#sorry just getting back into the groove of stuff

[sentient-trash]

Might draw some bill cipher art just to feel something

(He’s so simple to draw (and I’ve drawn him so much in the past) that it might just get me out of the worst art block (and depression) l've ever been in 👍)

[arvoze]

do the beast dungeon protags have names? I noticed you only tag them by their species (I want to know more about them smiles)

unfortunately I took this and ran with it as a summary instead of "yeah this is their names"

yes! well, half and half. sudowoodo is quite literally just called sudowoodo, but the nuzleaf is called locke! every now and then, some of my pokemon just don't receive names, because nothing seems to fit in my head (and I like to think that some pokemon just don't feel obligated to go by any particular name). locke is named after, well, i'm sure you can figure that out (nuzlockes LOL)

their team is called "two guys", cuz they're two guys. despite this, they'll eventually recruit fries (zigzagoon, she/her), unnamed veluza (might just be called veluza, undetermined pronouns) & unnamed geodude (she/her). they rarely work as a full team (locke fucking hates everybody), they're more of just A Group (the "team" is still sudolocke, others just tag along or split off). they all live in the same kind of vicinity and all have a similar life goal/interest: some kind of life involving pursuing... flower maintenance. of some kind.

the above is primarily sudowoodo's dream. he wants to find a legendary seed and grow a legendary tree/flower, and deal with everything else along the way; he doesn't go into dungeons to rescue people (that's a plus), he's solely focused on his own personal task. locke has absolutely no goals and aspirations, originally sticking around sudowoodo after hearing about his goals because he thought it was *so* stupid, that he just had to be there to watch sudowoodo fail (in actuality, he had absolutely nothing going on in his life. it's true he followed sudowoodo just to mock him and piss him off, but locke ended up becoming genuinely attached, fully taking on sudowoodo's dream as his own. though he would never admit to any of this to anyone other than sudowoodo lol)

the pair are yaoiful in a situationship kind of way. like they're in love but they're uncertain about it and neither of them would necessarily call eachother boyfriends/say "i love you" all that often if at all/so on so forth. everyone around them just assumes they've got something weird going on. genuinely have no idea how to describe how these two feel about eachother LMAO

(fries just thinks a place full of flowers is Cool, veluza would like a chill place to finally relax that will also be considerate of fish mons, geodude herself has plants and moss growing on her head so seeing other mons dedicate their time towards nurturing a space like this has her wanting to get involved as much as possible; this curated space is like a home to all five of them. the intent is for it to be a pretty decently-sized place they'll all come to manage, kind of eventually becoming like a flower garden/nature reserve/all that)

unfortunately things turn a bit south when sudowoodo & locke end up in silverwood tangle (forest), a wrong place wrong time situation. this becomes the introduction of beast dungeons themselves (mystery dungeons helmed by ultra beasts). this is where the meat of everything begins which i won't get into here because i've already rambled overtime but SHDHDGSGF i know people are typically around for VV and not DC:BD (bluesky feed numbers are a big tell of this), but they're my silly guys and i like em :-]

[buttercup-art]

hehe drawing some self-indulgent stuff

[noriaki-kak]

Hewo,,,,I was wondering if you had any writings tips! Where did you learn your craft? Do you have a favourite author?

Ooh man, my answers to this are probably gonna be kinda disappointing ghfgd. I’m pretty much entirely self taught for fun and I don’t read as much as I wish I did nowadays. I like to try and match the way I write to the time period the scene’s setting is closest to. So a lot of my stuff ends up sounding flowery and old fashioned.

I’ve been wanting to find the time to start reading more because that’s one of the best ways to refine how you write, seeing what other people are doing. But for now, what I do is just look back at things I wrote a while ago and pick apart what I like and don’t like about it and what I wanna do with that in the future. It’s easier once you get some distance from something to look at it objectively.

I’m honored you’d think to ask but I’m truly the worst person to give tips bc I barely know what im doing gjfgd. I feel confident in writing character scenes with heightened intense emotions but everything else is a bit of a struggle. And I’m not even sure how to put into words what my process is even for the stuff I’m confident with.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

hii! can u write a smut with dark!luke overstimulating reader and she keeps squirming and shaking and stuff and he holds her down or maybe this a chance to introduce some bondage🧐 idk that’s up to u but he also kisses her tears away when he’s finally done then there’s a fluffy aftercare scene at the end😋

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁..

a/n: heheh this is so 😋 I’m trying to get back in the groove of writing so this is kinda short. also sorry this took a while !! I’m trying to finish my Luke reqs up. Gif not mine.

Warnings: smut, 18+, edging, p in v, fem!r, dark!luke, silent sex, overstim, bondage w rope, sex w people in the room

“Fuck, stop squirming.” He grunted out, voice as quiet as it could be. His hand was held over your mouth to muffle your noises.

Your siblings were just right next to you, one wrong move and they could hear everything. The bed creaking underneath your bodies and the noises of skin slapping were the only things heard in the cabin.

You couldn’t. It felt too good. The way he hit your cervix and the way that his hips snapped against yours underneath the covers.

His hand was on your clit, fingers moving expertly against your button, your back arched and you moaned out, his hand pressing harder against your mouth. Your nails dug into his back, leaving crescent shaped marks behind.

You let out a whine when his hand pulled away from your clit, his movements stopping inside of you, your orgasm pulled away from you in an instant.

You watched him pull out of you and move to the end of the bed to his bag, rummaging through it until he got out a rope. A rope that was originally meant for a tug of war game.

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused as to what he was doing with it. He grabbed both your arms, pulling them in front of you. You went to protest when he put his finger on your mouth, shaking his head and glancing at your sibling sleeping next to you.

He moved both of your arms to the bed, and began to tie your wrists to the headboard, you huffing. He smirked down at you when he was done, hovering back on top of you.

He was back inside of you quickly, his cock bottoming back into you, you biting your lips to hold back any noise. You wanted nothing more than to move your hands and run them down his back, but every time you tried to move them, they were stuck.

He leaned down, his lips on your neck and his hands gripping your sides, letting out quiet moans in your ear every time he felt your walls clench against his length. He moved to your ear to whisper.

“I told you to stay still, didn’t I?” His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, you letting out a deep exhale at his words, your mouth forming an “o.”

You clenched down on him, he let out shallow breaths. “Luke.” You whispered out.

“Cum ‘f me.” He murmured back, nodding as he looked down at you.

His lips were on yours when you felt him release inside of you, both of you cumming at the same time. He swallowed every noise you made, his hand traveling down to your clit again, rubbing quick circles on it, you whining into his mouth at the feeling, your hips bucking up into his.

“It’s too much. Too much, Luke.” You whispered when he pulled away, moving your hips to try and escape his overstimulating fingers, but it was no use. He had a crooked grin when he looked at you, his fingers still working on your clit.

[delfiore]

—SAD TO BREATHE (THE AIR WHEN YOU'RE NOT THERE).

pairing: aitana bonmatí x uswnt!reader

synopsis: aitana leaves for the international break and you become a mopey little shit.

word count: 1.1k

a/n: something short and sweet to get me back into the writing groove. the final inspired me this. and yk what this was nice, writing fluff ... is nice (sometimes).

It was embarrassing, really, the way you moped.

Unapologetically, you pouted and rolled around on the couch, convulsing and whining the way a child would beg for more candy. You would be convulsing and whining standing up if you weren’t so hung over from all the alcohol and clubbing you had done the past two days (most of which was justified, most of it).

“Do you have to go?” You knew the answer to that. In your mind, you looked very convincing. You’d hoped Aitana would notice and take pity on you and spare you a glance amidst her running around the house to pack.

“Amor, I’ll be back in two weeks.” Then she switched to Catalan. “[Plus you’re going soon too anyway.]”

It was true that the USWNT camp would assemble tomorrow, but that was one more day you would have liked to spend with Aitana after all the chaos of the Champions League weekend. The whirlwind of Barcelona’s victory has left little time for you to be alone with her. As soon as the match was over, the celebrations began, and Carla and the media team deemed that most of it should be on record. You wanted to be with your girlfriend so badly, but with Aitana dutifully attending to Carla’s every PR need, you were left pouting and giving her sad puppy eyes long before this morning.

“But-but—” you groaned as another wave of the pounding headache hit you, and you lay back down on the cushions.

“You see, this is why you shouldn’t drink so much.” She said, standing in front of you for a second to check that you weren’t going to vomit everywhere on the new couch.

“I’m sleepy. Come cuddle, please.”

You watched her stuff another pair of pants into the suitcase that lay open in the middle of the living room. “I didn’t ask you to get up with me.” She didn’t look amused. Somehow, it spurred you on even more, to know that she was having none of your shit but still engaged.

“But I always notice when you’re not in bed with me,” you whined again. “Can’t sleep after that.”

Aitana shook her head, barely acknowledging your predicament, scanning her suitcase, then went back upstairs.

With Herculean willpower, you stood up and followed her up the stairs. You stopped at the door of your shared bedroom, watching her collect her things from the en-suite bathroom.

“It’s just, I’m gonna miss you,” you said pathetically, “a lot.”

You didn’t know why, but this particular stint between this upcoming international break and the last felt much longer than others. It might have had something to do with the many things that happened during it—the many trophies that, looking back, you thought the team must have been running on crack to have won all of them whilst keeping yourselves fit and sane. In the middle of all that, you had Aitana, and she had you. The spotlight wasn’t easy, but it was alright because you both had each other to return to at the end of the night.

Finally, your pout must have worked because Aitana set her toiletry bag down on the counter when she met your eyes in the mirror. “Oh, amor. Why are you acting like a child?”

You didn’t care that you were; you just wanted your girlfriend to hold you before duties take her away.

Resting your head on her shoulder, you let out a sigh of desperation when she put her arms around your waist.

“I’m gonna die here, all alone, all by myself, and you don’t even care.”

“You’re not going to die, Y/N,” Aitana scoffed, but she held you closer. “[I’m sorry we didn’t spend much time together after the match]. Winning is exhausting, sí?”

You blew a raspberry. “Can’t wait for this season to be over.”

“No, you don’t, because then it means we’re going to the Olympics.”

You groaned, and plopped yourself onto the bed. “I don’t like playing against you.”

Aitana giggled, the sound floating like music in your ears. “Why? Scared you’ll lose?”

“Excuse you!” You put your hands on your hips. “I’m calling it, you guys versus us in the final. Better start practicing those free kicks.” You grinned and pulled her close, bumping your nose against her stomach.

“We’ll see.” When she leaned down to kiss you, you were ready and puckered your lips, but Aitana had the audacity to evade you and pecked your forehead instead.

She grabbed your chin and finally bestowed on your lips the kiss that you had been yearning for.

It’s not ever easy to let down your defenses, but with Aitana it felt so easy to do so. You never thought you’d ever be this lucky, certainly not two years ago, when you first transferred to Barcelona and Aitana started consuming your every thought. From the moment you laid eyes upon that beautiful smile and her unstinting kindness, you knew you were gone.

The memory of your first meeting lingered in your mind as your girlfriend dragged her suitcase towards the front door.

“I’ll call you when I get to camp,” she said.

“You promise?”

“Yes, promise. Now come here.” Her hands found yours and tugged you forward as you grinned. How could you not smile when her face was so close to yours? “I love you.”

You cupped her face and kissed her softly. “T’estimo.”

“Don’t be too sad, okay? It will go by quickly.” At least she pitied you enough to reassure you.

As you watched her get into her Uber, you could only wish she was right.

Aitana kept her promise and FaceTimed you once she had settled at camp a few hours later. The conversation didn’t last long, as she had to go quickly after that.

“I’m sorry,” you remembered saying.

“For what, my love?”

“For being clingy,” you laughed and shrugged. “I don’t know . . .”

It was a surprise, then, after you had packed your things for your early flight back to the States that night, that she called you again before you went to bed.

“Babe, is everything alright?” You had feared the worst when she texted you.

Are you still awake? Can we talk?

Super cryptic.

“Yes, everything is good.” After a quick pause, she said, “I couldn’t sleep. I miss you.”

A large grin crept onto your lips. “Well well well, how the tables have turned.”

As you heard a groan on the other side of the phone, you laughed, and thanked your lucky star above that you had someone like Aitana to look forward to coming home to.

[felixknow]

Jeongin #70 tyy

70. "Can I take your virginity?"

f!reader. In a shocking turn of events, I decided to make this one a drabble. No smut, just discussion of sex and feelings. 1k. <3

A sharp knock disturbs your groove.

