#the mustache ruins it but only A LITTLE

[yrwestillhere]

Why do I have it bad for nerd

[leviathan-and-the-outriders]

i went to an intersex support group and there was a cis intersex girl there who said she started feeling better when she started taking estrogen so she asked for a higher dose. and her tits were So Big and her hips too but she had. a figure. she was so perfectly shaped. im still in awe a week later. and its making me concider restarting estrogen myself

[spxfav]

Wedding Night

Summary: After your wedding, you and Spencer head out to your suíte, expecting to have a movie-like wedding night. However, that's not exactly what happens.

Warnings: Reader referred to as a woman. Nothing much, actually, this is just very sweet.

Word count: 1.8k

a/n: This came to me as I was getting ready for bed at 7 A.M. after my graduation ball, and I kept thinking how it would be a realistic wedding night lol. Enjoy <3

Lace underwear, romantic music, candlelit room and loving whispers. Champagne and strawberries, maybe a bubble bath afterwards and falling asleep in each other’s arms. That’s how you pictured your wedding night.

The reality, however, couldn’t be more different.

Spencer’s hand rests on your lower back, huge smiles on both your faces as you stumble with the key card to get into the hotel room.

“I can do it.” You say, smiling ear to ear.

“I can see that.” He mocked, making you giggle as he leaned in, placing a loving kiss on your forehead.

You cheered, cheeks red from the alcohol when the door was finally unlocked, and he laughed and placed a finger over your lips.

“Shhh, it’s three in the morning.” His voice was a hushed whisper as you, once again, giggled against his finger and walked into the room.

It was beautiful, dimly lit with flowers everywhere and a gorgeous view to the vineyard you two got married in. As you admired the room, though, Spencer could only admire the woman in front of him. His wife. He still couldn’t believe he got to call you that.

He had this lovesick smile on his face as he approached, arms encircling your waist as he bent down to pepper your face with kisses, making you giggle as his mustache tickles your skin.

“You look so pretty.” He said when you turned around, his hand moving to rest on your face.

“You already said that. A million times.” You smile, eyes shining as you look up at him.

“I’ll say it a million times more.” He murmured, looking at you like you created the Earth itself, and kissed you. It was slow, tender. Like he had no rush at all. And he didn’t. Thankfully, you were his all night, and for the next fifteen days of your honeymoon. This was the first of many, many kisses.

"Have I ever told you how much I like this?" You ask, interrupting the kiss as your finger moves up to trace the dark hair on his upper lip.

"The stash?" He asks with a cocky smile and you laugh at the word, and the way his voice sounded whenever he tried - and failed - to use slangs.

"Yes, the stash." You say, your voice slightly mocking.

"Good thing I forgot to shave." He murmurs with a smile, bending down to capture your lips once more, his smile blending with his as your arms circle around his neck to pull him even closer.

His hand finds its way to the back of your head, tangling in your meticulously styled hair that he had been oh so careful not to ruin all day. The other palm, resting on your waist, slowly pushes you back towards the wall, his lips not leaving yours for one second.

Sliding down, you feel the heat of his hand moving from your waist to your hip, then to your backside, and involuntarily, you let out a giggle against his lips.

“What?” He asks, smiling as his mouth moves against yours.

“Naughty.” Your murmur makes him laugh, eyes twinkling with amusement as he pulls back just enough to look at you.

“Excuse me?”

“We haven’t been here for five minutes and you’re already trying to get freaky.” The slurring in your words, the way you said it with your brow lifted like that, simply made him laugh more. "I think it's the mustache. There's a reason why they call it a pornstache."

“Mrs. Reid… Are you drunk?” His hands were back on your waist, his thumbs caressing your skin over the dress so tenderly. You smile widely, biting your bottom lip to unsuccessfully try to contain it.

“Just a little bit, Dr. Reid” Your fingers were brought together in a pinching motion as you showed him the visual amount of your “drunkness”.

“More than a little bit.” He smiled, bringing his own fingers up to open yours and make the quantity more appropriate.

“Okay, fair enough” You laughed, but your lips were back on his half a second later, and this time, it was you guiding you both to the bed.

The dress was heavy, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh when you sat on the fluffy mattress, the blankets blending it with the white fabric.

“What?”

“You look like a cupcake.” He says, earning a scoff from you and being attacked by a random pillow that was close enough for you to reach.

“Take it back!” Your voice was as serious as you could manage it to be, but the smile on your lips was a dead giveaway that you weren’t actually upset.

“Alright, I’m sorry. You don’t look like a cupcake.” He smiled in that charming way that makes your knees give out. Good thing you were sitting.

“Thank you.” Your face was already between his hands, and the pillow falls uselessly by the bed when he guides you down onto the mattress, his body weight pushing you down as you allow yourself to drown in his touches.

His tongue explores your mouth in gentle, languid kisses, and you were comfortable in his arms, enveloped by the smell of his cologne, laying on the soft bedding…

“Darling?” You blink, your eyes meeting his and that crushing smile “Are you falling asleep on me?”

“No…” You blink again, and this time, completely against your will, a yawn escapes your lips.

“So, you’re that kind of drunk.” His fingers gently brush some of the curls away from your face.

“Sorry. No, I’m good. I’m not going to fall asleep.”

“Sure you won’t.”

“I won’t.”

“I believe you.” No, he didn’t.

Spencer knew you well enough by now. You’ve been "happy drunk" for hours at the party, but that wave had long passed. Two more minutes in this bed and you’d be completely out of it.

“Honey” He smiles, caressing your cheek when your eyes start drooping again.

“I’m awake!” His laughter is so angelical, and you smile despite it all.

“Listen, we have fifteen days. We’re both exhausted, and I’m sure you can’t be very comfortable right now, in such a tight dress and with your hair like this. We can just sleep, it’s fine.”

“But it’s our wedding night.” You pout, and the look on his face softens.

“I know, but you’ve been up since six a.m.”

“Still. I can do this. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Disappoint me?” He chuckles incredulously and takes your face between his hands again. “My love, you’re not disappointing me, not in the slightest. I just got married to the woman of my dreams, to the love of my life. I’ll have the rest of my life to have sex with you, one night won’t kill me.”

His voice was earnest, and his heart was light. He loved you more than anything, and the last thing he wanted was you feeling like you weren’t enough because you were too tired to give him a wedding night like the ones in movies.

“Let’s get you out of all of this, and then go to bed.” Before you could protest, he was already up, your body in his arms as he carried you bridal-style to the bathroom. Fitting.

Your laugh echoed in the room as your arms moved to wrap around his neck and hold you up.

“I can walk, you know.”

“I didn’t want to take any chances of you refusing.” He left a kiss on the tip of your nose as he placed you back down on the floor.

His fingers worked with expertise as he carefully removed the bobby pins from your hair, the pile growing and growing.

“Jesus, how many do you have in here?” He murmured, and you could only giggle as you looked at the reflection of the two of you in the mirror.

Next, came the makeup. Well, came off the makeup.

He still remembers how, every night as you wash your face, you use two products, smiling at him and saying “I have to double cleanse.”

The pads of his fingers massaged the oil on your eyes, melting away the mascara and the layers and layers of product that had been on your face since morning, reapplied to look fresh the whole time.

“You’re so pretty.”

“I probably look exhausted. I’m sure it was better with the makeup.” You smile, and his heart absolutely melts. How he loved that smile.

“Um, no. You’re pretty either way. You could be bald and painted in blue, and you’d still be just as pretty.” You giggle, but he was dead serious. In Spencer’s eyes, you were the most gorgeous person in the universe – yes, universe, because he was sure you’d still be a thousand times prettier than whatever other life form there is out there.

The zipper moves down slowly, and soon, the giant dress is on the floor. His mouth goes dry at the sight of you, his brain momentarily not working.

“See? I was prepared.” You do a little twirl, joking as you have no idea just how much the sight of the black lingerie affected him.

“I’m the luckiest man on the planet.” He murmured, almost to himself as he stepped closer, taking your face in his hands and pulling you in for another kiss, effectively shutting up whatever drunken ramble you were going on about.

This time, his lips were a little more desperate. He was a gentleman through and through, but come on, he was still a man. And with you looking like that in front of him? How could he react any other way?

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist it.” He murmurs, breathless when he finally pulls just the slightest away, the warm palms of his hands still holding your face in place.

“Don’t ever apologise for kissing me.” You murmur back, and you can feel the way the smile comes to his lips.

“Come on, darling. Let’s go to bed.” He picks you up again, and in – very pleasant – seconds, your body sinks on the mattress.

Spencer can feel the warmth of your body against his, the softness of your skin under his hands. He can feel the curve of your backside fitting perfectly against his hips, can smell your perfume and drown in the mess of your post-hairstyle curls.

“Honey?” Your voice was a soft murmur in the dark.

“Yes, darling?” His eyes were half open, his restraint holding him back from doing anything as his lips hover over the curve of your shoulder, so tantalisingly close.

“I’m not sleepy anymore.” The smile that takes over his lips is instant, his hands moving on your skin with a little more purpose once he feels your hips pushing back against his.

“Mm, that’s good.” He whispers and finally allows himself to place hot kisses on your shoulder and up your neck. “But I’ll go slow anyway.”

[starkeyisthelastname]

Hey girl can we get pornstar rafes reaction to reader squirting for the first time

His reaction of course would be smug, knowing he could be the first one to make you squirt. 💦🙂‍↔️

You had never been a squirter, and even getting into the professional porn world you couldn’t seem to do it. You knew a lot of the squirting scenes were fake and exaggerated, but you wondered if it was something you would ever get to experience. You started to believe you were just one of those girls that it couldn’t happen with. That was until you met the pussy slayer of course.

It was the first night the two of hooked up after your first ever scene together. His blue eyes were focused on your exposed core, the poor little hole he was about to ruin even more was soaking wet and just for him. He smirked, the mustache he had only making him look more dirty. “You’ve got the prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” He said, and he wasn’t kidding. He’d seen a lot of pussy and yours he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about.

Your breath hitched as his thick fingers came out to spread your lower lips open before circling your swollen little pearl with his thumb. “T-thank you.” You squeaked out only to earn a chuckle from him. “Why you actin’ shy like I didn’t just ruin your hole a few days ago?” He laughed, yanking your hips towards him more. Your cheeks flushed pink, his intimidating presence still new to you.

“You ever squirted before?” He asked. He knew he could make you squirt, he had a talent for making girls turn into faucets with ease. Watching you shake your head, he raised a brow and looked at you. What idiot wasn’t making this pretty pussy rain? He was about to change that.

He found your g-spot with ease, his middle and ring finger curving upward to start thrusting in and out of your tight heat. Oh this was going to be easy, he thought to himself as he watched your mouth immediately fall open. “Don’t fucking tense up on me.” He said firmly, already feeling you start to tighten around his digits.

You had never had anyone make you feel this good while being fingered, his fingers fitting inside of you perfectly as he slammed them in an out at a brutal pace. His other hand held you down the best he could as you started to squirm from pleasure. Your moans only grew louder, and painted toes curled as the sounds of your cunt squelching filled the room. “Rafe! Rafe!” You panted, his hand not giving you a break.

“Fucking relax. Yeah? Quit movin’ or I’ll stop.” He spat, feeling your g-spot fill with delicious liquid. He slowed his fingers down, holding them still as he looked up at you. “Don’t run away from it either. You didn’t think I was gonna make you squirt, huh? Did I not show you who the fuck I was when I fucked you dumb the other day?” He told you, his dirty words throwing you off the edge as you felt like you were about to burst. That’s exactly what you did too, a loud cry leaving your lips as he pulled his fingers out just for you to spray a fountain of sweet cum to coat his abs in.

He smirked again, something that left your lower stomach fluttering every time you saw it. He was pleased with himself, especially at the sexy sight of his toned stomach being covered in you. By the time he was done with you he’d have your pretty pink sheets soaked.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 8564 tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: longer chapter woohoo, was gonna write after break but had so much inspo. wrote on my phone, so if there’s any typos, please ignore 🥹 series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

The nights haven’t been easy in the past couple of days. Mingled with a growing sense of anxiety added on top of your already heightened stress, your brain just can’t seem to shut off. You’ve tried melatonin and no more caffeine, but caffeine is ultimately getting you through the day and keeping you up when needed. In all honesty, you’ve already been struggling with sleep, but with the surprise meet with Suguru, dread’s been pooling in your stomach.

You have no doubt he spilled the beans. Hell, you would too if that was your best friend. You can only hope he somehow didn’t, though. A small part of you would be a little annoyed if he did, because again, he has no role in this. At least not a big one.

A sudden banging on your door jolts you upright, checking the clock and it’s not even 7:30 yet. Only one person could be demanding your presence so early. A heavy sigh leaves you, forcing your stiff muscles out of bed, wrapping yourself in a robe before trudging to the front door. When you peek through the peephole, your landlord stands there with an annoyed expression on his old face, foot tapping the ground in impatience.

“Bastard,” you mumble to yourself before opening the door. “Good morning, Mr. Sato.”

Seems he doesn’t have time for fake pleasantries, “Y/N, I’m assuming you saw the eviction note I left on your door yesterday morning.”

Unfortunately. “Yes, sir. I did.”

His arms cross, scratching at his greying mustache, “So, is it also safe to to assume you’ll have the money by next Friday?”

You sigh heavily, hand running through your hair. This is not how you wanted to start your morning. He was already making your life hell by suddenly raising your rent out of nowhere three months ago for so-called “renovations”. But you’ve yet to see any actual renovations being done. Not to mention, you’ve been bugging about your heater no longer working, and during this time of year, you and Koji are practically freezing to death. You had to buy a portable heater, small, but it gets the job done. Although it’s mainly in Koji’s room because you’d rather freeze than let him. “Look, Mr. Sato, I’m really trying here. I’m working hard to get the money, but please understand that—”

“Understand? I’ve been understanding, Y/N. I even applied last month’s rent to this month, just ‘cause of you.”

Of course, he’s gonna throw that in your face. Landlords seem to take their title so literally that if he didn’t have this much control over your space of safety, you would’ve ripped him a new one. Also, how could you forget that to even get him to agree to that plea deal, you were forced through an hour and a half of an uncomfortable, infuriating dinner with the man. Really, he’s not giving you much to work with here, but then again, you shouldn’t have had such high hopes. “I know, I know,” you reply, scratching at your roots. “I’ll have the money, okay?”

“You better,” he says gruffly. “Or I’m renting this unit to someone who can actually afford it. I’m hurting here too, you know?”

You huff. “Yeah, thanks.”

Without another word, you close the door in the man’s face, locking it. Leaning your back up against the hard surface, you close your eyes and will yourself to stay calm and positive. Counting back from ten and then back, a small tip your therapist showed you before your insurance no longer covered it. It’s okay. It’s only the start of the day, you have 20 something hours left. Now’s not the time to throw yourself a pity party and play woe is me. Now’s the time to just pick yourself up and move on. You’ll find a solution for the money, you always do.

Though this time, you can’t help but feel you’re really fucked.

I mean, you honestly have no idea how you’re going to come up with almost four thousand dollars in just a week. That sounds quite literally impossible in every single way. You get paid next week, but with taxes, you’re going home with maybe three thousand, so how will you get that extra thousand?

Unless some miracle decides to hit you, which almost never seems to happen. You used to think someone hoaxed you, or you were just born with the most unluckiest luck ever. Or, the more cynical thought you tend to have, you were fated to live a life in strict financial management, and hardships are constantly thrown at you left and right.

But hey, you’ve made it this far, right?

“No, I haven’t.”

“You what?!”

“I haven’t told him.”

“Y/N, what the fu–”

“Jesus Christ, I know, Hana. You don’t have to make me feel even more like shit.”

Your friend stops mid-way, eyeing your very displeased expression. She sighs and relents, slumping back in the small chair in the backroom of the cafe. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, letting your confession simmer and process. When she does, it’s an honest question. “But…why?”

Why. You feel like you’re staring to hate that damn word. “A lot of reasons, I know it’s not really justified, but I just…need someone to understand me for once. Not come at me for my dumb decisions.”

Your words feel bare and raw, not completely exposing the extent of the emotions you’ve been harboring, but enough to make her stop. Hana regards you with pursed lips, a hint of sadness in her eyes. Finally, she nods. “Okay, I won’t question you anymore. You have your reasons, and your reasons are always valid. So, I’m behind you on this. We stick together, remember?”

