#the song that saves us is a call for help

[lazycats-stuff]

Don't know if or when your asks will be open, but how about Batfam x male reader, where Reader is sarcastic and somehow pisses off Jason. Then Jason and the rest of the brothers decide to get Reader stoned to see what would happen and how he would behave. Fast forward 5 hours and the entire Batfam and the Justice League are trying to save the Reader from the Legion of Doom, only to find the abandoned warehouse and every villain unconscious from exhaustion or whatever because of the Reader and the Reader (stoned out of his mind) just dancing with one of the major villains to the song Rasputin. Later, when they bring Reader back to the manor, Alfred just tears the brothers a new one while Reader is still doing the most random things like Sheldon Cooper on coffee.

Thought it would be funny, thank you

Okay, comedy is not my forte, but I'll do my best to make it funny. Also, yes it's been a while, but no one said college was easy.

Warnings: smoking weed, author knows nothing about weed and smoking, swearing, author sucks at comedy, Alfred is mad.

Summary: (Y/N) pisses Jason off, who decides to get revenge.

(Y/N) and Jason were always at odds. (Y/N) has always been a sarcastic person and sometimes it would grate Jason's nerves to no end. Everyone else were used to (Y/N) being sarcastic and sometimes that sarcasm was necessary, so it was nice to have a sarcastic person who was simply natural about it.

But Jason was in a bad mood that day and (Y/N)'s sarcasm was not welcome anywhere in his vicinity. But, since they live in the same house, they are bound to see each other. And soon enough they got into an argument. What was it about? None of them can even remember, but Jason can only remember the feeling of getting back at (Y/N).

So... With his other four brothers, they have devised a plan to get back at (Y/N).

And that is to get him stoned out of his mind and see what he does. Record anything embarrassing and use the for blackmail. Of course, Bruce and Alfred can't know anything about this. Otherwise there would be hell to pay.

Especially from Alfred.

But they weren't really worried about (Y/N). They have all been exposed to a lot of different things, so weed was the least of their worries. The only thing they needed to do was to make sure to stone him and make sure no one finds out. Now, the problem is how to get him stone, because (Y/N) won't take weed willingly and knowingly. So the sneakiness is the way to go.

And the four of them devised a plan.

It has been 5 hours. 5 fucking hours since (Y/N) was kidnapped by the Legion of Doom. Bruce was close to just losing his mind and/or ripping his hair out from the worry. He wasn't sure what he was going to do first. The four boys were slightly worried. (Y/N) was stoned and... Well, it was a lot. His cognitive abilities are dampened. Which is not good when you are kidnapped.

Especially if you are kidnapped by your enemies. No. Just no.

And then they got the lead and went to abandoned warehouse. Bruce called in the big guns. The entire Justice League was there to help him. And his four sons too. It was going to be all out. They do need their brother back. Especially since they stoned him and they could only hope that he would be fine.

" He's going to be fine, " Jason said as they were making their way to the warehouse.

Bruce thought he was talking in general. He had no clue that they stoned him. The other 3 brothers just glanced at each other, wondering if he was really going to be fine. If he is even alive. That would be a better point to start with. Is he even alive? Is he being tortured? Are they cutting up his body to send it back into pieces?

Who even knows what they are doing to (Y/N)?

Jason was slowly, but surely, starting to question himself and trying to push the guilt down.

If he hadn't stoned (Y/N)...

They surrounded the warehouse, ready for the worst. But the sight that greeted them was something that could be in a movie.

Villains strewn on the floor, not dead. Superman has said that they are all alive. Just unconscious. Their heartbeats were all slow. But this wasn't even the best part. (Y/N), clearly stoned, if not from the smell, then from the sight of him, dancing with Lex Luthor, the leader of the Legion, dancing to Rasputin. Lex was clearly stoned out of his mind too.

Now, Bruce was expecting the worst. But this is... This is something that you see in fiction, not reality. What the hell has happened here? Bruce had to many questions swirling in his mind, but the first one being how the fuck did (Y/N) get stoned. How the hell did (Y/N) get stoned?

There is no weed in the manor. He has a rule that no drugs are allowed in the house. None.

Bruce slowly approached (Y/N), just as Lex passed out from exhaustion. Oh, Bruce could smell the weed. He wrinkled his nose a bit, but slowly, with some coaxing, managed to get (Y/N) in the car. Superman, Wonder Woman, Cyborg and Flash, Aquaman had problems back home, loaded up the criminals for transport.

The villains weren't Bruce's problem at the moment. It was the fact that (Y/N) was high as a fucking kite. Maybe even higher. God only knows how high. But for now, they had to wait it out.

" What the hell were you 4 thinking?! Alfred will kill you 4! "

And turns out that Bruce was right. Alfred heard what happened to (Y/N) and to say he was livid would be a big understatement. A big one. At the moment, in the cave, Alfred was ripping them a new one.

" How could you all be so stupid to get him high?! He was never stoned in his life! "

" Alfr- " Jason started, but Alfred gave him a sharp look.

" DO NOT INTERUPT ME MASTER JASON! How could you think that it was a good revenge to get him high! What on earth went through your mind?! "

While Alfred was yelling, (Y/N)... (Y/N) was like Sheldon Copper on coffee. Jittery, couldn't stay still and was just a bundle of energy. Bruce was scared out of his mind. Sure, the man who weeds out terrorists, murderers and the rest, is afraid for his youngest son who was high as a fucking kite. Or even higher.

Again, God only knows how high they actually got him.

(Y/N) was mumbling, walking around the cave, restless and just unable to sit still. It was not a possibility. Bruce was trying not to get worried, but looking away for a split second and bam. (Y/N) was gone.

Now the panic has set in. Where is his son? Where the fuck is he?!

" Safe to say is that you 4 are grounded! How long, I am not sure, but lets make it clear, you'll be living in a prison! What you did was irresponsible and stupid! " Alfred continued, voice loud and clear, showing no signs of stopping down.

Bruce searched the entire cave and actually managed to find him. By this point, the effect seemed to have calmed down. (Y/N) was now calmer, munching on Oreos underneath a table. It seems that (Y/N) was calming down. Which was good. Soon enough, Bruce would put him to bed once he calms down a bit more.

" Alfred, the effect is wearing off, " Bruce declared to Alfred who calmed down a bit.

" Now, " Alfred's attention was back at the 4 boys, who were looking remorseful. His voice was now calm and collected. " You 4 are going to change, go upstairs, have dinner and go to your rooms. We'll talk more about your punishments in the morning, when we are all rested, I'm not mad and when (Y/N) is back from the heavens from how high he is. Up you all go. " He gestured with his hand and the 4 boys obeyed.

Morning came and (Y/N) came down. He was feeling dizzy, sleepy and clearly felt off in every sense of the word. Alfred gave him a light breakfast, trying to get some food in him. He didn't want (Y/N) to be hungry, especially not after being higher than a kite.

The others watched him, worried. They didn't mean it to go this far. Truly.

" Are you okay? " Jason asked quietly, making (Y/N) sigh.

" I swear, I will wrangle your fucking neck Jason. I swear to God. " (Y/N) rubbed his temples and Jason simply shut up after that.

Alfred didn't scold (Y/N) for the threat or for the language he has used. It was justified. (Y/N) wanting to snap his neck is a normal reaction after getting him high as a kite. Well, higher than a kite.

" Don't worry master (Y/N). You'll be back to your old self in a day or two. Don't stress yourself out, alright? "

(Y/N) nodded as he finished his plate and slowly moved to stand up, feeling off in every single sense of the word.

" Good, good. Slowly. " Alfred gently led him upstairs, where he tucked him into the bed to sleep. He also gave him a trashcan where he could throw up if he needed to.

" I would give you something to sleep, but I don't think that it is a good idea. Now, close your eyes and try to sleep.

Downstairs, Bruce was sitting with his other boys, a stern look on his face.

" I don't think I need to tell you that all 4 of you are grounded. For how long, that remains to be seen. This was stupid, reckless and for what? For revenge? Unfortunately, I won't know how he took down the Legion of Doom, because he has gaps in his memory. And I still can't believe he danced to Rasputin with Lex Luthor. You can all consider yourselves lucky that he's even alive. "

Oh, they were counting themselves lucky.

[ttjisung]

BUBBLE p. jisung

nct dream smau ₊˚⊹♡ in which park jisung has been your best friend since you can remember. as long as he can remember, he's been in love with you. aka jisung's intricate plan to to hide the fact that he has the world's hugest crush on his bff.

masterlist

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chapter two ₊˚⊹♡ (written + sm)

⋆｡˚ walking into the dark, sweaty room felt like whiplash for both you and jisung as he led you through the front door of seunghan’s house – you were never quite sure why he’d call it a dorm, maybe he’s one of those rich people that hate being called rich, the thought faded in your brain once you felt the familiar warmth of jisung’s hand intertwined with yours. 

passing by eunseok, the assigned bouncer, was fairly easy. it’s almost as if he was told to look for you, considering he rushed you past the large group of people waiting to be let in. 

now that you were at the party though, you began to regret accepting the invite. it’s not that you were a loser, you’d been to several parties before, it just honestly wasn’t your scene, jisung not far behind to agree as he shivered looking at the drunk people passed out on the couch. he hoped you didn’t want to drink too much, because he knew he’d be easily swayed to join you. 

luckily for jisung, you didn’t want to drink either, opting to pull him to the kitchen and raid seunghan’s pantry. 

jisung giggled behind you as you pulled him into the small closet, putting a finger on your lips to shush him. “look for anything sweet… i’ll look for drinks.” he nodded his head, standing straight and raising a hand to his temple in a salute. “ma’am, yes ma’am.” you dispersed as far as you could, yet your arms continued to touch as you searched for any snack of value. it didn’t take long before he was tapping on your shoulder, holding up two packs of strawberry pocky with a triumphant grin. mirroring the boy, you held up two cans of soda. you both celebrated with a little dance, bumping into each other so awkwardly that anyone would assume you were both drunk.

it wasn’t until you heard footsteps in the kitchen that you froze, jisung’s eyes widening in fear. sure, seunghan seemed laid back enough to not yell at you for stealing food, yet the whole situation would just be plain embarrassing. 

jisung held onto your shoulder, squeezing it lightly as a hidden signal. don’t move. you simply nodded, breathing lightly in panic when you heard voices outside. you recognized them – lee sohee, one of seunghan’s best friends, as well as park wonbin, his roommate. 

“man, that weed that haechan gave us was a bust. smoked like half of this and it didn’t do shit.” wonbin’s voice was muffled, yet you could imagine the pout on his face as he whined. “just leave it here. i think hannie picked some up anyway so let’s just go steal his.” sohee’s higher voice rang out as well, feet shuffling and slowly fading away, replaced by the bass of a random pop song playing in the living room. 

looking up at jisung who had also heard the interaction, your grin turned evil, the gears in your head turning. “n/n… i recognize that face. no.” “but ji! it’s the perfect opportunity… pleaseeee.” jisung was easily convinced by your tone, holding your hand in his as he dragged you out of the pantry and into the kitchen. 

it wasn’t hard to find the half-missing joint, the smell lingering that led you both to one of seunghan’s vases. there it stood, in all its glory, basically asking you to steal it.

you were quick to snatch it, dragging jisung along with you quickly as you both snuck out towards the back porch. both of you were giddy from the adrenaline, completely forgetting that you didn’t even own a lighter. a pink haired angel came to save the day as you saw giselle puffing on a shared cigarette with winter. “AERI! HELP!” both of you ran to the two, holding out the joint in your hand. “you can hit it if you let us borrow your light.” jisung made the offer, hoping it would convince the girl, and it was truly your lucky day as giselle laughed, handing it over. “i don’t want any, but just take this one. i have another in my car-” “oh my god, i could literally kiss you aeri.” your words were passionate, grateful for your friend. 

giselle was the only one who noticed the deep blush engulfing jisung at your mention of a kiss, smirking to herself before handing over her pink lighter. waving you two off, she took winter by the hand and headed towards her car for the replacement, leaving you two alone again.

“heh, i totally umm… smoke everyday, but like you should take the first hit to be honest, since i’m already a pro.” your voice was shaky, unconfident as you handed the joint to jisung who desperately shook his head, “i literally just hit like three blunts before i drove over to your place, so you start cause i’m already like… high.” jisung was squinting, avoiding eye contact as he pushed it in your direction once more. “do it ji.” “okay, fine.” he caved fairly quickly, placing the burnt side in his mouth before lighting the filter, frowning when it didn’t work.