The groove of cooking, that is. You were deep in the pattern of chopping and adding, stirring and chopping, and adding and stirring when the knock reminded you that you aren’t in your own dreamland.

You wipe your hands on a kitchen towel and throw it over your shoulder before shuffling to the door and peeking through the peephole. A smile overtakes your face when you recognize your unexpected guest.

“Yang Jeongin!” you call out, opening the door and swinging it wide open. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Hi, noona. I wasn’t sure if you were home, but I wanted to come over.”

“I’m making dinner right now,” you tell him, stepping to the side and motioning for him to come in. “I’ll have plenty for two. Hungry?”

He hums to agree as he kicks off his shoes by the door.

“It smells good.”

“I’ve barely started. I’m just getting the aromatics going.”

You close and lock the door before going back to the stove and stirring once more, making sure nothing is sticking to your pan.

Jeongin follows you and leans against the counter, watching you get back to work.

“Can I help with anything, noona?” he asks after a few quiet minutes, finally remembering his manners.

“Get the tofu out for me, if you will.”

“Of course.”

He’s a good, if not timid, assistant in the kitchen. He waits patiently for requests and fulfills them dutifully, all while keeping a curious eye on the food as it starts to take shape.

“You’re not very talkative today,” you observe, stirring the stew for the last time before putting the lid on top of the pot to sit and simmer for a while.

“Mmm.”

“You okay?” You turn to look at him and he gives you a wobbly smile.

“Innie?”

“I wanna ask you something.”

“Okayyy.”

“It’s about what we were talking about the other day.” He wipes his palms on his shorts and slides his hands into his pockets.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” you say with a slight laugh. “I can barely remember what I ate for breakfast this morning, let alone all the random stuff we talk about.”

He nods and swallows hard, and it finally occurs to you that he seems… nervous.

“Let’s go sit down,” you suggest, leading him to the living room. He follows closely and when you sit on the couch, he sits right beside you, like always.

“Okay. What have you been thinking about?”

“So, remember how you told me that you’re a virgin…?” He doesn’t make eye contact with you when he asks. His makeup-free face tints pink, while your stomach instantly ties itself in a knot.

“Yeah,” you admit quietly. “I remember.”

“So, um… I was wondering…” His face twists uncomfortably, like he’s forcing himself to speak but not fully winning the inner battle he’s having with his own nerves.

“Innie?” 

He glances over you and meets your eyes, then glances down at your lips, then looks anywhere but you yet again.

“Sorry, I--” he sighs. “It’s just…” He sucks in a deep breath then turns to you, his knee knocking into the side of your thigh. His eyes finally bore into yours, and he says it.

“Can I take your virginity?”

If you were eating, you’d choke on it. If you were taking a drink, you’d spit it out. Instead all you can do is stare at him as your jaw drops open.

To his credit, he handles your stare well. He holds steady and waits for you to collect yourself instead of panicking and running off like you would do in his position.

“Noona?”

“I’m good,” you say, collecting yourself. You scrunch your eyes up and shake your head slightly, hard-resetting your expression. “I’m fine, I’m totally good. Um… so you…? Really? You want to do that?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I hadn’t really thought about you like that before but something switched in my brain and I started getting so possessive,” he says, talking toward his lap. “Like, if I’m not the one who gets to see you like that but someone else is I’d probably lose my mind.”

“Are you just interested in virginity collecting, or is it me you’re concerned about? I’m kind of getting mixed signals here, Innie.”

“You,” he says quickly, once again meeting your eyes. “I want you and I don’t want anyone else to have you. I hadn’t thought about it before, but now that I have I can’t stop.”

You can’t help the smile that grows on your lips.

“Okay… Well, then why don’t we have dinner, and after we can have each other for dessert?”

His eyes widen, his lips slightly part in a picture of shock.

“Really?!”

“Well, yeah. Did you think I’d say no?” You rest your hand on his knee and he looks down at it and back up to you a couple of times.

“I wasn’t sure. I know you’ve said before that you don’t like to hook up with people.”

“And I know you’ve said the same, so you wouldn’t be asking me to have sex and telling me you’d be jealous if I saw other men unless you want something definable with me.”

If his cheeks were pink before, they’re red now.

“You’ve always been too good at reading me, noona,” he says, shyly looking down at your hand as it slides a few centimeters up his leg.

“You make it too easy.”

[casiia]

virgin!ethan landry buying condoms before attending a party with chad (idk this would be so funny and awkward😭😭😭)

[ 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐞 ੈ✩‧₊˚]

pairing .: ethan landry x reader

genre .: suggestive

word count .: 3k

warnings .: suggestive content (minors dni.), female reader, alcohol indulgence, dry humping 

author's note .: SORRY NO SMUT! just a lot of plot! but i had soo much fun writing this, whoever requested this i think you’re so funny! i originally was going to add smut but lack of motivation. my little nerd boy psycho getting teased by shirtless farmer chad makes me giggle. but i hope you guys love this as much as i do because i’m giggling soso bad. also i don’t have a dick i’ve never bought condoms b4 so i tried my best errr. also also guys please b careful when drinking at parties. this is just a lot of plot and lowkey ethan x chad (im slash jay) but if enough people want it i will write smut in a part 2. 

© casiia 2023 DO NOT REPOST OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK

“wait why are you turning? we’re supposed to go down this street for another light.”

the muted sound of rain echoes inside the car; droplets of water splattering against the fogged windshield blurred the bright traffic lights, a mixture of green and red reflecting against the dash.

“pitstop. gotta pick up some stuff.” chad taps his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently – waiting for the light to turn green. his thumb smooths over the grooves that were engraved in the leather, frustration threatening to expose from his composed state. “get the fuck off your phone! go, the light is green.”

“pick up stuff? not drugs, right…?” ethan looks up from his phone, his illuminated screen lighting his features from the shadows of the night. with a buzz, he focuses his attention back to his device. a smile graces his lips as he reads over your notification, fingers moving quick to type a response to you. 

“no, not drugs. condoms.”

adjusting the seat belt that suddenly became uncomfortable around his neck, ethan swallows thickly,  a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “oh.”

“i mean, you’re gonna need them. i doubt nothing’s gonna happen between you and her tonight.” pulling into the lot, chad cheekily smiles over to his friend, playfully hitting his arm.

“w-what? we aren’t anything serious, i don’t think she looks at me like that.” leaning towards the window to escape chad’s ruthless teasing, he resisted the urge to check the notification that had vibrated his phone – knowing it was from you.

“she definitely does, she’s always giving you that look.” throwing his hands up in gratitude when he found a parking spot, chad carefully pulled into the tight spot. “you guys are so annoying, everyone can see it but you two.”

“what look?” unbuckling his seat belt with a click, ethan chews on his bottom lip to stop the smile that threatened to show on his face. 

“the ‘i want to fuck you’ look.” turning the engine off with the twist of a key, chad unbuckles and climbs out of the car. “just fuck already, what’s stopping you.” watching ethan take off the cardboard helmet of his costume, he chuckles lightly. “i mean, she wants to fuck a guy dressed up as a cardboard robot.”

“hey. it’s from that movie murder party, and maybe put on a shirt before you comment on my costume.” opening the passenger door, ethan reaches into the back seat, grabbing a plain white tank and tossing it to the shirtless farmer standing in the drizzling rain. 

“oh right.”

“i don’t think there is a ‘fuck me look’ i think you’re thinking way into things.” stepping out and shutting the door, ethan stuffs his phone and wallet into his back pocket, walking towards the pharmacy with long strides to avoid the rain.

“what would you know, you’re a virgin.” locking the car with a loud beep, chad swings his lanyard around his fingers, letting his keys jangle against each other carelessly. laughing loudly when he catches a glimpse of ethan’s shocked expression, he holds his hands out in reassurance. “well i mean, after tonight you won’t be.”

“i’m not gonna do anything with her unless she wants me to.” walking past the automated doors, he waits for chad to walk in front of him, not wanting to waste time and lead the two into the wrong aisle. 

“well of course, but it’s better to be safe than sorry at the end of the night. don’t wanna get her pregnant or anything.” chad grins, walking towards an aisle in the back – almost too easily, like he’s been here a million times. 

“right. how do you…put one on?” glancing at the many colorful boxes to his left, he clears his throat when turning to his right, staring at the shelf of the pregnancy test. 

“open the wrapper, careful not to rip it that’s important, then just slide it on. if it’s that much trouble just ask the girl.” chad hums to the music playing overhead in the store, squatting down to get a peak at the bottom shelves. 

“oh, okay. what about lube, think i’ll need that?” eyeing the different brands of condoms, he  feels his phone buzz again, the weight of his phone all of a sudden feeling heavy in his pants. 

2 messages from angel girl

ethan smiles at the notifications, quickly swiping into his phone to answer you. warmth bubbles in his chest as he replies, watching his message turn from sent to read in just a second.

“hey, are you listening to me?” 

“huh?” looking up from his phone, his smile drops, snapping out of his dazed state.

“i said, lube is a waste of money. just use spit, works the same if you can also get her wet.” picking up a box of magnums, chad stands from his squatted position, patting out the creases in his pants before heading to the register. “there’s nothing to be worried about, bro. just make sure you focus when it happens, stay in the moment. the usual.”

“mhm.” now very anxious, ethan trails behind his roommate with twisted fingers. “maybe i should take the costume off?” picking at the hem of his shirt under the cardboard vest, he laughs awkwardly; imagining you taking his ridiculous costume off before climbing under the blankets had him shaking his head.

“maybe just keep the helmet, can’t not dress up at a halloween party.” grabbing his wallet from his pocket once they reached the self checkout machines, he scanned the box before swiping his card. “we should go, mindy’s been on my ass.”

the two of them ran to the car, seeking shelter from the rain that turned from a light drizzle to a thundering pour. ethan ran his hands through his hair, combing his damp brown hair out of his face. leaning back into the leather seat with a huff, he groaned dragging his hands down his cheeks, the cardboard around his chest stiffening his movements. 

slipping his arms into the cut out holes, he shimmied the fake armor over his head and let it clumsily fall into the back seat. memories of you and him making the costume made him frown; he thought back to how pretty you look with ruffled hair, sitting on his bedroom floor in only pajamas, cutting away at the cardboard material with kid scissors, cursing at him when he accidentally cut out of the traced lines.

the loud crinkle of plastic strips him of his thoughts, chad loudly tearing into the box. “take a few. i’m just gonna leave the box in the car…for later.” 

“think you’re gonna end up with tara tonight?” ethan teases with a smirk. picking at the golden packs, he holds them up to the window, letting the plastic shine against the dull streetlight. 

“shut up, now strap in. we’re already late i cannot take another text from mindy.”

the far-off sound of music caught ethan’s attention as chad pulled into the neighborhood, a variety of cars piled into the driveway and along the street, lights flashing from the windows inside the house. 

grabbing his poorly made helmet made of cardboard, he slipped it over his head, making sure it sat comfortably and evenly on top of his hair.

“did tara tell you what she was gonna wear?” checking his phone for your notification, ethan frowned slightly when finding out you had left him on read. he was only a few paces from the house, where he would soon find you. although the more he thought of you, the more the nerves began to eat at him. would you even want to sleep with him, what if he was going to make a fool of himself – what if you friendzoned him. rubbing his forehead with a sigh, he stuffed a few condoms into his pockets, his heart beating out of his chest. 

“pirate i think, wanted to match but it was too last minute. what about your girl?” making sure the car was locked after they had got out, chad shoves his keys into his pants, letting the lanyard hang within view. 

“she didn’t want to tell me, said it was gonna be a surprise.” feeling his heartbeat in his ears, ethan balled his fist tightly, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. he didn’t want to mess things up with you, he was scared – scared that he would mess things up and lose the best person that had ever shown up in his life. 

“relax, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“i’m trying, i’m just nervous. i don’t want things to go the wrong way tonight, what if i misread her.” stopping outside the door, he could hear the roar of music, walls vibrating with each base drop. the faint smell of marijuana and alcohol tickled his nose, his face churning immediately at the unpleasant smell. 

“whatever happens is for a reason, don’t make sex your first priority. if she wants to fuck you, which im sure she does, she’ll make it clear. stop worrying.” chad places a hand on the brunette’s shoulder, squeezing comfortably. 

“right. make sure i don’t drink too much? i actually want to remember this night.” taking one last deep breath, ethan turns the knob on the door, finally arriving at the party. an overwhelming amount of people crowded the kitchen, abandoned red solo cups lingering all over the house. 

pushing through the crowd of people with curt apologies, ethan scanned over the horde of tipsy college students, looking for your face in the midst of it all. relaxing a bit when he saw anika in the corner of the room with mindy, he glanced over his shoulder to see if chad was following him before nudging his way through to his friends across the room.