A hint of a smile forms on your lips, quietly thanking her. She comes forward to give you a hug, one you immediately reciprocate. Her auburn hair tickling your nostrils, arms seemingly tightening. “Don’t go holding things in anymore, I told you that. I’m here, to talk, listen, whatever.”

You and Hana met three years ago. She was just your co-worker at the time, now promoted to your manager. Although she’s two years younger than you, you two relate to a lot of things. Whether that be movies, food, what guys are hot, or alcohol. If anything, Hana might be your only friend in general. It’s a little sad, maybe, but at least you have someone to come to when you need to talk about adult issues your five-year-old wouldn’t be able to comprehend.

“I love you.” You find yourself muttering.

“I love you too, girl. Now, get out there, your break’s up.”

Jokingly scoffing and nudging her, you stand from the seat and do a quick stretch. Preparing yourself for yet another few hours of dreaded customer service and fake smiles, you walk out of the backroom, pushing the small curtains aside that separate the back from the counter, and clock back in.

“Cash or card?”

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Would that be all?”

“Have a nice day.”

Are all phrases any retail or customer service worker finds a little annoying, if not a lot. It’s so draining. And when the customers don’t greet you back, your pettiness shines through and you won’t even say have a good day to them when they’re leaving. Although, the job does have some upsides to it. For example, you get to make free coffees, take whatever pastries are left at the end of the day home, and the customers are never really bad. Of course, you have had a couple experiences, but nothing compared to a chain store. You’re even starting to use your customer service voice throughout the day, even when you’re not at work. Honestly, that’s not very good.

As you’re wiping up the counter, you feel a buzzing in your pocket. Taking your phone out, you see a set of numbers, an unsaved contact. You give Hana a quick glance, muttering a “just a sec”, before going back to the back to answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N?”

God, it’s gonna take some time getting used to his voice on the regular now. “Oh, Suguru. hey…uh–what’s up?”

There’s some shuffle on the other side like he’s adjusting the phone. “Are you busy right now?”

“Well, yes. I’m on the clock.”

He sighs, phone switching to his car output. “Where do you work? I’ll come now.”

“What?” you splutter out, head shaking. “No, Suguru, you can’t just pop out at my job. I’m busy, just tell me what you need right now.”

“I’m not sure I should.”

That statement alone scares you a bit. His cynicism always got on your nerves, but it also worried you from time to time. Most of the time, he didn’t mean any harm because that’s just how Suguru was, but it still did its job. Contemplation strikes through you. “Is it bad?”

He hesitates, which only further skyrockets your anticipation. “Honestly, it’s not too bad. But still, I need to talk to you.”

A breath emits from your lips, one you didn’t know you were holding. Eyes meeting the ceiling, you ponder over your decisions. Eventually, you come to a conclusion. “Fine, but it can’t be too long. I’m at Deja Brew, the cafe on–”

“On Express, got it. Be there in a bit.”

He’s hanging up before you even get a chance to question that he knew the cafe you worked at. If he did, surely he would have visited at least once, but you’ve never seen him come in. And you’re every day. Unless he usually comes when you’re not clocked in anymore. Anywho, you steel yourself for the inevitable conversation. Anticipating whatever bad or not-so-good news he'll give you.

“So.”

“Mm, this is good.” Suguru nods appreciatively, sipping from his coffee. You made it for him before he arrived, as a weird sort of gift to him. You two have situated yourself in a booth in the corner. Hana was a little confused as to why you were taking a break while you were on the clock, even regarding you with an almost scolding look. But the second she saw Suguru follow, her expression changed.

You practically saw the heart eyes form, smiling in a bashful way. That’s one thing you forgot about. The way girls would magnetize themselves towards the man, his best friend too. The two together were an almost deadly duo.

“Suguru,” you say, a hint of exasperation in your tone. “Please just…don’t stall anymore. Why did you want to see me?”

“Right,” he clears his throat, sitting up straighter. Once more, his steely gaze meets yours, you have to hold back the sudden urge to look away. “Like I said, it’s not terrible news, but not very good either.”

You nod, wanting him to just stop with the extraness and get to the point. “Okay, say it.”

“Satoru.” is the first thing he says, gauging your automatic grimace to his name. “He knows.”

Figures. “And you told him?”

He nods in response. You exhale, rubbing your face. “Suguru, why? I didn’t say you could.”

“I mean, I didn’t think I needed permission to tell my best friend he has a secret love child he hasn’t known about for five years, Y/N.” You hate when his voice gets like that, like you’re a school child who’s just been caught by her teacher for doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “Anywho, he knows. He wasn’t…very happy.”

You slowly ask, unsure if you’re ready to hear the answer. “What did he say?”

“More so what he did than said,” he pushes a stray strand of black hair out his eye and behind his ear, arms crossing. “He’s been quite easy to anger. I mean, I haven’t really talked to him because he’s not answering my calls, but I’ve been hearing from people at the office. He also kicked my ass out right after I told him. But that’s all I know at least, Nanami says he’s like a ticking time bomb.”

Jesus Christ. You don’t know what else you were expecting, you’re surprised he hasn’t done worse, but like Suguru said, that’s all he knows. His state is most likely a hundred times worse than what’s being thrown at you right now. You feel an intense guilt pool, mixing with a slight fear. “Did he…do anything else? Say anything?”

“I don’t know, he’s not talking to me right now.” Suguru concedes, leaning closer to you, brows furrowing in a seriousness. “Look, I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel worse, but I should let you know. He’s going to try and seek you out now that he knows about his son. You know that, right?”

Of course, you fucking know that. That’s what makes you scared, the possibility of somehow running across him in the most unsuspecting of places makes you want to stay holed up in your shitty apartment. “Yeah,” you gulp. “I figured.”

“I don’t know how he’ll react if–when–he does see you.” he honestly admits. “I just think you should reach out to him first, before he does it. I have his number, you should ca—”

“Stop.” you hold a hand up, eyes closing. “No more, I don’t want to be told what to do. I just…need some time processing everything right now.”

“Y/N–”

“Suguru,” your eyes open, staring at him dead on. “You seriously can’t expect me to jump from one thing to the next. I need fucking time to figure out what I’m gonna do. I’m already stressed as it is, now I have to worry about my son’s father possibly trying to reach out and that just sets me more on fucking edge. You come to my work, spring this on me, and I–” you’re rambling. Cutting yourself off in the middle of a sentence, choosing not to finish it. The last thing you need to do is rant to him. Besides, you’re just starting to see him again after five years, that would absolutely put him in a weird place between comforting someone who was once his friend, and backing up his life-long best friend.

You jolt a bit when you feel a warm palm envelope your hand, his thumb gently rubbing across your knuckles. Looking back at him, he gives you an all too familiar look. One that can make you just pour out everything you’re feeling right at that second. It’s a horrifying technique he has. “I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is make you feel like shit. I should’ve been more considerate. I’m sorry.” He apologizes with a soothing intonation. Again, it’s making you feel warm. “It’s a hard situation, I could never know exactly what you’re going through. but…I care about you, Y/N. I always have, even without Satoru’s involvement. So, I’ll do better and not overwhelm you.”

Damn it, Suguru. Now you’re making me feel bad! Not trusting yourself with words, you meekly nod, slowly pulling your hand out his grasp. You miss the way his eyes dart down to his now empty grip, a small downward twitch to his lip that he expertly hides. “I should go back to work, I’m assuming you do too.” You stand on wobbly feet, giving him one last lingering gaze. “On the house, by the way….yeah, bye.”

Suguru watches you disappear behind the curtains, a small pit expanding in his gut. He pushes it away without thought, sighing to himself as he stands and exits the cafe. He walks down the sidewalk to his blacked out 2025 Mustang GT parked on the street. Getting in with a heavy head that’s full of all kinds of emotions. Some he doesn’t try to acknowledge, but the ones he does, it’s all worry and concern. He really doesn’t see how this situation can somehow turn around. Maybe you two will have a very mature and calm conversation when you cross paths.

He almost laughs to himself when he begins driving. Calm? Mature? Yeah, right. How do you have a calm conversation about hiding a kid for five years? Not to mention, you and Satoru are equally stubborn; it used to be so infuriating for him.

Suguru had patience, a lot of it actually. But you two tended to test that. Although, he would always forgive one of you the quickest. Cough, cough. You. It was like you had this weird thing about you that made the people around you just…like you.

His grip tightens on the wheel, biting his lip. He gets to a red light, thumb tapping on the material. Damn it all.

There’s a ringing that emits from the car’s speakers, looking at his touch screen to see the familiar name. Using this as a distraction, he answers. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice sounds out. “Where are you? Thought you were paying for my lunch.”

He huffs, eyes rolling, and moving the car forward once the light turns green. “I never agreed to that.”

“Sure you did,” Shoko replies, exhaling a breath. She must be smoking. “Anyway, hurry up. I’m already waiting outside. I thought Satoru was coming, is he gonna be late again?”

Yeah, no. “I don’t think he’s coming anymore.”

“Why not?” Shoko asks.

Suguru exhales heavily, turning the street towards the meet-up spot with his friend. “Some shit happened, I don’t think he’s doing good.”

Shoko pauses, adjusting her phone in hand. “What happened?”

Suguru too stops, completely forgetting how Shoko has no idea about what has transpired in the past couple of days. “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

Satoru has never been surprised before, not technically. He’s a smart man with quick instincts and a good foresight, it’s like he can always tell when something is going to happen, before it happens. Even for birthday parties, his perception and people reading skills are great, he knows when someone’s lying or not telling the full truth.

In short, he knows a lot of things.

But, what he didn’t expect was for 1) even hearing your name ever again after the breakup, and 2) you have a son, his son. A son he had not one goddamn clue about. The only person who’s ever been able to throw him off his game is you.

Even back when you two dated, there were moments where you’d either say or do things that would make him pause for a second and think how unlikely that was of you. He knew you’d lie sometimes, small white lies weren’t foreign to him because he did it too. But, he never thought you’d deliberately keep something like this from him.

And to top it off, if Suguru never saw you by chance that day, would you have ever even told him?

Now that really fucking pisses him off.

When Satoru is mad, everyone else’s day is ruined. When he’s mad, you can see it in his face, his body, how he’s just barely holding himself back. It’s even more scary when Satoru is known as the laid-back, playful and unserious type of man. So when he’s mad, almost no one in the office wants to make him even angrier, let alone be around him.

He’s barely slept a total of ten hours within the past two days, mind keeping him awake. He’s trying to not imagine the image of you holding a boy who looks like him because he’s already broken one too many pairs of glasses and the thought alone makes him infuriated. He sees a blinding white flash of betrayal, hurt, confusion, and anger.

He doesn’t mean to take it out on his employees, but their feelings are not on his list of priorities.

He has a son.

A son who’s five, apparently.

Five whole years of being kept in the dark, not even being blessed with a smidge of information about his offspring. While he was off fucking women, having fun, dreading about taking over his father’s business, you were god knows where, changing fucking diapers and losing sleep. And for what? Were you that fucking scared to tell him?

Oh, he’s so going to rip you a new one when he sees you.

But, he’s still not sure if he wants to do that. Afraid of what might happen, he’d rather not blow up on you, but can you blame him if he does?

He just found out he has a secret love child from a woman he knew years ago and know he’s expected to act like everything is normal in this boring fucking meeting?

Not to mention, if his father finds out, he’s not sure what will happen. If anyone else finds out, for that matter. If anything, he needs to get a reign over this messy situation before he’s allowing anyone to know.

“Mr. Gojo? What do you think?”

At the sudden mention of his name, he snaps back into focus. Eyes flickering over to the bald-headed man who currently stands in front of the table of other withering men, the screen projector displaying a multitude of different statistical data. The man falters slightly, his grip tightening on the laser pointer as Gojo’s eyes land on him

Shit. He has no idea what they were even talking about. “About?” He clears his throat, appearing nonchalant, though the tight hold on the ballpoint pen says otherwise, the faint click of it opening and closing the only indication of his simmering irritation

The room feels colder, quieter.

The man clears his throat nervously. “The expansion plan... into the Asia-Pacific region. Whether you think it’s viable in the current climate.”

Gojo leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed, though his pen continues its faint, rhythmic clicks. His expression is unreadable, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he lets the silence stretch a moment too long. “And you need my opinion on this?” he says finally, his tone polite but tinged with condescension.

The bald man shifts on his feet, adjusting his glasses. “W-We... wanted your insight, given your, uh, experience overseeing the European division.”

“Right,” Gojo says, dragging the word out just enough to make the man squirm. He tilts his head, his icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, if I’d been paying attention, I’d probably say something about how overly cautious you all seem to be. But that’s just a guess.”

The bald man blanches, stammering, “O-Overly cautious? We’ve taken every factor into account—”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Gojo cuts in smoothly, his voice softening just enough to disarm the growing panic in the man’s voice. “I’m just wondering if maybe all those ‘factors’ are holding you back. Are we leaders, or are we playing it safe like everyone else?” His eyes flicker briefly over the rest of the table, daring anyone to challenge him.

The bald man hesitates, then nods quickly, his nervous energy palpable. “Of course. You’re absolutely right, Mr. Gojo. I’ll revisit the projections to—”

“No need,” Gojo interrupts again, flashing a faint, humorless smile. “I trust you’ll figure it out. Unless you think I shouldn’t.”

The man practically trips over his words in an effort to assure him. “No, no, of course not. I’ll make the adjustments immediately.”

“Perfect,” Gojo says, the finality in his tone dismissing the topic entirely. He shifts his attention to the projector screen, the numbers and graphs blurring together as his thoughts drift.

The room eventually moves on, the hum of conversation resuming. But Gojo doesn’t miss the quick glances from across the table, the subtle unease lingering in the air.

He taps the pen against the table, his jaw tightening. It’s taking everything in him not to snap, not to let the weight of the fact that his ex-girlfriend is a filthy fucking person seep through the cracks.

Let them sweat. It’s the only thing keeping him entertained today.

The minute the awful meeting of ifs and hesitant decisions is over, he’s pushing out his chair, being the first one to leave the haunted room. It’s a bad mistake on his end, because his secretary, Aiko, is on his ass. “Mr. Gojo, your father is waiting for you in your office.”

Great, as if things couldn’t get any fucking better. He holds back a remark, gruffing out. “For?”

“He didn’t say, sir. He just wanted me to tell you to see him as soon as the meeting finished.”

He really, really doesn’t want to see his father right now. The two were too alike, constantly butting heads which only ended in a harsh set of insults being tossed around, mingled with occasional threats of “never passing the company down to someone as idiotic as you”. His father is bluffing, of course. He has no other person to pass it down to, with Satoru being the oldest and only son of his father’s. His long legs easily lead him to the doors of his office, to which he hesitates. Taking in a big breath, before opening the doors and closing them soon after. “What is it?” he asks, walking over to sit in his chair, leaning back comfortably.

His father, Yamato Gojo, the current CEO of the Gojo Group, who sits leisurely on the black leather coach stands up to position himself across from his son. Arms crossed and the permanently etched frown on his face. “Why didn’t you come to the dinner yesterday? There were very important people there you needed to meet. I texted and called you.”

Why didn’t he go? Can he really just say “sorry dad, I was stressing about this shithole I’ve found myself in”. No, he can’t. Instead, he shrugs and brushes his father off. “I was already busy.”

“Busy with what? What’s more important than networking?”

“A lot of things, actually.”

Yamato dislikes that answer quite a lot, frown seemingly deepening, regarding his son with another usual disapproving look. “Satoru, this is serious. They were expecting you and you embarrassed me. I won’t let this happen again, when I say you need to be somewhere, you be there. No if, ands, or buts. You’re pissing me off.”

How ironic of him to say that considering he’s having the exact same effect of Satoru. He isn’t scared of his father, hell no. But he does know to pick and choose his battles. And with the way his mind is completely scrambled right now, he forces himself to intake a huge breath of air. “Yeah, yeah. Fine, I’ll be there next time. Happy?”

“Only after you prove it.” Like father, like son. Satoru hates how his father always seems to want to get the last word in. But his father hates how he does the exact same.

Throughout the entirety of his shift, up until he clocks out of work and walks to his designated parking spot which houses his white 2025 Mercedes-Benz SL-Class. Driving back to his high rise penthouse on autopilot, his thoughts zeroed in on one person only. Or well, two people.

Satoru wasn’t ever sure he wanted to be a father. He knew it was expected of him, but so many people had such high expectations of him, it became exhausting. Too exhausting. Does he even have a right to call himself a father to a child he never knew, a child who probably doesn’t even know him?