“ji, you’re so silly. it’s like this.” you moved your hand towards his mouth, holding the joint between two fingers as you moved it around, placing the filtered edge on his lip instead. jisung’s blush grew at the physical contact, feeling uncomfortably warm out of nowhere. he didn’t have time to dwell on your actions, as you quickly turned the lighter on for him, leading it to the joint in between his lips. 

with an unconscious inhale, jisung’s lungs felt like they were collapsing at the harsh feeling of the smoke. obviously, he had never done this before, and neither had you. it wasn’t until he shakily breathed out that the cough subdued, and he quickly picked up the habit, taking three hits before passing it to you.

feeling bold, jisung replicated your previous actions, placing the joint in on your lips and lighting it for you, patting your back as you began to choke as well. once you both had adjusted, the rotation became easier. “how many hits should we do?” “let’s just finish it.” 

jisung felt giddy once again, the high hitting as he looked at your lips, seeing you inhale and exhale. he stared so hard he saw the slight shimmer of your spit on the end of the joint, smiling at the fact that you had shared more than one indirect kiss. the fuzzy feeling quickly escalated, and jisung swore he was floating in the sky as you fell onto your back in a laughing fit. 

the feeling intensified, the joint now small and unsmokable. the two of you were giggling, jisung jumping onto the ground to lay next to you. 

“we should go find gyu and the girls.” your words rang in jisung’s ear, who nodded without even understanding what you were saying. “orrr… we could walk to the toy store near here and look at what they have-” the male didn’t even let you finish your sentence before he was dragging you onto your feet, stumbling with you as you both inched your way towards your intended location.

a/n: i want a new house for my collection too 😞 once the taglist gets to ten people ill start adding it 🩷🩷🩷 :333

[lastbreathskyward]

the fact that the song of salvation is abbreviated to SOS and it calls upon the army of the doomstar aka the fans.....i can't think about this too much or i'll throw up

[ryeonah]

tag dump

[synonymroll648]

IF LORE UPDATES APPLIED TO PEOPLE I WOULDVE JUST GOTTEN ONE OF MY HAPPIEST LORE UPDATES TODAY

[impossible-rat-babies]

I was running duty support earlier and ough. I heard zero’s voice and I just about cried

[tiefslinger]

📜 * out. ‣ i'm not sorry for tipperposting‚ it will happen again.

📜 * in. ‣ the curtain rises.

📜 * inbox. ‣ once upon a time.

📜 * answered. ‣ it's the end of 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 story‚ 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 story.

📜 * face. ‣ a girl is a gun.

📜 * dash. ‣ i am currently in situations.

📜 * crack. ‣ i roll to cast gun.

📜 * aesthetics. ‣ i kneel into a dream where i am good and loved.

📜 * character. ‣ there will be goodbyes by dozens so practice by being brave.

📜 * worldbuilding. ‣ shoutout to blorbo from my mind.

📜 * creations. ‣ scoutlight‚ scoutkeep‚ scoutboss.

📜 * promotions. ‣ it's the crossover episode!

📜 * wishlist. ‣ campaign module.

📜 * connections. ‣ nobody is ever truly alone.

📜 * calls. ‣ roll initiative.

📜 * closet. ‣ armor class.

📜 * audio. ‣ can’t i have just one more song?

📜 * blog updates. ‣ god help us all.

📜 * saved. ‣ live tipper reaction.

[joelsgoldrush]

“you can use my skin to bury secrets in” | 6.8k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?” OR Logan had always known your generosity would get him in trouble. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. pining. mentions of alcohol. dirty talk. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). logan’s POV. angst/self-deprecation (he just needs a little loving). religious imagery. feelings. petnames. chauffeur!logan. oral sex (m receiving, tiny bit of f receiving). sort of dom!logan. doggy style. unprotected p in v. creampie. A/N: i could say i'm sorry for this, but i'm not. love love love this old man (#needthat). heavily inspired by the song "i know" by fiona apple. @lubdubology my partner in crime who keeps putting up with me, tysm!!! hope you all enjoy it <3

The line between being a good and bad person is thin. So thin, in fact, that Logan finds himself stepping back and forth across it constantly.

Rescuing a kitten from a tree? Good.

Punching a guy at a bar because he didn’t feel like being acknowledged? Bad.

Saving countless lives from mass destruction? Good—heroic, even.

But killing others to do it? Bad—condemnable, scum of the earth.

Where does that leave him? Which side has laid claim to his soul? He’s long accepted he’ll never see the pearly gates.

When the day comes that his body can no longer take it, and he only grows wearier, he’s pretty sure there’s a special place in hell with his name on it, etched in some grave awaiting to be filled.

Maybe Satan’s already counting down the days until he shows up at his door, who knows?

Yet, the more time passes by, the less afraid he is of what lies beneath the surface. He’s learned to coexist with the darkness, with the kind of pain and loneliness that would crush most men.

He doesn’t know how, but he survives it—the agony, the memories, the solitude that hits him from time to time.

And still, he doesn't lose himself entirely. He’s tempted, of course, to linger in the past—it’s always easier to drown there.

If he could go back, he knows he wouldn’t be alone in choosing that path. Some days, it feels like the only option.

But there’s no you in his past.

Logan inhales sharply when your tongue teases his slit, lapping at the precum pooling there. You hum at the taste, your hand resting on his bare thigh, fingers pressing into his skin. Your other hand lazily strokes the length of him, working the inches your mouth can’t take.

It’s clear you’re enjoying this. He can tell from the way your lashes flutter each time he thrusts a little deeper into your slick warmth. A win-win situation.

Letting a girl like you do this to him? That’s bad. Very bad. Red flags all around.

He meets you when he least expects it.

It’s a night like any other. He’s been driving for God knows how long. His joints ache from being in the same position for hours, and a part of his left knee he didn’t even know could hurt begins to throb.

It takes everything in him not to call it quits for the night, not to turn around and head home like a coward.

When exactly his life fell into this monotonous cycle, he’s not entirely sure, but it happened somewhere along the way. Now, it’s all the same: taking care of Charles during the day, catching an hour or two of sleep, then gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, driving through endless stretches of road, resisting any attempts at small talk from the passengers he chauffeurs around.

They all try—every single one of them. They think if they can crack his harsh and bitter exterior, he’ll open up, reveal something, anything to make their eyes go wide.

But why? Why do they insist on breaking through his shell? What do they hope to discover?

No one really cares what’s going on in his mind. They just want to feel good about themselves—like they’ve been kind, amiable, empaths intending to fill some empty and obscure corner of their own lives.

Logan refuses to be the person who grants them that satisfaction.

You slip into the backseat of his limo, closing the door with a soft click. The night clings to you, the scent of the bar still lingering on your clothes. The music is loud enough for him to hear from outside, and he sees the people lined up at the door, willing to cause a fight if it means securing a good time.

There's a slight frown tugging at your features, your lips pulled downward, though your voice is still polite when you blurt out your address.

Five minutes into the drive and you haven’t said a word. Internally, he’s savoring the silence, so happy he could jump on one foot.

This kind of peace is rare. He’d grown unaccustomed to it. The tension in his shoulders eases as the city lights blur past.

But, all good things come to an end, because—

“How’s your night going?” you ask, fiddling with the seatbelt to have something between your fingers. Logan glances at you through the mirror, his eyes catching yours just for a moment, long enough to see the faint, apologetic smile you offer him. He allows himself a heartbeat more to take you in before focusing back on the road.

You click your tongue, a soft sound of disapproval ringing in his ears. “Well, thank you.”

He lets out a quiet huff, grinding his teeth together. “I’d prefer if we stayed like we were before,” he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly. His attention flickers between the passing cars and the occasional glimpses of you that startle him every time he searches for the mirror. Cars. You. Cars. You. You. You. “Y’know, not talking.”

“But that’s no fun at all,” you retort, sliding more to your left, nearly positioning yourself in the middle of the backseat. It gives him a better view of you—whether intentional or not, he can’t say.

The lipstick on your lips is still flawless. A sparkly necklace glints just above the neckline of your dress, and matching earrings dangle from your ears. Wrapped in a leather jacket, you look effortlessly alluring.

This entire sequence is enough to confirm that by no means is he going to heaven. Straight to hell, he thinks, allowing his gaze to trace over each detail of your frame. Straight to hell.

You don’t give up. “Your aura is off.”

That prompts a crooked smirk from him, a shake of his head as he mumbles under his breath: “M’sorry, my what’s off?”

“Your aura,” you clarify, motioning toward him with a light jingle from the many bracelets adorning your wrist. “It’s the energy that surrounds you.”

Logan snorts, amused for a brief second. “Well, you weren’t exactly a beacon of life when you got in either.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window. “I’m much better now.” A pause before you continue, your tone shifting, losing strength. “My date stood me up. Last-minute cancellation.”

It’s not anger, nor is it disappointment, that laces your words. You seem more resigned than anything else. He’d have expected you to sound at least a bit more conflicted.

“I should’ve seen it coming. He’d been asking to move it forward for a while.”

Does he look like the type of driver who doubles as a therapist? He wishes he could understand why you're telling him all this.

“That sucks,” he still responds, because even though he hasn’t gone out with a woman in what feels like centuries, he understands that sensation all too well. “First time meeting him?”

Listen up, everyone—he’s genuinely engaging in conversation with another soul. This doesn’t happen often.

He hears you hum, eyes still trained on the outside world. You sigh, crossing your arms over your torso. “Would you mind rolling your window up? I’m kind of freezing here.”

“I’d mind that very much,” he says, his voice carrying its usual gruff edge. He fights the urge to grin, but then you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning in closer to him. Your body is wedged between his seat and the passenger’s, and he perceives your stare boring into his side profile. “Put your seatbelt back on.” 

“You’re fucking with me.” Your finger taps his shoulder once, twice. “First, I get all dolled up for an idiot who bails on me, and now you have the nerve to make fun of me? Give me a break.”

Your eyes stay on him, a smile plastered on your face, anticipating any possible answer.

Crack, crack, crack—you intend to break through his shell, watching him from the front row, waiting for the moment it gives way.

Before you can say more, he cuts you off. “Seatbelt.”

It’s a command, an instruction, and you comply without hesitation.

Warmth pools and stirs low in his gut as he notes how quickly you obey him. 

Would you still look at him like that if you knew the blood he’s scrubbed off his hands? The flesh that his claws have shredded? The names of the lives he’s taken?

Would your warm gaze turn cold, filled with dread instead of curiosity?

Maybe this is hell. Are you the Devil in disguise, tempting him to cross a line he won’t be able to come back from?

A few minutes later, he pulls up to your building. A really nice one, he notes. You announce you live on the sixth floor. He doesn’t need to know that, does he? Why would you tell him that? Why give that piece of information to a complete stranger?

You linger in the backseat, as though you’re expecting him to turn and look at you. And he does, though not for the reason you might expect. “You got everything?”

Eager and full of life, you nod, clutching your purse to your chest. You avert your gaze to read his ID tag, the one that contains his personal details. “James?”

“Glad you can read,” he utters, pulling out a small bottle of liquor from under the seat. He drains it all in one go, savoring the fleeting burn as it slides down his throat, which is enough to keep him going. “C’mon, kid. I already charged you.”

“You drink while you drive?”

“Keeps me entertained,” he says dryly. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. Raising the empty bottle in your direction, he arches a brow. “Goodnight, darlin’. Leave me a good review on your way out.”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.” 

For a couple of days, you don’t bother him again. Bother—notice the implication of the verb in question.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you after that drive. Each time his phone buzzes, a small, restless part of him hopes it’s you, asking for his services, wanting him to be the one you seek out.

And it happens. The best things seem to occur when the moon hangs high and bright.

You: Hi.

He stares at the message, recognition washing over him. He knows it’s you; he can see the other texts you exchanged that night he took you home.

You: Are you working tonight?

You’ve got to be kidding him.

Logan: Why are you texting me?

He types the words with frustration, his thumb hovering over the screen longer than usual. 

You: Why are you answering me?

Oh, you’re smart. 

Logan: Take my advice. Talk to a guy your own age.

You: Damn. Already jumping to conclusions. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.

Logan: I’m busy.

You: Well, what time do you get off?

Logan: I work all night.

You: Can’t even make a quick stop? I swear it won’t take you more than twenty minutes.

An impulse to throw his phone out the window surges within him, but he manages to restrain himself.

Then, as if on cue, the device vibrates again—of course, it’s you.

You: The drinks are on me. Let me know if you change your mind.

Do you think he’s going to let you pay for him? Absolutely not. 

What surprises him more than the message is how easily he remembers your address. It appears to be ingrained in his mind.