“where have you guys been? i thought we agreed to be here 45 minutes ago!” mindy throws exasperated hands in the air, eyebrows raised mockingly.

“traffic. where’s y/n?” frowning when he didn’t see you amongst the other girls, he turned back to the kitchen to see if you were stuffed in there.

“she was here a second ago.i  think she went to ask tara if she knew where you were, but honestly who knows where that little pirate could be.” anika shrugs lightly at the question, repositioning her legs over her girlfriend’s. “what’s going on with you two anyways?”

“noth-”

“ethan?” 

spinning on his heel at the sound of your voice, he can’t help but let a smile paint his lips. his voice catching in his throat when he sees you, he drops his arms to his side. jaw dropping ever so slightly, he couldn’t stop the way he looked you up and down, engraving your image in the back of his mind.

you were head to toe in white; high socks that squeezed the fat of your thighs, a white mini skirt  that just barely covered the curve of your ass, a semi see through corset, and to top it all off – a pair of small feathery wings that sat on your exposed shoulders.

“an angel.”

“surprise! where’s the rest of your costume? we worked so hard on it.” stepping closer to him to fix his lopsided helmet, you brushed hair out of his eyes with a pout. 

“left it in the car, didn’t want it to get ruined or anything.” looking down at you with a smile, he lets his hands wander to your hips; his thumbs caressing your skin just above the waistline of your short mini skirt. 

“oh, that’s a shame. you looked so cute in it.” pinching his cheeks in a playful manner, you bit your lip with a laugh, watching him squirm away from you. “let’s get a drink, i’ve been waiting for you.”

grabbing his hand in your left, you intertwined your fingers together, pulling him to the crowded kitchen. half filled bottles and empty plastic cups littered the marble countertop, a sticky residue sheening over the surface of the table. 

“hm, i think there’s enough for a couple shots.” 

letting go of his hand but still keeping him close, you leaned over the island to grab cups; unscrewing the cap of a half empty vodka bottle, you chewed your lip in concentration, completely eyeballing the amount of liquor you poured into the plastic cup. 

“bottoms up, baby!” bringing the cup up to your lips, you cringed lightly, the smell of alcohol making your eyes water. squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you tilted your head back letting the liquid flow into your mouth before swallowing. shaking your head with a groan, you stuck your tongue out feeling the booze burn down your throat, almost instantly warming your chest. “so gross.”

ethan hesitated before drinking the foul smelling alcohol, coughing abruptly afterwards. “not worth it.” hearing you laugh at him, he teasingly shoved your shoulder with a soft smile. “do you think…we could talk?”

“we’re talking right now, pretty boy.” starting to pour another round of shots, you briefly glanced up at him at his silence. “is something wrong?” 

“nothing’s wrong, i just meant talk in private.” taking off his fake helmet, he nervously rubbed the back of his neck – patiently waiting for you to finish taking another shot before replying.

“let’s go upstairs.” wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you tossed your now empty cups in the trash before grabbing his wrist and pulling him through the house. music blaring uncomfortably in your ear, you took in your surroundings before leaving; people at every inch of the house, a line forming for the bathroom, corners where couples made out, and a couch where all of your friends sat. catching chad’s eye, he gave you a knowing smirk while raising his eyebrows. flipping him off in return, you squeezed ethan’s wrist lightly, guiding him up the stairs and to an empty bedroom. 

ethan tried his hardest not to look up your skirt while you walked in front of him, but of course he failed. he caught a glimpse of your undergarments – pretty pink panties with a white lace lining the edges. swallowing his guilt, he shifted his gaze back to the ground, fearing that he would get worked up the longer he stared. “do you know where you’re going?”

“not in the slightest, but it’s a big house, there’s bound to be one more vacant bedroom.” jiggling the knobs of each door, you giggled quietly hearing the muted moans from inside occupied rooms. “oh here.” twisting the handle and peeking inside, you opened the door for him when deeming it was clear. 

closing and locking the door behind you, you made your way over to the bed, sitting on the edge with your hands neatly folded in your lap. “what’s on your mind? you’re kinda scaring me.” 

dropping his costume prop near the door, ethan covered his face, groaning into his hands before finally piling up enough courage to look you in the eye. “what are we?”

“what do you mean?” furrowing your brows with an awkward laugh, you could feel heat creep up your neck, the liquor settling in your stomach. 

“you’re always calling me these names, and touching me in ways you don’t do with anyone else. i just want to know if you’re playing with me.” sitting next to you on the bed, he kept a fair distance respecting your boundaries. “i like you a lot. more than i want to, i need to know if you feel the same.”

“i-” sighing loudly with shaky hands, you shifted your position, sitting on your knees while facing him. the hem of your skirt creeping up your thighs as you sat back. “i like you too, i just didn’t know how to tell you.” crawling closer to him, you reached for his hand, pressing his palm to your heart. “this is how you make me feel. all the time.”

“can i kiss you?” 

nodding with a big grin, you let him lean forward to connect your lips. putting a hand on his shoulder to stabilize yourself, you hummed softly feeling him pull you closer, straight into his lap. the kiss was sweet and soft, lips moving slowly against each other, teeth clashing together with inexperience. you wrapped your arms around his neck, slightly grinding your hips down into his. “fuck, sorry.”

whining into your mouth, ethan squeezed your hips harshly. “no, please. again, m’felt good.” pulling away from your lips with a heavy pant, he cupped your face, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

“yeah? s’that why you brought me up here?” giggling, you rolled your hips again, the seam of his pants nudging at your clothed clit. lips parting with a quiet moan, you bit the inside of your cheek, a blush painting your cheeks.

“maybe.” tilting your head up with his thumb, he pressed kisses down your exposed neck, nibbling and sucking numerous marks along the way. “fuck, i want you.” slipping his hand down your back, he squeezed the fat of your ass, mumbling against your neck.

“i know, baby. but not tonight.” pushing him away just enough to see his face, you pressed a sweet kiss to the button of his nose. “want your first time to be something you’ll remember, not even a little bit fuzzy.”

opening his mouth in protest, you shook your head – your opinion already set in stone. pecking his lips one last time, you climbed off of his lap. 

“you’re such a tease” 

🏷 .:@loaksbitch @sullybby @dilfverz my stinkies

[hornydilfsinyourarea]

"𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙔 𝙋𝙍𝙀𝙏𝙏𝙔 𝙇𝙄𝙀𝙎, 𝙄'𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙀 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙎 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙔𝙊𝙐'𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙀 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀"

Pairing: Yan! Joe Goldberg x Male Reader x Yan! Dexter Morgan (separate)

Uhh, this is my first time doing this, this is mostly an apology post, for being so lazy and holding the requests down and not posting as much as I should and yeah... truly sorry about that, but you can also see this as a teaser, topics I might just use for bots and stuff

Warning: Stalking (You are a stalker, you could also see it as you being a Yandere also), Yandere! Joe and Dexter, both are separate and in different universes (if that makes sense), NSFW topics!, You being a pervert, you are a bit creepy (you're a stalker, what did you exspect?), breaking and entering, spy cameras, Dexter and Joe get off to the fact that you are stalking THEM, these are headcannons, and not a fic, these are also bad and a bit short, I might make a part 2 if this gets to 200 likes, maybe, or 100 likes, if you guys like this, I might just make more, but don't expect this the be a regular thing, this isn't my groove, my groove is bot making, not fanfic writing

"𝘿𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀 𝙏𝙊𝙊?"

Dexter met you at a grocery store, he was trying to reach for something before seeing someone else's hand reach for it and take it, as he turned to look who did it, he saw you, and how you... so nicely gave him the item he was reaching for, the way your eyes subtly run up and down his body, as you said your good byes, Dexter's eyes didn't leave your form as you walked away, he knew he was hooked

Joe met you in the bookstore he worked at, you asked him for recommended books and where you can find a specific book, it was a good choice of book, you two talked about your favorite books too! The way you gave him your card after finding your book, you didn't have too, but you did... it was as if you wanted him to know you... to know your name... your face... everything, as you left, Joe could stop thinking about you... your voice, he knew he was hooked

"𝙄𝙏 𝙒𝘼𝙎 𝘼 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙔 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏, 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙆 𝙎𝙊 𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙄𝙁𝙄𝙀𝘿"

When Dexter came back to his apartment, he didn't expect to see flowers on his kitchen counter and a... lunch box full of cooked food, it was food... that used the same ingredient you helped him reach, Dexter got home late... did you really go out of your way to break into his place and make him some food? How romantic! There was even a little note "Enjoy" — it read, Dexter couldn't help himself, smiling down at the gift you made for him, I mean... it must have been you? It must have!

When Joe got back to his flat, he didn't expect to see two roses on top of a book in his living room, as he got closer and picked the book up, he realized that it was a limited edition book, one who sold out years ago... it was his favorite book, one he loved to read, there was even a little note "Enjoy" — it read, Joe couldn't stop himself from smiling, what a romantic, you must have gotten it for him, I mean, you were the only one he told he even liked this book! So it must have been you! It must have been!

"𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙃𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙂𝙃 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙋𝙀𝙀𝙋𝙃𝙊𝙇𝙀, 𝙒𝙀𝙇𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙀 𝙏𝙊 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙆 𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙒"

After stalking your love for a month now, you couldn't wait much longer, you wanted to see him, see him whole, so... well, you bought small cameras, and broke into their place while they weren't there, putting the cameras where they wouldn't notice, or so you hoped, you hid them good, he wouldn't be able to find it... would he?

Oh, but Dexter knew, he saw something shine in the corner of his eye, he knew what it was, now aren't you such a pervert?~ putting a camera in his bedroom, so bold... god did that turn him on, he couldn't help but tease you, purposely standing in the camera's point of view, slowly, but surely, taking off his shirt, unbuttoning each button slowly, Dexter was making sure he didn't look at the camera, he didn't want you to know he knew, Dexter liked the chase, the feeling of being wanted, he wanted to see how long it will take you before you break and take what you wanted, when Dexter got his shirt off, he turned around, now his back side turned to the camera, he then, also slowly, took his pants off, he knew he was giving you the perfect view of his ass, he bet you were even stroking your cock watching him undress, weren't you? Just the thought made him almost hard...

Now, Joe, he also saw a camera in the corner of his eye, "Such boldness..." Joe thought, biting his bottom lip, he did what he normally did for a few days, before he put his plan in action, Joe knew there was a spy camera in his room, you probably put it there to watch him sleep, hm? Such a caring stalker you are~ Joe made his way to his bed, laying on it, his hand going downwards, rubbing his crotch, till he could feel himself getting hard, whimpering as he teased himself before pulling his pants down, just to his knees, before he wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking it slowly, his lips parted, letting out deep breathes as he thought about you, were you stroking your cock watching? Oh how he hoped so, he was doing this for you, hoping you're watching him, as Joe got harder and harder he help himself and started to stroke himself off faster and faster, his moans and whimpers getting louder, wanting to make himself look as submissive as possible, he really was putting on a show for you... it wasn't long before Joe climaxed, his cum landing on his hand, he made sure all of it landed on his hand before he slowly liked it off, he really... really hoped you liked the show~

"𝙎𝙃𝙐𝙏 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁𝙐𝘾𝙆 𝙐𝙋 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙂𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀 𝙏𝙊𝙋, 𝙈𝙔 𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙏 𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘿 𝘼𝙎 𝘼 𝙍𝙊𝘾𝙆"

I do not consent to my content being stolen, copied or reposted on other platforms, if you want to use these or inspired by this, CREDIT me and ASK me, please and thank you

[slvthrs]

GOOD BOYS INHALE TWICE | v.hacker

— MINORS PLEASE FUCK OFF FOR UR OWN GOOD —

your most loyal client proves his loyalty to you in another way

CLIENT!VINNIE X DEALER!READER

WARNINGS: NSFW CONTENT MINORS DNI, drug use, praise n degradation, pet names, unprotected sex, fight for dominance or whatever

word count: 719 <3

a/n: getting back into the groove of writing, sorry I hate this sm 😭

Vinnie was always nervous near you, not just doing drugs together but just in your presence. He would be completely enamored by you helping him roll his joints or you helping him line up his cocaine.

It would be an unspoken ritual at this point, you would come over with new stuff and you would help him, both of you would have great highs and you would leave with your payment but one day it was too much.