His right hand reaches for his phone, calling a number without taking his eyes off the road. It answers on the first ring, but Satoru doesn’t give him the chance to respond. “Do you know where she lives?”

There’s a falter, hearing Suguru’s deep breath come out on the other end. “No, I don’t. And nice to hear from you too.”

“I don’t have time for your sarcasm right now.” He stops at a red light, using his left hand to rub the crease between his furrowed brows. “Do you know anything? Her number? Where she works? Where did you see her so I can go over?”

“Satoru, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go meet up with her again. You’re obviously not in the right mind space and I don’t want you two to—“

“I’ll argue with her all I want, I have that goddamn right to.” Satoru grits out, interrupting his friend before he has the chance to spew out more shit he’d rather not listen to right now. “Answer me.”

In Suguru’s mind, he knows if he gives Satoru even the tiniest bit of information regarding your whereabouts, he’ll storm over there and probably say things he doesn’t mean. Satoru tends to think emotionally in very dire situations, a bad habit of his. Still, although he knows his best friend should be angered by this situation, Suguru doesn’t want to involve himself. More than he has. After speaking with you, he’s come to the conclusion that you’ll reach out to Satoru soon. Considering the fact that he already knows. “I don’t know, I saw her at a grocery store, but she was just shopping.”

“Fuck,” Satoru groans, moving his car forward again. “Well how the hell do I—“

He’s cut off by a small vibrate to his phone, a message. When he looks down, the screen is overtaken by a new call coming in from Himari. Honestly, she’s the last person he wants to talk to right now.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru asks, after noticing the small beat of silence from the other end of the phone.

What isn’t wrong? “Gotta go, call you later.”

“Sat—“

Satoru ends the call, picking up the new one. “Hey.”

“Baby,” Himari’s light voice fills his ears, sighing in relief. “Can you come pick me up? I’m at the mall but the tires of my driver’s car popped.”

He’d rather not, but Satoru has found out that it’s been quite difficult to say no to his girlfriend. So, he puts his own internal and external battles to the side, making a right turn and exhaling. “The mall?”

“Yes, baby. Thank you so much.”

He hums back in response. “Be there in ten, wait outside.” Once again, he hangs up and a suffocating silence fills his car. Hands tightening around the wheel, he reels himself in with a big inhale, then exhales. He can’t show these sorts of emotions in front of the woman, for she’ll no doubt question and question about what’s wrong, which will then lead to an argument. He doesn’t need arguments.

As Satoru sees the mall in the distance, he’s overrun by the sudden determination. The determination to find you and meet his son.

“Just one more question, Koji. Then let’s eat dinner, how does that sound?”

The young boy groans in annoyance, the math work of simple addition problems laid out in front of him. He hates math, almost as much as you, excelling in other subjects like English and Art. “But Mama……” he drags the words out in a childish manner.

Plating two plates of tonkatsu chicken with curry, one plate smaller than the other, you turn to your son who now has a pout on his face. You resist the urge to pinch his cheeks. “You can do it, you did the other ones so well.”

Sitting next to him, you look over at his workbook. Just one more problem. It’s a problem consisting of three numbers, 5, 23, and 6. Simple in your eyes, but a disastrous monstrosity in the eyes of a five-year-old. “Mama will help you, okay?”

“Okay, Mama.” Koji grumbles, reluctantly grabbing his red pencil again.

Times like these you cherish. Sure, it’s mundane and not very exciting. But it’s the little things that matter most to you. Helping your kids with homework, helping them learn to ride a bike, tie their laces, it’s all wonderful experiences from your perspective. Proof of the fact that your chubby little baby isn’t very little anymore, growing into his own person. Although, the more he grows, the more he’s starting to resemble his father. It’s scary at times, when he looks at you and you get random flashbacks.

Eating dinner and washing up is another thing you love. After such a hectic day, you just want to unwind with your son. You had put in your PTO for the convenience store a month in advance; after a particularly hard month. Finishing at 5:00pm, like most people do, is a breath of fresh air.

You let Koji tire himself out in the tub, then the living room, to which he has Cars playing (his favorite movie at the time). He plays with his own small set of matching cars, while you sweep the kitchen. Your eyes flicker over to your phone that lays face up on the island, a bubbling sensation forming in your being, one of contemplation. You wonder to yourself, would you call Satoru? You know his number by heart, he most likely hasn’t changed it.

After the breakup, you cut off all contact with him and his friends, even choosing to get a new phone and new number, just to avoid any possibly drives of texting him, or to avoid him texting you. You quite literally wanted to erase every memory about him.

Kinda hard to do that when you’re raising his carbon copy.

After another blind minute, you pause your sweeping and grab your cellular device. You’re about to grab Suguru’s business card from your purse when a sudden question hits you.

How was he able to call you earlier at work if you had never given your number to him in the first place?

Your brows knit together while you come up with any possible solutions and reasoning to that thought, coming up blank. Seriously, how did he call you? Without thinking, you go to your recent calls, pressing the first one, and raising your phone to your ear.

It rings for about a second, before Suguru’s coaxing voice follows. “Hello?”

“How did you get my number?”

“What?”

“How did you get my number? I didn’t give it to you at the store.”

You can practically hear the way he’s trying to formulate an answer. Coming up with a shitty one. “I just…guessed.”

You say nothing, your eyes narrowing on a certain spot on the blank white walls of your kitchen.

Another second passes before he gives in, too easily. “Okay, okay. Look, I don’t want to sound creepy or anything but—“

“Were you stalking me?”

“What?! No! Of course not, Y/N. I’d never do that.”

“Then tell me how you got my number without me telling you.”

He sighs. “…I have a friend. He’s in the law enforcement and I…may have asked around. But before you get any ideas, I was worried. You just fell off the face of the Earth and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You can’t stop the huff that leaves you. Should you feel complimented that he went out of his own way to do all this or invaded? Maybe both. Honestly, you did that all for a reason. And he blatantly went behind yours, probably everyone’s, back to get some information on you in a shady way. Isn’t that illegal or something? “Suguru, when people do that, it doesn’t mean they want to be found.”

“I know, Y/N. But I was worried, so was Shoko and Satoru—“

“Does he know my number too?” You ask, already feeling your panic run up your veins, boy straightening into a stiff position.

“No, no, he doesn’t. Just me.” He quickly relieves you.

You guess that’s somewhat better. Although you still feel mildly annoyed at Suguru for what he did. “Is that all you know?” The way he doesn’t respond immediately makes you feel even more frustrated, jaw clenching.

“I….” He lets out a heavy breath. “No, it’s not.”

“What else do you fucking know?”

He winces at your now harsh tone of voice, though he knows it’s all expected. “It wasn’t on purpose, I just wanted your number, I swear. But when you’re looking for that kind of stuff, other things pop up like…address and…yeah.”

If only he could see your expression right now. “You know where I fucking live?”

“Yes, Y/N….”

Okay, now your privacy is very invaded. You have never really gotten angry with Suguru, let alone get into an argument. He always knew when to stop, what not to say to make someone else feel worse, but did he just get fucking dumb after all these years? “…are you serious?” You know he is, not even giving him the chance to answer your rhetorical question. “Fuck you, Suguru. I can’t believe you—you completely—I don’t even know what to tell you right now.”

You can hear the guilt in his voice, tone softening. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I had the best intentions, I was never going to visit you or call you without your specific permission to.”

“Did I give you permission to call me earlier?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Exactly.” With another scoff, you bite your lip, picking the correct words to voice out. You wouldn’t say you’re a word vomit person, usually. But right now, you just feel…slightly weirded out. All this time, you thought you had solitude. But Suguru knew where you were this entire time? “Goodbye, Suguru.”

“Y/N, wai—“

“Don’t. If I need you, I’ll tell you. But right now I don’t want to speak to you.”

He pauses, feeling his gut tighten. Nonetheless, he nods and mutters. “Okay, I’ll give you space. Just please know I’m sorry and I really didn’t have bad intentions.”

Seems like this is the second time today he’s apologizing to you. You don’t like it. Without another word, you end the call, putting your phone back on the hard surface of the island. Jesus Christ. What the hell is going on, seriously?

One minute you’re stressing about getting evicted, then you have to worry about Satoru somehow running into you, and now you find out Suguru has just casually known your address all these years. Why is all of this deciding to be sprung on you all at once? Out of no where? The world must be punishing you for every unholy deed you’ve done in your life; it really doesn’t seem fair. At all. Can’t things just go right for once in your life? You just want to go at least a day without external stressors fucking you over in every way possible.

Of course, you’re unlucky. That’s just how things have always been for you. The universe has a twisted sense of humor, and you’re the punchline to every cruel joke. The thought of Suguru knowing your address sends a cold, uncomfortable shiver down your spine. What else does he know? What else has he been hiding?

The questions swirl in your mind, each one more suffocating than the last. You sit down heavily on the edge of your worn-out couch, its cushions sagging beneath you as though they, too, are tired of carrying your weight. You bury your face in your hands, the skin of your palms rough against your cheeks, and take a deep, shaky breath.

Satoru (and Suguru). Their names alone bring up a storm of emotions you can barely keep bottled up. You’ve worked so hard to keep them, and everything they represent, in the past. Yet here they are, forcing their way back into your life like unwelcome ghosts.

You glance at the stack of overdue bills on the coffee table, mocking you with their bold red lettering. As if you didn’t already know you were drowning. Maybe it’s time to stop fighting the tide.

You watch Koji focus on the bright screen, moving his toy cars in unison with the movie. Willing yourself to worry about the now, to convince yourself that you’re not done, that there’s still some fight left in you.

However, that seems to be proving harder each and every single day.

It’s a chilly, but sunny winter day. The sidewalk filled with other people going about their day. You’re wearing a black trenchcoat, along with a scarf. Hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat as little puffs of white air leave your mouth, a stark piece of evidence of how cold it is today. The heels of your shoes clacking down the concrete, making your way to the familiar cafe of Latte Lounge.

Saturdays are supposed to be happy days, a final breath of fresh air after the business of the weekdays prior. The day where people enjoy Mother Nature and what she has to offer, a day of sleeping in, a day of no responsibilities.

A woman like you has no Saturdays. It’s like every day is a cold, hard Monday.

You finally spot the cafe, its large, glass windows giving you a sneak peek to the liveliness that resides inside. Of course, most people do choose to go to cafes on Saturdays. Especially this early in the morning. Walking in, the small bell above the door dings. The workers behind the counter greet you; while you give them a half greeting back, your eyes scan the environment. It takes a few seconds, but you see Mr. Ito sitting at a table for two in the corner.

You prepare yourself with a heavy sigh, forcing your feet to maneuver you over to the man who smiles and stands once he sees you approaching. “Ms. Y/N, good morning.”

“Good morning.” You’re a little caught off guard when he takes the empty seat from across from him and pulls it out, a silent move of help. Sitting down, he pushes your chair in then walks back over to his own. He laces his fingers together on top of the table. “Get whatever you’d like, on me, remember?”

“Oh, I’m not very thirsty right now.”

“No, please. It’s my pleasure, especially for meeting with me so early this morning.”

A part of you wants to deny his niceness. But, he did cause you to lose money you could’ve still had to spare if you didn’t have to call in Sana to watch Koji. And well, coffee always makes you feel better. “Just an iced vanilla latte.”

He nods and stands up. “Great, I’ll be back.”

Watching him go up to the counter and order, you look back down at your lap. Koji misbehaving sounds odd, he’s always been an obedient kid. Of course he has his moments, but he understands when to listen and when to goof around. A few minutes later, Mr. Ito sits back down with two cups of coffee, sliding yours over to you. You thank him and sip. Hm, not too bad.

There’s a small silence that flows over you two as you taste your coffees, but you wait for him to speak first. He did schedule this little meeting, after all. He clears his throat. “So, Ms. Y/N, again thank you for meeting with me.”

You nod. “Of course, Mr. Ito. Anything for Koji.”

Mr. Ito smiles, his hand waving you off. “Oh please, call me Haruto.”

Already trying to get on a first name basis. Simply nodding again, you raise an eyebrow for him to continue.

“Anywho, like I said earlier this week, I have concerns about Koji’s behavior. You see, he’s had about six instances where he doesn’t listen to me when I say it’s time for silent reading time. I understand he’s a talkative child, but he usually does not act out like this. Would you happen to have any idea as to why he is behaving this way so suddenly?”

“No, I don’t. Koji listens well, and he hasn’t come to me specifically about getting in trouble.” You respond, lips pursing.

Mr. Ito nods in understanding. “I can assume so, but his behavior has started affecting his peers, as well.”

You sit up straighter in your chair. “In what way?”

“Well,” Mr. Ito tilts his head, seemingly recounting the times Koji has misbehaved. “The students who sit around him have started coming to me, complaining about how Koji doesn’t leave them alone. They feel as if he’s taking away from their learning.”

What? Not to mention that that sounds quite…interesting for other five year olds to say, but no way Koji has been that bad. Maybe it’s your bias as his parent, but this is brand new to you, very brand new. Even when he’s home, Koji always insists on doing his homework before playing or eating dinner. So really, you’re not sure how to react to this surge of new information about your own child. “I really don’t know, Mr. Ito. I mean, Koji is a great boy, he listens very well to me and the other adults in his life. I’m just as shocked as you are right now.”

Mr. Ito leans back in his chair, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. “I’m not doubting your parenting skills. Koji’s clearly a bright and energetic boy. Maybe too energetic for some of his classmates to handle.” His tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent there, something you can’t quite place. “It’s possible he’s just seeking attention in ways that might not be obvious at home.”

You nod slowly, though his words don’t sit right with you. Koji doesn’t come across as attention-seeking at all. If anything, he’s a bit reserved until he’s comfortable around someone. “I’ll talk to him tonight and see if I can figure out what’s going on. Maybe there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“I’m sure you will,” Mr. Ito says, his smile deepening as he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. The movement feels deliberate, like he’s closing some invisible gap between the two of you. “You’ve always struck me as a very attentive parent.”

The compliment lands awkwardly, and you find yourself straightening your back again, instinctively pulling away from his lingering gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Ito,” you say curtly, steering the conversation back to its purpose. “I just want to make sure Koji’s doing well and that his behavior isn’t affecting his classmates.”

“Of course,” he says smoothly, not missing a beat. “And I’m here to help however I can. We could even set up regular meetings if you’d like, to make sure we stay on the same page about Koji’s progress.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, your polite tone edging into firmness. “But I do appreciate the offer.”

His smile falters for a brief moment, but he quickly recovers, leaning back in his chair as though he hadn’t just been testing the waters. “Understood. Please, don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever need anything. My door is always open.”

You nod, feeling a distinct shift in the atmosphere—one you’re eager to step away from. “Well, are there any other concerns I should know about, Mr. Ito?”

He looks like he wants to say more, but decides against it. “No, Ms. Y/N. None at all, thank you for coming out.”

“Thank you for the coffee, have a nice day.” You reply, wasting no time in standing up, grabbing your drink in one hand and bag in the other. Though, his voice speaking again causes you to stop.

“Ms. Y/N,” Mr. Ito’s voice stops you just as you push your chair back. You glance at him over your shoulder, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “I really hope I didn’t come across as too forward earlier. I’m just...invested in making sure Koji has everything he needs to thrive.”

You offer a polite smile, settling the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Of course, Mr. Ito. I appreciate that.”

He smiles, but there’s a pause before he continues. “It’s rare, you know, to see a parent as involved as you are. It’s refreshing.”

The compliment makes you pause, and you clutch your coffee cup a little tighter. “Well, Koji’s my world,” you reply simply, brushing off the remark.

“As he should be.” Mr. Ito leans back in his seat, his fingers lightly tapping the side of his own drink. “But I imagine that must get exhausting sometimes, especially since you seem to handle everything on your own.” His tone is casual, but there’s a softness to it, as if he’s inviting you to confide in him.

You blink, his words catching you off guard. Is he fishing for something? “It’s not always easy,” you admit cautiously, “but that’s just part of being a parent.”

“True,” he says with a small nod, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long. “Still, you shouldn’t hesitate to lean on the people around you when you need to. It’s not a sign of weakness, you know.”

You stiffen slightly, unsure how to interpret his words. They seem innocuous enough, but the way his gaze flickers toward you feels... calculated. “I manage just fine, thank you,” you reply, keeping your tone light but firm.

“Of course,” he says smoothly, raising his hands slightly as if to placate you. “You strike me as someone who handles things with grace. It’s admirable.”