He cancels his next trip, scheduled for ten minutes from now, his new destination being your building.

Once he pulls up, he does what feels most natural: he honks. Multiple times. Maybe he’s lucky and you’ll tell him to fuck off.

But you don’t. You’re laughing as you make your way over to the limo, sliding into the backseat in the same way you did a week ago. Your plan had succeeded—you had him exactly where you wanted.

Far from hiding it, you make it evident, obvious. Your heartbeat thrums in the air, and Logan can hear it loud and clear, like the bass in one of those funky songs he likes.

There’s no room for mistakes. He won’t deny it. Even if the feeling is mutual, he can’t shake the idea that he’s doing something wrong.

In his eyes, you’re the forbidden fruit—irresistible, the ultimate temptation known to humankind, camouflaged in the fur of a pretty woman.

You, his paradise on earth, could only lead to one thing: a longing for a chance with you, which he should never be granted in the first place.

He’s diving headfirst into disgrace, and the more he realizes it, the worse it feels. If he were to be scolded like a child, maybe he’d feel relieved, but he’s no kid. He’s a grown-ass man who should be able to resist.

Yet, self-restraint is like sand slipping through his fingers—never lasting long enough.

“You came.” Astonishment. Uncertainty. Amusement. Blinking your eyes at him, you sit very upright, and you don't even bother fastening your seatbelt. “Honestly? I thought you were going to block me.”

I can’t, he thinks. I wouldn’t be able to. I’m not that strong.

“What happened this time? Another failed date?” he inquires, still not starting the car. A look of perplexity appears on your features, puzzled about why he’s not moving. “Ain’t you forgetting something?” He tugs on his own seatbelt for emphasis, the fabric snapping back into place against his coat.

Once again, you follow his lead. “I don’t need to get stood up to want to see you,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance—or so he tells himself. It takes him all his willpower not to collapse right then and there. “Besides, I’m not bad company. I’ve been told I can be pretty funny.” 

“I see…” he trails off, catching your gaze through the rearview mirror, not shocked in the slightest to find you waiting for him to look back. “Where to?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you should. You invited me.”

How easy it is to make your chest rumble with laughter, the genuine sound bubbling up, pure and unrestrained. He feels like some amateur comedian who has just realized his real passion is to cause this type of response in others.

Except, it’s not just anyone’s laughter he insists on provoking—it’s yours, and yours alone.

An unsettling sensation envelops him the second you retrieve your hand, not before squeezing his shoulder in a friendly manner. “There’s a bar I go to with my friends sometimes,” you suggest after a beat, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jacket. “We could try that one.”

The moment he steps inside, regret washes over him. Why is everyone here under forty? He feels ancient, like fucking Fred Flintstone.

A fossil out of place, meant to dwell in the shadows, not in a scene like this.

When he freezes in the middle of the bar, your fingers intertwine with his, tugging him along, and he follows after you like a lost puppy. The only thing he’s missing is the leash.

You’re met with his quirked eyebrows as you peer into his eyes over your shoulder, a toothy grin threatening to shake the floor beneath his feet. “You know, people usually sit down before they start getting shit-faced.”

“I’m not getting drunk tonight.” Logan exhales a deep breath, trying to hide his discomfort, his eyes scanning the room. “And neither are you,” he practically yells in your ear trying to make himself heard above the pounding music and incessant chatter. He wonders if you even hear him at all.

The two of you eventually settle at the counter, drinking in silence. Logan half-expects one of your comments to pierce through the quiet, but you delight in proving him wrong.

Instead, your head sways gently to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, and you take a trial sip of your beer.

He’s acutely aware of the stares from the rest of the patrons. He can pretend to be oblivious, but the weight of several pairs of eyes burning holes into the back of his neck doesn’t go unnoticed.

Being watched has never been his favorite pastime, and somehow, it feels even more uncomfortable with you by his side.

He knows what those looks imply, can nearly taste the hidden implications behind each fleeting glance.

What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him? A question that makes no sense.

Does he have money? A well-endowed reputation? Did he recently inherit any properties?

Are you truly that desperate for human contact?

Is your bed so cold that you decide to go for the first guy who can string ten words together?

Logan doubts whether this whole experiment is part of the community service you must be doing. Maybe he should look up your name online to see if any criminal records come to the surface.

Now that he takes a moment to ponder it, you certainly fit the mold of the criminal type. The kind who gets what she wants when she wants it, leaving a trail of intrigue on her wake.

His fingers circle the glass so tightly he fears it might shatter into a million shards. You notice his tension, nudging his arm with yours, aiming to meet his eyes.

When you do (because, as he said, criminals have their own ways), you smile, and he internalizes that gesture as something familiar, something he feels he’s grown used to. Something rankled in his memory.

It’s as if he’s known you for a lifetime.

“Thank you for coming,” you say softly, and he may be going down the path of hallucinations,  but your attention remains a little too long on his lips. Then, just as quickly, it flickers back to the rest of his face, and you lean back to drink from your beer once more.

Straight to hell, he thinks, tasting the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, for ever daring to believe himself worthy of even a moment of your precious time.

You’re probably the first person to have his full, undivided attention. And that’s… well, that’s saying something.

Most days, you’re pretty talkative, a steady stream of conversation, your words pouring out in an endless flow.

You tell him about your family, your career, that pet of yours that died when you were six years old. You mention a friend you no longer speak to, and the events that led to the downfall of your friendship.

There’s also that dish from your all-time favorite restaurant, the one you buy at least once a week because it never fails to comfort you.

Nonstop, you talk and talk, and Logan doesn’t mind one bit. Soon, he finds himself becoming an active listener—asking follow-up questions, chuckling at your jokes, even when they’re not funny at all.

He sincerely cares about what you have to say.

This whole situation with you is beyond his comprehension. Before he realizes it, you start wanting to spend more time with him.

Sometimes, you ride along in the passenger seat while he drives aimlessly through the city.

Sometimes, you invite him over, cook a meal, and he always takes the leftovers with him, as if a part of you goes with him when he leaves.

Sometimes, you come over to his place, and the roles reverse—you’re the one with the mic, asking the questions, fully aware that you’re treading on holy ground. 

Logan’s got a sign on his forehead that reads ‘Stop: do not enter.’ It’s rough around the edges, hardened by the years, all capital letters in stark blank ink. But in the end, you just take the sign and set it aside.

He never goes into too much detail. Not because he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that there’s too much to unpack, and you don’t need to know all of it. You’ll be better off not carrying the garbage he does.

Yet, you’ve got him by the throat, encouraging him to cough up disjoined pieces of his life, bits of his day, his thoughts, his feelings. It sounds stupid to him, but you make him feel alive. 

You never judge him, never flinch when he brings up stories from his past. As he sits at your table one afternoon, you look at his hands, his claws fully extended, and you don’t shy away. You rub the pad of your thumb across the rough skin of his knuckles, right where the adamantium tears through his flesh.

You don’t care that he’s a mutant, that he’s killed people. You don’t try to deny who he is or what he’s done. Oddly enough, you just wish to be by his side, staring off into the void with him. 

“But why?” he asks, partly flattered, partly frustrated. This could be compared to learning a new sport from scratch—he can’t figure you out, can’t understand why you haven’t run the other way yet.

He likes your company, though he’s always bracing himself for the inevitable day you find a better hobby and leave.

Your reasoning defies logic, and he’s afraid that at any moment, you’ll grasp the gravity of your choices.

Almost as if you could feel the turmoil brewing in his mind, you simply say: “You’re nice to be around.”

Nice. Nice. Nice. He’d cackle if he were alone. That word reverberates through him. When was the last time someone called him nice?

Bad-tempered, sure.

A pain in the ass? Definitely.

But nice? Not a term people employed to describe him.

It’s a quality reserved for you, with your endless charisma and kind heart, but not for a man of his kind.

He’s nothing more than a chauffeur, a driver, someone who does and says what’s necessary to survive. Does that make him nice? 

When he tells you he’s probably going to hell, you don’t try to make him feel better. Anyone else in your position might try to soothe him, to offer some hollow reassurance.

Your intention isn’t to change him, for him to pretend to be something he’s not. “Then I’ll meet you there,” you mutter, your shiny eyes searing into his. Under the table, your hand finds his, tender fingers grazing over his knuckles, and for once, he doesn’t pull away.

Could it be that an afterlife catching fire doesn’t sound so bad after all?

As much as he likes to admit how easily you can shift his mood, today is not one of those days.

He’s had a nightmare—nothing new, but this one had been… different. The empty bottle on the nightstand hadn’t been of any help; it never does when they visit him in his sleep.

The ghosts of those who used to be his friends, his family, tiptoe around his dreams in the form of shadows.

Blood. Screams. Shouts of his name. He can’t save them all. Walking through the wreckage, he dodges the bodies of those he couldn’t protect, the knot in his throat tightening with every step, not allowing him to breathe.

Wherever he turns, there’s death, destruction. Sadness. Did he save them all?

It’s always the same routine. He wakes up, screaming, chest aching from the effort. His lungs burn, and he has to remind himself that the limbs attached to him are his own and not the remnants of an immobile corpse.

Sweat clings to his skin, pooling at his temples and nape. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, rubbing at the soreness in his neck.

His phone rings somewhere in the distance, pulling him from his dizzy state. He scrambles to his feet, accepting the call just before it hits voicemail.

It's you. Despite it being late, he swears he feels the gentle kiss of the sun over his brow. Your sweet voice chases away the lingering shadows of his dreams, replacing the bitter taste in his mouth with something real—a reason to get up, to start moving.

He holds onto every second of the brief call, replaying those thirty seconds in his head as he steps into the shower. When the cold water shocks his system, it pulls him fully back to consciousness. He has to get ready.

Even though you insist on getting a taxi, he refuses. He doesn’t mind the drive. His gas tank does, his wallet maybe, but Logan? He just doesn’t.

At the end of the day, he’s protective by nature, and who knows what kind of men are roaming the streets at night?

God forbid they’re anything like him—eager to prompt a smile from you, trying too hard to impress you. He arrives at the conclusion that he’d rather lose fuel and money if it means orbiting around you for longer.

You make him feel better, and tonight, he needs it more than ever. He needs you.

(Now he’s driving. He honks five times when he pulls up to your building. You get on the limo, giggling as you say: “My neighbors must hate you.” He grins. You kiss him on the cheek. Subtle. Not the first time. Still, it doesn’t get old. He feels the faint residue of lip gloss on his skin. He doesn’t wipe it off.)

Not in the mood to cook, you declare as you step into his place. The mouth-watering aroma of the Chinese food you bought fills the air, but when he reaches for the bags, you insist that he sit and relax.

Sure, he can take a seat. But to expect him to relax with you around, playing this intricate game? That’s simply impossible. You’re asking for too much. He’s a player at heart, drawn to the thrill of the chase, and he will play along.

What seems inconceivable is the expectation that he can act as if nothing is happening between these four walls.

His attempts to focus on you are futile, as his mind betrays him tonight. All he hears spilling from your lips is pure and plain gibberish. Your very presence is no longer enough to anchor him.

Already immune to your charm, Logan eats his noodles, occasionally nodding when your voice rises at the end of a sentence, indicating a question.

But he nearly chokes on his drink the moment he registers your serious expression, having never witnessed you like this before.

“Are you even here?” you ask, shoving your food aside with a swift motion of your wrist.

What should he answer? What is it that you want to hear? Of course! I’m here, listening to you. It’s a delightful night. Should I start by telling you about my most recent nightmare? Quite the entertainment!

There’s a shake of his head as he lowers his gaze, escaping your concerned expression. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.” You tug your chair forward, claiming a piece of his personal space. You know he doesn’t mind. “Want to talk about it? Did something happen?”

“My brain is just… off today.”

“Many thoughts at the same time.” Not a question. Have you completely figured him out?

“Yeah.”

He remains still, dragging his plastic fork across the now-cold steamed veggies, which have lost their appeal.

How amusing—your knees bump against his, drawing his attention. “Can I help you?” It’s new, the breathy tone you’re using, a whisper of agitation weaving through your calm demeanor. 

“Can you erase my memory?” he shoots back, attempting to smirk through the wave of memories that flash behind his eyelids. When he looks into your eyes, the siren in his head blares.

Your pupils are dilated, blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweaty palms that you wipe on your jeans. Tongue darting out to lick your lips. Your heartbeat accelerates, drumming wildly like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.

He hasn’t been with a woman in ages, but he knows how they react when they see something they like—or, in this case, someone.