He was sitting there shirtless due to the California humidity and with his sweatpants hanging low and joint in his mouth, you were pressed against his plush couch in your tiny skirt and too tight shirt.

You had noticed his lingering stares and instead of calling him out you wanted to keep teasing him until he broke.

So tonight you were sat close to him watching him inhale and exhaled in slow intervals.

"Hey vin, have you ever heard of shotgunning?" You asked

"Like the alcohol thing"

"No dumbass" You said, readjusting up so you were eye-level, "Like this"

You pulled the joint to your face and blew into his mouth as he watched frozen

His body finally snapped back to reality and he pulled his hand up to your face to cup it and pull you too together

"Fuck, keep doing that", His voice breathless and longing

You swung your legs over his lap and continued blowing into his mouth as your skirt rode up your body basically leaving you exposed and vunerable in the blondes hands.

As you both sat their staring into each others eyes you could feel his hands creep up your thighs as your face broke into a smirk.

"Your really not that slick Vinnie" You said pressing a kiss onto his lips

"Mmm, I may not be slick but I still got what I wanted" He said picking you too up and placing you onto the bed as he crawled onto of you and started to place kisses on your chest

"Uh huh" You said flipping both of you over, "You may have gotten what you wanted but I'm not gonna make this easy for you" You said grinding on his harding dick

"Aw c'mon, you taught me how to smoke lemme teach you something" He taunted

"I don't need a teacher," You laughed "I just need you to be a good boy" You whispered jokingly into his ear

"Fuck fine just don't beg me to finish what you started" He mocked

"I don't beg baby" You said lightheartedly ignoring the blush spreading on his face.

You pulled down his sweatpants to be met with leaking dick which you gave a few pumps before you pulled down your skirt and panties and lowering yourself onto his dick.

"Fuck please" He said as his hands found your hips

"Damn, you beg pretty easily" You mocked his previous statement

You chuckled to yourself as made a mental picture looking at you as if you were a god. You relished the way is he stretched you out in the best way and basically made you come undone.

You bounced on his cock to get some friction going as the knot in your stomach started to build up.

"You look like a porn-star from up here" He said referencing to your blown out look and tipped back head.

"Yeah, fuck, you look like a slut from down here" You said with a smirk

"Fuck you, I hate you so much" He joked while pulling you into for another weed laced kiss.

As you melted into the kiss he took the moment to his advantage to flip the both of you over so he was on top.

As he started to pound into you you clawed into his bicep as you got fucked up.

"Vin holy shit, fuck you" You said blissed out

"I am fucking you darling" He said with his dumb chuckle

His thrusts were set at an unbearable pace as the knot in my stomach was beginning to come undone.

You pulled him to another addicting kiss and pressed your sweaty bodies together as your breathless moans coated the room.

As you were both nearing your end as you hands dugs into his skin and both of you reach your climax together.

Vinnie collapses onto you and both of you try to catch your breath.

Fuck you just slept with your best client.

[jennifer-jeong]

haiii!! could I put in a request for boothill x an alcoholic engineer reader who’s personality takes a complete 180 when drunk? Like when sober they’re really quiet and a total introvert but when drunk they’re basically a party animal/super hype(the reason why they drink so much is because it helps them forget about their life problems like taxes and student loan debt, if I had to compare the reader’s personality to a character I’d say hiroi kikuri from bocchi the rock) but they’re like crazy smart when it comes to machines and stuff and even fixes up boothill from time to time

headcanons or a small fic is fine^^

HII I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I’ve just been out of the groove of writing for a bit but your request is so cute and I wanted to take a shot at it. Thank you for your request and I hope you like it!

Fluff + Suggestive | Boothill x GN!Reader A Few Drinks

CONTENT Fluff, suggestive, him flirting with you, you flirting with him, getting handsy, alcohol consumption, pet name usage, no reader pronouns used, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

WORD COUNT: 1227

It was a regular Friday afternoon in your personal workshop situated in your home on a planet not far off from Penacony and easily accessible via space anchors. The planet was mostly made up of plains, your house sat near a pond and was surrounded by grass and your tiny gardens that you filled with flowers and succulents. You were an excellent engineer working both for corporations as well as taking on smaller private contracts/projects occasionally. You were currently working on a specific cyborg’s finger joint, putting the finishing touches on the cybernetics before he came to have it attached to his robotic body.

You heard a familiar clicking of boots against the sidewalk to your open workshop door before an equally familiar greeting from the cyborg cowboy.

“Heya sweetheart, how ya been? Hows my dumb fudging finger treatin ya?” he chirped, his voice slightly grainy and robotic due to a lack of organic vocal chords.

You swivel around in your chair, giving him a small smile. “Your pinky was pretty messed up but I managed,” you replied quietly, a little anxious talking to the -handsome- man you knew killed people on the daily.

“Ah, ya always fix me up fine and dandy, I knew you’d be able to help,” he said as he walked towards your workbench.

You gave him a small chuckle at the praise and turned around to grab the fixed finger. “Thanks… now just have a seat on the-” you were cut off by turning slightly and being met with his face awfully close to yours. He had leaned over your shoulder to take a closer look at your work, his hands held behind his back.

Your eyes widened as you froze for a moment, unintentionally staring at him before looking away. He was looking at your work but when you turned away he took the opportunity to scan over your flustered self, grinning slightly at how cute you were.

You always treated him so sweetly, disregarding what he did for work because you knew about his past. How could he not find you adorable?

He pulled away to walk towards the table that doubled as an operating table when he or your other clients needed bigger fixes.

“Here?” he says knowingly.

You nod quickly before grabbing a few tools and setting up to attach the part back to his synthetic nervous system.

It was a painful few minutes of him watching you intently as you worked. He was sitting up, leaning back on his right hand, legs spread as he got comfy. His left hand was propped up into a sleeve to keep it still as you worked on it. You tried hard to not look up at him despite knowing he was staring down at you the entire time, probably with that teasing grin he always wore around you.

Once you were done and he finished paying you (with a generous tip no less), he suddenly wondered what you’d be doing since the work week just ended.

“So, whadda ya doin after closin’ up shop today? Ya ever go out for Friday happy hour?”

You whipped your head around to him at the mention of drinking before looking down at the ground, hoping you didn’t seem too eager to talk about alcohol.

“Y-yeah, I go every weekend,” you replied.

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “really? Ya didn’t really strike me as the drinkin’ type darlin’.”

You swallowed at his use of pet name.

“Yeah… it helps me get my mind off work and shit,” you shared with him, figuring it was fine to tell him about it since you already started to get to know each other pretty well during his visits. It was hard to explain, but you trusted him.

“Huh… Well, let’s fudgin’ go then!” He says, jumping off the table. “Lemme know when ya ready darlin”.”

“W-whoa there darlin’” Boothill says for the nth time after you two got to a vintage looking club in the city. You were stumbling a bit as he tried to prevent you from knocking anything over or getting yourself hurt. You kept bumping into him, grabbing onto his arms or his chest to stabilize yourself.

It was your turn to fluster the man.

After all the times he’d made you shy and bashful, him feeling your hands all over him in this context and not during some sort of repair procedure was really setting off his sensors.

You giggled in your drunken state and dragged him by his hand to the crowded dance floor. The current song was just ending and you heard the first few beats of one of your favorite songs. The crowd clearly also liked the song as you all started getting hyped. You started jumping and dancing in front of him as you held his shoulders. You even grabbed the attention of some nearby girls as they encouraged you and you did the same to them.

Boothill’s expression slowly morphed from curious shock to an endearing smirk as he laughed at your total 180 shift in personality as soon as you had a few drinks. His hands found your hips as you continued to dance all over him while he moved with the rhythm.

It was also in this moment that he realized exactly what you were wearing too, it was a pretty, skin tight top and ripped shorts, completely different from the baggy overalls and t-shirt you usually wore in the workshop.

He felt his body’s cooling system kick in a bit harder.

You noticed his eyes on you as you always did, but this time, with alcohol in your system, you decided to do something about it.

You pushed him into a nearby bar stool, forcing him to sit down and lean against the bar counter. You stood between his legs, hands on his chest as you leaned towards his face.

“Thanks for coming out with me Bootie~” you said with your eyes lidded, batting your eyelashes at him. His breath hitched at the sudden nickname usage that you’ve call him by before.

“I’ve been stressed about shit recently but this is fun” you giggle, “we should do it more often,” you add, looking him up and down, something he doesn’t miss.

He relaxes slightly, hands finding their place on your waist again as his signature grin comes out. You could tell he was still pretty flustered though, he was into it, but still a bit shy.

“You’re always looking at me like that, Bootie,” you say as you trace a finger on the underside of his jaw, making him look at you. “I don’t say it when I’m not drunk… but I hope y’know I don’t mind it,” you say with a smile and lidded eyes. Your finger trails off the bottom of his chin as he ever so slightly chases your touch.

You giggle again at his reactions to you, feeling a bit giddy knowing that he was as into you as you were into him.

You push off him to run back to the dance floor, calling out to him with the nickname you just gave him.

The cowboy adjusts his hat before blinking a few times, smiling, and exhaling the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He follows you back to the dance floor as he thinks “I’m fudged.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[justcallme-ange]

Hello Hello! Long time no see, hope everyone’s been doing well!

Sorry for the unintentional hiatus - I moved to a new place beginning of the month and have been unpacking, setting up, and settling in.

<.<; Turns out doing so does take up a lot of time and energy, and art and AUs have been on the back burner (where they kind of stalled into a small art block OTL.) I still have ideas and plans for the future but have been working on getting back into the art groove. I have a bunch of almost finished stuff, that I just need a little kick to finally complete.

^^ I’m very happy to see that new AUs and fics have popped up recently as well as a few of my fav fics being updated - so stay tuned for some fanart of those coming in the future.

So yeah small life update - I promise I didn’t fall out of the fandom, just working around adulting and being in a new place. (QAQ I finally have free time)

[southerngothicchic]

Do You Think I'm a Nasty Girl

Hi! So this is my attempt at getting back into the groove of writing again, and what better way than with a lovers to enemies to lovers again fic?

On a summer night in '84, while your parents are away, you decide to test out their new hot tub and wind up getting an unexpected visit from your annoyingly hot neighbor.

After setting up your radio with your favorite mix tape, you slip out of a dainty, pink kimono, revealing a low-cut black bathing suit. It's cut high, on the sides, showing off more skin than you would ever dare to at the local pool. It was your latest scandalous mall purchase, and you knew your parents would freak if they saw you wearing it. Luckily, you had the house and hot tub to yourself for the weekend and could wear or do whatever you wanted.

You press play, on the tape deck, before easing into the warm water. You wince a little, and check the temperature gage, on the side, worrying you had it set too high. It was previously set at 104 degrees and you immediately lower it to 100. You then sit on the edge of the tub, waiting for the water to cool slightly. Turning your head, your eyes scan the empty backyard as an odd feeling comes over you, making you wonder if you're truly alone.

Shaking your head, you tell yourself to stop being so paranoid before lowering yourself into the water.

The whirring of the jets almost drowns out your music, so you scramble over to the side and lean over to adjust the volume.

Laura Branigan's Self Control fills the night air as you settle back into your spot, nestling your head against the plush headrest behind you. A sigh of relaxation then leaves your lips as you close your eyes, enjoying the warmth of the swirling water.

You drift into a sort of meditative state, as all the sounds around you fade into a low hum. You're so completely absorbed in your own world that you're oblivious to the sound of someone entering your backyard.

The usually distinct creaking of the wooden gate doesn't reach your ears, as it's slowly opened then quickly shut.

Careful footfalls on the manicured grass also go unnoticed as the visitor walks up to the back patio. They stand, in front of you, smirk on their lips as they admire the serene state you're in. They debate whether or not they should disturb you but ultimately decide to make their presence known.

"And here I thought you were having a party and didn't invite me..." they say, causing your eyes to instantly open.

"What the fuck, Harrington?" You ask, with a glare, trying to keep your composure, as your heart feels like it's going to pound right out of your chest. "How'd you get back here?"

"The gate was unlocked," he casually replies, gesturing to it with his thumb. "And like I said, I thought there was a party, given the music and all."

Rolling your eyes, you sit up slightly and lean over to turn down the music.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but it's just me," you remark, glancing up at him.

"Who said I was disappointed?" He smiles, his eyes meeting yours before traveling lower to your partially obscured cleavage.

"This song's a bit scandalous for you, don't you think?" He then asks, with one hand resting on his hip, while the other points to your radio.