You glance at your watch, eager to end the conversation. “Well, I should get going. I’ll talk to Koji about everything we discussed.”

“Of course.” Mr. Ito stands as you do, his smile as steady as ever. “Thank you again for meeting me. And...if you ever want to talk more, even just about life in general, I’d be happy to listen.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, and you force another polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Ito. Have a good day.”

“I can walk you to your car, I’m heading out as well.” He quickly suggests.

You shake your head almost instantly, smile feeling more narrow. “No need, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“But I—“

“Thank you again, but I really must go.” You cut him off, feeling your patience run thin and the desire to be cordial and polite stretching too much. You nod stiffly and turn around to briskly walk out the cafe. However, just as you do so, you collide into something, or someone.

Your open-lidded coffee fumbles a bit in your hand, quickly steadying it. Though it does manage to stain the white shirt of the person you just bumped into. Just great. You hold back a wince and apologize. “I’m really sorry, I wasn’t—“

Your words leave you, your breath feeling like it’s been stolen straight from your chest. Every hair on your body stands up straight, your heart falling straight to your ass like you’ve just hit the biggest drop on a rollercoaster. You know that feeling when you question if something is real or not, pleading with yourself and every deity watching that it’s not? Well, that’s exactly how you feel right now.

It feels like a spotlight has been shone on you without your consent and you suddenly want to throw up. Because as your eyes have moved up to profusely apologize to the stranger, a bucket of water filled with nostalgia and past memories drowns you.

The bright blue, unmistakable irides stare back down at you. A million memories play on repeat, but one thing’s for certain.

The past has never felt so close, and you suddenly want to erase it all and scream.

a/n: the dreaded reunion is here! thank you for reading and the tremendous support! <3 stay tuned for next chap, sorry if yall thought these two were boring, chapter 3 will be getting more into it

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins @sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited @duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee @devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts

[milla-frenchy]

10 mg

1k0 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3

Warnings: 18+ mdni. consensual somnophilia, dirty talk, piv, creampie

a/n: same couple: 5 days collection, but can be read alone

Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta reading 💕😘

Masterlist

***********

Joel woke up in the middle of the night, feeling warmth against his torso and lower stomach. Your back was against his chest, your bare ass nestled against his crotch, your breathing slow. Deep asleep, he thought.

You both fell asleep while his soft and soothed cock was still inside you, his cum dripping from your pussy to the sheets. He always hoped to wake up still buried in you, and to feel his length growing inside your core. Then his hips would resume their thrusts as if the night didn’t pass by.

But not today. Today, his cock was against your ass, out of you. Hard, already weeping. He was so fucking stiff that it was almost painful. He needed to plunge his shaft into your warmth, to feel it wrapped by your walls and squeezed by them. To be inside what was his.

“I need to fuck her, baby”, he said in your ear, his voice so low that even if you had been awake you probably wouldn't have heard him. He jerked his cock, still covered in your wetness and his cum, and nestled it at your still seeping hole. When his tip brushed against all that dampness, he grunted. God, you were so fucking hot.

“Shit, sweetheart, I can already stuff you with my cock.”

His other hand slipped under the sheets, in front of your pussy up to your folds, and his fingers helped him enter gently. “Oh fuck”, he grumbled, feeling your warmth surrounding him. He kept thrusting and didn’t stop, pressing the tips of his fingers against his shaft until your pussy swallowed him whole. You softly moaned. Over your head, he looked at the nightstand, the glass of water, the bottle of sleeping pills. His hand slid up to your breast and cupped it. How he wished he could have taken it in his mouth, and sucked your hard nipple. Fuck, just thinking about it made him even harder.

“ ’m gonna fuck you slow at first, don't wanna wake you up yet.”

He moved his hand down to your hip. Leaving the sheet on you, forcing himself to imagine every curve of your body under the fabric. 

Your pussy was taking his cock perfectly, as always. Made for him. He brushed his nose against your collarbone then the back of your neck, breathing in your scent, letting his soft mustache and beard brush against your skin, and you moaned again.

“Ya like it, uh? Letting me use ya whenever I want? Even while you’re sleeping, jesus…”, he whispered in your ear, even though you couldn’t hear him, and that turned him on even more. Your body was warm against his, and finally he removed the sheet that was covering you and the moon let him see the curves of your body.

“Fuck. You’re so hot, baby”, he murmured, caressing the skin on your hip. This time you moaned louder and he slowed down, whispering softly, his forehead against the back of your head "don't wake up sweetheart, please. Not yet. Let me use you a little more."

He moved his torso slightly away from your back, looking down at your ass, only being able to see the shadow of his cock sinking into you.

“Fully stuffed with my cock, shit. I like fucking you like that. Slowly. Feeling her.”

Every time he was pulling back, he wanted to thrust in roughly, cling to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. Each time he stopped himself, wanting to keep you a little more for himself. Enjoying this moment when you let him fully use your body. Unaware of what he was doing, how he was doing it.

“She’s always ready to take this cock, mmm, baby? Always ready to get fuckin’ ruined.”

His breathing was speeding up, and he wondered how he was going to wake you up. Would he dive in suddenly like he was thinking about it for several minutes? Covering your mouth with his hand to prevent you from waking up the neighbors. 

Or would he thrust just a little harder, gripping your hip with more pressure. Lightly nibbling your shoulder.

“Fuck…taking it so good…”

He took your hand in his and pinned them to the sheets, intertwining his fingers with yours and leaned forward slightly. Diving his hips in yours again. “I love to fuck you when you’re asleep. Miss your mouth in these moments, but fuck…” 

He felt his cock twitch, and grunted to himself “don’t you fucking dare. Not yet.” He slowed the pace trying to calm down. “Fuck, this pussy is not even clenching me yet and I wanna shoot my load, damn.”

He slid his hand between your body and the bed, and rubbed your clit. “You’re gonna come in your sleep baby? Bet ya can do that for me.” He kissed your shoulder, burying himself ever so gently into you. “Come on, sweetheart, give it to me.” Your clit throbbed under his finger and your pussy clenched. “Yeah, just like that, baby. Squeeze me.” His cock twitched, ready to give in. “Just a little bit more….” He stroked your clit as patiently as ever, waiting for your release, then his own. He felt you flinch, and you barely had the time to stammer, “J…Joel? Oh fuck, I’m gonna…oh fuck!”

You came right after waking up, your pussy squeezing his shaft. He fucked you through your orgasm, praising you with his “good girl, soaking my cock,” until you felt him pulse, squirting his spurts of cum against your walls.

“Oh shit, Joel…” Your body was trembling in his arms as he was holding you tight against him, his orgasm exploding after all those whispers and slow thrusts. He held you against his sweaty body, unable to move.

“Sweetheart…”, he finally mumbled against the crook of your neck.

“I love when you’re using me”, you said, kissing his hand.

“I love it too, baby. She was still dripping, you know…ruining the sheets. Begging for me to fuck her.”

“I bet she was. That little slut”, you laughed and pinched him. You tried to turn around but he held you tighter.

“Can't leave this warmth baby. Let me fall asleep like this. I'll fuck you again in a couple of hours. Ok?”

He kissed your neck.

You nodded, but thought that you’d love to fuck yourself slowly on his shaft while he was asleep, and feel him grow inside you.

*****

***************

The nap: reverse somno | Same couple: 5 days collection

Thank you for reading 🙏

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@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

[machveil]

Wait but continuing that loser!konig and overstimulation when his only job was to not cum before you did-

That part you wrote(which absolutely made me feral btw you write so well I adore scrounging your blog) about madly bucking his hips and don't mind if he stills for a moment??? Yeah that.

So konig has been unpurposefully edging you unknowingly because whenever you're so close to that orgasm he stilled and spilled his first and you're whining- what he didn't know was you were whining from his accidental edging session over and over again

YUP haha I felt very evil writing that, sat there twirling my fake mustache - laughing and kicking my legs like a villain

CW: Loser!König, overstimulation, edging, no condom (wrap it before you tap it)

Loser!König who really doesn’t mean to edge and overstimulate you, he just can’t help but cum when he’s got you limp on his chest, whining and moaning next to his ear. if anything, it’s really your fault, Liebling, you shouldn’t have tied his wrists behind his back! if it were up to König his hands would be gripping the fat of your hips and bouncing you on his cock while he cums, fucking himself through his orgasm and helping you towards yours

no, instead Loser!König lets out a choked sob as he cums, hips stilling and legs twitching as babbles out another slew of apologies. you were so close this time too, nearly pushed over that blissful edge before he came to a stop. you can feel him leaking out of you, warmth seeping down your thighs as you hiccup - your third ruined orgasm. “I’m sorry— Bitte— Bitte, lass mich es nochmal versuchen.”, his voice is strained as he thrusts up into you again, a weak stutter of his hips before his pace picks up again

it almost feels like too much, receiving a harsh fucking from your weepy mess of a man, but never reaching your peak. your legs feel like jelly at this point despite Loser!König doing all the work. you can’t help but cry out, desperate, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and pooling on his shoulder, “Kö— König, baby, please—“, slurred words tumbling from your lips as he grunts and moans. it’s nearly heartbreaking hearing him stutter out pitiful little ‘I know’s and ‘I’m sorry’s. he wanted so badly to be good for you and he’s messed it all up, a combination or guilt and pleasure bubbling in his gut again

Loser!König who doesn’t realize you’d reached behind him to untie his wrists — only gasping when you manhandle his hands to rest on your hips. you were probably better off letting him edge you accidentally, as soon as his palms meet your hips he’s got them in a bruising grip, thanking you for letting him touch you. his sorries immediately turning into poorly spoken praise and mumbled ‘Ich liebe dich’s. finally, your well-deserved orgasm has you crying out into the crook of his neck, König’s pace faltering as you squeeze him so tightly

it would have been the perfect end to the session, getting your sweet release and passing out next to Loser!König… it would have been. choked little gasp leaving your lips, König doesn’t let up, hands making you meet his harsh thrusts as you whine. “Another— I’m sorry, you deserve another one— Gib mir noch einen, Schatz.”, with his hands free now, it’s only right to work you up to another orgasm, right?

[teddybeartoji]

彡 HE'S ANNOYING AND BEAUTIFUL AND HE'S GOING TO RUIN YOUR FUCKING DAY

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; con-artists au, crack, he's stupid, he also has a massive fucking crush on you (and you're no better btw), reader smokes a cigarette gasp!! oh and reader is wearing a suit wc: 2.2k

+ a few hours later...

the spring sun warms your skin as sit on a little bench on top of the hill that overlooks your destination. a castle – it's fancy, fanciest you've ever seen. it's fucking massive and you can't help but wonder, how it would feel to sprint through the long beautiful hallways of the place...

way too many super cars are lined up in front of it and their various colors are making your eyes hurt. people in stunning dresses and equally stunning suits spill out of the machines and they laugh and roar, smoke blowing from their noses and lips as they flex their expensive pipes and cigarette holders. bald men with terrible mustaches flood your vision and you decide that you've had enough for the moment and let your head fall back. this is your last chance to recharge before the work begins.

digging in your inner suit pocket, you pull out a silver cigarette case with a beautiful engraving on it. memories reside in the little crevices of the art and the thoughts make a sentimental (albeit an annoying one. you'd never do this in front of him.) smile tug at the corners of your lips. the tiny machine was part of a set, a gift for you.

you try not to think about that for too long.

patting the side of your upper thigh, you dig out a lighter. it's just a plastic one; it's old as hell and it has definitely seen better days. but despite its tired look, you still consider it a friend, a partner, a helping hand.

you grab a cig from the box and place it between your lips before pocket the case again. the lighter is warm in your hands as you stare at the design on it. swirls and lines run all across the silver, dancing and merging together. a lot of memories are buried in the cracks of them and a sentimental smile tugs on the corners of your lips.

click! click! click!

perhaps today is the day you'll lay it to rest. there's no fire, no heat, but you're not mad. the cigarette hangs from your lips and you let out a sigh. you lean back onto your hand and close your eyes; if you won't get your final energy boost from nicotine, the sun will have to do it.

a gust of wind brushes over your skin, it cards through your hair and you feel alive. the laughter from down below finds it way up to you and it makes you crack a grin yourself – these rich pricks won't know what hit them. this'll be an easy job, no sweat. in and out, it'll only take a few hours tops if everything goes without a hitc—

click!

time slows.

cracking open an eye, you watch the stick catch fire.

engravings in silver – a perfect match to the ones on the case that's hiding comfortably in your chest pocket. right beside your heart. pale, slender fingers and manicured nails, a perfectly fitted sleeve – it's him. trailing up his arm with your eye, his cologne fills your nostrils and you realize that he's standing way closer than you thought.

it takes a mere two seconds and you craning your neck to meet his eyes. they match the clear sky, the only difference being that while birds twirl and dance in the blue ocean up above your heads, little stars twinkle in his.

satoru gojo.

and his stupid fucking smile.

you hate him.

he snaps the little silver machine shut before placing it back into his pocket with one swift move. his pearly white teeth shine under the blinding sun and the sight of his dimples makes your stomach churn. silly butterflies.

staring up at him, you hollow your cheeks and breathe in the smoke. it travels through your mouth and makes its way deep into your lungs. he's patient. the grey fog fills your organs and you let it simmer before letting out out again. you blow it at him but he doesn't budge; your eyes look so pretty in this light. he watches your lips curl into a pretty little smirk and then he's already being blessed with your saccharine voice. "gojo."

he does a dramatic bow as he stands before you – his one hand behind his back and the other on his heart. "my beloved."

the hum and the eye roll you award him with warm his insides. he straightens his spine and locks both his hands behind him, almost making him look like an innocent, virtuous person. it's that charming smile of his that's able to save him from just about everything. his ability to bare his teeth in the most endearing way pisses you off.

it really fucking does.

he twirls on his heel and the gentle gust of wind ruffles his snowy hair. he eyes the castle below and the little ant-people that buzz in front of it.

"you got an invite?" he asks in a sing-song voice. he seems excited. that's a bad thing for you. he will ruin your plans, you already know it.

"i did not."

you don't need to see his face to know that his smile has stretched even wider. you hate it. he quirps a little "hm" before spinning back around. his hand dips into his inner suit pocket and returns with an ivory envelope. his eyelashes flutter shut as he dramatically fans his face with it.

you hate him.

"that's too bad. they have this cool new system – they give you a keycard. they check it at the door, of course, but after that you can just go wild with it." he paces around in front of you while you just inhale the smoke back into your lungs as a way to alleviate the fact that he's going to ramble about a fucking key card. "there are tiers, you see. the smaller guys just get to use it as the invite while others..."

he turns to you with a big grin. "can actually open some super secret doors."

he flicks the envelope just to show it off some more and you wish you could suffocate him with the cigarette smoke. or maybe you should just push him off this damn hill instead.

"not that you would know anything about it though..." his words trail off as his eyes snake their way up from the ground and to your pretty face.

"and you're one of the big guys then, i presume?"

your remark is like water off a duck's back. it's the exact opposite actually – it only eggs him on. he watches the smoke slip from between your lips as you try to bite him back, he watches your chest fall; you look handsome in your suit. he's never seen you in an outfit like this - sure, he's seen you in some fancy fits before but this... takes the crown for sure.

you almost look like you belong here, though he skeptical on whether you'd think of that as a compliment or not. he doesn't say it, opting for something else.

"you look good– "

"you look good."

damn.

you blink up at him, he blinks down on you. he fiddles with his fingers behind his back and he bites back the comment he wants to make about you complimenting him, about you two speaking at the same time. something about being partners, something-something.

he does look good.

he's also wearing a gorgeous black suit on top of a pearly white shirt and a matching black bowtie adorns his neck, and it looks like he did try to style his hair just a little, but you know him – you know he likes it when the wind messes it up. he always says it makes him look more rugged.

you assume he doesn't know what the word means.

silence falls upon the two of you, engulfing you in this comfortable little bubble. your lips wrap around the cigarette again and he pockets the envelope in his hand.

