferent, shrugging. He’s always approved of Nick for you; He’s Texan, and plays Minor League Baseball. That’ll do it.

Nick’s pleading, “Let’s please walk ‘round, sweep the neighborhood?”

Joel snarks, “Hell. Reckon he’s recruitin’ for Neighborhood Watch?”

Nick’s nervously smiling, having not heard Joel’s dig, but surely hearing Dad and Tommy’s abrupt snickering.

You kindly respond, “Let’s. Love seein’ the decorations.”

It’s nine-thirty. Your street’s grown habitually sparse; Toddlers, having resigned to stringent bedtimes. Teens, having retreated to erupting parties.

You decipher Joel’s looming silhouette; His rocking chair’s creaking, upon the dimmed porch’s planks. A gleaming tumbler of (presumably) whiskey is resting against his crossed leg, the glass winking at you.

Joel’s dragging his index finger’s edge against his groomed mustache, thumbing his angrily tightened jaw. He rasps, “Ain’t walk ‘ya home?”

You’re ascending his porch’s tread, “Didn’t need that. Told ‘im so.” Then, untying your apron’s chaotic knot, “Uncross your leg, Joel.”

Joel’s pleasingly pliant; He warns, “That’s the only order that I’m takin’ tonight.” His lap’s deliciously spreading, “Get ‘t drawin’ the blinds.”

The anticipation’s wetting you. You’re immediately scampering along the porch’s perimeter, rolling down every privacy blind; Joel’s patiently swigging his auburn liquor. You whimper, “A–Anythin’ else?”

Joel’s rolling the wick of his adjacent kerosene lantern; Thrusting his opened lap, scrounging his Zippo lighter from an anterior pant pocket. His hand’s arousingly veined, while flicking the lighter’s flint wheel.

He belatedly replies, “Drop your apron. Undo your overalls.”

You’ve dropped the apron, and something’s spilling out from the largest pocket; Joel’s deeply exhaling, “Explain that.”

The lamp’s emitting faint light, fire illuminating his hardening expression. He’s so scarily sexy. You’re inching nearer, but Joel hoists his palm, stopping you.

You embarrassedly gulp, “N–Nick’s mask. Asked me ‘t hold it. He never wore it.”

Joel’s impatient, waving, “And?”

You’re tentatively unhooking your denimed straps, gently uttering, “W–Would ‘ya? Wear it?”

Joel’s mildly surprised, “Oh?” Deciding, “Bring it here. On your knees.”

You instantly kneel, before gathering up the discarded disguise using your teeth. You’re crawling to Joel, crossing the porch’s dully-lit surface. The bib upon your overalls undone; The garment’s buckling loops clinking.

Joel involuntarily moans, “Ngh. Dirty fuckin’ girl.” His index finger’s pumping from his balled up fist, signaling you.

Your pussy’s thumping, because of his commanding, curling digit. You’re itching to suck it. You need anything of Joel’s inside of you.

You’ve gradually reached Joel; You’re being caged in-between his lengthy legs. Joel forcibly pinches your face, removing the mask from your bite’s grasp. The item’s resultantly spat, against his abutted groin.

He’s astonished at the filthy sight, rustling, “How ‘bout that.” You’re resting on your haunches, while Joel praises, “Good girl.”

Joel’s abruptly leaning downward, before hungrily lifting your body’s entirety along his own. He’s immediately kissing you, sinking against the rocking chair’s curved spine; The porch’s cedar ground sighs, creakily duetting with Joel’s groans.

You’re practically siphoning the remnant whiskey from his tongue’s cushioned pad; Your mouth’s rabidly sucking, while your waist’s desperately grinding.

Joel’s bypassing your denimed, disoriented trousers; His palm’s greedily grasping your back’s arched column. His remaining arm, ladling your ass. Then, Joel’s effortlessly hauling your goosebumped figure upward; The rocking chair’s momentum being an assistant. The mask’s wedged in-between your upright bodies.

Joel breathes, “T–The lamp. Hang tight.” You’re licking Joel’s partially bearded throat; He’s briefly hunching, responsibly lowering the wick, consequently extinguishing the flame. Your quartet of limbs, wrapping his flexing torso.

You’re whispering, “You’re so big and strong, Joel.”

He amusedly sighs, “Yeah?” Promising, “Ain’t seen nothin’.”

Then, Joel’s roughly stamping your body against the front door’s exterior; His bulge swelling, pinning your pussy. The entry knob’s blindly twisted. Joel’s heavy-footed steps are reverberated, crunching his home’s metallic threshold.

First, Joel carelessly clears his entry way’s waist-heighted table. Juggling you, while his tanned arm’s sweeping everything off; A ceramic, coffee-stained mug of loose change’s completely shattered. Second, Joel harshly kicks his anterior door shut; There’s an impressive boot print, left behind.