You haven't been paying attention to the song that's playing, and when you realize it's Nasty Girl by Vanity 6, you sigh dramatically.

"Are you, of all people, offended by it?" You challenge, getting up to move closer to him.

He scoffs. "Of course not, but I didn't think you listened to stuff like this."

"Why? Because it's too risqué? Too obscene?"

You lean over the edge of the tub while he opens his mouth ready to respond. The sight of your glistening body causes him to freeze up.

"Kinda, yeah..." he mumbles, while you lean back into the water.

"I guess there's a lot you still don't know about me," you say with a smile.

He licks his lips before taking a step closer. "Why don't we fix that? Can I join you, or is this just a party for one?"

Deciding to up the brattiness, you roll your eyes and sigh.

"I guess you can, as long as you keep your opinions on my taste in music to yourself."

A grin spreads across his lips. "I can do that."

He then kicks off his Nikes before pulling his white t-shirt over his head. You watch a little too intently as he peels off his tight Levi's, leaving a pair of tiny green shorts underneath.

He sits on the edge of the tub before swinging his legs around and lowering himself into the water.

"Ooh, this is nice," he breathes, as he sits across from you. "I wish my parents would get one of these."

"You should tell Daddy you want one. I know the girls would love it," you snark as he shakes his head.

"Is that all you think of me?" He asks, defeatedly.

"You've never given me the opportunity to have a different perception of you," you explain, averting your eyes from his.

He sighs. "I know, but I'm not that guy anymore. At least, I'm trying not to be."

"And you expect me to just take that at face value?" You counter, unable to keep the hostility out of your voice.

"I guess not..." he begins, as he shifts in his seat.

Your eyes widen as he moves to sit next to you. He's suddenly so close, with his thigh pressing against yours as he reaches up to cup your cheek.

His gaze cuts through the steamy air as he leans in, so close the tip of his nose grazes yours as he finally continues, "I'll have to prove it to you, then."

You're struggling to speak, let alone breathe, as it's all too much. His thumb gently caresses your skin as he waits for some sarcastic retort that never comes.

Your mind's then flooded with memories of the first time he held you like this, the first time you felt his breath on your skin, of so many firsts, its overwhelming.

You manage to whisper his name, causing him to whisper yours in return.

"You can pretend to hate me all you want, but I know you missed this," he breathes, as he ghosts his lips over yours.

You resist the urge to lift your arms out of the water and wrap them around him.

"You're already off to a rough start, Harrington," you reply, relishing in his annoyance at your continued use of his last name.

"But am I wrong? Don't you miss me at least a little bit?" He asks, brushing his lips against yours, teasingly.

You sigh as you feel yourself weakening for him all over again. You wish more than anything that you could hate him, but no matter how much you want to, you just... can't. It's what lured you into his bed, his backseat, anywhere he could get his hands on you.

He made you feel so pretty and wanted and possibly loved... until someone else caught his eye. He'd then treat you as an afterthought, especially at school, practically staring you down as you walked by, with his arm around another girl.

That's the closest you got to hating him, and for the rest of the school year, you believed you did. You tried everything you could to make yourself forget the smug allure of Steve Harrington.

And it worked, until tonight.

Your hand grips the slippery bench underneath you, as he nuzzles his nose against yours, content with teasing you all night, if he has to, just to finally hear what he wants.

"Yes," you quietly reply, your voice barely audible over the sound of water swirling around your bodies. "I missed you."

He pulls away, only to look into your eyes, and smiles.

"I missed you, too, honey."

You immediately bristle at his pet name, as all your hurt feelings come rushing back.

"Don't..." you warn, raising your hand and pressing it against his chest, stopping him as he goes to lean in again. "Don't say it if you don't mean it."

"I do, though," he quickly defends, placing his hand over yours. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you and how I'm so stupid to have lost what we had."

"Really?" You ask, allowing yourself to gaze into his eyes.

"Yeah," he nods. "You're the last person I ever wanted to hurt and I'm sorry for being such a dumbass."

His apology makes you crack a smile and he thinks you've never looked prettier.

"It was always you," he breathily continues as you cradle his face. "I'm just sorry it took me so long to realize it."

"I just... don't want you to ever hate me..." he quietly admits, as you slowly pull him towards you.

"I could never hate you," you softly reassure, right before your lips touch.

"Promise?" He whispers, almost muffled, against your lips.

"I promise."

You each then melt into an overdue kiss. His perfect nose presses against your cheek while your fingers curl in the ends of his damp hair.

"Fuck, honey, I've missed you so much," he breathes, between kisses.

You sigh his name, needing to feel more of him. You break the kiss, leaving him dazed and panting, while you carefully maneuver yourself onto his lap. Your knees press against the hard plastic of the bench underneath him, but you don't mind how it feels when Steve's hands are immediately on your hips, helping to guide your movements.

You lean in to kiss him again, and he's already moaning into your mouth with every grind of your hips. You smile, against his cheek, as you press kisses across it, kissing your way to his jawline.

You feel his wet fingertips glide up your back before his nails dig into your skin when he feels you lightly nibble on his neck.

"Did you miss this too, Stevie?" You coo, glancing up at him.

He nods before his eyes roll back from another grind of your hips.

"No one else ever really took the time to find out what you liked, did they? So many selfish lovers... though I thought that's what you wanted?" You ask, your voice sickeningly sweet.

He groans when he feels your lips at his ear.

"Someone as selfish as you," you whisper, before softly biting his earlobe.

You feel him shudder underneath you, so painfully hard and desperate for either some friction or release.

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" He then shakily asks, as you pull away to look into his eyes.

You shift slightly, freeing up both hands so you can place them on each side of his pretty face. You lean in again, lips just close enough to tease when you reply, "Nope."

"I'm sorry, honey, alright? I'll apologize all night if I have to..." he rasps, sounding as if he's on the verge of tears.

"I just might make you," you smile, enjoying your newfound power over Steve Harrington.

"Let me make it up to you," he pleads, lowering his hands back down to your hips. "I'll spend the night with you... the whole weekend if that's what it takes for you to forgive me."

"You really care about me that much?" You ask, combing your fingers through his hair.

He nods. "Let's go inside and I'll show you just how much."

You're both then scrambling into your house. Little droplets of water fall from your bodies as you hurry up the stairs. The towels around your shoulders doing little to prevent water from dripping everywhere.

The house is also quite chilly, as you had the A/C cranked up all day, so you're shivering as you enter your bedroom. You stand next to your bed, clutching your towel around you, while Steve stands in front of you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you to him.

"Oh no, honey, are you cold?" He asks, cupping your cheek, with his other hand.

You nod, timidly, your earlier attitude seemingly nonexistent.

"I'll have to warm you up then," he replies, before pressing his lips to yours.

He pushes your towel from your shoulders, and it joins his on the floor. You whimper into the kiss when you feel his large palm flat against your back before his hand ventures lower. He gives your ass a good squeeze, earning another whimper from you.

You then feel him grinning as his hands continue to roam your body.

"You're so fuckin' sexy in this, it's driving me crazy," he breathes, after temporarily breaking the kiss. "I kinda want you to leave it on while I fuck you..."

You sigh his name before pulling him into another kiss. It's messy and desperate as you lay back on your bed, with him on top of you.

He nestles himself perfectly between your legs, and now it's his turn to tease you. He grinds himself against you, the thin material you're both wearing making it more tortuous until you feel him move the crotch of your bathing suit to the side.

You're already squirming under him as you raise your hips, chasing the movement of his fingers.

He's smiling again, unable to hide how smug he feels as he just glides his fingers over you.

"Not so tough now, are you?" He purrs, against your cheek, while your hands are already twisting in his hair.

You try to speak, but he stops you.

"Its okay. I deserved it, and like I said, I'm gonna spend all night making it up to you."

He presses a couple wet kisses to your cheek, before slipping two of his long fingers inside you. You're already moaning at the stretch and the way he's suckling on your neck.

"Shit, honey, you're tighter than I remember..." he pants, sounding as ragged as you feel. "Guess no one else fucked you like I did, huh?"

You shake your head. "N-No, just you, Steve..." Your voice trails off into a series of moans as he adds another finger.

"Didn't think so," he says, glancing up at you.

"Look at me, honey," he softly commands, and once you open your eyes you see how he's gazing at you with complete adoration.

"So fuckin' pretty," he breathes, before crashing his lips to yours.

Your nails claw at his biceps as he mouths at your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, then flicks his tongue over a newly formed hickie. He plans to leave several more all over your body, wanting to cover you in little reminders that you're his girl again, and always will be.

You moan his name, your hand gripping his wrist when you feel the familiar waves of pleasure building.

"This is all for you, honey, remember?" He reminds, breathless. "I have to earn your forgiveness, even if it takes all night..."

You throw your head back, against your pretty, pink pillow as the most intense orgasm you've ever had washes over you.

Steve's lips are at your ear, talking you through it, praising you for how good you are for him.

His words have you biting your lip and squirming all over again. You gaze at him dreamily as he places his fingers between his lips. A soft moan escapes him as he tastes you.

"Just as sweet as I remember," he grins, before you grab his smug face and pull him in for a kiss.

You're moaning for him all over again when you taste yourself on his tongue.

"So, how am I doing so far? Want me to still spend the night?" He quietly asks, still breathless.

"What do you think, Harrington?" You snarkily reply, running your fingers through his tousled hair, before pulling slightly.

With a groan, he kisses you again, knowing you're both in for a long night.

[mieldreams]

Changes

summary: some of your and anakin's favourite changes in each other's bodies as you got older

warnings: cringe writing, nsfw stuff

a/n: idk man something i wrote on a whim, didn't bother proofreading sorry in advance, don't know if the concept even makes sense but just had to get it out. it's also my first time writing anything so

word count: <1k, she a baby

• anakin's favourite of you - the taste of your tits. anakin couldn't get over just how soft and loose your breasts had gotten, like they were begging to be fondled and sucked and bitten by his luscious mouth. anytime he saw you naked he had to have his hands all over your body, but his mouth would first reach for your tits. the older you got the heavier they got and the way they filled his mouth drove him crazy. to him, your tits were a Michelin star delicacy that deserved the full attention of his tongue and teeth when they were served in his sight.

• your favourite of anakin - his whole body tbh. As he had gotten older his body had changed in its mass and shape, he was no longer the scrawny but strong kid who could escape into narrow spaces. now, he took up space. he had definitely put on much more muscle and pudge that made him heavier, which in turn buried you that much further into the mattress when he was on top of you, and you simply couldn't get enough of it. like anakin, you too loved to run your hands all over his body, sometimes not even sexually but just to map every groove in the muscles of his back with the tips of your fingers, or memorize every dip and divot from his collarbones down his meaty abs, scraping your teeth along them, to his delicious v lines that definitely deserved marks of their own, and his thighs that had gotten thicker and harder with years of training.

• anakin's favourite - your thighs. as you put on weight over the years, a lot of it transferred to your thighs, making them bigger. meaning more canvas for anakin to paint with his sucks and bites. he loved your thighs and loved that now there was just... more. more meat for him to grab onto when you ride him, more sensitive flesh for him to smack whenever you're in a particularly bratty mood, more skin to bruise with his teeth and lips. essentially a longer path to reach home, but god was he willing to spend hours between them, either way. whether they were wrapped around his waist or his head, he truly felt the warmth of the closest thing to home. well, the second closest, he didn't think anything in the world could compare to the warmth and pleasure of being inside you.

• your favourite - his cum. you didn't know how to explain it but it had definitely changed over the years. it felt thicker now, heavier just like his delicious body. it felt more filling every time he came inside you. it felt stickier too, like his body was desperate to fill you to the brim and make it as difficult as possible to waste a single drop. to make it stick, to make you swell. to stretch in sticky strands from his fingers when he pulled them back after making sure you were stuffed full. it felt slow and lush like honey and tasted like it too.

• your both's favourite - the way you fit. after years of being with each other, you truly thought that no one could ever compare to the other. the years you had spent carving yourselves into each other's bodies made it seem like your bodies had grown to only take each other. like no other cock could fit in your cunt the way his did and no other could pleasure you like he did. the same went for him, it was like no other cunt could take him like you do. like your warm inviting walls were moulded just for him, demanding he fulfil his husband duties and milking him just right so he could satisfy you with his heavy load, a unique lock and key fit that nothing and no one else could satisfy.

safe to say, you and Anakin only fell more and more in love with each other and each other's bodies as they changed over the years.

[skyahri]

Remember Part Two |SatoSugu X Reader| HC

Part One - Part Three Masterlist Ko-fi

Summary: It's hard bouncing back twelve years.