"y'think so?"

he asks for praise so nonchalantly that you almost give in. "...maybe."

satoru's chest puff up and his eyes light up even more than ever – you regret your decision to tell him that. his lips part but you don't give him a chance to tease you any further.

you shake the cigarette butt before pushing yourself off the bench. satoru observes you, always so excited about everything you do. he can't tear his eyes from you. placing the cig back between your lips, you approach the man in front of you in a confident stride.

without locking eyes with him, you take your place a little bit too close in front of him and casually reach for his tie. satoru's breath hitches at the sudden proximity but he doesn't back away. you tug at the edges of it, your eyebrows furrowing in the process. you look cute, all concentrated and everything. his smile makes its way back onto his lips as he stares at you and his hands twitch at his sides.

smoke dances in the air as you take your time to fix his tie; the sun melts the two of you together as the silence settles around you again. the breeze plays with his hair some more, it grazes the apples of your cheeks and it's refreshing. this feels like the old times.

"smoking kills, you know."

his voice is barely above a whisper and you snort at him. "so do cars, dipshit."

"hm, douche."

you send a sharp glare at him and he doesn't even try to hold his ever-growing grin. the stupid fucking butterflies in your stomach are making you sick. he's about to say something ridiculous again, so you rush to give his earlobe a gentle-not-so-gentle tug. you laugh at the way he winces and the way his skin turns a dark shade of pink in a matter of seconds; it manages to bloom all over his ears and the apples of his cheeks before he decides to swat your hand away.

your eyes and the tingling pain in his ear are enough to distract him from your wandering hands. skilled fingers dip under the front of his suit jacket as you lean forward to whisper to him. "it's touché."

his eyes glue themselves onto the cigarette in your mouth, between your pretty lips, giving you more than enough time to swipe the envelope from his chest pocket with ease.

"right..."

dusting off some imaginary dust from his shoulder, you cock your head to the side and take the cigarette from your lips while giving him another good look. how could you not? despite his god-awful personality and his tendency to screw up every single one of your plans in one way or another – he's the most beautiful man you've ever seen. from this angle you could count the freckles that are scattered across his nose and cheeks, hell – you could count his damn eyelashes if you really wanted to.

(you kind of do.)

while he's being bewitched by you and your eyes and your perfume and the damn smoking stick in your hand, you hide the envelope behind your back. you make use of the promiximity between you two, your own body concealing the movement of you tucking the thing under your own suit jacket and into the waistband of your pants. you're here to steal afterall.

satoru rubs his ear and feigns a pout. it's the fakest one you've seen yet, but then a dopey smile makes it's way onto his lips and for a second you think that your plan didn't work, that he felt it, that he saw it—

"you know... if you wanted satoru to just get you an invite, you should've just said so, sweetheart."

...

you stare at him with a blank face and he shines right back at you. he plucks the cigarette from your hand and throws it to the ground, stomping on the thing, he puts out the light with the heel of his foot.

"but... since you didn't ask for it, since you didn't ask for satoru's help... you'll have to find your own way in, yeah?" he's way too smug, too arrongant and the only thing that's making you feel better is the thought of him being shut out from the party because he doesn't have the invite. anymore.

"stop referring to yourself in third person, it makes you look stupid."

"you don't think i look stupid in the first place then?"

.............

you can't wait for this day to be over.

"alright. go now. run along, little prince." you give his shoulder a shove but he refuses to back away, leaning closer a little instead.

"are you gonna be okay out here, hm? all alone? no keycard or nothing?"

even his breath smells good. you want to punch him.

"don't worry about me, gojo. i'm sure i'll figure something out."

"ahh! you always do! and that's why you're the greatest, baby!" wincing at the volume of his tone, you clench your jaw and press your teeth together. satoru loves it when you do that. "don't take too long, okay? i'll miss you."

he offers you another fake pout and turns around on his heel, but not before giving you a wink. he looks over his shoulder for the last time and...

"don't forget to throw away the cig! littering isn't sexy!"

he's so overbearingly annoying and he will so ruin your fucking plans.

[farmerstarter]

The Bachelors on their Wedding Day

Hi Hello have this short list of my little Headcanons of the bachelors on their wedding day. Hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!!🌷🤍

ʚ🏈ɞ ˚ · . Alex :

🏈 Fiddles with his tie relentlessly and ends up ruining it. He runs to Evelyn to ask her to tie it up again. The only other thing he fusses over is his hair.

🏈 Alex keeps a rabbit's foot in his pants, wanting all the luck he can get.

🏈 Spent literal days writing his wedding vows. Ends up opting to wing it. It wasn't the most eloquently worded thing you've heard but it was sweet.

🏈 He gave himself a pep talk in his bedroom before the ceremony. You only know about this because George was complaining about how loud he was to you.

🏈 Dusty the dog is the mermaid pendant bearer, I decided.

🏈 Also, the song that plays during the wedding is the same tune from Alex's music box. 🥺

ʚ🪶ɞ ˚ · . Elliott :

🪶Beach wedding. You guys have a beach wedding. You've expressed your interest in one and Elliott, with the eager help of Willy, clean up the beach for your special day. Elliott's shoes would fill with sand but his discomfort is overpowered by his delight when he sees you all dressed up.

🪶 He reads you one (of many) of his poems about you. You later learned that he's got a whole book of poetry about you that he's been writing ever since you two started dating. The poem he read on the wedding day was the very first one and is the first page of the book.

🪶 He spent hours trying to make himself look good. Asking for Leah and Willy's input on what he should wear for a solid 3 hours.

🪶 Aside from him worrying over his appearance, Elliott is more excited than nervous. He's on the verge of creating a new chapter in his life with someone else. Gone are the days of his lonely shack and the empty (well, not as empty since you moved into town) beach. Honestly, to say that he's excited is an understatement.

ʚ🛩️ɞ ˚ · . Harvey :

🛩️ Gets awfully shy when reading his vows, stuttering his way through his words and being a blushing mess. He has no problem with the one-on-one check up sessions he does with the other villagers of Pelican Town, but to read aloud in front of all of them at once threw him off. But he kept his eyes on you and managed to power through it.

🛩️ He considered shaving off his mustache for the wedding at least twice. But he decided against the idea.

🛩️ Insisted that you eat Farmer's Brunch the morning of the wedding. Even during your wedding day, he wants to make sure you're feeling healthy.

🛩️ Holds your hands throughout the whole ceremony. Whispering apologies for how clammy his hands are.

ʚ🎸ɞ ˚ · . Sam :

🎸 He wrote a whole song about you and played it on your wedding day. He made it a surprise for you and the moments of him hiding his guitar and shoving music sheets under his bed when you visit his room were all starting to make sense to you.

🎸 Couldn't sleep for the whole night before the wedding. He worried over the ceremony and wanted to make it go smoothly. He's not one to meticulously plan every detail, opting to engage in spur of the moment decisions, but he tried his best to make everything as close to perfect as he can get.

🎸 Jodi tried to gel Sam's hair back, but no matter the amount of gel and hours, his hair would always spring back. Sam wasn't a fan of dressing up in a "dorky suit" but he did anyway, for you.

🎸 Sam didn't want to see you until the wedding so he got Vincent to play messenger for the two of you. He wouldn't do it at first but only agreed to do it because he likes you (Cue a dramatic gasp from Sam).

ʚ🐸ɞ ˚ · . Sebastian :

🐸 Ends up smiling through the whole ceremony, looking at you with such a brightness in his eyes.

🐸 He isn't one to wear anything fancy. The closest thing he ever wore that is considered formal was the suit that Lewis got him and the rest of the dancers to wear for the Flower Dance. He asks his mom to help him dress up for the wedding, asking her about it while she was building furniture. Sebastian doesn't want to admit it, but he liked watching his mom so happy over something that was so mundane to him. He makes sure to keep the suit in perfect condition throughout the ceremony because of it.

🐸 He tells his very heartfelt wedding vows. And while he does, you could hear the faint "that's good," from Elliott before a grunt, inevitably elbowed on the side by Leah.

🐸 You and him ride on his motorcycle after the wedding. He drives you two to the cliff overlooking the city, the same cliff where he confessed his true feelings to you. Under the full moon, the two of you would look at the stars with Sebastian occasionally pointing at a constellation that Maru taught him to find.

🐸 Consider: winter wedding.

ʚ🐣ɞ ˚ · . Shane :

🐣 Genuinely doesn't believe that you want to marry him. He thinks it's a dream at best and a prank at worst. It wasn't until you were tying his mermaid pendant around his neck for him to know that you do love him. He still has trouble understanding it sometimes.

🐣 Shane asked Marnie to teach him how to waltz for your wedding day. Sure, he's danced in the Flower Dance countless of times but he wanted to learn something new to surprise you. And he did. After dancing with you, he dances with Jas. Well, it's more of Jas standing on Shane's feet while he walks and glides around.

🐣 He gave his chicken, Charlie, a bow tie for the wedding and everything. Even got a picture of you and Shane with the little guy. The picture ends up being hanged on Shane's side of the bedroom for many years to come.

🐣 Has his pocket full of corn chips, let's be honest. He offers one to you before the ceremony starts.

[call-sign-shark]

After the Storm, the Sun || Tommy Shelby x Reader

➢ Prompt "Don't you Dare" requested by @runnning-outof-time

Words: 1K (no proofreading)

If there was one thing you had never seen since your wedding with the infamous Thomas Shelby it was his smile. As both his wife and new secretary, you knew every feature of his face and how they contorted at his emotions’ discretion. Slightly, almost imperceptible. But day after day you ultimately learned how to read through the lines and catch those glimpses of faint emotions. For instance, you could tell he was mad by the way his sky blue eyes became blank and his brows slightly furrowed. That was when you knew someone had cross the line.  

When it came to sadness, the change in his traits was even more subtile but nonetheless heartbreaking for observant eyes. He would avoid looking at you, rather focusing his attention on paperwork or something else as if a sole glance at your iris could break the fortress he had spent years building around his heart.  All of these held no secret anymore for you — But regarding joy, you could not tell. 

You started to wonder if Thomas was even able to feel happiness, or if the war, responsibilities and Grace’s death had definitely faded colors away  from his life and turned it into a dull black and white movie whose ending would be definitely woeful.

Sometimes you would caught sight of a light, almost imperceptible smirk at the sharp edge of his lips — especially when Arthur would stumble on his own feet. It also happened that one  time John almost choked with his toothpick after laughing too much at Finn’s clumsiness. But these short moments of innocence usually disappeared as quickly as they had appeared as if they had never really existed. Thomas’ genuine smile was a mirage and you, the thirsty and exhausted wanderer lost in the desert of his heart. At first his lack of positive emotions was mere detail, an interrogation born out of curiosity. Yet, the idea of making him smile soon became a bit too obsessive to admit. That was how you came to the decision to do everything in your power to snatch a sincere smirk off your morose husband — a silly mission John, Arthur and his young wife Heaven agreed to join in.

He did not smile when John stole clothes from Polly and made his best imitation of their Aunt, even though it was hilarious when he fell on the floor because he did not know how to walk with heels.

He did not smile when Arthur, wasted with whiskey, cut half of his mustache when he was shaving. The unfortunate event led him to shave it off and wait for it to grow back. Half of Small Heath could not recognized him for days. Let’s not be afraid to state that he cried a little.

Nor did he smile when Heaven’s gargantuan watchdog, Kaiser, jumped on her small frame, happy to see her, and shoved her right in a puddle of mud, ruining both her white hair and her expensive new coat. The expression on her face had been priceless.  As well as Arthur’s silly way to run to her.

You laughed each time, almost straining your ribs, but your husband did not even smirk. 

As days passed your hopes crumbled bit by bit, until you gave up on the idea. A sigh escaped your lips as you watered the roses of the mansion’s garden, for when Tommy’s darkness started to infect your mood the only place you would find peace was that place in which hundreds of wonderful flowers blossomed. Lost in an ocean of colorful petals, you did not notice the threatening black clouds that were coming your way, with an urging desire to rain down on you. When the first lightning bolt striated the sky, its roaring thunder making you jump like a scared cat, it was already too late.

You ran to the mansion, shutting the door close behind you. It was at that same moment, when you were looking down at your soaked up body with a look of pure despair on your beautiful face, that Thomas came out of the living room. His piercing blue eyes, whose quiet oceans had been darkened with memories of war, fell upon your frame. And then it happened. A little sparkle lit up in his irises at the sight of you, his wife, caught in the rain. Your entangled wet hair, your new dress sticking to your skin, your runny make up… 

“The fuck are you looking at Thomas Shelby?!!” 

Tommy took off his little glasses and, all of sudden, burst into laughter. The melody of joy, long forgotten, washed away the dust of his tired soul and boomed in the hallway.  Laughing was so unusual for him that the corner of his mouth felt numb after a few seconds, but Tommy got the giggles and could not stop. You wanted to yell at him, to tell him it was not fun, but the beautiful symphony of his laugh awoke the flame of your love. It was the very same laugh he had before the war. Before Kimber. Before Campbell and all the other bastards… Scared of moving by fear of disrupting such a rare vision, you remained still. It was Tommy who broke down the distance between you and wrapped your hips with his strong arms, not minding to ruin his own expensive suit.

“I love your laugh. I wish I’d hear it more often.” You said with a little smile, your fingers gently caressing one of his hollow cheeks. He has been so stressed out he had barely eaten in a week.

“Well, you should get caught in the rain more.” He replied, raising an eyebrow, “You look like a wet cat.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language, Mrs. Shelby.” He leaned forward to kiss you but you denied him. Surprised, Tommy frowned and looked at you in hope of getting a reason behind your refusal, "Come on, kiss me."

“No.” You taunted him, freeing yourself from his embrace and taking a few steps back toward the closed door of the mansion.

"Don't you dare, Y/N." He warned you, for the cunning gleam in your eyes foreshadowed what you were about to do.

"Catch me, Tom!" You suddenly said, before rushing outside and running under the batting but warm summer rain. In truth, you were convinced he would not follow you.

How wrong you were.

“You bet I will.” He muttered to himself, putting his glasses on the nearest furniture before joining you in the chase.

The rain was pouring in Arrow House, but for the first time in years, sun shone bright in Thomas’ heart.

Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivated me, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

Arthur's wife is Reader in the ongoing series Heaven in Your Eyes.

[holylulusworld]

Their Bride (Snippet 1) - Kinktober 28

Summary: You always dreamed of letting your dirtiest fantasies become reality. Your men made your dream come reality.

Pairing: fem!Reader x Nick Fowler, Ari Levinson, Lloyd Hansen, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Warnings: mentions past consensual non-con/dub-con roleplay, kidnapping, multiple partners,  mentions of sex tape, mentions of callboys/prostitution

Trope: Post-coitus moment

A/N:  A short follow up to: Best bridesmaid ever

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

“Just relax, lean back, and enjoy how we dismantle your ex.”

Lean back and relax, Ari said, while you tried to wrap your head around the situation. Not moments before they revealed their true identities, you believed your bridesmaid and best friend hired the most handsome and best callboys walking on earth.

The fulfillment of your secret desires still lingered in the back of your mind. Memories flashed up, bringing back every moment of desire and lust.

Did their true identity change your desire for them after all of them gave you what your body and mind were craving? You pondered when Ari stepped back inside the room to hand you a cup of your favorite tea.

“I can see the wheels in your head spinning,” he said, sitting opposite you in an old armchair, while you watched him with curiosity. This man did unspeakable things to you and your body but looked almost shy when you stared at him. “We never said that we are callboys, sweetness. You gave in to our demands so easily; we just went with the flow. At first, we only wanted to scare you a little and fuck with your finance’s mind.”

“What?” You gaped at Ari. Did he just make it sound like they didn’t lie to you? “You made me believe you’re the callboys my friend hired.”

“Baby cakes, do you honestly believe guys like us offered their dicks for money?” Lloyd chuckles as you try to not throw the cup of tea at him. “My meat is a filet mignon, not a cheap burger.”

“Hansen, you’re not helpful. Not at all,” Ari grunted. “We should explain our plan to her. Y/N is not a pretty doll you can use and put in a corner.”

“Oh, Levinson,” Lloyd plopped down on the couch next to you. “I won’t ever put my muffin into a corner. I’ll make her scream my name any time of the day.” His hand crept up the nightgown they offered you this morning, one of many designer clothes they got for you. “Right, sunshine. You loved it when I got down on you to tickle your clit with my mustache.”

“Lloyd!” Steve snapped at the man next to you. “We wanted to talk, not bend her over the couch too. Let’s finish her ex-fiancé off before we get to her naughty cunt again.”

“Doll, are we having a party?” Bucky strolled into the room, Nick hot on his heels. They sipped at their coffee while undressing you with their eyes. Similar eyes, turning you into a puddle of goo whenever they look at you. “What do you want me to do to you today?”