Joel’s panting, “Tell me ‘t stop?”

You’re begging, “K–Keep goin’.”

He hums, “Hm. Need it, darlin’?” Joel’s hurriedly planting you upon the table’s cleared crest, kissing your nodding throat. Agreeing, “Yeah. You do.”

It’s dizzyingly hot; Joel gruffly ripping off your mussed overalls, easily tugging off your slip-on sneakers. He’s lobbing them across the room, away from the mess of coins and shards. You’re noticing the Ghostface mask, under his unmoving bicep.

Joel’s noticing you, “This what ‘ya want?” He’s hesitantly thumbing the mask’s gaping jaw. “Ain’t scared?”

You quietly say, “Like ‘t be scared.” You’re reaching upward, prying off his hat; His hair’s deliciously gray and tousled. “Here.”

Joel’s flinging his accessory away. Then, handing you the hooded, horror mask, “Go ‘head.” He warns, “Wearin’ it ‘till you’re comin’. Understand?”

You’re stroking his untidy hair, readying him, “Won’t be long.” You murmur, “S–Soppin’ for ‘ya.”

Joel’s grunting, “Fuck’s sake.” Kissing you, in-between threatening, “Filthy. ‘Oughta edge ‘ya. Talkin’ like that.”

He impatiently rings your wrists; You’re positioning the mask properly overhead. The draping fabric’s hitting Joel’s colossal shoulders.

Your pulse’s hammering, “Oh.”

The mask’s milky-colored expression, surveying you. Stark, against the setting of Joel’s unlighted home. His index finger’s impulsively traveling your body; Dragging over your bottom lip’s dampened flesh. Then, carnally downard, riding your throat. Fingering your jugular’s delicate divet. Hooking your undershirt’s airy collar.

Joel’s taunting, “Heart’s racin’.”

You’re anguishly rutting against his console table’s lacquered top. You need to be touched. You beg, “J–Joel. Oh, Joel.”

Joel’s eerily tilting his head, “Pussy’s racin’ like that, too?” Whispering, “Ain’t it?”

You’re deliriously horny, “Yes.”

He’s humming, “Hm. Shirt’s got ‘t go, first.” His unoccupied hand’s rummaging his hind pocket, while, “Reckon that my knife’ll work?”

You’re pleading, “C–Cut it off.”

Then, Joel’s brandishing his utility knife. The blade’s expertly flicked outward. He urges, “Try ‘t hold still.”

Joel Miller’s carving your fucking shirt; His blade’s blunt edge skimming your sternum. He’s effortlessly halved it, forging an impromptu vest. He’s instantaneously shoving the garment overtop your rigid shoulders.

The knife’s frigid handle brushes your tapered nipple; Joel’s awaiting permission, hovering your underwear’s waistline. You’re nodding, kneading his large shoulders. His finger’s hitching the material, before his blade’s cutting it.

Snipping the remaining side, Joel grunts, “Cunt need stuffin’?” He’s pocketing your saturated underwear and his retracted knife, “I know it’s wet ‘nough to take two fingers.”

You’ve been fantasizing about Joel entering you all Halloween. And, finally; He does. He’s groaning, “S–Swallowin’ both of ‘em. ‘Jus like that?”

Your angling head’s hitting the paneled wall. You’re obscenely squelching around his battering digits. You belatedly respond, “JoelJoelJoelJoel.”

Joel’s roughened wrist’s repeatedly rubbing your beating clit. You’re clenching speechlessly around him, innately meeting every re-entry. Your spine’s warming; Your stomach’s taut.

Your arousal’s watering his driving hand; His palm’s pooling. Joel’s incessantly steady. Praising, “Comin’ up. Doin’ good.”

You’re gasping, “There. Oh, right there.”

The instant that you’re coming, Joel’s yanking off his hindering mask. His beard’s patchy and sweaty. He grins, “Man ‘a my word.”

Then, Joel’s amused mouth’s pounding upon your own; He’s desperately inhaling your breaking moans. Licking your teeth’s underside.

You’re abundantly squirting, as Joel’s uncorking your cunt. Your spotting vision’s correcting leisurely. You’re languidly sighing; Breathing deeply.

He’s genuinely insane for drinking you from his cupped palm. Then, Joel’s mouthing his soggy fingers; Hitting knuckle. You’re blurting, “Need ‘t fuck.”

Joel’s arching his aging brow; Rasping, “Ask nicely.” Then, he’s towing your body overtop his broad shoulder. Spanking you, “Greedy fuckin’ girl.”

You’re nakedly suspended, Joel’s bicep rippling below your ass. He’s entering his living room; Carefully placing you across his cognac-colored sectional. You’re propping upon the chaise’s leathered cushions. You whine, “Please, Joel.”

Joel’s tutting, “Better’n that.”