“Logan.” His name rolls off your tongue once more, tinged with an unmistakable need. The thought of checking his temperature dances through his mind, but the heaviness in his limbs roots him in place. He feels feverish. “I want to help you.”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no—

“What—what are you on, sweetheart?” Get up. Find your keys. Drive her home. “You don’t even know what you’re sayin’.”

Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his head. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”

He’s no longer in control of his actions. His right hand crawls up your knee, palming the fabric of your pants. It’s numbing: a lapful of you, your rich smell, your quickened pulse.

Tempting. So fucking tempted to take you right now, just like this, without the need for words. Your bodies can communicate in a language of their own, one that transcends spoken phrases. 

I want you, he lets you know through the way he gropes your breasts over your shirt, squeezing them together. He’s always been good with his hands. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a sweet thing like you?

His patience teeters on the edge of a precipice. “Tell me what you want.”

“I asked you first.”

“You’re gonna pretend you don’t know the answer?” He thrusts into the air, grinding against your clothed core, and you close your eyes. He’s rock hard beneath you, the bulge in his jeans shockingly obscene, bordering on grotesque. “We both know what I want, but I’m no telepath, baby. Need you to speak up.”

Twisting the locks of hair at his nape, you press your lips to his neck. “I want to make you forget, to focus on this moment. I want you to live in the present, Logan.” A bite on his earlobe sends shivers down his spine, and he grips your hips with a primal growl. “I can do whatever you want. Just tell me. Tell me, and I’ll do it, please.”

Please? He’s spiraling. Please? That’s it—he’s doing it. He’ll grant you your plea, which aligns perfectly with his own desires.

Once his back meets the mattress in his room, you get to work. With delicate precision, you pull down his pants, sliding his boxers off until only his thick thighs and the crown of short curls adorning his cock remain in sight. Your fingers tremble slightly before you wrap them loosely around his length, and it springs to life in your grasp.

Your gaze pierces into his, mirroring the intensity of his own. But something holds you back, prompting you to reach for his hand.

At that moment, it all clicks into place. Logan urges your head down onto him, and he’s welcomed by the slick warmth you provide.

Indeed, he’s very much alive.

“That’s it. That’s—fuck. There you go.” 

His fingers dig into the mattress, clutching the cotton sheets, stopping himself from thrusting into your mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—God, he does—but tonight, he’s on his best behavior.

He wipes the trail of drool from your chin, smearing it gently across your cheek, his thumb lingering as he watches your nostrils flare with a strained, muffled gasp.

Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he tastes the wetness on it the same way you’re sucking him: greedily, without any trace of mercy.

This proves I’m going to hell, he thinks, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing between your parted lips. Straight to hell.

You draw him back to the present, nuzzling your face against his thigh, your humid breath teasing his thick shaft, pulling him from a deep reverie. Your glossy eyes roam, exploring until they find his, and you gift him an authentic smile. Wrecked and blissed out, it’s as if the lights are on, but no one’s truly home.

He would’ve never guessed how much you reveled in sucking cock, radiating enthusiasm with each of your movements.

“Am I doing it okay?” you wonder aloud, hovering over the tip, swirling your tongue around the velvety head. He’s no fool, and neither are you; deep down, you know you’re doing more than just okay. Actually, you’re giving him the best blowjob of his long, long life.

Each panting, airy praise he huffs fuels your eagerness, making you even more receptive to his desires as the words slip past his lips.

“Fuckin’ amazing, honey. Got me so hard, y’see?” His tone is heavily charged with carnality, gripping himself and smacking the tip against your mouth, the wet sound echoing like music to his ears.

He pulses against your tongue, and you seize the opportunity to trace the thin veins scattered along his length. Gulping, with his gaze fixed on you, Logan notices how you’re still wearing your clothes, wiggling your hips against the mattress, rubbing your thighs together to get something in return. “Are you wet?”

Humming against him, you suck in shaky breath. 

“Words.”

“I’m—I’m wet,” you rasp, voice hoarse. You try to guide him into your mouth and fail miserably, because his grip only tightens, stroking himself instead. “Logan,” you keen, stretching your neck in a silent plea, “don’t be mean.”

“Not mean. Just enjoyin’ myself,” he replies, pulling the foreskin back to expose the head, arching his eyebrows. His fingers curl around your chin, drawing your face nearer to his girth, fascinated by how your eyes flutter shut the more you surrender to the pleasure. “C’mon. Be polite.”

Blame him for it—he believes he’ll never get tired of this game.

“Please.” You whisper, returning to your begging while tenderly rolling his balls, staring at him through your lashes. And then you say it again: “Please.”

Your gaze burns a hole through his crumpled heart. He lets you have it, eager to give whatever you may ask him for. You dive back into it, engulfing his length and bobbing your head up and down with fervor. Hushed whines escape your lips, savoring another bead of his precum.

Logan almost loses it as you hollow your cheeks, instinctively cradling the back of your head. “Easy, baby. M’not going anywhere. Take your time.”

Whenever he feels himself approaching that long-awaited release, he forces his mind to conjure thoughts that will stall his impending orgasm.

The water stains from flooding on the walls.

The supermarket list.

The rising price of gas.

The—

“Fuck. Slow down,” he groans, utterly captivated by the way you point your tongue to draw imaginary patterns along his cock, seemingly memorizing every detail. “Don’t go too hard on me, remember?”

You mumble something under your breath, and at first, he can’t quite make it out. “What is it?”

“I said I want you to fuck me.”

Under no circumstances is he surviving this night.

“Really, doll?” Logan seeks the reassurance he desperately needs, fearing that this is all a dream from which he’ll awaken the moment he properly touches you. “You sure you want this old man to fuck you?”

You’re a rambling mess, murmuring Yes, Logan, please, until he maneuvers you to lie on his chest, his glistening cock sliding against your clothes, leaving a trail of dark spots. A whimper dies on your tongue as you brush your lips together, your hot breath enveloping him. “Give me a kiss at least.”

Tilting your head up, he connects his mouth to yours, growling as he detects the dull, sour tang of what must be him. He sucks your bottom lip, hardly aware of what his hands are doing until he shifts your positions, pinning you down.

Logan tugs at your clothes, peeling them away with urgency, his fingers dancing over your nipples until you’re grinding against his thigh, quivering beneath him. With a nip at your damp skin, his eyes flutter open as he studies your expression, casting you a glance that seeks your permission.

A ripple of desire courses through him when you dutifully turn over beneath him, pressing your face further into the pillow. He runs his knuckles along the curve of your ass, his throat going dry as you follow after his touch, arching your body in response.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he licks a long, slow stripe up your wet folds, keeping his tongue flat against your clit for a brief moment. Your arms give out and you stumble forward, stuttering as you mewl his name, fully consumed by the feeling.

So he does it again, and again, and again, flicking the sensitive bud, even though you’re already beyond soaked. It’s a pleasure he indulges in simply because he can.

Straight to hell, he thinks, coating his length with your arousal, teasing your entrance while pushing in only the tip. That motion alone is enough to make him draw a trembling breath before he continues, gradually feeding you his cock, inch by inch.

Straight to hell, the voice in his head utters as he buries himself to the hilt deep within your body, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

Like an intruder in your territory, he’s free to do as he pleases, and you let him have his way with you.

If only this moment could stretch into infinity—he longs for time to relent and never draw to a close. 

What will happen after? Will you spend the night? Does he—

“L-Logan,” you mumble, having adjusted to his size. You rock back into him, impaling yourself even more on his cock. “Please, move.”

The pace he establishes is brutal. Your warm, inner walls exquisitely massage him, and the earth as he knows it stops spinning. Fire pools low in his abdomen, his hands holding you by the flesh of your hips to keep you anchored, each thrust driving you closer to the headboard with an intoxicating urgency. 

“You wanted it from the very start, didn’t you?” He doesn’t know if a response will ever come, but these kinds of thoughts are impossible to contain. He’s just a simple man, powerless against the allure of a tight cunt. “Just got in my car and knew it would end like this?”

You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.” 

His next thrust punches a whine out of your lungs. Even as you clench around him, stuffed and filled to the brim, you beg for him to fuck you harder. He would’ve laughed at you were he able to catch his breath.

With a more deliberate rhythm, he rolls his hips, jackhammering your most sensitive spot, pulling you closer as he wraps an arm around you. When his fingers find your clit, drawing slippery circles, a cry escapes you, and your body merges with the mattress under you.

Your release takes him by surprise, urging him to continue as you reach back, encouraging him to chase his own climax. He knows all too well the struggle of bringing you to this point without succumbing to his pleasure too soon. Your nails graze along his thigh, leaving delicate marks in their wake, and somehow, the passion and bliss he’s been nurturing ignites into a fiery crescendo.

Shortly after, he goes completely rigid inside you, pressing his forehead against your back as he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans. His hand squeezes your breast tightly, riding out his high, blood buzzing in his ears, continuing to spill into you. You spam around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed, his release painting your insides with his warmth.

Logan tucks you under his chin as his vision returns to clarity. You nose his jaw, your fingers softly tracing the contours of his beard. He pulls you closer into his chest, gliding his hands up and down your back.

Half a minute of dreadful silence, then: “Can I stay?”

Oh, yes—pillow talk. He’s not great at this either. Despite that, his eyes soften, snapping to your face.

Logan pauses for a moment. “Sure,” he retorts, dragging his fingers along your shoulder blades. He’s a one-word kind of guy. Just perfect.

Tell her you like her. Tell her you don’t want this to be a casual fling. Tell her it’s more than just sex for you.

Or maybe don’t. Get ahold of yourself, will you?

“Logan?” you ask, resting your palm against his heart.

“What is it?”

“I know.”

You do?

Try as he might, he can’t deny it. He might care about you more than he ever realized.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[dilf-docs]

To The Devil I Know

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing, dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love, dad!bod joel bc i say so (yummy), no angst (wtf dilf-docs? the angst gods are so pissed off rn)

word count: 7,195 words

side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"

It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.

When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.

"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"

You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.

"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"

You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.

"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"

In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.

"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"

"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.

"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"

"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."

"Did you just call me fat?"

You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.

"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"

He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"

Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.

"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"

"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"

You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.

"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"

"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"

Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.

"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"

Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.

"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"

"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.

"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"

Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"And we're taking my truck"

"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?

He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.

"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"

You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.

He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:

Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.

Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.

You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.

If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.

"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.

You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:

"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"

As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.

"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"

You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.

You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"

"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"

Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"

He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.

A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.

"Damn right you don't"

You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.

"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"

"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.

He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:

"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"

But you hear.

You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.

"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."

"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.

The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.

"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"

"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.

Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.

"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"

"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.

"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.

"You'll have to prove that"

You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.

"Prove that?"

You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.

"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"

But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.

"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.

You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.

On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.

"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"

"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"

"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"

You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.

"It's... not here"

"You might have left it in the car" she tries to help.

"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"

You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.

"Lost somethin'?"

You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.

"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car"

"Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.

You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.

"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault. He may feel it too, by the way he takes a step back, putting some distance.

"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.

"No" you mentally slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"

You look back one last time, despite it all. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car.

"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.

Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.

"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"

She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop you from feeling sick.

That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses, as if something is holding him back.

Anytime.

You can't help but wonder what stopped him.

Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.

Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.

Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.

The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.

Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.

The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gnaws your chest.

He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.

You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.

"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"

"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.

"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.

Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.

But you won't let him win.

"Mr. Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you married?"

He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"

"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.

He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.

"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"

"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"

He scoffs. "Still hella young"

"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.

"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"

You loose your patience.

"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"

Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.

"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"

"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.

When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.

"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"

You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.

"I think I know what you want"

"How? You don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.

Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trail. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, peppering the skin with fluttering kisses to entertain your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. Joel whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his lips.

You haven't even started yet.

"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"

You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.

"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.

It was all so fucked up.

But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.

"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"

The praise gets to you, even if not needed.

Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.

"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.

He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.

You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.

"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.

You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.

"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.

And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:

"Y/n"

You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.

Joel said your name.

Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.

Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.

"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"

He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.

"But do you?"

Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.

He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.

But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.

Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.

He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.

But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.

He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.

"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.

"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.

"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"

Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.

"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.

"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.

"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"

So you do.

You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.

But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.

You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.

"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.

Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"

If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.

"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.

"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"

So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.

Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.

And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you like a kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.

"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"

Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:

"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"

He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"

"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.

"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"

You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.

"Do you think I'd risk me and my friends' safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.

The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.

"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"

"I won't tell you shit" you spit.

"You little minx, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for'er daddy's cock?"

The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.

Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.

"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.

"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"

You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.

"What are you-"

"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"

As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.

"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.

"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"

You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.