“Get your shit together. No sex this morning. If we want to hit Walker hard and fast, we must do it now. Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine. I want him to suffer through every scream and moan we forced out of his lovely fiancé.”

You watched Ari take over the lead. He wildly gestured while talking, making you whimper more than once. You barely listened to what he had to say. These five men fulfilled your darkest desires and offered a new life to you within the same heartbeat.

How could you ever go back to a normal life? What would you tell anyone? That you let these five men, members of the mob on top of all, do unspeakable things to you?

You’re ruined in more than one way.

“How about you enjoy the show, cupcake?” Lloyd said, and wrapped one arm around your shoulders. “Later, you can enjoy more of me. Let’s sneak out and do it outside like the animals.”

“Lloyd!” Steve snapped his fingers in Lloyd’s face. He was done with Lloyd’s endless appetite for you and the noises you made for the mustache-wearing bastard. “Stop thinking with your dick for once, will ya.”

“Let us have our fun. We already fucked Walker over by fucking his lovely bride. He still thinks she’s going to marry him. How about you stab him in the back and twist the knife?”

“I prepared everything,” a new face stepped into the room. A cocky guy with glasses and spiky dark blonde hair. He was wearing a pink shirt with an imprint saying go petunias.

You would’ve giggled at his outfit, but he switched a large monitor on and talked about hacking into John’s system and other things you don’t understand.

“Alright,” he said. “A livestream would’ve been much funnier, but this will do too.” He dipped his head to look your way. His cheeks turned red, and he gasped loudly. “Oh, she’s here.”

“Stop staring at our girl,” Nick warned before pointing his index finger at him. “Get the job done. We don’t have all day.”

“Name’s Jake,” he said, instead of doing his job. He flashed you a smile, making you giggle. You could imagine turning him into your sweet puppy. A stark contrast to the roughness your other men provide.

“Jensen, do your job!” Ari barked at Jake. “I want results, and I want them now!”

“Here we go,” Jake said. He typed away on the keyboard, starting a countdown. You watched John on the monitor. His phone rang, and he got a message to switch his laptop on.

John sat down on his expensive leather chair and switched the laptop on. Jake immediately took control of the laptop, easily hacking into the computer.

Moments later, you could hear the scene you remembered so well unfold once again. Your moans and the men barking orders at you filled your ears as John grabbed his laptop to smash it against the wall.

“Hah, as if this would stop me!” Jake snickered. “Let’s drive him insane.”

Next: Playing with their bride

Tags in reblog.

[devilmademewriteit]

thinking about jealous reader and jealous javi

Jealous Girl

gif via @javier-pena

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

warnings: roughy sex/smut (fem penetration) so 18+ only content; fem!afab!reader; dirty talk; jealous!reader; jealous!javi; sort of dom!javi; allusions to reader having long-ish hair; pet names (baby, babygirl, hermosa, cariño); slut-shaming (reader uses the word ‘whore’); dubcon (no explicit consent, Javi is… forceful).

no use of y/n in this fic

thx 4 the drabble / short fic request!! once again this is FERAL !!! feel free to keep sending me lil drabble requests. they’re so fun to write while I work on my longer fics.

reminder that I am not using the taglist for these, but you can turn on notifs & join the list in my pinned post for my longer works !

-em <3

—

“You broke it off with me, baby, remember?”

What does it matter? What does it matter when you lock eyes with him getting head in his car, parked in some barely-hidden side-street, one block away from your dad’s salsamentaria?

What does it matter when, ten minutes later, he finds you, alone in the back room of the store, forcing back tears of frustration as your shaking hands busy themselves with fresh inventory?

You spin around, prepared to bark curses at him for trespassing into sacred, employee-only territory. He’s leaning against the door, beige suit-jacket a little roughed-up, hair slightly out of place.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying your freedom,” you reply coolly, mirroring his pose against the far wall.

He smiles. You’d known him long enough to recognize that condescending expression — the wolfish twitch of his mustache.

Toying with you for sport.

“And you’re not?” Javi asks, the casual raise of his eyebrows deceptive compared to the darkness overtaking his gaze. “Everybody’s seen you, y’know, leaving bars half-naked with guys twice your age.”

Always an opportunist, the agent pushes on, taking advantage of your stunned silence. “N’ you used to be so shy, babygirl.” A chuckle. “The fuck did I do to you, huh?”

You stammer, wanting to tear into him for his crudeness (though he was right — mixing the breakup with tequila hadn’t failed to strip you of your inhibitions), but the man denies you the chance, gliding forward in a slow, wide step.

Softly. “You wear my gifts for them? Let ‘em fuck you in all those lil’ lace sets I got for you?”

He’s close now, and you’re beginning to see red. This was part of the reason behind the break-up in the first place — neither of you knew how to manage overwhelming care without dousing it in cruelty.

Those long-awaited fighting words finally manage to breach the threshold of your lips. “Yeah, actually, I do,” you drawl, arousal levelled by a red-hot rage coiling tighter and tighter within you, “Ruined a couple pairs.”

“Bullshit.” His consonants slice through his vowels, accusatory and harsh. “Bet that pussy doesn’t even get wet after bein’ trained by me, does it?”

Try not to choke on your snarl, girl. “‘Least I don’t have to get head a block down from my ex’s shop — z’that the only way you can still get hard, Peña?” You muster up a daring smirk, shouldering his challenge head-on. “Hoping you’ll see me walk by so you can finish inside your whore?”

Bull’s eye.

“Don’t act like you give a single fuck where I’m gettin’ my dick wet, cariño.” Every inch of him bristles something fierce, but with skill and practice, he keeps his anger in check — maintains the upper hand — looming over you to consecrate the threat.

“Just pissed that I’m fuckin’ another bitch’s throat when we both know that’s what yours’s made for, right?”

The coil snaps.

Before you can stop it, your hand is in the air, gunning straight for the tan skin over his cheekbone.

In a blink, he’s strangling your wrist, holding back your palm from making punishing contact. The following pause is thick and heavy, quickly overflowing with Javi’s rage-soaked hunger. Dark and dangerous, the man hones in on your glare—

And speaks, voice low.

“Y’know, I let her swallow my load—”

“Let go of me.”

“—but you can take the next one.”

And then he flips you over, brushing off your indignant whine, flattening your back against his chest. Javi is strong (he always has been) and there’s no point in resisting (there never was). He’s unzipped himself, hiked your skirt up, wrenched your panties to the side and forced himself inside you in a matter of seconds.

Dear God, forgive me for getting my fix.

A big hand wraps around your throat while unforgiving arms form a prison around your body. He tilts your head back to face him, savouring your tightness, your suffering, and the strangled moan of pleasure dripping from your lips with his hips’ every rough throw.

“Always gonna belong to me, huh?”

His whisper settles over your skin, heightening that already-unbearable bliss. Your muddled mind and slackened mouth scramble to form words beyond full full full, yes yes yes.

“F-fuck you, Peña—” you spit through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut in concentration. You fingertips grow sore, pressed to bruise along his forearms. “You’re worse than me—you-you know it.”

Javi responds with a tightened grasp and diligent, skilled digits falling to manhandle your clothed breasts. “Yeah, fuck you, too—” and it’s strained, etched with long-awaited relief, “—fuckin’ spoiled—jealous brat.”

An all-encompassing jolt to your system — he’s found that aching bundle. He carves words into your sensitive clit: you were never going to be anything but mine, mine, mine. The arch in your spine deepens; the back of your head falls helplessly against his collarbone. And despite yourself — despite his venom — you grin, catching the broken hallelujah underpinning every vowel, every touch of his desperate, repressed desire.

It’s a symphony you both sing, a thought hanging so heavy in the room it almost becomes a tangible part of your filthy entanglement.

“If I can’t have you, baby, no one else in this world can.”

—

[freedomfireflies]

if you please have time, could you please do a lil Mine something tonight? just something to hold me over😩 smut/possesive if possible!❤️

THIS IS SUPER SHORT AND LAST MINUTE, I'M SO SORRY BUT IT WAS KIND OF FUN SO THANK YOU FOR ASKING AND I'M SO SORRY IF I'M LATE 😭💞

“Harry…Harry, please—”

“No. Keep going.”

“Harry—”

“Keep fucking going or I will use my fucking hands and make you.”

You whimper, nose nuzzling into his neck in a futile attempt to hide yourself from the prying eyes around the restaurant.

You don’t know how you got here. Or maybe you do, you just don’t like it. You hadn’t meant to upset him. Hadn’t meant to cause such a scene or aggravate the man. And you certainly didn’t do it on purpose.

Sometimes Harry gets like this. After a particularly hard and stressful week. He slips into his domspace and God rest the souls that bear witness to it. 

Tonight for example. Your poor waiter had made the mistake of smiling at you. Perhaps longer than he should. And yes, you’d smiled back. Because you’re polite, and you had no reason not to.

And normally, Harry doesn’t mind. Half the time, he doesn’t even notice. He’s only ever looking at you.

This time was different.

He caught the impish grin and had lost his last shred of patience. He’d threatened to go over and throw the poor lad out onto the streets. Knock his teeth down his throat and at the very least, make sure he was fucking fired.

You’d just barely managed to drag him back down into his seat before he could. Although he did send daggers toward the man to keep him from returning.

But at the cost of his violence, a new idea was born.

He’d taken hold of your hips and swung you over onto his thigh. In the middle of the crowded restaurant, with wandering eyes all around, he ripped your panties to the side and hissed, “Why don’t you show him who you really fucking belong to?”

Your pussy was dragged over his leg still covered by his nice dress slacks, instantly ruining them. Over and over and over he forced you to grind against his lap, unaffected by the wild stares and gasps of horror from everyone in the room.

You’d tried to calm him down, convince him that there wasn’t anything for him to be upset about.

But he'd merely shot you a stern look of warning and you instantly began to thrust yourself against his thigh.

And one orgasm wasn’t enough. Because it never is, and he insisted you continue until he felt you were through.

So, you did.

Now, soft whimpers are lost beneath the gentle jazz music around the room. Much louder since the restaurant has grown eerily quiet.

Everyone is watching. Nobody is moving. The poor waiter is cowering in the corner. 

This is Harry’s game. And they all know it.

“Daddy,” you mewl, arms snaking around his neck as the pleasure begins to unfurl. You hadn’t expected to be so enamored by this little display, but the wet patch on his trousers proves otherwise. “Shit…please—”

“Keep going,” he growls, large hands curled around the armrest of his chair. Refusing to touch you unless it’s as punishment. “Now, mama.”

You do. Roll your cunt over his leg quickly, gasping and crying out as your over abused clit is stimulated by the rough fabric on his lap.

“Harry,” you try again, but he merely presses his cheek to yours and practically bares his teeth.

“Shut up.” It’s the same tone of voice he only reserves for the dangerous life he lives. Everyday criminals before he executes them. Never for you. “Dirty little attention whores don’t get to make demands, do they?”

Your head shakes fervently as you continue your rhythm, closer to your second orgasm than ever before. The coarse hairs of his mustache dragging across your cheek until you shiver.

“No,” he agrees coldly before his eyes drift to the waiter a few feet away. “Looks like your boyfriend misses you.”

You sniffle, grabbing onto him tighter. “Stop. S’not my boyfriend, Daddy, you know it. You’re being mean—”

“Mean?” He nearly barks the word until you jump. “You think I’m fucking mean, do you? When you were such a goddamn slut, you had to give it up for the first man that walked up to our table, hm?”

And the insults and insinuations shouldn’t rile you up the way they do, but you’re being thrown into the endlessly abyss of pleasure before you can fight it. Crying out as you soak his thigh once again and cling onto him for dear life. 

The restaurant stills. A certain dangerous calm settling over the patrons and staff as everyone looks to Harry for his next move.

It takes him quite a while to finally speak, chest heaving beneath you as he struggles to contain his rage. 

You imagine he’s going to demand you go again, but you press your lips to his ear before he can and whimper, “Please, Daddy. Wanna go home. Don’t want them to watch me anymore. Don’t want them to see me. Just want you. Only you, Daddy, please.”

You know it’s the only thing that might reach him when he’s in this headspace. The only thing that can get him out of this room and into the car so you can take him home.

And bring him back.

You release the deepest exhale when he finally nods once and wraps an arm around your back to help you off his lap.

But the minute he stands, he’s grabbing onto the steak knife and slamming it down into the table, puncturing the wood beneath as he stares at the man across the room.

“You fucking look at her again,” he seethes, “and this goes in your fucking heart.”

With that, Harry grabs your hand, and leads you out of the restaurant.

Leaving the scared-shitless waiter behind.

@acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virginvirgo @pagesfalling @creativelyeva @char112244 @snwells

[theunbearableweightofpedropascal]

Angel Pt.3

Charlie Swan x f!reader

A/N: This was in the drafts a loooooong time and I'm so sorry for that!

Summary: You and Charlie have a weekend away in Seattle.

Warnings: (smut, blowjob, p in v, cunnilingus, overall nastiness and degeneracy)

Word Count: 7.1k

Helen had become a little more than a coworker to you. She was one of the only people who kept her opinion of you and Charlie’s age gap to herself. If you had to guess you figured she didn’t really care, probably because she has a life. Either way, it was a nice change of pace from the judgemental stares you got around town. Though if you were with Charlie they somehow turned into smiles.

At first, you two tried your best to keep things between you two, and Helen. Date nights were usually in Port Angeles on weeknights to minimize run-ins. The only place in town you two would go to was the diner, and even the folks of Forks had deemed that to be insufficient evidence. All good things come to an end though, the pair of you were caught when Charlie got a little handsy while walking you to your door. 

For some reason, your nosey neighbor Miss Daphne had to choose that moment to go ‘check’ her mail. You had the sneaking suspicion she saw Charlie’s cruiser and decided to spy on you herself. After all, she was the same nosey bitch that ratted you out to your parents for sneaking out to go party on the rez. The scandalized gasp that left her mouth was exaggerated but it did do the job of separating you and Charlie. 

There was no denying what you two were when he had your red lipstick smeared all over his mouth. She spared no time spreading that gossip like wildfire. Your mother came to tell you the ridiculous rumor she heard and you had to tell her you were dating the Chief of Police. For 3 months. She very obviously didn’t approve however she never said that directly to you. 

Tension was thick in your house and Charlie wanted you to come over so he could cook you dinner. He said Bella was going out with Edward and his family. Of course it was steak, potatoes, and green beans but it really was good. After dinner you made Charlie sit down while you did the dishes. 

When you joined him on the couch his attention was no longer on the game. His hand inched its way up your thigh and brought his lips down to your neck. You called out his name like you were out of breath and he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. Turns out the Chief of Police was so grumpy because of pent-up energy. His mustache tickling your neck was the last straw before you turned your head to meet his lips. 

Charlie’s tongue parted your lips to explore your mouth. You tilted your head wanting to feel all of him. His body caged you and he used his weight to pin you down. It took no time for your legs to part and give him easy access, and he followed your lead and pressed his crotch into yours. Once he heard you making those pretty sounds he began to unbutton your shorts. 

Of all the times for Bella to get in a fight with Edward and come home early, now is the most inconvenient. When she burst through the door there was no time to cover up what you two were doing, but the 17-year-old already caught her dad dry-humping his girlfriend on the couch. The countless strings of “Oh my God” all the way to her bedroom followed by a slammed door told you everything. Needless to say, the mood was ruined but you stayed until the end of the game. 

On the way back to your house Charlie had told you he was stealing you away for a weekend of no interruptions. You appreciate the gesture and move your hand to rub the back of his neck as he drives. The heavy sigh that leaves his mouth at your petting lets you know it’s working.

You figured he was thinking of taking you up to a bed and breakfast in Port Angeles. 

“As long as I get to spend time with you.” Your offhand comment had his tummy fluttering like he was 16 again. He could feel the three words sitting in his throat. Not wanting to make the same mistakes twice, he decides to swallow them down in favor of taking things slow with you.

He never quite mastered how to be sentimental, Charlie dreaded having those kinds of conversations. 

“You know I care for you right?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I know I can be a bit standoffish.” 

“I would much rather be with someone who says they love me through their actions. Too many people talk a big game.” You hate how much Charlie seemingly doubts himself in his relationships. No doubt it was because of Bella’s mother. 

Everyone heard about what happened, they married just as quickly as they divorced. The fact that she did it while his parents were ailing was just another nasty nail in the coffin. From the corner of your eye, you see Charlie turn his head your way, your words touch him. 