You supply, “Pretty please?”

He’s gradually moving nearer; His denim-clad shins, butting the couch’s edge. Joel’s unhurriedly thumbing his belt’s loop, painfully prolonging his removing it. You’re wetting and writhing against his furniture’s fabric.

Joel’s unimpressed, “C’mon.”

Shedding his accessory; Working his zipper. His acting arm’s so freckled, tanned, veined. Joel’s yanking his t-shirt overhead, before subsequently revealing an appetizing, softened tummy. His happy trail’s graying and wiry.

You’re begging, “Joel. Please.”

He’s winking, “Good ‘nough.”

Every sound’s tantalizing; Joel’s boots and pants, thumping across the carpet. His bare, bulky thigh’s abruptly rubbing against your naked pussy; Then, Joel’s mirroring your body’s horizontal position. Mounting you.

Your arousal’s drenching his underwear’s front; His length’s largely tenting the humid material, “Beggin’ like that. Fuckin’ slut.”

You’re involuntarily panting, when Joel’s finally and fully undressed. His cock’s deliciously girthy. The tip’s engorged, reddened and seeping; Erecting far beyond his belly’s button.

You’re whimpering, “PleasePleasePlease.”

Joel grins, “Cunt’s quiverin’. Feelin’ that?”

You desperately nod, “Need you ‘t feel it.”

Joel’s immediately pistoning his fleshy waist; His cock’s knocking your cervix’s wall. His rough thrusting’s fastly inching your bodies upward, until your head’s rearing the sofa’s supple tailend.

He whispers, “Warm ‘nough?”

You gasp, “C–Cock’s perfect.”

Joel’s inaudibly responding; Ramming your hand, palming your pelvis. You’re feeling his cock, below your abdomen’s exterior. He’s interlocking your fingers; His own swallowing yours; Pressing. You’re practically tracing his bulbous, twitching tip.

He’s praising, “Takin’ me well.”

Joel’s bottoming-out, pounding steadily; His bloated, weighty balls welting your taint. Your clit’s puffing, from his pubic bone’s rhythmic route. Dementedly fucking you. You’re moaning, “Ah. F–Fuck.”

He murmurs, “Cunt’s gulpin’ me.” Joel’s hooking your knee’s underside, before lugging it overtop his broad shoulder’s slope, “Needy fuckin’ hole.”

You’re stammering, “Ngh. M–Mm. RightThereRightThere.”

Then, Joel’s angling deeper, differently; Laying his body’s robust weight against your languid, vertical leg. Your foot’s achingly surpassing your head. His chest hair’s graying and saturated; Scraping you.

Your pussy’s overwhelmingly spasming. Joel’s messily tonguing your nipple’s peak; His mustache’s prickling the sensitive skin. You’re tugging at his hair’s curling strands, “J–Joel. Close.”

Joel’s echoing your prior words, “Meet ‘ya there.”

You’re shockingly surprised, that Joel’s remembered the momentary retort; Your faux-bold response and pumpkin spiced alcohol. That’s it. You’re blindly coming. His cock’s densely brimming your contracting hole; Hammering you.

Your pussy’s pornographically sloshing. Joel whimpers, “A–’Atta girl. Drenchin’ it.” Then, “Comin’ inside. ‘M snipped. Yeah?”

You’re immediately kissing him. Palming his beard’s rugged stubble. Sucking his tongue’s pink pores; Tasting your arousal’s heady flavoring.

His climaxing moan’s roaring down your throat; Cum rapidly spurting, coating your cunt. You’re rubbing his rolling eye’s crinkled grooves. His forehead’s tanned and wrinkled. Joel’s especially gorgeous, while cumming hard.

You’re pouring, when Joel’s unplugging you. He’s breathlessly cursing, “Fuckin’ hot.” Standing, “Gettin’ towels. Need anythin’ else? Water?”

You’re beginning to respond, when Joel’s unexpectedly bending; Kissing you. You smile, tapping your bottom lip, “What’s that for?”

Joel’s embarrassedly pointing, toward the nearby microwave’s blinking clock. He explains, “Ten thirty-one on October thirty-first. ‘Dunno. Good luck? Make ‘a wish or somethin’.”

You’re actually dumbfounded, “Oh? You’re absurdly cute.”

Joel frowns, “Ain’t allowed ‘t call me that. ‘Specially while leakin’ my seed.” He’s nakedly turning, preparing to walk, “Water?”

You’re pulling Joel’s hand, “Wait. Want ‘t hear your wish.”

He gulps, “That… You’ll be visitin’ home on Thanksgivin’.”

#pedro pascal #joel miller #dbf!joel #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #smut #joel tlou #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #dbf!joel miller #joel miller age gap #joel miller one shot #joel miller imagine #joel miller x fem!reader #Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge

2K notes · View notes