Warnings: none? Pretty fluffy.

- - - - -

You pat around the bed, but can't seem to find what you're looking for. You awkwardly push yourself up onto your hands, your waist awkwardly trapped in Satoru's tight hold.

You look around, still weary about, well, everything that's gone on. The jet lag-like dysphoria combined with the surrealism of the situation is muddling your mind.

You're still in Geto's room, that much is obvious based on his dark sheets and clean desk, but there's no Geto.

"Suguru?"

You can't feel his residuals anywhere. You try to settle your worries by reminding yourself that he often suppressed his cursed energy, that the ball hadn't started rolling yet, but the pit in your stomach was persistent.

Before you can panic any more, he's sliding his door open and closed behind him. You let out a breath and forced your way out of Satoru's grip. You hear him whine, but don't pay much mind to him.

You sit on the edge of the bed and rub your hand over your face. It's easier to calm down now than it was last night, the initial shock having worn off and the lack of exhaustion make things much easier to process.

"You can't just leave, Suguru."

"I was just," he paused, "Nevermind. I'm sorry."

He takes a seat next to you and you rest your head on his shoulder.

It's silent, but not uncomfortable. You can feel him trying to pick you apart with his eyes, wanting information but not wanting to ask. You chose to let him wonder and just basque in his presence. It's warm, almost like a hug.

You eventually convince yourself to get up from his bed and start your day. Gojo complains, something about you getting up means he has to as well. You can no longer be used as an excuse to lounge around all day.

It's difficult to get back into the groove of your old life. You're quickly realizing how much a person can change when given enough time.

Your hair is longer than you'd recently kept it and your ears hadn't been pierced yet. Seeing a face you didn't recognize as your own in the mirror was a trip in and of itself. Second puberty is a very real thing, the lack of adult maturity in your features being proof of it.

You haven't used a single product in your bathroom in over a decade. Satoru had long replaced your cheap body care products with an expensive perfume and matching lotions. There was no trinket dish holding your prized jewelry, solely because you just hadn't been gifted any of it yet. Your closet was severely dated, only containing uniforms and outfits you had outgrown years ago.

None of this stuff mattered in the grand scheme of things. Everything would eventually fall into place, and you'd have all of these things back, but that didn't stop it from hurting. They're just objects, but most of them held much more significant meaning. Milestones, holidays, memories with people you care for. It's sad not to have the visual reminder.

You make your way through the halls of Jujutsu High, acknowledging the faces of all your old classmates. Once you get past the eerie presence of a select few you haven't seen since their untimely deaths, it's refreshing. As of right now, there's no war or depression. Nothing stopping you from actively enjoying the present time with your friends.

That is, except for the expiration date practically stamped on their foreheads.

You head through a myriad of hallways and tunnels that eventually lead to an elevator. You know you shouldn't be down here, Yaga would surely have your head, but you don't really see any other options.

You're surprised when you easily pass through the barrier. He was most likely expecting your company. Word travels fast, especially when it involves everyone assuming their battle position at three in the morning.

His base is creepy, to say the least. The vibe is ominous, almost like you're entering certain death. You're certain that this is a stupid idea, but your feet keep moving nonetheless, and soon your eye to eye with the one person who can protect the future.

"Tengen."

"Oh? I hope this doesn't have anything to do with my upcoming assimilation, does it?"

"You don't even know the half of it."

- - - - -

After your impromptu meeting with Tengen, you decided not to bother with the rest of your classes. Instead, you made a trip off campus for some essentials.

The errand is short, just a stop at the nearest bookstore for some new journals and the convenience store for a more... indulgent treat. It isn't long before you're back in the confines of your bedroom.

There's writing supplies strewn across your desk, your feet awkwardly forced onto the narrow cushion of your seat as you uncomfortably hunched over. The ashtray to your left is packed full of butts, the pack halfway gone as you've chain smoked through the whole ordeal.

You always hated the task of actually writing out the events of your dreams. It's tedious and requires an ungodly amount of focus to remember every detail. It's been damn near four hours, and you're only three years into the endeavor. Granted, all of the more relevant things happen in that time, making it drag out a bit more in word form, but that's besides the point.

You're so entranced in the activity, you don't even notice Geto slide open your door. He walks up behind you, resting both hands on your shoulders and startling you out of your daze. You swiftly close the notebook and relax into his touch, reveling in the way he digs his thumbs into your sore shoulders.

"Never thought I'd catch you smoking after all the grief you give us."

"I needed to unwind," you pause, glancing at the half empty pack, "I suppose I did get a bit carried away, though."

It's quiet while he continues his ministrations. You take one last drag of your cigarette before snuffing it out in the tray. You relax, allowing your body to melt into a less chaotic position in your chair.

You're having a hard time recalling the specific relationship dynamics you once held with the people around you in high school.

As time went on, you found comfort in Gojo's advances. He was a rock in an otherwise changing environment, even after Geto's defection. He had left a hole in everyone's hearts, and no matter how much you tried to move past it, there was always that lingering darkness. Having Satoru and not Suguru was like having the moon and not the sun, and it stunted both of you for years to come.

Your future relationships and mature understandings of life were blurring your memories of the current ones. Had you and Gojo romanticized the past version of Geto? Was the way you're feeling right now just a symptom of that? Or was there always something there?

"What are you thinking about?"

You shrug. You don't really feel like lying right now, so it's better to just not say anything.

"I came in here to ask if you'd like to go to Splendid Sushi with us? Satoru's treat of course."

You tilt your head back to peer up at him. You touch his hand and strain your arm so you can drag your fingers up his arm, finally finding a place to rest on his bicep.

He looks new. There are no bags under his eyes and he still has that sparkle of hope. It finally sinks in that this is your Suguru. The guy who argues about morals with Satoru and dreams about protecting the weak. It's a warm feeling, one that gives you the strength to venture forward.

"I have to keep working, Sugu. You guys go on without me."

"How about you come with us, and I'll keep you company afterwards."

You hum, feigning contemplation for a moment before dramatically sighing and agreeing to his proposal.

You forgot how good it felt to be worry free. To sit in a restaurant with your three favorite people, talking about nonsense and just enjoying the night. Eating a sickening amount of sushi and being loud enough to bother other patrons.

But your thoughts started to drift to the one thing you'd been trying to avoid; your kids.

When Megumi and Tsumiki were younger, family dinners weren't an issue. You could easily wrangle everyone in and play peacekeeper long enough to have a nice meal. But kids eventually become teens and things became a little harder to manage with the newfound angst. Then Tsumiki got sick and it felt wrong to enjoy the weekly gatherings altogether.

In all honesty, neither had ever really needed you, but you'd like to think they enjoyed having you and Satoru as some kind of pseudo-parents. Megumi has always been independent and Tsumiki has always been a fighter, but they're little right now, about three and four years old, probably fending for themselves while Toji and his girlfriend are off doing God knows what.

You've completely tuned out the others' conversation about, what even was it? Animals they could take in a fight? They're talking amongst themselves while you begin to worry about their place in your future.

Would Satoru still seek them out? With Geto around, will he feel the need to raise two kids? And what about the two girls Geto saves from that village? Should you intervene in the town beforehand, or set things up so he still takes them? Is there even a way to do so without igniting that anti-monkey flame?

You rub your hand down your face as the onset of headache approaches. Only a half-hour into dinner and you've already managed to ruin it for yourself.

You quietly excuse yourself from the table and exit the building. You hear them whisper amongst themselves before Shoko jogs to catch up with you outside. She leans against the side wall with you, surprised when you hand her one of two lit cigarettes between your lips.

"You good?"

You don't answer at first. What are you supposed to tell her? That you miss the teenagers you raised after having a hand in killing their dad?

"Just stressed."

"Feel like sharing?"

"Wish I could. You have no idea."

Shoko has always been your favorite confidant. She's well-rounded and more predictable than Gojo, even now. You sigh, tilting your head back and forth in thought with a groan.

"I'm having trouble adjusting."

"Don't you always?"

"Not like this. I've never seen so far forward before. I feel like I'm in a haze."

"It'll fade. It always does, just gotta give it time, y'know?"

You jab the filter against the bricks and toss it in the trash, Shoko following suit. Despite it being a very dry conversation, you do feel a bit better. Maybe just forcing yourself into a more familiar place within the group was helping.

You make your way back to the table, sitting beside Satoru this time and allowing him to pull you into his side with an arm around your shoulder. He leans his head down so he can whisper in your ear.

"You're too pretty to be worrying so much. Try and relax, alright?"

The next second he's laughing, joking with Suguru about how easy it is to piss off Nanami and arguing with Shoko about who gets to open the prize capsule.

You smile, thankful for the wonderful distraction that is your friends. You pull the bit out of Shoko's hand and call dibs. They pout, but don't fight you. You pop it open and pull out a Badtz-Maru keychain. You can't help but be reminded of Megumi, its black spikey top and sour expression are damn near uncanny.

Satoru uses the arm around your shoulder to pluck the prize out of your hand.

"Awe, I was hoping for Hello Kitty."

You take it back and shove it in your pocket.

"Good thing it's not yours then, huh?"

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 32

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 6k

A/N: I fear its safe to say I don't do well with change. I moved back to school and couldn't find my groove. Who knew I just needed a little ovulation and commute to work time to bang this one out. Chapter 33 will be arriving shortly.

Well Javier was on the floor. Without a complaint. The two of you didn’t stay too long at the fair considering each ride had a wait time of forty five minutes. In the car you decided to keep your hotel but still be open to staying over, when it was appropriate.  So now you’re on his bed, back in one of his shirts. Surrounded by him. Criss crossed while he’s sat up on the floor. 

“You could come up here.” You offer, removing your rings and placing it on his nightstand. Already claiming his space as your own, too natural for you. The offer has him quirking a brow. It was a test, you know he shouldn’t. Shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t.” He settles into the mattress, pulling the blankets to his shoulders. “We could talk like this.” Grunting from adjusting his newly relaxed body. You move forward on your stomach so that he could see you. Resting your head on your arms. You smile feeling like two kids at a sleepover, whispering and peering over the bed to see if the other fell asleep yet.

“Good you passed that one. Let's continue shall we?” 

The game of 21 questions was more like two hundred questions and it continued all the way into the house. 

Did you date?

I thought you asked me not to tell you about all of that.

I said I don't want to hear about Camila or Daniela or whoever.

You remember their names?

Yes, I couldn’t sleep and thought about a Camila under you. He flexes his jaw at that. 

I went on two dates, which were set up by my partner Steve Murphy and his wife. They ended with goodbyes after dinner. Never spoke to them again.

I went on some dates too. 

I don’t want to hear about that. You pinch him on the elbow and he shrugs. We’re different about that stuff, I hate to hear it. You nod and get the urge to apologize but fight it. 

Now in bed he clears his throat, “Alright. Tell me what your apartment looks like?”

You smile, “It’s a steal for the area. I actually have a bedroom for the price of a studio. My rooms a bit more eclectic than my one here. My bedding is white but my room walls are a burgundy color. There’s no closet so I have a clothing rack. None of my living room furniture is new… it’s all second hand from stoop sales or whatever. My birds shit without batting an eye so I opted not to be dumb about that. What did yours look like?”

His eyes are closed for a moment like he’s trying to imagine it. “Hmmm.. it was dim in there, always. The kitchen and living room were open, a few steps to lead you to the living room. I had a leather couch and a desk. My television was pretty nice. Nothing was really– mine. I tried not to make it feel lived in because I didn’t want to get attached to that place–that world.” There’s a face that you’ve never really seen from him until you’ve been here. It’s one nearly blank but you know the way his face moves, there's a small crease in his brows and he clenches his jaw. Like talking about Colombia pained him and he has to conceal it. Almost like a child admitting to their faults after a spanking. Quiet, embarrassed, unsure, and on the verge of breakdown. “You would have hated it there.”

Probably. You just nod the best you can while laying down. Waiting for his question. 

“Um…” He closes one eye, like it’ll help him think. He opts to go silent for a moment like he conjured a question but was waging his options. 

Should I? Is this a line I shouldn’t cross? Is the wound still open? “Have you heard from your father?” 

You frown for a second. Off put and taken off guard. Remembering the day, remember the rolling grass, low hanging branches and the cold demeanor from the one person she needed warmth from. Hearing urgent and violent words like I love you. Promising to take care of you. 