The familiar street lined with houses you’ve passed a million times comes quicker than you’d like. When Charlie puts the cruiser in park neither of you move to get out. You turn your body to look at him while still playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. 

“Do you think we scarred Bella for life?” You figured she knew about you two but to see it live was a different story.

“Oh please, I’m sure she and Edward,” Charlie drags his name with an eye roll before continuing, “have gotten up to much worse at his house.” 

His disdain for his daughter's first boyfriend is not only funny but somewhat ironic. Although it’s a little immature you understand why he’s so protective of his only daughter.

“What should I pack for this getaway?” Before he can give you a bullshit answer you raise your finger and emphasize, “Don’t tell me anything is fine because it’s not.”

Charlie folds his lips into his mouth to stop himself from smiling. To him, it doesn’t matter he wouldn’t complain about seeing you in anything. 

“Alright, one fancy outfit for dinner, a couple casual outfits, a swimsuit, and comfortable shoes. Everything else is up to your discretion.” His guide was simple enough but the swimsuit part caught you off guard. 

“See how easy that was?” You tease him.

“Mhm looks like it’s past your curfew.” Charlie’s line of vision leads to your lit porch. The window next to the front door has a visible split in the blinds, presumably by your mother. 

“Goodnight.” You turn to face Charlie.

“Night baby.” He gives you a quick peck on the lips before you head towards your house. 

The blinds quickly go back in place as you near the front door and your mother opens the door for you to come in. But not before she waves at Charlie. You step through the threshold and have no idea what to expect.

“Looks like you two are getting serious huh?” As well as you know your mother she doesn’t give anything away. 

“It’s getting there.” The two of you stand in front of each other in the low light of the foyer.

“Do you really see a future with him?” The air around you becomes thick at her apparent disapproval. “Honey, I just want what’s best for you and I don’t think it’s with a man almost as old as your father.”

“Thinking and worrying about my future is what got me here. Constantly trying to live up to everyone else’s expectations of me was suffocating.” Your voice becomes hostile in defense of Charlie.

“And you think running around town with Charlie Swan of all people is gonna help?” This conversation is slowly eviscerating any contentment you were feeling with Charlie. 

“I have no idea but he’s the only person that doesn’t make me feel like a disappointment.” Though your parents said they would always support you, you know they had higher aspirations for you. “I’m gonna head to bed.” Your teary eyes were aimed at the house slippers your mom had on. 

With no response, you turn to make your way to your room leaving her at the bottom of the steps. All the progress you thought you’d made these past months feels futile. Even worse, your mother is probably right, there isn’t a future between you and Charlie. Everyone else sees it but you two. 

Pulling your suitcase down you try to focus on the present and enjoy what you two have. Soon enough your mood picks up when you mentally go through the packing list Charlie gave you. The trip wasn’t for another couple days but excitement around a weekend getaway had your suitcase sitting in the corner with your travel outfit laid on top. 

………

There aren’t many times you’ve woken up happy, but the morning of your trip was the exception to that rule. You woke before your alarm was set to go off if only for five minutes. While checking your phone you see two messages from Charlie.

Remember we leave at 5:30 sharp! - 4:55 am

I mean it. - 5:00 am

Lucky for him your excitement is aiding in your punctuality. 

Sir yes, sir! 5:30 sharp. - 5:03

You laughed at your joke before pulling on leggings and a tank top. In your bathroom, you wash your face to get you alert. After you brush your teeth you pack the rest of your essentials into your suitcase and zip it up. With everything put up, you double-check you aren’t missing anything important. 

Your black zip-up hoodie lays on the edge of your bed before you put it on and take care of your hair. The familiar sound of your ringtone fills the silence in your bedroom and you flip it open to see Charlie’s name across the screen. 

“Hello Sergeant,” You greet him in a frigid voice and you can feel the eye-roll through the phone. 

“At ease soldier, I’m down the street and I’m praying you’re ready to go.” You can hear the desperation in his voice.

“You’ll be happy to know that I am ready.”  Although he can’t see, you smile from ear to ear. 

He tries to mumble but you hear the “Thank God” through the phone. With the roll of your eyes, you snap your phone shut and begin lugging your suitcase downstairs. At the bottom, you see a dim light from the kitchen and you have a feeling it's your mother. She pokes her head out to see you and surprises you by approaching. 

“Leaving already?” She takes a sip of coffee while keeping her eyes on you.

“Yeah, Charlie’s down the street.” Awkward isn’t a deep enough word to describe how this interaction feels. 

“Well have fun,” She wants to say something else so you pretend to be busy yourself to make it easier. “Maybe Charlie could come over for dinner sometime.” 

The subtle longing in her eyes tells you she doesn’t like the way last night's conversation went more than you do. This is her way of extending an olive branch and you eagerly take it. 

“That sounds nice-” A heavy knock sounds at the door and you quickly hug your mother before answering. 

Charlie smiles down at you before seeing your mother standing a few feet away. He clears his throat and steps inside your foyer. 

“Morning Stef,” Your mother nods with a small smile in return. “These your only bags?” He flicks his head at your suitcase and purse.

You tell him yes and watch as he slings your purse over his shoulder then grabs your suitcase to take to his car. You glance back one last time to smile at your mom before heading out the door. Charlie’s already at the passenger door waiting for you to climb in. As always you thank him with that pretty smile and he feels heat pool in his belly. You relax in your seat while he begins pulling back out onto the street. 

“If we were going to Port Angeles why’d we have to get up so early?” It was only about an hour away so you were confused about why leaving early is so important. 

“We’re not going to Port Angeles,” Charlie’s words confuse you more but he doesn’t elaborate.

No matter how much you glare at the side of his handsome face he doesn’t pay you any mind. All he does is place his right hand on the inside of your thigh. 

……….

At this point, you’ve been in the car for over two hours and you’re getting antsy. The radio’s boring, Charlie isn’t talking, and your book is in the trunk with your bags. Just as you’re about to bug him about how much longer you see the familiar port booths. He’s taking you to Seattle for the weekend. 

The gasp that leaves your lips gives you away and he finally looks over at you with a smile. He puts the car in park before getting out to get the bags, and you focus on stretching your legs. When he approaches with all the bags you wrap your arms around his neck to pepper kisses all over his face. As annoyed as he acts, Charlie finds your affection refreshing and he pats your butt. 

“Baby we gotta get on the boat.” His reminder warms your cheeks and you remember you’re in public. 

With one more kiss you take your purse since Charlie insists on rolling the suitcases. He makes sure to dig out the ticket from his jacket pocket while the two of you are in line. The moment you two are through boarding you grab onto his bicep like it’s a life-vest.

“You know I would’ve had fun in a bed & breakfast but this is so much better, Char.” The excitement rolls off of you in waves that reach Charlie.

A large smile and a kiss on the forehead is all he replies with. In his mind, he pats himself on the back for making you this happy. The place he booked with is one of the fancy five-star hotels that you barely want to leave. He couldn’t wait to see your face when you saw it. 

The whole ferry ride you stayed inside, unwilling to risk getting a cold from the whipping winds outside. Ultimately you end up reading the book in your purse when Charlie falls asleep ten minutes into the journey. It was only a thirty-minute ferry. 

…………..

The familiar sounds of horns and commotion floated to your ears the second you stepped off the boat. Refreshing as it is to hear you can’t say you miss it too much. Charlie guides you along with him when he picks up your bags, the smile on your face is unmatched. 

“The hotel is a few blocks from here if you don’t mind walking.” He pulls out a marked-up map and you can’t help the giggle that comes out. 

“Sounds good to me.” You quickly take the handle of your suitcase before Charlie tries to lug both. 

He fixes you with a look but tells you the direction you’re heading in. His red flannel suits him , especially today, and all you can do is visually follow his lead. The mumbles piling out of his mouth don’t register to you. After almost a full mile a fancy hotel pops up to your right and you’re in awe. The bottom level is decked out in glass and cars come up to a valet. 

“That’s us,” Your head swivels in his direction quickly at his omission. 

Warm air engulfs you when you walk in the revolving glass doors of the main lobby. The white marble tile reflecting the crystal chandeliers makes it brighter despite the time of year. Once you arrive at the desk Charlie handles logistics and your turn around to take in your surroundings. 

Velvet couches and flowers permeate the area, not that you mind. It somehow reminds you of your grandmother's living room. Suddenly a room key appears in your vision and you realize it’s yours. 

“I got us a suite.” The way you look at him makes his heart beat out of his chest. 

“Lead the way, Sergeant.” Your low voice excites him and he almost forgets you’re in the lobby. Instead, he nods his head in the direction of the special elevators before taking off. 

He places his keycard into the slot and he hears the elevator making its way down. As the door opened he let out a sigh of relief since you two would be the only ones in it. 

“How long have you had this planned?” You snuggle up next to him in the elevator after it takes off. 

“A few weeks, certain events sped up the process though.” He’s glad that you’re enjoying yourself so far, that’s all he wants.

The short walk from the elevator has your heart pounding, this is the first trip you two are taking as a couple. You were nervous. Charlie slid the key into the slot and opened the door to a mini apartment. The living room was in view from the door and you walked further into the room abandoning your suitcase. 

You noted the hotel art and standard desktop before making your way into the bedroom. A king bed awaited you with a breathtaking view of the city. The skyline would come to life in a few hours but it was still beautiful to see. Arms wrapped themselves around your waist while you were still looking out the window. 

“That’s not all you know.” His voice next to your ear sends a shiver down your spine but you follow him out onto a balcony. As if the suite couldn’t get better there’s a hot tub on the deck and you realize why he told you to pack a swimsuit. 

While you’re taking in the scenery Charlie sets up the hot tub for use. Since it’s still early morning wind is nipping at your skin but it could be worse. The moment you hear the thrum of the mechanics come to life, you give a sly smirk in his direction. 

You walk across the deck to get close to him before asking, “How long ‘til it’s ready?” 

“About twenty minutes.” He keeps his voice low while peering down at you with hunger. 

You waste no time before slanting your lips against his eagerly. His nose presses against yours before he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. Your tongue licks into his mouth and the groan that leaves his lips is sinful. Even though you don’t want to, you pull away. 

“I should change.” You rub your hands down his chest before hurrying inside with a massive smile. 

Your suitcase sits at the entrance and you quickly grab it and head into the bathroom to touch up. Quickly, you strip out of your road trip clothes and begin to raffle through your suitcase for your two-piece. A white, minuscule bikini finds its way into your eyesight and you waste no time putting it on. 

You place your hair up in a clip before walking back out with your suitcase beside you. Charlie is on the phone in the living room and you place one of the complementary robes on you. When you join him in the living room you realize he’s ordering food so you take a seat on the couch. 

Only now do you grasp that you haven’t eaten a proper meal yet. 

Charlie’s back faces you and all you can think about is the expanse of his shoulders stretching the material of his flannel.  You’re so distracted you don’t realize he’s hanging the phone on the hook before turning to you. He states that room service should be here soon and that he’s going to get changed. 

In the meantime, you retrieve your book from your purse and return to the couch with your legs tucked. The intricacies of your murder mystery keep you so occupied you lose track of time until a knock sounds at the door. When you look through the peephole a uniformed man is standing next to a cart. 

You let him in and he leaves a huge platter of breakfast stuff and a bottle of champagne in his wake. Fruits, omelets, and bacon fill your nose with their specific scent. The grumbling in your stomach starts and you see Charlie coming out of the bathroom. Suddenly your hunger is momentarily forgotten when you see his robe fully open with swim trunks as his only article of clothing. 

“That was quick,” He immediately transfers the food from the cart to the table in front of the couch for easier access. 

The food didn’t stand a chance and not even five minutes later the two of you ate everything edible. Charlie rocks forward to stand up and heads back over to the cart to gather the glasses and champagne. 

“You ready?” An uncharacteristic wide grin stretches his face and you mirror one back before getting up to follow him. 

“This view is amazing Charlie.” You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in the back of his fluffy robe. He moves to place the glasses and bottle on the table next to the hot tub before turning in your arms. 

“Anything for you Angel.” His lips are next to your ear and you playfully push him back. 

“Alright, I need to get in the water before my toes freeze.” You wiggle your toes for dramatic effect. 

He takes the cover off and steam rises through the air as the water bubbles furiously. He rolls up his sleeve to check the temperature of the water. The moment Charlie shrugs off his robe to go in you zero in on his form, for a man his age he’s in exceptional shape. He sits back carefully in front of the jets before letting out a groan of satisfaction. While he stretches his arms he raises an eyebrow at your clothed body. 

Wasting no time you untie your robe and leave it on the patio chair before tip-toeing your way to the steps. The heat of Charlie's gaze sears into you, his eyes lock onto the barely-there material clinging to your body.  He feels the blood rushing below his waist but he can’t stop looking at the small triangle top and your hard nipples. The thong bottoms aren’t much better either. 

“Jesus,” You smile in satisfaction at how he’s openly gaping at you. Mission accomplished. 

“So you like it?” You play coy while wading over to where he sits. 

“A little too much I think.” He places his hands on your hips, gently rubbing his thumb on the skinny string wrapping along your side. You lift your knee onto the bench lining the hot tub to straddle Charlie’s lap. Your nails find themselves running over the hair along his chest. 

“I hoped you would.” Your voice turns to a husky whisper as you look into his dark eyes. 

His blunt nails dig into your hips and revel in the effect you have on him. This time he brings his lips to yours, slowly savoring your lips on him. Usually, when the two of you are together you don’t have uninterrupted privacy, and damn if he doesn’t make the most of it. Nothing is on your mind besides the feel of his body against yours. 

Your hands find themselves running down his chest and past his happy trail to dip into his swim trunks. After feeling your hands grip him the languid kiss turns heavy fast. His mustache tickles  your upper lip while you stroke him underwater. You feel him take slight pauses in your kiss to take small but deep breaths.

His hands move up from your hips to untie the back of your bikini sending a flutter through you. The string tied around your neck barely stays together so he flings it to the side. Charlie’s hands squeeze your breasts before lightly pinching your nipples causing an involuntary buck of your hips. 

His swim trunks do very little to hide how much he’s working with. You take advantage of the thin material and slightly rock your hips over him. A hiss leaves your mouth at how good dragging yourself along his cock feels. You arch your back, pushing your breasts further into his golden touch. The kiss is sloppier than ever but your mind only focuses on maintaining your movements. 

“Sit on the edge.” Charlie’s lust-filled eyes stare back at you as he pulls away. He stands you up, a pronounced tent is now poking at your stomach. The cold air bites at your hips so he slides your bottoms down until you can safely step out of them. Wind combs over your body yet you don’t feel a chill.

Thankfully the two of you were high enough up that most people wouldn’t see anything. The balcony railing was a solid gray that stood over five feet so Charlie wasn’t worried about anyone witnessing. You lean against the railing as he spreads your knees apart. This time you at least trimmed the edges of your bush but mostly kept it intact.

Charlie immediately goes to kiss his way up your thighs, but you need more. You feel squeamish from the way he works himself up your body. Patience was never a virtue you possessed.

“Baby please,” The desperation in your voice is prevalent and Charlie understands. 

The backs of your knees are supported with his hands while he licks at your folds. The moment his lips circle your clit you waste no time arching your back to meet him for more. He looks up at you for his favorite sight, and he isn’t disappointed. Your head is thrown back, and your knuckles white from gripping the tub’s edge.  

Charlie’s dark eyes are fixated on you, there’s nothing decent about the way he’s mouthing your cunt. He sees the rapid rise and fall of your beautiful chest and he wishes he could suck on your pretty tits. Your jaw remains dropped at the way he skillfully pulls any noise out of you. Your hands find themselves tangled in his hair while your hips continuously buck into his mouth. 

Charlie takes it all in stride knowing that he’s the one making you lose control. His lower face is wet with your essence and he wouldn’t have it any other way. The railing behind you works to hold your body up while your spine turns to jelly. His tongue circles around your clit once and you know you’re done for. Heat spreads across your body through your core. 

There is no better feeling than your thighs clamping around his head. Sadly you loosen your hands from his hair so he eases himself off of you. Charlie begins to help you stand, the warm water only makes your pilant body want to rest. Suddenly you’re swept off your feet by Charlie and he takes you to the bathroom. He seats you on the toilet before running to go back out to the balcony, seemingly to turn off the hot tub and retrieve your bikini. 

When he steps back in the bathroom he has a glass of water for you and he goes to turn on the shower. You gulp down the water not realizing how much of your energy was depleted. 

“Thank you Char,” You huff out with drops of water falling from each side of your mouth. 