"Good girl"

He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.

"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"

The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.

"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"

You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.

"Yes, I'll be"

"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"

"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"

"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"

You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.

"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"

You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.

"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"

The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.

"Joel" you breathe out. 

He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.

"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"

He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller"

"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.

But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.

"Who gave you permission to do that?" but his voice sounds more amused than nagging. "That imagination of yours is somethin' else. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time, hmh, greedy dirty slut?"

The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits. He pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.

"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"

You laugh breathless, trying to recover.

"Wanna taste?"

So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you. You've never wanted anything, hell, anyone more. The kiss leaves you hanging, heart racing at the closeness of his face and the warmhearted feeling of his lips on yours, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together.

"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"

He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.

You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, round as it pushes above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch.

"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk under your stare.

"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.

Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.

Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin. 

He positions himself between your legs again.

"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"

He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.

Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.

"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.

The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.

"I will, Mr. Miller"

He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.

"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.

You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.

"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"

His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.

"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"

The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.

This is real.

You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.

"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"

His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.

"Take it all, like the good girl you are"

Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.

He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in and out by him, No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.

"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.

But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.

tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend 

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns. 

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. i do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything! <33

authors note: this is an idea I had that I really needed to write. I’d love to make this a series if you guys want more, just let me know! This is only my second time writing fanfiction and my first time writing for Hugh, please be nice lol. Thank you for reading! <3

Part one: breakup and new beginnings 

Being a young girl living in the middle of bumfuck nowhere made it seem impossible to live your dreams of becoming a singer. You grew up in a tiny little town in Louisiana called Minden. With a population of less than 15,000 people, the closest ‘big’ city being Shreveport, growing up was pretty boring. You had big dreams of making it big and making it the fuck out of the country. Minden wasn’t always so bad. It was a nice community that had fun things here and there, but you craved more. 

Once you graduated highschool back in 2020, you focused on working and saving as much money as you could, only buying essentials and equipment to help make music. You took a few online classes on producing and tried your best to make whatever song was bouncing around in your head come to life. It took a year for you to feel confident enough to release your first few songs out into the world. So in July of 2021, you teased a song on TikTok to your small following. You started to gain a few more followers here and there, it was exciting. At the end of August, you released your first song titled ‘to the point’ and it blew up on the clock app. You gained a hefty following after that, on the brink of hitting one million. 

By the end of 2022, deciding on Los Angeles, you had finally saved enough money to move, so you were packing your bags and heading out. Your agent was ecstatic about the move because it meant more opportunities for your career. After releasing a few more songs over the past year, you hired Stacy to help you manage everything. 

Fastwording to 2024, your dreams have come true and you have been an established and respected artist for almost two years. You started to build a reputation as someone who was dedicated and passionate about their craft- always being involved in any creative process. It was bliss. Lately though, you’ve gained another reputation, the controversial young girlfriend, a whore, a gold digger. Since you’ve been in the spotlight, you’ve had your fair share of dating history and if they all happened to be older men, so what? It wasn’t something you had planned on but older men were just built differently. They were so much sexier and put together than the guys your age. They knew what they were doing and how to treat a woman right. You were so tired of being asked out through instagram direct messages, you wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to talk to you in person, and that seemed to only come from men twice your age. You weren’t complaining though, you enjoyed it. 

Your last ‘scandalous’ relationship ended up being far more public than you intended it to be. In the beginning, the men you were seen with were never anything serious, just dates or one night stands. Though with Pedro it was different. You dated him for six months before it all came crashing down and you felt heartbroken. He was the sweetest man you’d ever been with and it all ended because the hate from fans on our age gap was too much for him. It was an ugly breakup and you were positive that he wouldn’t want to be associated with you anymore, even as friends. 

-

“I should have picked a different song.” You huff in frustration. Today you were going to be performing on BBC’s Radio 1 Live Lounge and as requested, you'd be performing your own song and a cover of your choosing. When Stacy first presented this opportunity to you, it had only been a month after your recent breakup and naturally you chose to cover ‘THE GREATEST’ by Billie Eilish. Now that you were mostly over Pedro, the song seemed silly to sing and you weren’t feeling as vocally confident now that you were here. 

“Babe, you’re gonna kill it! Just let your emotions flow, give the fans what they want.” Stacy is sitting across the room as she comforts you. She’s fidgeting with your vocal humidifier, attempting to put it together before you start warming up. Her advice isn’t terrible, she’s right. You’d been pretty silent on the subject matter, steering clear of social media so you wouldn’t say anything stupid. Rumors of your breakup had been all over the headlines but there hasn’t been confirmation from either of you. Singing this song today would definitely stir the pot again and make everyone realize that it is done between you two. 

“You’re right.” 

“As always. Here, start warming up the money maker.” She laughs while handing you the humidifier. 

“I really hope he doesn’t watch it. I’d literally smash my head into a brick wall out of embarrassment…” 

Placing the humidifier over your mouth and nose, you sit there letting your mind wander. Having your personal life exposed to everyone really sucked and hiding your boyfriends wasn’t something you wanted to do, but you knew that in the future it was something that would have to happen. 

“I think I’m taking a break from men.” You let out proudly, glancing over at Stacy. 

“Whatever you say girl.” You could hear the doubt lingering in her tone and the roll of her eyes. 

“Ugh… You don’t believe me do you? I can totally break off from men and be my own person for once.” 

“I’m not trying to doubt you babe. It’s just…You tend to attract men like a magnet and you have some severe daddy issues.” She's typing away on her laptop as if she didn’t just completely disrespect you. 

“I don’t have daddy issues.” You say flatly. “I happen to have a very loving father who was always present in my life, so the whole dating older men thing does NOT stem from daddy issues. Thank you very much.” You say matter of factly. 

“Hm..Well I give it a week.” 

-

After a few sound checks for your mic and band, you perform your first song. You chose a more upbeat song off your debut album to start, given that you were about to lay your heart out of the line. It was honestly kind of awkward performing in this setting. There was a booth in front of you that had the sound board and all of the other electronic stuff that you didn’t understand. Then right to the left of that, the cameras were positioned with a group of crew members sitting behind them. It always felt awkward performing to smaller audiences. 

The first song went by smoothly, earning a few cheers from the people in the room. As the band prepared for the next song, you could see the door in the booth open and two figures walk in. You weren’t wearing your glasses or contacts since it was supposed to be a short day, so you really couldn’t make out who had just walked in. You assumed more workers came in and brushed it off. 

“All ready?” A man behind the camera asks and you give a thumbs up. 

You somehow managed to get through the song without having any vocal mess ups. It was a challenging song and you'd definitely have to text Billie later to give her some credit. A few tears slipped here and there, feeling the emotions that you thought were gone slowly be released. You pulled yourself together and you felt really proud of the performance as a whole, showing the world the potential your voice had. 

A few soft claps are dying out as everyone starts cleaning up the room. You’re reaching down to grab your water bottle when you feel someone rushing up towards you. 

“Ahhh you did great babe but um two hot dudes will be walking through that door any second!” Stacy is whispering and all you could do was give her a confused look before the door opens. You squint trying to make out the two figures. 

“God you’re talented!” You hear the voice before you see the face. 

“Oh um, thank you so much.” You let out not really sure who you were speaking to. Once the two men get into view, your jaw drops slightly. 

“HOLY SHIT!” You yell a little too loudly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, you hear a very rich man laugh coming from a very good looking man. For some reason, whoever is in charge of the fate of the universe has blessed you with the presence of Ryan Reynalds and Hugh Jackaman. 

“Oh my god i’m so sorry, that’s literally so embarrassing. I just couldn’t see who you were at first.” 

“It’s okay sweetheart.” They both wear big smiles on their faces. 

“I’m y/n, it’s so nice to meet y’all, i’m a big fan!” You gush out, trying your best to refrain from fangirling. 

“We’re big fans as well. We were next door interviewing for the radio show, when we heard you were recording over here. We ran over here to try to catch you.” Ryan lets out. 

“No shit! That’s so cool. I really appreciate it.” Before the conversation could continue, Ryan is being called over by someone, leaving Hugh and yourself alone. 

“Hows Pedro, haven't seen him in awhile.” Hugh asks genuinely, giving you a small smile. It caught you off guard completely. You racked your brain trying to think of a time in your six month relationship that Pedro mentioned Hugh at all but nothing came up. 

“Oh I uh- I wouldn’t know. We aren’t together anymore.” Your voice is soft, trying not to make this any more awkward. 

“Shit. I’m so sorry, with the way he spoke about you, I thought you’d be together longer…” He trails off. 

“Yea me too.. he couldn’t handle the heat I guess.” You shrug. 

“Well, his loss yea?” He smiles trying to cheer you up. 

“Yea..” You say softly, your voice matching your smile. You take a moment to really look at him and he’s beyond handsome. He’s aged but in a way that makes you wish you were able to see the years go by with him. He was tall, almost towering over you, and his muscles were practically popping out of his shirt. 

The same guy that was walking to Ryan, gathers the three of you for a picture for the BBC socials. You stand in the middle, both men placing their arms behind either side of you. Hugh’s hand was placed on the small of your back. You looked up at him quickly, his face already smiling at the camera. You hear the camera go off a few times, causing you to look that way as well. Once the cameraman was satisfied, everyone gave their goodbyes and the room cleared out. 

-

Later that night you were scrolling through your phone when a text popped up from Stacy. 

Stacypoo <33: I told you. You couldn’t even go a week. ;) 

The text is accompanied by a screenshot of a notification stating that “‘thehughjackman’ started following you!”. You rushed to open instagram and went to your followers to search from his name. You stared at his page for a few minutes before following him back. 

While you had control over your own social media, someone handled all of your business related content. You went on your page to see that the picture that was taken at BBC earlier today was already posted with one comment standing out beyond the rest. 

Thehughjackman: Great meeting you sweetheart! :)

Thank you for reading <3

part two

[weakformingyu]

More than meets the eye

Pairing: Chan x afab!reader

Inspired by Prison for life by Olivia Rodrigo

Summary: Chan is a pushover when it comes to doing things for you, but not so much when someone messes with his girl.

Warning: +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: let's thank Chili(@baby-yongbok) for this brainrot, she's the one who planted this idea in my head.

Chan who's the sweetest person you have ever met, the one who blushed and stuttered when asking you out.

Chan who's always a gentleman, opening all the doors for you, pulling the chair so you can sit, throwing his coat over your shoulders so you won't get cold.

Chan who lingers a bit longer when he says goodbye to you after taking you back home, trying to gather the courage to kiss you.

Chan who's surprised by the way you grab him by the collar and crash your lips on his.

Chan who gets flustered when you ask him to come inside with you, so you can talk more.

Chan who can't help but feel his face on fire when you start undressing in front of him, not sure where he should put his hands.

Chan who eats you out slowly, enjoying every sound that comes out of your mouth, sure that he could make the prettiest song in the world with just your moans.

Chan who asks you to be his girlfriend the next morning, taking you by surprise when you wake up to a full table of breakfast.

Chris who loves to do everything for you, you want to stay home cuddling? Done, he'll make popcorn and prepare a list of rom-coms for you two to watch together. You want to go out with him and his friends? Sure, he'll make sure the guys are on their best behavior. You want to go shopping? Bet, he'll clean his schedule so he can spend the day buying you gifts, even though you always argue that you can buy things with your own money.

Chris who finds you amazing, you're strong, smart and capable, everything you have was earned with your hard work and he would never want to cross that line or take that away from you.

Chris who has to stand his friends making fun of him 'cause he's such a pushover when it comes to you. He would let you step on him if you asked him to and he would do it smiling.

Chris who loves to buy you flowers every time you have a date with him, so he always goes out of his way to buy you a bouquet.

Christopher who arrives late to your date because the flower shop messed up his order and witnesses a man grabbing you by the wrist while you argue with the stranger.

Christopher who sees red when he realizes what's happening, dropping the flowers and walking fast to where you are.

Christopher who puts his hand on the shoulder of the man, smiling softly and asking to talk to the man outside.

Christopher who's suddenly not a pushover anymore, not when it comes to someone messing with his girl.

Christopher who comes back inside after twenty minutes, dirty dress shirt and knuckles bloody.

Christopher who drags you out of the bar, hugging you tightly when the cold air outside hits your skin.

Christopher who fucks you in the backseat of his car, biting and marking you and calling you names, far different from the gentleman you are used to but you're not complaining.

Christopher who chants how much he loves you while you cum around his cock, overstimulated by the new side of your boyfriend that you're just getting to know.

Chris who helps you fix yourself so you can get out of the car to sit on the front seat, deciding that you should just grab some food on the drive thru and go home.