“No. I never went back there. He never called me even though I’m sure my grandmother told him I moved to Louisiana. I stopped needing him after I got to know him.” You rarely thought of him, just the concept of being without a parent. Then you became an educator and realized that anyone you call family is your own. Your students taught you that, so did Javier years earlier but you suppose maybe you weren’t ready to accept it yet. 

Javier hums to himself, staring at the ceiling. Contemplating if he should really share the way he had felt. Afraid it would break some rule in this delicate game you’ve got going. Wondering if you’ll furrow your brow and turn you back to sleep or internalize what’s climbing up, up, up his throat. 

“If this is… against your rules you don’t have to say anything or we could move on…”

“Okay.”

Again he can’t look at you. How is it that you reduce him to a shy young boy? 

“There’s nothing more that I want in life than to be the father of your kids.” There he goes leaping over the bounds to which he’s left in, but he can’t help it. It’s all he thinks about, all he thought about three years ago and it plagued him every time you spoke of your own father. He doesn’t see you but he can feel your eyes closed, silent, internalizing it all. After all, you'd never turn your back on him. “No one will ever know you like me. Love you, sure, but not as much as me. You’re too easy to love. But I know that you could show me what a mother looks like and I could show you what a father looks like. Our kids will never be in pain the way we were. Sorry if this makes you uncomfortable or-or confused. It’s all I thought about when I was away. And I’m so sorry for ever making you think I didn’t want you in that way.” Because he should have known that it was a deep point of insecurity for you, a deep well created by your parents. Urge to be loved, to create something and love it in a much fiercer and kinder way than your parents did you. Lorraine being able to have all that you wanted came like slice to the stomach. 

Sniffling, you rub your face into the crook of your arm. Hiding from Javier. He looks this time and he doesn’t try to hold your hand like you’re itching for. 

“Thank you… I—.” You wipe your face. Not willing to open the can of worms this could conjure if you just told him straight up that you’d be willing to start now. Fuck the trial, fuck trying to learn each other again, let’s start a family. Be irrational but be happy. You decide to keep it together. You thank him and he knows it’s genuine, you see it in his eyes. He understands your reluctance. “I found that I don’t have the need for many people in my life-“

“I need you.” He says before you. Like he did when he said he loved you. Throat bobbing, he pulls his sheets over him. “I’ll wait for you, until you need me again.”

“Can never get enough of each other huh.” Chucho chuckles while washing his hands in the sink. Boots clean and squeaking against the floor. It was a part of his routine, cleaned his boots every night even if he worked the next morning. 

Last night you fell asleep with your face buried into the crook of your arm. Hand dangling off the mattress, grazing Javier’s neck. Need to touch, woke up with a sore arm. Bleary eyed you notice there’s no-body by the bed. Silent but the sound of running water. 

That’s how you found Chucho, ready for the day at 8 am. Embarrassingly you pad into the kitchen in Javier’s shirt and boxers. 

You shrug, he hands you a cup of coffee. Nodding a thank you, “We have established clear boundaries. We are just spending quality time. We have a lot to make up for.” You say it with a bit of a half awake half still dreaming slur that has Javier’s father beaming. 

“Well if that’s what you’re calling it nowadays, so be it. I won’t be back until four pm.” He places his cup down and starts walking away. Your jaw drops and you nearly run after him. But you know he’s fucking with you, his shoulders bounce. 

“It’s not like that!” You call and he waves a hand at you over his shoulder and steps straight out of his own home. Screen door slamming with a brisk breeze. 

You hear a sneeze, “What’s not like that?” Your head snaps and eyes lock with Javier’s. Freshly showered, hair so wet it droops on his forehead. He looks younger this way. Grey shirt loose with jeans to match. Socked feet, he looks like he doesn’t want you to go anywhere. At least seeing him like this makes you want to find a nest for yourself in his bed. You can’t help but smile at him. 

He’s skeptical of your cheery mood. Brows furrowing, nostrils flared but a hint of a smile. He’s cautious, like he knows you’re up to something. You aren’t, at all. You’re just giddy and it’s only been two days and you feel your boundaries loosening. Just wanting to find that place you yearn for. Just run to him now, kiss him, tell him to put a baby in you. Grab, pull, lick, love, whatever came with it. You decide to control yourself a bit. 

Your eyes drop to his hands, he’s holding three VHS tapes. Your brows furrow just the same, wondering what movie he wanted to see with you. It wasn’t a thing the two of you ever did. Your time spent was short and only for conversations and kisses. And pot, back before everything. You had to stop smoking after getting your teaching gig. 

You want to say something bratty like, assuming I’m staying for some home videos? But you can’t even do that, lord when did you become such a softie? “Big plans?” Is all you can manage to croak.

He shrugs, “Are you staying?” He says it without shame, you know it must take a lot for a man to nearly beg. You know he means please stay. 

You look at him once more and down at your boxer clad legs. Shrugging. “I suppose”

Eric Fredricks' family owned a Haitian restaurant off main street. It was a small take out spot that had been bustling with business since 1961. Eric was your classmate. A friend of everyone, known for his large digital camera he carried around school. The loud, goofy kid shoved his damn camera in everyone’s faces. Annoyed or not, he would always say, “When you fuckers are forty you’re really going to appreciate these recordings!” 

Well, each year he cut, edited and burned these tapes as his own NR rated yearbook videos. Selling them around school and you bought one each year. He was chill with the price for you just because you always perked up in front of his camera. Ready to gleam and answer whatever stupid questions he had like;

“Andrea, how does it feel to be the worst lacrosse player in Laredo history?”

“Or Andrea, what are your thoughts on today’s LHS Chilli special? “ 

You always answered with the same slapstick humor he had. You thought you lost these tapes years ago. Javier seemed to remind you that you left them at his house, might’ve been when Javier was in Houston.

 He was right, your mother’s VHS player stopped working in 1982. You remember popping these tapes in and watching them during your winter break from Miami. Chucho snoring on the lazy boy, saved him from watching the closest thing he had to a daughter do a keg stand with her skirt flipped up towards her chest. 

“I’ve never seen these.” Javier grunts when he straightens back up and walks to sit next to you on the brown couch. A couch with the tendency to swallow you whole. You remember Javier on his knees before you, pillow covering your spread legs while he unlaced your boots. 

“Well you left so…” You grab the control and snicker, pressing play.

“Hah. Hand me that.” he gestures to the pack of cigarettes on the side table. You shake your head no and settle into the seat. “Cmon.” 

“No. No smoking in the house.” You snap at the tv, “Watch.” 

It’s Eric’s face, he’s sitting in his bedroom. “Hello. I’m Eric Fredricks. I’m fifteen and my passion is digital media. The yearbook club is full of hacks and strokes, so I’m going to make my own. The date is September 21st 1979. Ok bye!” the film glitches and the camera makes its way down the hall. Faces of people who you haven’t seen in years. Hairstyles forgotten, thank god. Winks at the camera, sly comments from Eric behind it. He asks questions in his interview segment that would never make it to the school's video yearbook. 

“What does Eric do now?” Javier asks. It’s easy to forget that he missed so many crucial moments. He missed the infamous lunch box incident in 81', Laredos first soccer championship, the halloween rager that led to the assembly—all of that. You wonder if that’s normal, for the development of a person. To be plucked out of childhood and forced to be an adult while everyone else got to worry about if their drivers test aligned with their basketball practice schedule. Burdened with the responsibility of a person's livelihood is no place for a seventeen year old. 

You bring your knees to your chest, finding the most comfort when you're guided and held. “Last I heard he was doing media production for Saturday Night Live. Like in New York City.”

He feels it too, you see the way his brows quirk. How he almost frowns. “That’s crazy—how different things went for everyone else.” You knew at that moment that the tape would be mere background noise. 

“You— you know you made a name for yourself too.” 

Hm. 

You weren’t sure if that’s what you wished to say. He doesn’t get upset with you for it. He chooses to let it slide and for that you’re grateful because you hadn’t had a clue about what to say to him. 

“Yeah.” He chuckles but doesn’t seem to be that amused. He pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning his head against the back of the couch. There’s not much to be said anymore. Lorraine changed the fabric of his being, so did the DEA. And maybe you too. His hand splayed on his knee, knuckles red from repeated trauma to the area. You opted to abandon the topic in general. Seeing his stomach tighten up under the thin fabric of his t-shirt when the choice was your hand on his. Small, soft, against his. 

The two of you relish in the harmless intimacy, you give each other this. Tiny touches could be enough. 

The two of you watch the bootlegged documentary in mostly silence. Rotating who strokes the other with their thumbs. You think about turning your cheek, kissing him. Pressing close and making out for a bit. A casual make out, breathy and gripping. You decide against it. This would be so easy if it was anyone else but him. 

It’s not because you feel like you can’t control yourself—it’s not like a make out with Javier Peña would have your panties at your ankles. You could control yourself more than that. What it is—is that you’ll take advantage of those little liberties. Sneaking kisses at any time and when you go back home, you’ll be lost without it. 

Maybe you’re doomed anyway, because if this doesn’t work out you don't know what you’ll do knowing you can’t just hold his hand. 

Your brother comes out on halloween with a fang induced lisp drunkenly reciting the alphabet backwards at a party while Eric cackles behind the camera. It makes you laugh so hard you cry, missing being young. Missing your brother. 

Lorraine pops up. High ponytail with red cheeks from gym class. Hands on her hips, it’s wrong for such an evil person to be so beautiful. You look at Javier and there’s a frown on his face. 

He wonders why she was so bad to him, what he did to deserve to be plagued by her. He regrets knowing her, it’s hard for him to watch her smile. 

Then you show up and Javier’s eyebrows raise. “I remember that day.” He mutters. There you are, looking the same just with that baby fat at the apple of your cheeks. Your hair was the closest to its natural brown, your pants were severely high waisted and your shirt a lacy shawl like thing. You’re at a locker taping a flier about lacrosse tryouts when the camera rushes you.

“Andrea Diaz! How does it feel to be Laredos worst lacrosse player?” Javier snorts next to you, squeezing your hand. That’s what he would do, come up to you and ask the dumbest, rudest questions. There, a fifteen year old Andrea rolls her eyes and rolls her thumb to secure the tape. 

Crossing her arms, “I’ll answer your dumb questions if you’re nicer about it.” You cringe at the sound of your own voice, sounding awfully juvenile. Javier’s entire demeanor goes soft. All it took was the sound of you—back then, for him to forget the panic in his gut when watching Lorraine in her prime. 

“Alright sure-sure- Andrea Diaz how does it feel to be the sexiest girl in all of Laredo?” Eric had quite the country accent, it made every line delivered feel like that of a typecasted movie star. 

Quirking a brow, “I wouldn’t know. I could ask your mother.” 

“All right that’s enough! You’re impossible to please ,woman!” Eric yells from behind the camera and it fades in little blocks to you getting set up for a keg stand. 

You’re in a skirt and a flowing yellow top. Stumbling a bit, Daniel holds your shoulder to keep you upright. You try not to think too hard about the images you’ve left in people’s minds while you were drunk. Javier is getting more and more tense each passing moment. His hold on your hand becomes just a hold and no longer a soothing stroke. 

You’re cringing at yourself, flipping your hair and chanting that you could do it while Daniel holds your waist. Hands trailing over your stomach, you almost forget that before Javier you had your fair share of hookups, him your most consistent. 

The date on the corner March 1st 1980. 

Drunkenly you lean forward and another one of your peers holds your other leg while another shoves a tap in your mouth. The entire party off screen and on, start chanting your name with whoops. That’s when your skirt flips and exposes the plain blue panties. 

You cover your eyes. 

“I don’t like this.” Is all that Javier can say, on the screen no one covers you until a random classmate of yours, Jenna? Or was it Jessa? Runs to your aid and calls all the men pigs before holding your skirt in its place. You’re dropped down and again you stumble backward into the arms of your pseudo boyfriend. 

And then you yak all over the floor.

 “Jesus christ I forgot about that.” You rub your eyes afraid to look over at Javier. 

“Did—anything-“

“No. Well I think we went to someone’s room and made out. Then I walked home.” 

His head nearly falls off his shoulders. “He let you walk home like that?” Javi grits, letting go of your hand. 

You shrug, “Dunno, high school shit.” 

“Why didn’t you call me?” 

Your brows furrow, he’s being ridiculous but you know he can’t help it. He wanted—wants, nothing more than to take care of those he loves. You watch the video back, seeing your young eyes and wish to take care of her too. You can’t even imagine him. He only lets you know the surface level of his concern for you. You know it’s more than wishing you had called him. 

You had before, panicked and blushing using the party home phone. 