Charlie doesn’t say anything except rubbing his thumb along your cheek with a small smile. 

“Come on, let's get you in the shower.” You place your empty glass on the counter and make your way inside the steamy glass shower. You notice Charlie isn’t following you. 

“You’re not coming in with me?” Your question has him pausing at the doorway. “Please Charlie, what if I slip and fall?” 

With a roll of his eyes, he turns around and drops his trunks on the floor before joining you. “Better?” His lips nibble on the top of your ear as he drags his hands down your body. 

“Mhmm,” The hot water cascades down the front of you while Charlie stands behind you feeling you up. His hands squeeze and massage your tits while he kisses your neck. 

As much as you love the way he’s making you feel, you turn around and gently push him towards the back wall. Slowly you drop to your knees while gripping his thighs for stability. The moment you look up at him through your lashes you can see the way his chest heaves. His cock is hard and aching as evidenced by the pre-cum dripping from his red tip. 

You lick it away and see Charlie’s fisted knuckles turn white from anticipation. Deciding to take the high road, you suck his tip into your warm mouth and let your tongue flick around him. His sharp intake of breath assures you he wants more. You purposefully circle your tongue down his shaft, making sure to twist your head each time you go down further. 

His hips gently rock into your sinful mouth, loving the way you so eagerly take him. 

“Feel so good Angel,” His whiny voice only spur you on to take him deeper until your nose is nuzzled in his pubic hair. Immediately you feel his hands tangle in your hair while steadily pumping into your mouth.

You push against his thighs for a break and watch the string of spit coming from your mouth connect to his tip. After a deep breath you go back for more despite the tears in your eyes. His hands welcome you once again as you bob your head over his length. Your mouth is so full you feel him twitch. 

His low grunts turn into huffs of air. All you can see when you look up at him is his Adam’s apple bobbing. The state of him only spurs you on and you hollow out your cheeks. A surprised gasp is the only warning you get before his load shoots down your throat in spurts. You ease off of him and feel the last of his cum on your lips before licking it off. 

Once again Charlie stands you up and kisses you, the both of you can taste the remnants of each other on your lips. A quick clean-up is all either of you has energy for before drying off and taking a long-awaited nap on the bed. 

…………….

Upon waking up, you remember the bottle of champagne still hadn’t been used. You grab your robe and quickly bring it back in before fetching some ice from the vending machine. By the time you make it back to the room, you see Charlie half awake and sprawled all over your side of the bed. 

Instead of forcing him to move you discard your robe before laying over him. 

“So what’s next?” Your arms are crossed and you lay your head in the crook of your elbow. 

“Jesus woman,” A heavy sigh leaves Charlie’s lips while he pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I could get five more minutes of sleep, I thought we could do some exploring before dinner.” 

“And by five minutes you mean another hour?” You side-eye him knowing you’d be on your own for a while. 

“You know me so well baby.” With that, he shut his eyes and you get off of him to put on some lounge clothes. 

Since you were left to your own devices you don’t see a problem drinking the champagne by yourself. With your sweatsuit on you dig in your bag to find your iPod and headphones before heading out with the champagne. 

Stepping back out onto the balcony it wasn’t as chilly as before, probably because you have on actual clothes. The traffic noise from below was now drowned out by Britney Spears. You put your knowledge of opening champagne to use and it doesn’t turn out bad, since you weren’t injured. 

While sipping from the bottle you took in the way the slight sunlight hit the bay and illuminated the dark waters. At the same time when you turn your head to the right you have a solid view of the famous skyline. Charlie booked a place with the best of both worlds. But you found yourself drawn to the streets below, trying to see what places you’d end up dragging Charlie into. 

…………..

Charlie rouses from his nap and checks the room to find you. He gets up to put on his sweatpants so he can check outside. A smile cracks his face when he finds you sprawled out on the lawn chair, with an empty champagne bottle next to you. 

Although he had plans to go sightseeing with you before dinner, it looked like you two would lounge until then. He transfers you over to bed before getting in with you. The TV had a few movies for rent so Charlie picked action for him and a rom-com for you. 

“What time is it?” You don’t move from the comfortable position Charlie must’ve placed you in. 

“Almost time for me to call Bella.” He has his reading glasses on as he sits against the headboard.

“What are you watching?” You slide to his side and prop your leg over his.

“That Impossible movie I missed.” 

“You mean Mission Impossible?” You barely finish asking the question before you’re laughing.

You know what I mean, that’s what matters.” He grumbles at you and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. 

He’s not wrong so you lay your head on his chest, rubbing on his belly. 

……………

The steakhouse Charlie made reservations for is dimmer than outside. Polished wood glistens off the lanterns scattered around the place. It had been so long since you saw this many tables in one restaurant. Even though there is an indiscernible amount of tables, the noise is subdued. And the cherry on top of the sundae is that you and Charlie don’t have to play coy tonight. 

“I didn’t think you owned a suit.” Your thumb rubbed up and down his jacket in amazement. 

“I own a tux too, I just haven’t had good enough reasons to wear 'em’.” Charlie winks at you.

Your hostess starts the path to your table which seems situated in the back. To your surprise she’s led you into a private room for two with sliding doors. “Enjoy your meal.” 

“If you keep this up you’ll never get rid of me.” He wasn’t getting rid of you either way. 

“Why would I want that Angel?” He heads to your chair pulling it out. 

“You do have it pretty good huh?” You narrow your eyes playfully at him as you sit down. 

“Better than pretty good.” At his words your thighs clench. It hadn’t been five minutes in and you were ready for him again.

Charlie rounds the table while you pluck through the menu but one question stays on your mind. “How’d you do all this?” 

“Talked with a travel agent and she helped me with all this.” He pauses before asking you, “Do you like everything so far?” 

“I love it, it’s almost too much. Almost.” A smile cracks Charlie’s face as he listens to you. 

He wanted the whole weekend to be special because you deserve it. He knows the gossip that circles Forks bothers you, hell it bothers him too. Some people believe the only reason he’s with you is for his mid-life crisis. 

“I uh,” He clears his throat and reaches over the table for your hand. “I want this to be special for you.”

It feels like he has more to say so you place your attention solely on him. 

“Angel, I love you and maybe I’m jumping the gun here-” Charlie’s would-be rant is interrupted by you leaning over the table to kiss him. His mustache tickles your top lip and you can’t help but giggle. 

“I love you, Sargent.” A breathless whisper leaves your lips. 

“Should I come back later?” Your waiter is parked in the entrance of your private room. 

“No, we’re ready.” You wipe some lipstick off your date’s mouth before sitting down.

Although you thought you were prepared to enjoy whatever time you could get with Charlie, you know better. The fact that he did all this almost made your eyes water. There’s no one you could see yourself happier with, and you don’t care how short-sided that sounds.

Dinner sails by and it feels like you two are in a different world. It feels like only a few minutes between each course. For the first time in what feels like forever, Charlie feels that familiar ball of warmth settling in his stomach. He could listen to you complain about The Notebook all night. 

…………..

The ladies at reception smile at your boyfriend carrying you through the lobby. Heat fills your face even though you begged him to do it. You thought it would be nice to walk back but he knew better. Of course you didn’t listen and Charlie has had you in his arms for over fifteen minutes. Not that he’s complaining, too much. 

In the room, you head straight to the shower and he moves over to the bed. Football highlights are heard over the water pouring down in your shower. You want to roll your eyes but the familiarity makes you giddy. Not only did he surprise you with the best romantic getaway, he told you he loves you. 

Charlie watches you exit the bathroom and head straight for your suitcase, picking through it. Once you find whatever you’re looking for you slip right back into the bathroom. 

The emerald green lingerie you packed for this trip is simple. All the extra snaps and zippers would only annoy Charlie, instead you chose a see-through lace panty and bra. In the mirror, you put Vaseline on your lips and finish up with mascara. The perfume you brought has been sprayed and is settling on your skin. You play with your hair before deciding to rejoin Charlie in the other room. 

He is perched on the ottoman in front of your bed, jacket off and his tie hanging loosely. Sports commentary once again playing on the TV while you approach him. You sit on his lap instantly garnering his attention. 

“What’s this?” He takes advantage of your current position to trail kisses along the nape of your neck. Your answer turns into a moan when you feel Charlie’s thumb circling your clit through your lace. “You make it so hard for me to keep my hands off you.”

While he continues his torturously slow pace over your clit, he dips in your bra to roll your nipple between his fingers. Saliva pools in your mouth as he works your body like a well-tuned instrument. Your nails dig into his dress pants while your hips slowly grind into his growing bulge. Nothing pleases him more than watching you writhe in pleasure.

Charlie slides his fingers into your panties to rub your wet folds. Once his fingers become wet enough, he rubs them against your entrance. Quick airy breaths leave your mouth in time with his pace. He brings his fingers back to your bundle of nerves, fastening his rhythm.  

“Such a good girl for me,” Furiously you nod your head at his statement, unable to form the words to reply. “My beautiful Angel.” A shiver runs down your spine from his words. 

Sinful doesn’t describe the sounds filling the bedroom. A coil of tension makes itself tighter and tighter in your belly. Your pussy clenches over nothing, trying to alleviate some of the pressure. White washes over your vision when the coil finally snaps. Your mouth is open but you know there’s no sound leaving it. 

You deflate against Charlie trying to catch your breath. His rough hands caress your shoulder, letting his thumbs knead into your shoulders. “C’mon,” His lips peck your cheek as he eases you up and toward the bed. 

The moment your back hits the mattress you feel your panties coming off. Cold air hits your wet core and you instinctively bring your knees together. Charlie is right there to spread them back apart, this time he replaces his finger with his mouth. He licks into you deliciously, the remnants of your orgasm making you more sensitive. 

Seconds, minutes, or hours have passed with his head buried between your legs before he surfaces. His mustache is covered in your arousal, and you taste yourself when he slants his wet lips over yours. Hastily, he undresses himself before sliding into your already-sopping cunt. Unlike other times, he’s in no rush. Deep, loving strokes have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

Your eyes lock on Charlie’s as he’s burying himself in you. Neither of you can look away from each other. A warm fuzziness rests in your lower stomach. Even your breathing matches his and the weight of his chest against yours brings comfort. When he comes in you, proclamations of love pour out of his mouth into yours. 

……………

The rest of your trip consists of sex, eating, and sightseeing. By the time you’re packing to leave Seattle the smile on your face gets brighter every time you look at Charlie. 

“We should go out more, Helen was telling me about a pastry shop opening up in Port Angeles.” Your bright mood easily transfers to Charlie when he looks at you.

“As long as they have blueberry pie.” He throws over his shoulder while inspecting the hotel room for missing items. 

“Alright,” A loud clap follows his declaration. “Time to hit the road.”

A frown covers your face even though you know you can’t stay forever. Hair prickles your forehead before you feel his lips kiss it. “We’ll be back and we have to be back in time to pick up Bella.”

“Doesn’t Bella catch a ride from her boyfriend?” You follow him out the door toward the elevators.

“As if she doesn’t spend enough time with him.” His grumpy old man voice is back and the elevator is filled with your laughter.

“She’s a teenage girl with her first boyfriend, I’m surprised she still sees you at all.” You bump into his side with your elbow.

“I just don’t wanna lose her again.” This kid of vulnerability was becoming normal with Charlie.

“You won’t,” Confidence fills your voice because you know that could never happen. You seal it with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

[starkeyisthelastname]

missing pornstar!rafe

well let me fix that. 😜

“That’s my nasty little whore, swallowing huge cock like she’s fuckin’ made for it.” Rafe spat down at you, camera flash blinding your vision as he held the phone right in your face. You were a freak, and loved showing off the fact the “pussy slayer” was all yours to fuck now. With a wink to the camera, you pulled back as you wrapped your hand around his fat length. “Damn right I am.” You smirked, lips swollen and covered in spit.

Rafe couldn’t help but let out a dark chuckle, a dirty smirk on that thick mustache that was still sticky with your pussy juice. His free hand yanked your head back roughly, keeping you in a firm grip as he forced you to look up at him. “Get on the fuckin’ bed.” He demanded in that low raspy voice that always made you tingle. It wasn’t like he needed to tell you though as he dragged you towards the bed himself, slapping your thighs apart with his left hand as the other still held the phone for a personal view for the fans.

It didn’t take long before you were a gasping, drooling, shuddering, mess full of huge dick. Your pretty eyes were rolled back, loud whines escaping your lips as he drove his hips into yours at a brutal pace. You were embarrassed that he could still leave you at a loss for words, nothing but pathetic babbles leaving your mouth. He always fucked you like a true whore, and you could never get enough of this man.

Rafe’s heavy breaths and low grunts could be heard behind the camera along with those dirty words that not only you got off on but that the fans loved. He held the phone tightly the lens capturing every filthy moment the two of you shared. “Can’t fucking talk now, huh? Well that’s too bad. Say my fucking name.” He rasped, giving you a light smack to your cheek. He of course still had a high ego, and the girl of his dreams was definitely going to be feeding into that. “Don’t make me repeat myself whore.” He nearly growled, a small warning as you knew he didn’t like to repeat himself more than once.

It was hard to speak with a thick monster ramming itself in and out of you, but with a small voice you made out the name of the man you loved and who ruined you for anyone else. “R-Rafe Cameron! Rafe Cameron!” You sobbed out, the fire in the pit of your stomach growing as your orgasm was going to hit hard.

He would run the camera along your body and up to your face, always loving to show off what was his and how he could destroy your hole each time. “Don’t ever forget it baby. My perfect little cock sleeve to fuckin’ ruin.” He laughed.

[nthspecialll]

Theories I do not believe in

The Trolley Theory

To those who do not know this theory, it is essencially that during the train station robbery in chapter 4 when they fleed on a trolley and crash, that the knock to Dutch's head made him crazy/made him worse. I do not believe in this theory.

Really the only evidence I have heard for this theory is "everything went wrong after that!" Exactly! Everything went wrong! Late chapter four is generally when a lot of this starts to fall apart, it is only like four missions before Banking an old American art and it is the time when the noose really begins to tighten around the gang's neck, putting Dutch under a lot os stress.

Pretty much after this mission nothing goes right, that just means the stress is getting worse while doubt is as well and Dutch is pushed more and more into Micah's arms while he is breaking more and more under pressure. I feel like the trolley theory is just a cheap excuse for something way more complicated.

Abigail is the second rat

The title pretty much explains it, that Abigail was a second rat other than Micah and it is almost so dumb that I don't want to explain why I don't believe in it. She would be putting her family in a lot of unnessesary danger, literally killing Hosea whom she saw a father figure?? Why would Ross hunt her and John down in rdr1 if he knows she is cooperative? And finally, they did not need a second rat. Arthur is very right when he says they have gotten sloppy, they are leaving traces everywhere.

Not to mention the only "evidence" of this theory is a comment Dutch made while suffering a mental health crisis and was not meant to be taken seriously but rather show how broken he was.

Uncle is red harlow

Red Harlow is a character is Rockstars earliest red dead game, red dead revolver, he has a lot of mysteriousness surrounding him similarly to how Uncle has a lot of mystery to him.

Very simply why I don't believe this, R* has confirmed that it is in another universe (though the red dead redemption universe has a story of red harlow), and the little we know about the two characters don't match up.

John isn't Jack's son

This theory comes from the fact that a lot of the gang members slept with Abigail before she slept with John and the fact that grown Jack has Javier's mustache. When did mustache styles become genetic? Just like question.

Also in rdr1 Jack can get mistaken for John about 10 times I believe, so yeah. It would also kind of ruin John's entire character arc.

Molly was pregnant

Some say this would explain why she was so desperate to talk to Dutch, but also in chapter 3 or 2 Molly literally says Dutch has not touched her in weeks, meaning if she was pregnant she would at least be somewhat showing in chapter 6 which was months later.

Hosea gave Arthur TB

This is a theory that Arthur did not get TB from Thomas Downes but rather Hosea whom we know to have a lung disease.

I think this would be something so massive to the story and have such a big impact that rockstar would at the very least hint at it, but they don't, it comes from just people researching TB and saying "technically it is possible!" Yeah, um great but Arthur literally says "I know I ruined you lives, I suffer for it every day" to Ms Downes, and "I got it beating a man" to sister.

I also believe that Hosea has lung cancer, but that is more of a personal belief than anything. My biggest issue with Hosea giving Arthur TB is that it is just too big to have gone unnoticed if it was the truth.

(Tags: @photo1030 @pinescent-and-gingerbread )