You're a feminist obviously, you don't need a man. But after that night you don't mind Chan saving you, you very much like his protection.

[catastrophicdisasters]

apologies, i'm still angry abt TUA S4

so, if we take out all of the blatant issues with the season (character assassination, 'resolutions' that create more plotholes than they solve, rushed scenes that make no sense, side plots that go nowhere, raymond vanishing for no reason, etc etc), what are we left with? let's see:

fatphobia (multiple jokes made about 'chubby Diego', when David just looks hydrated and healthy)

SA played for jokes (it's clear that Klaus having sex while possessed is supposed to be funny, but he's being held hostage and forced to do this for money, when we already know he didn't even want his powers back??)

cheating

problematic / borderline problematic age gaps (either way you spin it, either Five is physically 20-26 while Lila is likely mid 40s, or Five is mentally 70s while Lila is mid 40s; Aidan was 19 while filming, and Ritu was 34)

waiting for the actor to come of age before introducing a romance (we already know what some fans can be like over Five/Aidan, this will not have helped; I would be horrified if I found out the show runners had planned a romance arc with a coworked 15 years older than me and then waited for me to turn legal age to execute it)

sexism (i was reluctant to call it that but i also don't know what else to call it - Lila basically had her agency stripped away to become the love interest two men fought over; Steve wanted Five to have a romance and didn't care who with - use Lila simply because she was there)

complete disregard of character trauma (Klaus being buried alive despite it having been mentioned in every prior season that he was locked in a mausoleum by Reginald, including literally being left to die)

possible overstepping of an actor's boundaries (i've not been able to verify this, but i've seen it said that robert sheehan has requested not to do sex scenes?) (still havent been able to prove this; wasn't an issue with other roles so... hesitant to leave it)

actors requests being ignored (David asked multiple times if the Lila cheating sideplot was required, but clearly it went ahead anyway)

bad cgi

that awful vomit montage

Reginald (im not quite calling it abuse forgiveness but uh. it's not far off tbh)

i don't even know what to call this, but basically told the Hargreeves the abuse they suffered was their fault because they shouldn't even exist??

what did i miss? (im sure there's something)

from the replies:

the song in the ep3 dance scene uses a slur for romani people (and is also about a man and an underage girl)

SA dismissal (it's literally never addressed that Allison SA'd Luther last season. like, at all. everything's just a-okay now!)

more sexism (Allison's arc was also reduced to serving men; there's a single line to explain that Ray left, with no mention of why (i could go OFF about this but this post isn't supposed to be about mishandling of characters); even after everything, all her bonding with Claire comes through Klaus's storyline. also, Sloane is just gone and nobody gives a shit - Luther has one line and that's it??)

so many issues with consent (all of the girls shown in the place Klaus works look drugged / Klaus doesn't want to be there and doing any of that, it's all against his wishes / they all get their powers back against their wishes - although they do tell Ben that wasn't his choice to make / Klaus gets his powers back against his will when Allison is pressured to do it to save his life)

[tsukiflwr]

❝ I MIGHT LET YOU MAKE ME JUNO… ❞

𝓹airing ∿ hyung line! enha x f!reader ᰔ 𝓱eadcanons ; slightly suggestive, fluff?, humor? 𝔀: slightly suggestive, skinship, kissing 𐙚 𝔀c 1485 ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓻oro's note. this idea came to me out of know where ﹒ ꒰ 𝓵ibrary ꒱

𝓢. enhypen hyung line reacting to you singing along to ‘juno’

LEE HEESEUNG

“wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?” you quietly sang along to the song as you scrolled through your pinterest feed, saving all the cute pictures in the proper section. your feet kicked in the air, matching the tempo of the song. you were laying on your stomach in your boyfriend's bed while he was at his computer, his attention on the game he was playing – or at least you thought it was. you had stolen his attention from his game as soon as he heard you sing something about his dads genetics. 

he quietly slipped off his headphones – not like you could have heard it anyway if he didnt, you had your own headphones on – and he got up from his chair, a small smirk adoring his lips at how cute you looked in his shirt. you didn't flinch at the sudden touch of his hands on your ankles, softly pushing your elevated legs down on the bed so he could straddle your thighs. “seungie?” you hummed in confusion as you felt him press his chest against your back, taking your headphones off for you. 

heeseung chuckled and placed a few kisses on your shoulder, up your neck and to your ear as he whispered huskily “the answer is yes” you giggled at the feeling of his breath on your neck, and you felt chills go down your spine at your boyfriends tone. ”to what question?” you sassily asked as you turned your head to the side, your breath hitching from how close he was to you. he couldn't help but smirk at your reaction, his eyes dropped to your lips before slowly looking back into your eyes, his tone teasing “I'd loveee to try out your fuzzy pink handcuffs” 

PARK JAY 

jay knew what you were doing before you even played the song; you had been dropping subtle hints – if you could even call them that – for days. sending him cute videos of baby’s while he was off at work, he noticed quickly that the parents were all on the younger side. he had noticed the change in you, ever since your new neighbors moved in next door and your eyes fell on that adorable baby – you had been wanting one of your own. 

“one of me is cute, but two though?” you sang along to the song that was playing through the car speakers, the song of your choosing of course. you fiddled with your fingers in your lap as you tilted your head to look out the window, looking at all the buildings that lit up the dark sky. the corner of jay’s lip twitched up into a small smirk as he listened to you sing along. he quickly glanced at you before looking back at the road. he shook his head as he let out a small chuckle, his eyes on the road as he moved his right hand to rest it on your thigh, gripping the plush of your thigh as he said smoothly “you know all you had to do was ask” 

“hmm?” you hummed in confusion as you tilted your head to look at him, your breath hitching as you took in the sight. from his perfectly slicked back hair and that single strand of hair that was draped over his black framed glasses, to his perfect side profile and down to his adam's apple, and the top of his chest that was exposed from the first few buttons of his black button down being unbuttoned – something he did on purpose because he knew it would drive you crazy to look at from across the restaurant table. 

you bit your lip as he squeezed your thigh harder, his touch leaving a chill in his wake. you felt like you were in a daze as you watched him lick his lips quickly, before that mischievous smirk is adoring his face once again as he repeated his words “all you had to do was use your words and ask me to put a baby in you” your mouth drops in slight shock at how calm and smoothly he said that, he chuckles and slips his hand high up your thigh and under your dress “but you have to be a good girl and say please” 

SIM JAKE

jake bit his lip to hold in his groan as he quietly walked into the kitchen. he had just woken up from a nap when he heard you singing from the kitchen. his eyes immediately went to you and his jaw went slack as he took in the sight of you. there you stood at the counter whisking something in a bowl, clad in one of his shirts and from where he stood it looked like that was all you were wearing, his eyes lingering on your swaying hips to the beat of the song. you smiled and paused your whisking when you felt him hug you from behind. you opened your mouth to greet him, but you were cut off by the loud groan leaving his lips “you are driving me fucking crazy” 

“what did I do now?” you couldn't stop the giggle from leaving your lips at the slight hint of grumpiness in his tone. jake moved his hands that were holding your hips to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you back flush against his chest, a small groan slipping past his lips at the feeling of you pressed against him. he pouted as he mumbled into your neck “you singing those lyrics, god i can't concentrate on anything” you smiled innocently and resumed mixing your cookie dough “oh…oops”

“Oh, that's all you got to say princess hmm?” jake teased with a playful huff, slipping one of his hands under your shirt to softly caress your stomach, resting his chin on your shoulder. he eyes your pretty side profile before dropping down to watch as you start to put perfect sized circles of cookie dough on the cookie pan. there was something so domestic about seeing you wear his shirt, baking in your shared kitchen, singing lyrics about wanting a baby. god he wanted nothing more than to have a family with you. 

jake let out a loud groan as his imagination started to run wild, he moved his chin off your shoulder and gently dropped his forehead to rest on the middle of your back, his hold on your waist tightening. he closed his eyes as he whined out needily “fuckkk now all i can think about is putting a baby in you” you bit your lip to hold in your chuckle at how whiney your boyfriend sounded, you tilted your head to the side so he could hear you clearly as you tease “if you let me finish these maybe you can”

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon watched you with a small smirk as he leaned against the doorway of your bathroom, watching as you leaned over the bathroom sink to look into the mirror as you did your eyeshadow. he pushed himself off the doorway and moved to stand behind you, finally alerting you of his presence as he rested his hands on your hips. he softly caressed your sides as he asked “who’s juno?” 

you pulled the eyeshadow brush away from your eyes as you pulled back from the mirror a little, gaping at your boyfriend through the mirror is disbelief “you're kidding – you've never seen juno?” you watched as he shrugged, shaking his head no with a cute smile. you roll your eyes playfully in false disappointment as you stand up straight, giving him a teasing smile “remind me why I'm dating you?” 

sunghoon chuckled and moved one of his arms up, flexing his muscles in the mirror. smirking at you as he answered in a flirty tone “oh my muscles definitely” you giggled as you turned around to face him leaning back against the counter as you looked up at him. your boyfriend caresses your side before resting his hands on the counter, trapping you in his arms; enjoying how you looked up at him with your pretty eyes. he leaned closer to you, whispering huskily with a smirk “so are we?” 

you rest one of your hands on his hip, fidgeting with his sweatpants before leaning forward to place a few soft kisses on his bare shoulder, smiling at the chills that spread across his skin. “hmm?” you raised your eyebrow as you let out a hum of confusion. sunghoon let out a groan at the feeling of your lips on his now warm skin and the feeling of your fingers teasingly slipping under the band of his sweatpants. he moved one of his hands from the counter to cup your jaw, making you look up at him as he whispered with an innocent smile; his dimples out “gonna try out some freaky positions?” 

𝓻oro's note. hi my lovely people !! I’m so sorry that it’s taken me forever to get another post out, I’ve been superrr busy. I hope you guys enjoyed this , pls let me know what members part you liked the most !! I will not be making a maknae line ver !! ꒰ 𝓷av ꒱

likes, reblogs, comments and feedback are heavily encouraged !

[imaginedisish]

The Promise (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Short and sweet...or rather...incredibly spicy. Here's the *Logan catches you...touching yourself* fic. Couldn't think of a song until the end of writing this one. Went with "The Promise" by When in Rome. Also, if I'm messing up with the tag list I am so sorry. Anyway, ENJOY!

Summary: You want to relax after a long day, so you decide to let off some steam alone in your room. But, you're not as alone as you think. Logan can hear you loud and clear...and he's happy to help.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! SMUT!!! Masturbation (f!), oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), porn with NO PLOT, softdom!Logan, cocky!Logan, Logan is def not respecting personal space here, friends to lovers, feelings, afab!reader/fem!reader, cursing, prob some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 2,588 this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written

Finally. You’re in your room. Alone. Today had been exhausting. It was drill after drill, class after class, until your eyes stung and your muscles were beyond sore. But now, all there is to worry about is the mattress at your back and the blankets you’ve pulled up to your chin… 

…Save for that itch, that ache growing between your legs. You had been able to ignore it before, when Logan had you pinned to the wall during one of your drills in the danger room. He caged you in, arms above your head. Gotcha, princess, he whispered, and walked away. You tried to brush off the way your heart fluttered in your chest, tried to shove down the ache that was building in your belly. Logan was your friend—nothing more.

But now that you’re finally alone, it’s too much. You let your hand trail down your body, pushing past the waistband of your shorts and inside your panties. You close your eyes and think of Logan as your fingertips brush your clit. You picture him standing at the edge of your bed, climbing on top of you. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter, working your clit, drawing tight circles, imagining it’s Logan’s hand instead—exploring your folds, spreading your slick, dipping his fingers into your entrance. You whisper his name as you think of him crawling down your body and settling in between your thighs, burying his face into your cunt. 

You imagine what his tongue feels like, lapping at you, flicking your clit. “Logan,” you moan, louder this time, thinking no one can hear you. 

Logan walks down the hall. He can hear your voice, soft and small through the slight crack in your door. You must’ve forgotten to close it all the way. It almost sounds like you’re singing, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the thought.

But then he hears his name. 

“Logan.” It’s a whisper, a faint call. He thinks maybe you can hear him down the hall—that maybe you need help, maybe something’s wrong. He steps towards your room, furrowing his brows as he listens carefully, using his heightened senses. 

“Logan,” you moan again. And he hears it all this time—hears your breathy whines, your legs pushing against the mattress. And fuck, he can smell you. Wet. Aching. His cock hardens at the thought of you getting off to him, his erection straining against his jeans. He walks closer to your door, his steps tentative and quiet. 