You decide calling him ridiculous would be in bad faith. You just lean your head on his shoulder. Moving your hand from his and holding his bicep instead. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye. Face softening along with his tense shoulders. “I don’t know. I was sixteen and stupid. And drunk.” Your cheek feels too good there. 

He’s studying you. You wished you could read him in these moments. When he’s so in his head, he’s taking you in completely. “Can you? Now I mean.”

Your lips quirk and the apples or your cheeks redden. Pulling your brows because sometimes he’s too sweet it gives you a toothache. “I live in New York, Javi.” 

“I know.” He’s close enough to kiss. “But I want you to call me anyway. If you ever feel unsafe or unsure—i know how twisted a human can be—i’ve seen-“

There it is. He’s cut off by a kiss on his shoulder.

 “I will.” It’s a featherlight whisper and he does that thing again. That look, this time with a bit of restraint. The two of you focus on the screen again.

Twenty minutes into the forty-six minute video the two of you revert back to telling stories about the students on the screen and laughing at how high school, your high school experience really was.

“This is great, hottest couple in the school right in front of me.” Eric laughs, camera pointed at the ground then quickly shot up. Blurring than focusing on Javier at his locker. He looked so young, red cap on his head with a Righteous Brothers t-shirt. The image of him as a seventeen year old in your head had been fading for a few years, but now you’re watching him living, breathing and moving as himself. Smiling once he sees Eric approaching him. 

“What the fuck was I wearing?”

You laugh, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Don’t know but I was obsessed with you anyway.”

He makes one of those grunts where you can’t tell if he’s annoyed with himself or with you. You nudge his shoulder with your chin. “What?”

“Makes me feel like such an asshole.”

All you could do was sigh. You know he’d give it all to do it over again. You look at Lorraine and there seems to be love there. It never fails to make your blood boil. You know that loving Javier can make you feel sick, crazy or desperate. But you suppose her love was selfish. For a while you felt like your own love was selfish, not caring for the consequences. But you suppose it was just a natural progression. Miles away from scheming to keep him forever, by ways of manipulation. The look in his eye isn’t the same since you left him. 

A young Javier takes Lorraine’s jaw in his hand and kisses her cheek. She rolls her eyes. “He’s obsessed with me.” She smiles and he mumbles a yeah. Your cheeks heat in a rage that’s so juvenile, you want to turn off the entire thing. Maybe this was a shitty idea. Watching your most insecure and turbulent years in front of you. You were obsessed with him, crying furious tears. Avoiding contact. While he was content with her. It’s a nerve that will always be left exposed. 

He clears his throat. 

“Were you?” You bite. Removing your head from his shoulder, he sinks at the loss. Leaning forward to get a full image of your face. His brows are pulled together in confusion until they soften when he notices this is nothing but you showing him you are still so into him. 

He bites back a smirk and you want to smack it off of his face. “Was I what, querida?”

You swear you will-

“Obsessed with her.” Firm, no room for it to sound like a desperate question. This definitely breaks one of your rules. But fuck it, he’s flawed and so are you, 

He shuts an eye and shakes his head no. “I liked her. She was pretty. She was my girlfriend…”

You frown, that title belonged to you. 

There he is, an inch away from your face with such intensity. “But I would fuck her, and picture you. I imagined that you’d blush the whole time and would pretend like you couldn’t handle me just so I can fuck you harder. Would have to bury my head where she couldn’t hear because I’d come and say your name.” Your cheeks turn cherry red, just how he likes. Cunt pulsing, it betrays you. You’re so flustered and angry with him you want to lean forward and bite him. He doesn’t waiver, he leans much closer. You shudder, feeling crowded by his body. He has the strength to do what he’d like with you, you’re sure you’d put on a fight until you’re unable to lie anymore. You had been soaked the whole damn time. “What? Have I broken your rules?” He whispers, nose nudging your own lightly. You can’t help it, your mouth parts searching for his—

But he backs away and laughs at you. He laughs! Shaking his head like you’re some bastard child. Leaning back cooley and pressing play again. Lorraine’s voice ringing through the speakers. 

Absolutely not. 

You sit in silence. Staring at him while he’s glued to the image of him and his ex girlfriend. Your chin quivers, and you clench around nothing.

“G-give me the remote.” You blurt. Chest falling, bubbling with anger. He doesn’t look at you but smirks. He ignores you. Eyes welling with tears. “Javi.”

More silence. More her. You reach for his hand and he doesn’t look at you. He isn’t looking at you… so you pounce. 

Jumping into his lap, clawing at him while he laughs and hurriedly finds different ways to keep you away from the remote. You’re seeping through your underwear and onto his boxers, your cunt rolling against his crotch unintentionally.

 Your brows screw—“Just—Javi please turn it off.” He chuckles again and he’s all of this without focusing on the pain you’re in. Emotionally, sexually, whatever. You reach around him lifting your hips to get ahold of the controller but you lose again. Bouncing on his lap a bit. He grunts.

“Javi— Please- I’m not kidding.” 

The tv shuts off with a wiring tone and his eyes finally land on your own. All the playfulness leaves when he realizes. And you feel like a heat sick kitten, rubbing on yourself this way. His brow raises, eyes falling to your tear stained cheek and down your grinding hips. You drop your face into his shoulder. At first he doesn’t touch you, he just watches you. Nose nudging your cheek. Wondering why after everything you’d give it up just to come quick like this. 

“Hey… hey.” He whispers at the shell of your ear. “Fuck—Andrea—“

You can only whimper into the crook of his neck. Taking your feel for the girl in those tapes, for the girl who dreamt of him while he did the same. It drove you crazy, it made you violent and horny. “Baby…” His big hands span from your shoulder blades down to  the small of your back and then splayed on your ass. Spreading you and rolling you harder. He grunts again. “Andrea… I can’t—we said we wouldn’t—I'm sorry for teasing you—cmon.” His hands move from your behind, come to your front, at your waist and lightly push  you away from him. 

He’s impossibly hard now, his tan cheeks have a bit more color now. He’s sweating. Feeling embarrassed, you freeze. Eyes dropped to his lap, cunt begging you to move again. You feel the length of him under you, mocking you. You shouldn’t. You know. You know he’s sorry for how rushed and stupid Christmas eve was. You’re still ticked off by it, but he’s doing so good for you. 

“I’m sorry… we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Is all you can muster out. 

“You know I want to.” He rushes, leaning forward so he can hold your face, it just makes him shift against you again. Your brows furrow at the release. 

“Okay…” A drop of sweat builds at the nape of your neck, the both of you are so turned on you’ll fuck each other if you keep this up. “Can we…can I…” You swear if he brings up your rules again you’ll crawl in a hole and die of embarrassment. 

He juts his chin at you, egging you to complete your sentence. 

You think you’ll die before you say it. Your face brightens real red and you shimmy out of his hold. You crawl off his lap and mutter to yourself. “Sorry, it’s stupid. I should just go.” 

He catches your wrist and sits you back down next to him. “Tell me.”

“It’s stupid! And gross probably.”

“We aren’t children.” 

You’ve been so open sexually until now. You felt twenty two again, never having orgasmed with another person, afraid to tell him what you wanted. He gave you it all. 

“Can we— or can I touch myself?”

Javier’s eyes darken, “You want to touch yourself.” 

God it’s like he’s trying to humiliate you. 

“Yes.”

He clenches his jaw so tight. “Can I watch? Or do you want to go to my room alone?” 

Idiot. 

“Can we do it together? Now.” You can’t let the moment pass. 

Well, he can’t either. His nostrils flare and he places his hand on his belt. Unbuckling so fast you can’t help but watch. You watch him unbuckle and unzip while you shimmy out of his boxers. His eyes glued to your movements. You feel filthy exposing yourself like this. He lifts his hips and pulls his jeans down a bit, the heft of his cock making a print through his underwear. You remember leaning down and pressing your lips along his bulge once. You’d like to do it again. 

You circle your fingers along your clit over your panties. He palms himself. 

“Tell me what to do.” You whisper. 

“Oh.” He reaches into his boxers and pulls his length out. Your pussy clenches at the sight, a thatch of hair at the base and curved. You touched yourself to the thought of it. You pull your panties down and lift one leg up on the couch, spreading yourself open. “Give me your fingers.” 

You furrow your brow but remove them. Bringing your hand to him. His free hand grasps your wrists and he takes no time, he puts the same two fingers in his mouth. You gasp, while he sucks, stroking his dick at the same time. Your fingers are impossibly wet when he stops. Your wrist is still in his hold. “Don’t put any fingers in until I tell you. Just play with your clit for a little.” 

You nod, bringing your fingers back to it. Moving in tight circles. Javier’s fist is dry, working his way up and down his shaft— your lips gather with drool—you want to-

“Spit on it. If you want. Or I can.” He reads your mind. You take no time, moving to your knees, your knees knocked together giving you a tighter squeeze for your fingers. Feels even better. You lean into his lap, back arched like a kitten. 

Javier groans at the sight. You desperately want to put your mouth on him—my rules, my rules. Spit drips from your mouth and onto the red head of his pretty cock. His hand comes to the back of your head and you moan, wishing he’d push down and force himself into your mouth. But he just strokes the back of your head instead. You lean back into the arm of the couch, you’re no longer side by side. Your whole body is barred for him, you bring your free hand under your shirt. Grabbing your breast and rolling your fingers over your nipples. 

He uses your spit and moans audibly now. Grunting in his low baritone, you collect your slick and use it for slip. Your stomach tenses, “Put your finger in. Middle.” You nod and feel even more unsatisfied. “Fuck, I missed that pretty little face you make when something goes inside your cunt.”

“Javi…” You whine throwing your head back, fucking yourself with your small finger. 

“I know—fuck.” Pre-cum gathers all over the tips of his fingers. You’ll ask to lick his hand clean when you’re done. “I know your cunt wants my cock again—I’m sorry I can’t.”

“It’s not enough.” Your knees knock together in protest. 

“I know-I know. Add another baby. Ring.” You watch his stomach go taut so he slows down his strokes. Licking his lips at the sight of you adding another. “Mm. I miss you so much.” He shudders. 

“I’m right here.” 

“Please don’t leave me—fuck.” He whines, it’s so unlike him. You watch his tip surge through the tight hole he’s made for himself, he’s close but you’re closer. You can’t believe it’s him asking you this. “I want to follow your rules—show you I’m good—but please let me kiss you.” 

The ridges of your fingers aren’t enough, you use your other hand to circle your clit without permission. He’s so caught in his emotions that he doesn’t seem to care that you touched yourself without his command. 

He tells you what to do but truly he’s at your will. His eyes well with tears and his brows are pulled together. “Let me take care of you, I’ll do everything you say if you let me kiss you—“

“I can’t— I’m going to come!” Your back arches and it builds. You can’t see him now but you hear his pace, his fist slapping against his base. You writhe and shiver and it comes crashing down. You come hard, you mutter I’m sorry, over and over. And he groans at the sight, you can’t give him what he wants. 

You can try and give him something else. You catch your breath and open your eyes. Your own come dripping to the inside of your thighs. He watches in pain, “Baby—” You whisper, fuck that’s against the rules probably. He nods, submissive suddenly. “Come here, come on my cunt.” You want to be marked, he’s yours. 

“Andrea—“ still he’s fighting his need to follow your rules. 

You nod, “It’s okay, come here.” He lets his length go at once, it twitches at the sudden abandonment. You lean forward and grab his arms, and he finally climbs over you. Reluctant, “Please Javi. Let me have what I want.” Were you power tripping? Yeah. But it was always him in control. You open your legs and he clenches his jaw. “Do you want me to finish it?” 

He shakes his head no, you know he wants it. Still he tries to be good. You begin to touch yourself under him. He begins to jerk himself off inches away from your cunt. Your knuckles brush against each other and you're already climaxing again. He slaps faster, breathing heavily in the crook of your neck. 

“Fuck—move your hand.” You do and he’s coming all over you. It shoots and covers the new growth of hair, it's warm against the bare part of you. Dripping and he instinctively slides his twitching, softening cock between your folds. The two of you gasp when just the tip of his cock prods your hole. Gasping at the way you pulse for him for that one second like muscle memory. “Sorry.” He mumbles, taking a hold of his still twitching and leaking length. He panics and tucks himself back into his boxers before he relaxes himself on you. 

He’s catching his breath, you think he’s crying against your shoulder. 

“It’s okay.” 

You hold the back of his head, hoping to soothe him. 

He had done this for you countless times. You find no issue doing it for him.