Your door is almost closed—the latch just touching the frame. The light from your room casts a thin line across the darkened hallway. It’s warm and glowy, and Logan can feel it pulling him in—can feel it begging him to push the door open and head inside. He holds himself back, resigning himself to listening to your soft murmurs and drunken mumbles. 

But then you’re calling his name again. 

“Logan,” you whimper, your circles quickening, your walls fluttering around nothing. You imagine him fucking into you, spreading you out and stretching you open. You wish he’d come in here and touch you, take you, make you feel good. 

Logan’s cock throbs, his jeans suddenly far too tight. He can tell you’re getting closer, your breathing becoming short and frantic. He knows he shouldn’t, but he pushes the door open just a touch more. You’re in the center of the bed, eyes shut tight, head thrown back, hand underneath the blanket and stuffed inside your panties. 

“N-need you,” you stutter. You need him to really touch you—need to feel his body against yours. Need to—

You suddenly hear your door shut, and your eyes fly open. 

Logan is at the edge of your bed, his hands pressing into the mattress, white-knuckling the sheets as he looks up at you under half-lidded eyes. 

“How long were you—” “I heard everything, pretty girl,” Logan growls, his shoulders tight, his brows furrowed. He’s holding back, restraining himself. “Heard you calling my name.” “I-I…” You trail off, heat spreading across your chest. You don’t know what to say, or how to get yourself out of this. 

“You what, princess?” Logan teases, climbing onto the mattress. “You want me that bad?” He slowly pulls the covers down, revealing your bare thighs. “Want me so bad you’re thinking about me when you touch yourself? Saying my name even when I’m not around?”

He tugs the blanket down farther, your legs on full display for him. “Logan,” you choke, catching your breath. “I didn’t mean to—”

But he’s crawling up your body, grabbing your legs, and tugging you down the mattress. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he soothes, his big hands pushing apart your legs, his palms splaying on the inside of your thighs. “I want you too.” His hands trail up to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers hooking inside. “You want me to take care of you?”

You swallow harshly. “Y-yes,” you stammer. “Please.”

He strips your shorts and panties from your legs, casting them to the floor. “What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself, hm?” He asks, settling in between your thighs. He brings an arm up and over your hips, gluing your lower half to the mattress. 

“You,” you mumble. 

Logan cocks his head to the side and smirks. “I know that pretty girl,” he husks, his free hand sliding towards your core. “But what were you thinking about?” His thumb finally finds your clit and strokes lightly. 

“Th-that,” you moan as he draws tight circles around the bud. 

“Just this?” He asks teasingly, holding you down as you squirm involuntarily underneath him. 

“More…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed as Logan’s circles become faster. 

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” Logan demands, his touch slipping away. Your eyes flutter back open, and Logan’s thumb finds your clit again. “Now tell me what you want.”

You swallow harshly, waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You need more, and you’ll take anything he’s willing to give you. “W-want your tongue,” you finally choke out. 

“Yeah?” Logan teases, bringing his face down to your heat. “This what you wanted?” He licks a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “That feel good?” He’s lapping at you, his tongue dragging through your slit, flicking your bud and drawing tight circles. 

“Yes,” you pant, struggling to keep your eyes open. His face is buried inside your cunt, eating you out like a starved man. The sight is unseemly: his disheveled hair, the way he’s swallowing you whole. “Feels so good, Logan.”

He smirks against you. “Such a good pussy,” he mutters, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. “Tastes so fucking good.” His fingers trail up your inner thigh, climbing higher, finding your folds. 

“Please,” you beg, his gaze meeting yours. 

“Please what, princess?” He asks, looking deeply into your eyes as he sucks on your clit again, rougher this time. Your eyes flutter shut. “Thought I told you to keep those pretty eyes open,” he commands, and you listen. 

“W-want your fingers,” you moan, forcing your eyes to stay open as Logan mercilessly flicks your clit with his tongue. 

And then he’s thrusting two long fingers deep inside you. You curse under your breath as he stretches you out. “So wet,” Logan growls against your core, pulling out only to shove his fingers back in—somehow deeper this time. “So beautiful like this, always so beautiful.”

Your walls flutter around him, his words weakening your resolve. He pumps in and out of you, his fingers scissoring deep inside. He takes your clit back between his lips and sucks long and hard, his teeth grazing your bud as he latches on and lets go. It’s overwhelming—the way he fucks into you, the way he laps at you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“Lo,” you whine, clenching down on his fingers as he sinks deeper inside you. His pumps become faster, his fingers shoving in and out again and again. 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he soothes, the flick of his tongue goading you along. “Could smell how much you needed me from the hallway,” he says between laps. “Know you’re getting close for me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you whimper, his words driving you closer to the edge. It’s all too much. Him, suddenly being here, with you. Devouring you. Wanting you. Needing you. Yes, that’s it. Need. His face buried between your legs; his nose pressed just above your clit. His fingers dragging along your walls. He’s consuming you. Dying to be inside you—to be as close as he can possibly get. 

“That’s it, darlin’. Let go.”

And then you’re coming undone, pleasure wracking through your body, fire lighting down your spine. Everything is dizzying and warm, white-hot heat flooding your vision, stars dancing before your eyes. 

“Fuck,” Logan grunts against you, lapping up your juices. “So fucking good. Did so good for me.” His fingers slow inside you and gently pull out, but his tongue is still working at you. He pushes through your folds, savoring the taste of you. 

“Lo,” you groan, squirming underneath him. “Need you now.” 

“You have me,” he mutters against you, the vibrations of his voice wracking your already overstimulated clit. 

“But…” you trail off, the tension building back up between your legs. “N-need you. Please.” 

He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up at you. “Say it,” he demands, your release glistening on his chin. “Tell me exactly what you need.” He climbs up your body. “Go on,” he teases, hiking your shirt up your stomach, pushing it over your tits. He smirks when he sees that you have no bra on—your breasts bare before him. His hands trail up to your chest, massaging gently, pinching your nipples. 

You curse under your breath, instinctually spreading your legs. “Need you to fuck me,” you whisper, and Logan grins. 

His touch disappears from your body, his hands finding the hem of his beater as he sits back on his knees. He tugs his shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. He’s perfect, his muscles flexing and contracting as he moves. “Need my cock, pretty girl?” He chides, working at his belt next, tossing it to the side. 

“Yes,” you pant, watching as he undoes his button and his zipper, yanking his jeans and boxers down his legs. His erection springs free, and he’s so much bigger than you had anticipated. You bite your lips nervously at the sight. 

Logan lowers himself down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand comes down to stroke your hip comfortingly. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, pressing his forehead to yours. His hand leaves your hip and wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your entrance. 

You shiver as his tip slides through your folds. He’s so close, his breath fanning across your face. He teases your slit, spreading your slick, nudging against your clit, and slides back down to your entrance.

 His lips finally find yours, swallowing your moans as he shoves himself deep inside you, down to the hilt with one thrust. “Fuck,” he grunts, his hand slipping between your bodies to find your clit. “Tight little pussy.” He slides out and plunges back in, drawing circles around your bud. “So fucking warm, so perfect,” he whispers against your lips, pressing another kiss as he sets his pace. 

He starts out slow, his hips rhythmically rocking against yours. He’s filling you up, splitting you open with every pump. You curse under your breath as his cock drags along your walls. “Feels so good, Lo,” you moan. 

His thumb strokes your clit as he fucks into you, faster now. He’s hitting that sweet spot deep inside with every thrust. “Is this what you were thinking about when you were getting yourself off, pretty girl?” Logan grunts, slamming into you. “Thinking about me fucking you just like this?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your muscles contracting around him. “Always thinking about you.”

Logan smiles against your lips, his eyes dark with lust as he pumps in and out. “Bet you wanted me to hear you,” he huffs, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, his circles becoming rapid and frantic. “Bet you left that door open on purpose.”

You whine a yes as he pounds into you, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, biting your pulse point and kissing away the sting his teeth leave behind. You can feel yourself getting closer, already fucked out beyond all thought. All you can think about is Logan and the way he’s stuffing himself inside you, pushing deeper and deeper. 

“Needed you too, beautiful,” Logan whispers at the shell of your ear, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing against the walls of your room. “Needed you this whole time.” 

You wrap your legs around his waist, giving him more leverage to sink deeper inside you. Your arms find purchase around his back, your nails digging into his bare skin. Logan pinches your clit roughly in between his tight, rapid circles, and you moan his name.

“I know, darlin’,” he soothes, his hips bucking, his cock twitching inside you. “Can feel you squeezing me, know you’re already close.”

“Just feels so good,” you moan as he drills into you relentlessly. “Don’t want you to stop.” 

Logan chuckles darkly, flicking your clit. “Don’t think I can, pretty girl.” He twitches inside you again, and you know he’s close too. He throbs against your walls, pulling out and thrusting all the way back in. 

“Such a good fucking girl,” he praises. He’s still stretching you out with every pump, splitting you open. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” 

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your walls fluttering around him. You can feel yourself slipping, letting go as he slams into you. 

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” he coos, circling your clit. “Come on my cock, just like that.”

Logan thrusts into you again, bottoming out, and the tension snaps. Everything is bliss and searing pleasure. Hazy and blurred. It’s all too much, your eyes welling up as your orgasm rips through you. You blink back your tears. Logan kisses your forehead, his pace faltering as you come undone around him. 

“Wanted you this whole time,” he groans, his hips stuttering. “So fucking beautiful,” he husks. “So perfect.” You pull him closer as he comes inside you, filling you up and painting your walls. Logan moans your name, looking deep into your eyes as he finishes. 

His hips stall inside you, his thumb stroking your clit gently, riding out your orgasms, letting you down easy from your high. 

He notices the single tear sliding down your cheek and brings his hand up from your clit to wipe it away. “You okay?” He asks, concern painted across his face. He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, his arm wrapping around your back to pull you into his chest.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed. “M’perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into the center of Logan’s chest. He rolls you onto your side, tugging you closer, his cock still half-hard inside you. “Can you stay with me?” You ask, your voice small and quiet, nervous that he might say no. 

“Not going anywhere, pretty girl,” Logan reassures, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I promise.” 

tags: @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @xlocalxpunkx @cervvsq @white-wolf-buckaroo @just-a-nightdreamer @wildfloweroutlaw @starfleetteddybear @prettyseaveins @silversprings-mp3 @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @wittyjasontodd @ilysmdovie12 @theasiaabattoir @movhoney @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Kitten | The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Something about you catchs his eyes. Now he wants you all for himself.

Warnings: Obsess!Salesman - Canon violence - Suggestive - Manipulation - Reader loves cats - Maybe OOC - Kind of pet play - E/C = eye color - Reader gets called Kitten -

Another morning, another day ahead, names to meet and recruit, a speech that was deep in his mind.

His movements were calculated, robotic, his smile a fake one, to hide the disgust he felt towards the peopel he had to met.

The last hour, the last train and last name. Your name. The Salesman did his usual thing while waiting for you to appear, get himself a coffee from a cheap machine and let his mind wonder.

Even if he had read your file in order to have the upper hand in the exchange, he was curious to see how you truly were, how would you react to his approach, what would you say or do once he told you about the game.

Maybe the work of the day was getting him, his eyes did let (only for the observant ones) that he was tired to not degree.

One more, one more worm and I can go home.

The train came, lots of faces walked pass him, he only wanted to find yours and put an end to his day.

Finally He saw you, you were looking at your phone, smiling? Well he guessed even someone in your situation could smile.

Maybe you got a lover back home.

He saw how you took a seat, most likely to rest after a long day at your underpaid work, that did not cover any of the debts you had. Yet you did not look discouraged or sad, you were rather animated by what your body language gave out.

Feets moving side to side like a song was playing only for you. That smile and a spark in your eyes...

How dumb yet cute.

Still, he needed to end the day and your name was the last one. So there he went, moving with confidence till he took a seat besides you, his trusted briefcase close.

"Miss.." He tried to get your attention but nothing, you were too deep in your phone writing something. He dared to take a look.

What in-

Cats. Multiple pictures of cats. Different colors, shapes and ages.

It was not the most strange thing he had seen from someones phone but still...

A new photo came in, it was a cat, rather slim with one leg missing but it seemed full of life.

"Im glad you are fine" He hear your whisper thanks to the sitation now out of peopel and that even if you whispered it was rather loud. Most likely you had no sense of self preservation or did check your surroundings since he was able to basically see your phone screen and your messages for...four minutes?

Yes, defently too much for the little patience he had, he wanted to end his day now.

"Excusme Miss" He tried again this time louder and it did finally caught your attention.

You turned to him, too lost checking your cats and how they were doing so far. You never noticed the man besides you. He was tall, black hair and wearing a suit. You could tell it was a rather expensive one, at his feets was a briefcase.

Ah Salesman, he must sells life saves or something.

"Sorry Sir, im in no position to buy anything" You said looking at his dark eyes and bowing then you went back to check your phone.

Well someone ignoring him was not a first.

"Miss, im not here to sell you anything" He started getting your attention back with a rather funny and confused look on your face. "Im here to ask you to play a game with me"

"...A game?" You asked not really beliving your ears. What man would ask a stranger to play a game with them at 11 p.m. in a subway station?

Was this a scam ? A trap maybe ?

Ah, the confusion, he was used to get that too and could only give you a polite fake smile back.

"Yes a game, a game of ddakji" He clarifited pulling from his suit pocket two papper pieces, one blue and other red. "If you manage to win I will give you ₩100.000" He recite just as he always did.

Your eyes opened a bit after that information, while it would not help you that much it would be free money...you could get a warm dinner, something that your current situation did not let you do.

But, there was not a thing as simple as free money, right ? There must be a catch.

"And what would happen if I lose?" You asked him, the hesitation in your voice was clear for The Salesman who just smiled again.

"If you lose, you pay me back ₩100,00. But I doubt you will lose in a childs game" He added trying to incite you to engage in the game.

He studied your face, you were thinking about it, temped by it. Even if the money was not enough, the chance was all it needed to start a chain of thoughts in your mind and finally accept.

And while you were indeed thinking a ring from your phone took your attention away, a new message a new cat pic.

Right, I cant do this. You thought.

"Sorry Sir I must refuse" You started giving him a bow "Even if my chances of winning were high, Im not in position to give you ₩100,000 if I lose. It would not be fair to you" You smiled at him thinking all of this was ending.

He blinked a bit taken back, not because you refused, he had deal with that before, but what you said.

Fair.

The world was not fair. The information in your file let that clear, it was obvious that you knew it.

Then why not take advantage of this? Even If he was just giving you the illusion of money, why not try ? And more, why be worried over whats fair ?

"May I ask why you cant play with me?" He finally said, pulling the pappers back inside his suit pocket. "Its not a big amount of money and I would not make fun of you if you lose"

He was trying for you to feel safe, maybe you were nervous he would judge you ? He knew he could be quiet intimidating

"Oh! Well its rather...embarrassing" You responded, nervously biting your lower lip then looking at the ground.

The Salesman's eyes lingered over your lips, the way you just bite them. Maybe he was getting tired but something from that action  just called him, made his body react.

"It cant be that bad" He tried again, trying to sound gentle

"Well, im in debt because my ex-boyfriend ran away with the money for the Cat Shelter we had together, took away all my savings and I ended in debt cause of it" Your tone did let him know you were angry, sad, frustrated and ashamed.

Well, he did know. But hearing out loud did make it sound funnier he could not lie to himself.

But seeing your face now, that sad look and how you had looked so happy earlier at the cat pics (probably some cats you managed to save and find a home before all things went wrong). It made him feel bad for you, something he never felt towards anyone in his line of work.

"Mhm so your ex-boyfriend ran away and then you kept the shelter by yourself?"

He cant lie, it was a cute reason.

But stupid no less.

"I did, we had too many cats and all of them were sick. They needed someone, I could not ignore them" You tried to explain, a sad smile now on your face as you remember the old promises and memories.

And look where that took you.

"I dont hope that you get it, most peopel laughts when I tell them. Even the load sharks had got a good one" You said pulling out your phone and looking at something while the Salesman let his mind wonder.

You were right. He did not get it. It was something he would never do, an act so compassionate towards a creature...it was not in his nature.

"Look, this is Fat Luigi" He hear you said as you showed him your phone with the image of a big fluffy black cat. "When we first got him he was underwheight, most vets told us he would not make it. It was hard, I passed many nights awake taking care of him, and spent lots of money on him. But now seeing him healthy and happy, it just makes it worth it"

"But are you happy right now? Arent you afraid of your debts?" He asked, curious to know how your brain was working under the stress you most likely had.

"Happy...., well I cant say I love my life right now, I work long hours and the job its bad, I have load sharks on my back and the place where the shelter is will most likely be destroyed since I cant pay..."

He nodded listening to you.

"But im not sad. Yes the situation sucks but when i see the cats i managed to help...honestly even if it sounds crazy, I would do it again" You ended giving him a tired yet honest smile. One that made his heart beat a bit faster.

For a few moments he did not say a thing, his mind wondering, he was not sure what, something about you made him feel slighty different.

Maybe it was your wish to help ? Even when you had passed and suffered ? How you still wanted to play fair ?

You two were different in many ways.

"You would?" He asked seeing you nodd without thinking "And tell me, do I look like a cat person ? Would you get me one if you still had your shelter ?" He continued now trying to entertain himself.

You defenetly were not made for the games.

"Well, you do give the energy of a cat person" By the look on his face he was amused "I mean, you seem like you pass many hours outside your home, cats do need their humans but they can work fine alone for a few hours, you would need to pet them for a bit once you get back"

"Oh I see, and what more?" He leaned in closer, his elbow resting on his knee, one hand holding his face as he turned himself to you invading your personal space.

"You seem like someone who will prefer company thats not always over them demanding attention and cats often give you that, well depends on the cat" You explained blushing at his proximity.

"Then, dont you think it would be better for me to get a kitten?"

"They can be handfull-"

"Mhm, I would need a submissive one" He said leaning even closer, you could now see his dark eyes and smell his cologne. "One that will wait for me at home and will...please me when I want it and how I want it"

His hand went towards your face slowly touching your cheeck with his knuckles, it made you blush even more and be more aware of him. Something was telling you that this was dangerous, this man who had approach you, and yet you could not get yourself to move.

"Maybe a kitten with (E/C), a bit dumb, stupid, has no sense of self preservation, needs help to do anything. But" He paused his eyes studying your face "But its also cute, on its way"

You did not respond. Mouth dry, your mind worked around his cryptid words. Was him...insinuating something?

"How big its your debt?" He asked keeping the small distance.

"Too big" you responded your voice letting out how nervous you were. It was a miracle you managed to get these words out.

He smirked, he knew the exact number and also, he loved knowing he was the one causing you to feel nervous, maybe you were scared?

The idea that he could be scaring you excited him.

"Tell you what, I will pay your debt" He saw the suprise in your face and disbelief  was impossible to hide "But, you must pay me back" He added moving his hand, his thumb now over your lower lip. "You can pay me with your body, I said I should get a kitten right? I believe you are perfect for that position. All you will have to do.." He trailed off forcing his thumb inside your mouth "Its obey me, when I tell you to do something I expect you to obey. If you dont behave, well lets say I can be very creative with my punishments"

He could see the terror in your eyes but also the combination of hope and arousment.

Sick cute thing, just what he needed

"Mhm, lets give it a try shall we? Suck my thumb like a good kitten, I want to see how well you can obey"

Timidly under his dark stare and big pupils your tongue touched his thumb, a shiver went down his spine as he felt it. Your wet tongue licking his finger trying to give it as much attention as you could.

The Salesman moved it around your tongue, almost groaning when he saw you close your eyes and use one hand to take his arm, like you were grounding yourself. He felt a bulge starting to form and couldn't wait to see how wet you were getting.

Abruptly he took off his finger from your mouth taking your neck and kissing you, it was demanding and not loving. He sucked on your lower lip till you moaned and he used this chance to push his tongue into you, caressing yours and sucking it. Needing to hear you moan one more time for him.

What came first were the sounds of steps, The Salesman separated, breathing hard, just like you. Your face was red and eyes wide open and also full with lust. He moved his hair giving you a twisted smile getting up and taking your hand.

"W-wait were are we going?" You asked at him confused by all of the exchange, "Will you really pay my debt?"

"Oh I will my kitten, you will have your loved shelter back and will be able to rescue all the dam cats in Seoul" He said opening the bathroom of the sitation checking that it was empy.

"But first, I need you to take care of something" He said pointing at the bulge between his legs.

He did not miss how you licked your lips.

"Dont worry, I will get you a collar later, now. Get on your knees and show me just how well you can suck, kitten"

[sicksorrows]

more nanami hcs & scenarios !! nsfw & sfw

nanami kento who would shove his fingers down your throat while you're fucking, just so he could hear you struggle.

nanami kento who would cook dinner for you every night. if you ask to cook, he'd make you do the very minimal tasks.

nanami kento who dominates you in bed and acts submissive man when you finish having sex

nanami kento who would listen your favourite songs and save them to a secret playlist dedicated to you.

nanami kento ROLE PLAYS. (as much as I hate the thought of professor nanami) he would totally do any type of roleplay: teacher/student, boss/employee, pet/owner, doctor/patient, celebrity/fan and yeah you get it. also he would NOT break character at all.

nanami kento who would take pictures of you before you both head out somewhere

nanami kento who fucks you out of pure jealousy when he sees you talking with someone else, even if its just for a second

nanami kento who changes personalities when hes around you

nanami kento who seduces you to bed instead of going at it right away, he loves foreplay and would savour his time with you before getting to the good part

nanami kento who would stroke your hair and hum your favorite melody while you both lay in bed before you going to bed.

nanami kento is an experimentalist idc how much times im gonna say this he is an experimentalist he would literally try anything and would be willing to do anything to you he. is. an. experimentalist.

nanami kento who kisses your forehead every morning and waits for you to wake up so you could brush your teeth together

nanami kento who would pick up the phone even if hes fucking you, he would try to challenge you to stay quiet as he talks to the person on the other side, while also hitting every right spot.

nanami kento who would cuddle you after he's finished a long day of work.

nanami kento loves semi public sex. thats it. no explanation

nanami kento who remembers every single thing about you, if you were to ask him he would answer in a heartbeat

nanami kento who would use you as a stress reliever whenever hes angry.

nanami kento who would constantly talk about you to others and saying how proud he is to have someone like you

nanami kento who loves to dirty talk

nanami kento who would help you understand something without making you sound dumb. even if you both can't understand something he would try to learn it quickly before telling you

nanami kento who would wrap his biceps around your neck as he takes you from the back

nanami kento who's obessed with an unusual attribute of yours, something only he likes

nanami kento who cries during sex

nanami kento who fell in love with you at first sight

you could tell which ones I was excited to write about lol, and if u rmr the other hcs post I made, some of them may be mentioned so sorryyyy anyway some more detailed (ish) extras below !!

extras ++

nanami would definitely fuck you with music in the background, but he'd put it on low just so he could hear your sounds echo through the room. he only thought putting music would make the setting more fitting but he never really wanted to hear someone else when he has you in front of him.

more explanation on the crying during sex, he would have happy tears as he fucks you. its tears of gratefulness that you're there in his life and he's glad to be with someone like you.

he would definitely jerk off to your face when he's all alone and though he seems like an honest person he'd never actually tell you that he did that to your face just so you dont feel uncomfortable.

a really really odd thought I have is pervert Nanami.. now hear me out I know perverts are gross and all but nanami would honestly suit the roll really well. cat calling as you walk by him, staring you up and down in a subway. taking secret pictures of you and getting off at them later. basically being a total creep in general!

stalker nanami. once he finds his new obsession, hes hooked, and he knows you're the one. its dumb but he would first follow you to your house. thats all he needs and hes got it. he would follow your every move, try to break in and steal your things, and eventually "accidentally" create some coincidences so he could get closer to you. basically joe goldberg shit (besides the murdering part)

shower sex! shower sex!!!! he would hold onto you, very carefully, just so you dont slip as he takes you in so perfectly. he would go slow at first but when he can't control himself anymore he would quicken the pace and go FAST.

he loves hearing you say his name and would practically keep bugging you so he could hear you say his name multiple times. or while you guys are having sex he would keep begging you to call his name out, on every thrust btw.

he doesn't share.

though,,, I do see him as a voyeur. he would definitely get off at you masturbating to yourself or listen to the sounds of you doing something sexual, whatever it is.

I said he doesn't share but the thought of him getting jealous at the sight of you getting fucked by anyone else but him is what's so SJNFOSOSJ like imagine he comes home one night and hears sounds from your room and, of course curious, checks out what's going on and sees you getting fucked by another man!!!!!!! ughh the look on his face would probably be soooo hotttt

he's extremely kinky idc what you say he has the most weirdest kinks too and im not complaining.

recording during sex!!! fuck, thats actually so hot.

says I love you on every thrust